Hu Yuan glanced at the two empty steamers on the table and quietly covered his mouth to hide a smile.
His a-niang had always preferred buns with a slight sweetness, and these soup dumplings were not only exquisite in appearance — the pleats were especially beautiful — they looked incredibly appetizing.
A woman could finish one in a single bite — several steamers probably wouldn’t be enough for his a-niang.
He tilted his head and asked: “A-niang, are they good?”
Aunt Hu nodded, still savoring the taste: “Delicious.”
“That’s good then. When Su Fulang adds this item to his shop, I’ll buy some for you every day.” Hu Yuan gathered the bowls and dishes from the table, preparing to wash them and return them to Su Chi.
Aunt Hu felt warmed by his words and still treated him like a child, reaching out to ruffle his hair: “Good.”
Hu Yuan laughed and dodged away — he was already grown, but his a-niang still loved to tease him like that.
He dropped his playful expression and let out a sigh, as if speaking casually: “It’s just… Su Fulang said he can’t find any good vinegar on the street. He’s worried that other vinegars might ruin the flavor of these soup dumplings, and he’s been fretting over it.”
He paused, then continued: “Though these soup dumplings can be eaten without vinegar, they taste even better with it. As a shopkeeper, Su Fulang naturally wants his customers to enjoy good food. It’s rare that he puts so much thought into it.”
Of course, he knew exactly what Su Fulang was after by sending these two steamers of soup dumplings to his house today — he was still hoping to do business with their family.
Twice now his mother had flatly refused, yet he still wouldn’t give up, trying every angle to get them to relent.
He seemed gentle and soft in temperament, but he was so tenacious — Hu Yuan found himself genuinely impressed.
So much so that he couldn’t help but speak up for Su Fulang, hoping his a-niang would soften and agree to the deal.
Su Fulang had a good nature, and his cooking suited their tastes perfectly. Besides, no one had any quarrel with copper coins — more income for the household was always best.
It was just that his a-niang was too stubborn. Because of that one incident back then, she had tarred everyone with the same brush and had refused to do business with any shop-owning household for years. He felt sorry for their vinegar business too — such good vinegar, yet they only sold to the neighbors.
Ah, even the finest wine feared the depths of an alley.
After speaking, Hu Yuan secretly glanced at his mother’s expression.
Unfortunately, her face showed no change — still tight and unyielding.
A while later, Hu Yuan took the two washed steamers to the Xie family to return them to Su Chi. He thanked Su Chi and said that both he and his a-niang had enjoyed them. When Su Chi added this item to his shop, he would definitely come and patronize it.
Su Chi accepted the items and smiled, opening the courtyard gate to invite him into the main room for a seat.
As Hu Yuan stepped into the courtyard, he couldn’t help but take in the tidy yard — so large and spacious, everything in perfect order. All the items were neatly arranged, the small vegetable plot was clean without a single clod of dirt or debris, and it was surrounded by a verdant bamboo fence. In this drab winter, it added a vivid splash of color.
One could see how much care the person tending the yard had put in.
Unlike his own house, where the yard was cluttered with vinegar vats and jars in a chaotic mess. The only thing they had in common was that both yards were piled high with firewood — a reassuring sight.
He genuinely admired a capable man like Su Fulang — pleasing to look at, gentle in manner, and never one to gossip. Unlike the other fulang in the lane who loved to chatter, talking about this family and that family, their mouths never resting, as if they’d love nothing more than to crawl under someone’s bed to spy and gossip.
Hu Yuan found himself liking Su Chi’s courtyard even more.
Su Chi brought him a cup of hot tea, saying it was cold outside and his hands must be frozen — he should hold the earthenware cup to warm them.
Having Hu Yuan as a guest in his home made Su Chi happy too. This was the first ge’er he’d met since moving here who was close to his age and who inspired an immediate urge to be close.
The older fulang in the lane were kind enough, but they always said things he didn’t know how to respond to.
As they chatted, the aroma of stewed soup wafted from the kitchen — the air was thick with the scent of meat, impossible to ignore.
Hu Yuan and Su Chi talked for quite a while. Two ge’er with similar interests naturally grew close easily. The initial formality between them had long since been cast aside.
Hu Yuan abandoned all pretense of reserve, took a deep inhale, and asked in surprise: “Su Fulang, what are you stewing? It smells especially wonderful!”
“My wife is coming home for lunch, so I specially stewed some duck soup for her.” Su Chi could tell from the aroma that the soup was almost ready. He stood up to head back to the kitchen and check the pot, then turned to look at Hu Yuan and asked, “It should be done by now. Would you like a small bowl?”
How could he accept someone else’s soup that was made for their wife?
Hu Yuan immediately declined: “That wouldn’t be right. Next time I’ll bring some food over and we can share together. A-niang and I already ate your incredibly delicious soup dumplings — it would be really improper to eat again now.”
Knowing his limits and understanding proper etiquette — Hu Yuan left a good impression on Su Chi.
Su Chi nodded and said okay. He went back to the kitchen, lifted the lid to check the pot, and seeing that the duck had become tender enough, he grabbed a handful of the pickled sour radish strips from the jar and added them to the pot. After a short simmer, it would be ready.
When he returned, Hu Yuan asked with great interest how to make dishes that were so fragrant they’d make someone devour two bowls of rice.
He had been cooking for his a-niang since he was young and thought his skills were decent, but after tasting what Su Chi made, he felt that everything he cooked fell far short in flavor.
These were all minor things, and Su Chi generously shared a few classic dishes — from how to select ingredients, how to prepare them, and finally how to cook them and what seasonings to add — all in great detail.
He also told Hu Yuan that he could ask him anytime if he didn’t know how to make something.
Hu Yuan grabbed Su Chi’s hand in gratitude, his eyes sparkling with a hint of admiration as he looked at Su Chi.
Other families would hide their delicious recipes — either claiming they were handed down from ancestors or guarded as secret formulas that couldn’t be shared with outsiders. Who else was as generous as Su Fulang, speaking so openly and thoroughly, as if afraid he wouldn’t teach him properly?
Su Chi felt a little uncomfortable under Hu Yuan’s intense gaze and took the initiative to bring up the topic of stocking firewood for winter. He told Hu Yuan about the prices of several firewood sellers in town and the quality of their wares.
He advised him to stock up more at home, in case the weather got even colder and they ran short — then everything would become inconvenient.
He also recommended the firewood seller who had been coming to the lane recently with her cart, saying her firewood burned long and lasted well, though the price was a bit higher.
But after carefully comparing, buying her firewood would ultimately be more economical than buying cheaper wood.
After listening, Hu Yuan explained that his house already had plenty of firewood and was well stocked.
But then he thought about it — why was the price Su Fulang mentioned different from what that seller charged him?
The firewood she sold him was nearly half the price of what she charged Su Fulang!
He had even told his a-niang that she sold cheaply!
Hu Yuan didn’t mention this to Su Chi. He’d have to ask that seller properly next time.
It was nearly noon. Hu Yuan finished the cup of tea in his hands and said he needed to go back and make lunch for his a-niang. He hadn’t been gone long when the Xie family’s front gate was pushed open.
Xie Yushu was back, carrying a large bundle as she entered through the door.
Su Chi heard the door open and came out from the main room, meeting Xie Yushu face to face. He greeted her happily and took the bundle from her hands.
“What’s inside this?” It looked like a big bag, but it was actually quite light. Su Chi asked.
“Some dried kelp from the base. It may not look like much, but after soaking, it’ll last a long time.” Xie Yushu said as she reached out and took his hand, leading him inside.
The house was warm. Su Chi put down the large bundle, raised his hands to take off Xie Yushu’s outer robe, patted it gently, and hung it on the wall. Then he used his warm hands to warm her cold ones.
He complained a little: “Why are your hands so cold? Didn’t I tell you to tuck them into your robe when you come back?”
Xie Yushu let out a soft laugh: “I was in a hurry to get back and forgot.”
She had a mischievous habit — she loved watching Su Chi get anxious for her. Every time she saw that look, her heart itched, and she wanted to scoop him up and do something naughty.
But since it was mealtime, she reluctantly shelved the idea.
She was strong and healthy, and her hands warmed up quickly — even warmer than Su Chi’s. Only then did Su Chi let go of her large hands with satisfaction.
He looked up at Xie Yushu and said: “We won’t have rice for lunch today. I made several steamers of soup dumplings, stewed a pot of old duck soup, and stir-fried two small dishes.”
“Whatever you say.” As long as he made it, Xie Yushu loved everything.
Lifting the lid of the duck soup pot, Su Chi sprinkled in a little salt to season it and brought it out.
On the table were several small steamers of soup dumplings stacked high, steaming hot. In the center was a clay pot of sour radish and old duck soup, along with a plate of fragrant stir-fried mixed mushrooms glistening with oil, and a dish of soft, golden stir-fried cabbage shreds with eggs.
The old duck was something Su Chi had specially gone to the market early to pick out. He had carefully selected a plump, meaty old speckled duck, simmered it slowly over low heat all morning — long enough that the aroma was utterly irresistible. When he lifted the lid, the fragrance drilled straight into the nose.
The duck was tender and fatty, and a thick layer of golden duck fat now floated on the soup’s surface — something Su Chi had deliberately rendered out, perfect for nourishing the body in winter.
The duck meat had been stewed until it was so soft it fell off the bone. A gentle prod with chopsticks was enough to separate meat from bone effortlessly, and each bite was filled with the rich flavor of duck. The meat was infused with the light, tangy fragrance of sour radish — tender and not at all tough. The duck skin, gelatinous and soft, melted in the mouth with a single sip. In just a few bites, a piece of duck meat was gone.
The pickled radish had a deep, robust sourness. Simmered together with the duck, the flavors balanced each other out — by the time it came out of the pot, the sourness was no longer sharp. It was tangy and refreshing, fragrant in a way that didn’t overwhelm, adding a layer of freshness to the old duck broth.
This bowl of soup had both the richness of meat and the tang of sour radish. Before serving, only a pinch of salt was needed — simple, yet tantalizingly aromatic.
Su Chi first ladled a bowl for Xie Yushu. Seeing her drink it without lifting her head, he knew she loved it. He then served himself a small bowl and sipped it slowly.
The mixed mushrooms were what Wang Wen had brought last time — not much, just a small hemp sack. Inside were hazel mushrooms and various other mushrooms of all sizes that Su Chi couldn’t name, all non-toxic and safe to eat.
Su Chi picked out all the mushrooms. From the amount, it looked like enough for two meals. He took half, washed them clean, and stir-fried them in hot oil. The mushrooms soaked up the oil, releasing their full fungal fragrance. Their surfaces glistened with oil, and they were crisp and springy to the bite — a perfect treat for this season, even more satisfying than meat with rice.
As for the scrambled eggs, there was no need to elaborate — they were a daily nutritional staple. Su Chi made them in different ways for Xie Yushu every day. Whether stir-fried, boiled, stewed, or steamed into a soft egg custard with minced meat, they were eaten every day and consumed quickly, basket after basket emptied.
The eggs at home were all brought from the village by Wang Wen — either from their own chickens or from those of the neighbor aunts and uncles. They were especially fragrant when cooked. There weren’t many left now, so Su Chi was thinking of going to the market in the next couple of days to buy several baskets more to last them.
Both of them ate quietly and politely. Even when ravenous, they never made strange noises like others might — Su Chi was like that, and so was Xie Yushu.
After drinking half a bowl of duck soup, Xie Yushu’s body warmed up. She picked up a piece of duck meat with her chopsticks, blew on it to cool it down, and placed it in Su Chi’s bowl, urging him to eat: “It’s not too hot now.”
It was only after they got married that she noticed her fulang couldn’t eat things that were too hot. He also ate slowly, always chewing carefully in small bites — not at all like a ge’er from the countryside.
She, Xie Yushu, had truly struck gold, marrying a man who suited her tastes in every way.
After both had finished a bowl of soup, they moved on to the main course. Su Chi poured a small dish of vinegar for Xie Yushu and told her to dip the soup dumplings in it.
“Really fragrant. This vinegar really is better than the others.” Xie Yushu dipped one and ate it in a single bite, her eyes lighting up.
“Is the shop going to add soup dumplings?” Xie Yushu remembered as she ate. Last time, Su Chi had mentioned adding a new item to the shop and needing Aunt Hu’s vinegar — this must be it.
Su Chi refilled her soup bowl, piling it high with duck meat, and nodded: “Yes. They should be ready the day after tomorrow. I gave some to the neighbors to try, and they all said they were delicious.”
Xie Yushu took Su Chi’s other hand — the one not holding chopsticks — turned to look at him, and praised him earnestly: “How could anything you make not be delicious? My fulang is so capable.”
Su Chi blushed at her words. He was just doing what he should be doing, but Xie Yushu always found ways to praise him. He heard it often, yet it embarrassed him every time. How could he be as good as she said?
“It’s a good thing you hired Chen Fulang for the shop. If you had to handle the soup dumplings along with everything else, you’d be exhausted.” Xie Yushu swallowed the rich, savory stir-fried mushrooms and commented.
Su Chi disagreed: “It’s not that dramatic. I’d be a little more tired, but thinking about earning more copper coins, I don’t feel tired at all.”
Xie Yushu gently tapped the tip of his nose: “Little money-grubber.”
Of course, Su Chi wasn’t really a money-grubber. He just wanted to make their household life better, save up more money, and buy back the land for his a-die (dad). He had told Xie Yushu about all of this, and she knew everything from beginning to end.
She thought to herself that once she paid back the one hundred and twenty taels to Sun Wuyou, she could cover all these expenses.
But seeing Su Chi’s proud, determined expression, she felt nothing but relief and contentment and let him do as he wished. After all, whatever money she earned in the future would be managed by him — he could spend it however he wanted.
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