With about twenty days until the New Year, orders were flooding the Qingshi Base—mostly rush orders from the Tang family.
Word from the Tang family was that the dried laver was selling remarkably well in the county and the prefectural capital. Their Shanhai Trading Company had sold out within days, and new orders kept piling up, urging Xie Yushu to ship as soon as possible.
The base was short-staffed, so Xie Yushu had He Chao find a few more reliable, hardworking villagers who knew how to keep their mouths shut.
Right now, everyone at the base was swamped—no time to catch their breath. People streamed in and out of the gate, each carrying loads and walking briskly. It was a hive of activity.
The dried laver sold even better than Xie Yushu had anticipated—not just in bustling commercial areas but also at the ferry.
Just a few days ago, the thirty New Year gift boxes placed in the newly opened shop had sold out in a single day. Now, dozens of boxes were being taken from the base every day, and many customers were still arriving to find them sold out, asking when the next batch would arrive.
Ye Youchun was in charge of this shop. On the first day, following Xie Yushu’s instructions, she arranged thirty boxes on the shelves. She’d also opened one and placed it on a long table at the entrance for passersby to examine closely.
She’d also hired someone to stand at the door and loudly call out the “slogan” Xie Yushu had come up with:
“Xie’s Seafood’s new New Year gift box is here—!”
“A must-have for visiting friends and family—makes you look great—!”
“Use it in soups, make pancakes, fry them into meatballs—delicious and convenient—!”
The man had a powerful voice, his shouts carrying far and clear. Before long, his calls had drawn a small crowd.
The people who came were clearly small-time merchants stocking up for the New Year, all carrying bulging bundles, looking around as they walked.
The moment they heard Xie’s Seafood had something new, they didn’t hesitate—their feet carried them straight toward the shop, following the sound of the calls.
Nowadays, anyone doing business at the ferry had heard of Xie’s reputation—it was resounding, and it had even boosted the fame of Mapu Ferry.
Hearing that Xie’s Seafood had launched something new, they naturally had to check it out.
As they approached, they spotted an open, exquisitely crafted wooden gift box on the table.
The outside was wrapped in fine oil paper, and inside lay red paper with gold characters. At the center rested the new product—dried laver, loosely bound with a gold silk thread, quietly nestled in the box. Its ink-black, slightly greenish sheen glimmered in the sunlight.
Their eyes lit up immediately. The gift box looked festive and unique—a style they’d never seen before.
They were about to call the shopkeeper over to ask for details when they noticed a note on the side: “New Product – Dried Laver, 188 wen per box.”
Combined with what the hawker was shouting, they no longer needed to ask—everything was clear: what was being sold, the price, and how to use it.
One of them gently lifted the bundled laver and examined it closely. After a moment, a look of surprise crossed her face—the quality was beyond reproach.
They’d bought dried laver in bulk before, but the product was always rough and unappealing—some of it crumbled to dust in your hands. It couldn’t fetch a good price, and wealthy people didn’t like it, finding it sticky and dirty.
But this piece in her hand, even under the sun, was a clean, crisp dark green—not a speck of dirt on it. The leaves were dry and brittle, with only a faint salty fragrance and no off-putting odors.
Truly excellent.
As for the price—they’d traveled far and wide and seen plenty of fine and expensive goods. Nearly two hundred copper coins for a box wasn’t unusual—it didn’t seem expensive at all. In fact, the number felt auspicious, smooth and satisfying.
What surprised them was that they’d never seen dried laver presented like this. It was a novelty.
This small roll of laver, packed in such a unique box, somehow matched it perfectly—as if they were meant to go together.
Inside the shop, Ye Youchun was cutting “samples”—slicing a large piece of dried laver into finger-length strips and arranging them on a plate.
Her boss called this “sampling”—putting it out at the entrance for passersby to taste for free, as a way to attract potential customers.
Buying or not buying wasn’t the point; it was about letting people taste the flavor and know what they were getting.
No matter how many clever ideas Xie Yushu came up with, Ye Youchun was still awed by her sharp mind. She firmly believed her boss was a born businesswoman.
At the busy shop entrance, word that there was free food spread quickly. People crowded around, afraid of missing out.
Free food was something they’d never heard of—only a fool would pass up this chance!
After tasting it, everyone was intrigued by the unique flavor.
Though it was plain and saltless when eaten dry, a subtle umami lingered on the tongue after swallowing. If cooked the way the hawker described, it would definitely be good.
The merchants who’d come first also tried a sample and were won over by the unusual taste. While others were still hesitating, they pushed through the crowd to find Ye Youchun, each buying several boxes and clutching them to their chests.
There were many people at the ferry—not just merchants but ordinary folks out shopping or doing small trades. Naturally, some grumbled about the price of a box at 188 wen.
What was this New Year gift box anyway? All that flashy packaging for just a tiny bit of dried laver—selling for 188 wen just because it looked pretty?
Some people frowned and shook their heads; others lingered after tasting, smacking their lips as they walked away; some muttered that it wasn’t worth it, yet couldn’t help glancing back at the beautiful box.
While they hesitated, the thirty boxes were nearly gone.
Just as one person was about to grab a box, their companion stopped them: “You’re really buying it? I don’t think it’s worth it—you could buy so many other things with that money.”
The person waved it off, eyes fixed on the gold silk thread around the laver: “My fulang loves these fancy, colorful things. Buying him a box will make him happy—even if it were 388 wen, I’d still get it.”
The companion was taken aback, then clutched her purse with a pained look, gritted her teeth, and said, “Then I want a box too. I’ve been worried about not having the right gift for visiting relatives—this looks perfect.”
In less than a morning, the thirty boxes had sold out faster than Ye Youchun had anticipated. Many who missed out crowded the counter, urging for more, but Ye Youchun sent them off one by one, saying there’d be more tomorrow and to come early.
·
At the Qingshi Base.
Ye Youchun walked briskly, a rare smile on her face as she returned from the shop. Tucked in her arms was the shop’s ledger, recording all the dried laver sales over the past few days. The numbers were a joy to behold.
The New Year gift boxes had been selling like crazy—every day they were put out, and every day they sold out in no time. They’d already increased from thirty to eighty boxes a day, yet still couldn’t meet demand.
The workshop making the wooden boxes had been pushed to rush production. With the New Year approaching, who didn’t want to earn extra money for a good holiday? Everyone was working at full speed, their hands flying.
Ye Youchun headed toward the office to find Xie Yushu, but saw He Chao standing outside, shaking his head at her in a hushed voice: “The boss is in there negotiating with a client. Wait a bit.”
Inside the office, Xie Yushu was discussing prices with the paper shop owner.
The paper shop owner was also savvy—seeing how well Xie’s Seafood complemented her business and that orders had increased lately, she’d come specially to negotiate.
She had a keen nose for opportunity, thinking not just about the current New Year demand but about future occasions when her paper would be needed. To secure the exclusive order from Xie’s, she’d made the trip from town.
She’d guessed right—Xie Yushu had been thinking the same thing. Since she’d come, Xie Yushu was saved the trouble of visiting her shop.
Though the gift boxes were selling well, Xie Yushu was thinking beyond just the New Year—there were also spring boxes, and boxes for Qingming, Dragon Boat, Mid-Autumn, and other festivals.
Gift boxes were a long-term business, and the inside and outside all depended on the paper shop’s variety of colorful oil paper.
She had high standards and asked detailed questions. Both wanted the deal, and the negotiation went smoothly.
After the paper shop owner left, the two came in.
Her previous animated, talkative demeanor had completely vanished, replaced by a listless, wilted look.
Expressionless, she took the ledger and set it aside on the desk: “Leave the ledger. You can go.”
Without a word, they turned and left.
After stepping out, Ye Youchun couldn’t help glancing back at Xie Yushu, then turned to He Chao with a questioning look.
What was wrong with their boss?
Normally, she had endless energy—what was going on?
He Chao shook his head, indicating he had no idea either. She’d been like this all morning.
Xie Yushu doodled half-heartedly on the paper, lacking any motivation.
If anyone came in and saw her like this—brow furrowed, expression stern, back straighter than usual—they’d assume she was worried about business.
Little did they know, she was thinking about Su Chi.
At that thought, Xie Yushu pressed down harder on her brush, quickly staining the paper with chaotic ink strokes.
She crumpled the paper and tossed it aside, resting her elbows on the desk and covering her forehead with her hands, stewing in frustration.
She was angry at Su Chi.
No, strictly speaking, she was angry at herself.
Just thinking about it made her chest tighten with sourness, frustration, and deep regret—and the feeling seemed impossible to shake.
So much so that this morning, she’d left without kissing Su Chi.
It all started last night.
Last night, Su Chi sat on the edge of the bed drying his hair. His jet-black hair fell straight down over his smooth, fair shoulders, making him look luminous.
Xie Yushu moved the brazier closer and took the thick cloth from his hands, helping wring the moisture out of his hair with firm pressure.
She was stronger, drying it much faster than he could, and she could steal a kiss here and there—what a treat. He’d just come out of the warm room, soft and pliant all over.
Especially his increasingly smooth cheeks—she couldn’t resist pecking them every few moments.
Su Chi wanted to finish drying quickly so he could practice calligraphy, but her teasing slowed everything down.
Annoyed, thinking she was wasting his time, he deliberately put on a stern face and pushed her away.
Xie Yushu, pushed back by those weak hands, was momentarily stunned.
She immediately decided to turn the tables: “Su Chi, you’ve become naughty—pushing me away. Don’t you want me to dry your hair anymore?”
Her wife’s rare, plaintive, aggrieved voice did soften Su Chi’s heart. He took her hand and explained quietly: “You started it—you were the one causing trouble first…”
How could Xie Yushu not know that Su Chi wasn’t really angry? She only grew more amused—teasing her fulang was truly one of life’s greatest pleasures.
“How is kissing my own fulang a bad thing?” With that, Xie Yushu gave him another loud smack.
“Ugh.” Su Chi glared at her crossly. “You’re wasting my writing time—that’s very bad.”
Xie Yushu clutched her chest, pretending to be wounded: “Am I less important than your calligraphy?”
Su Chi didn’t want to play along anymore. He turned away and started drying his hair himself.
Xie Yushu decided to play the pity card. She pulled Su Chi into her arms and told him about the horrible treatment the original Xie Yushu had suffered while living under her aunt’s roof all those years.
But things quickly spiraled beyond her expectations.
Su Chi grabbed her sleeve, his eyes reddening instantly—big teardrops falling unexpectedly as he sobbed in her arms.
Drying his hair and calligraphy were all forgotten. His mind was full of his wife’s tragic, pitiful past.
Every word she’d said stabbed deep into the softest part of his heart.
Xie Yushu was completely stunned. She’d only meant to tease him, not make him cry like this. She could only hold him and whisper comfort.
“Don’t be sad—I’m fine now, aren’t I?”
She pulled his tear-streaked face from her chest and cradled it in her hands, coaxing softly: “Don’t cry. If you keep crying, I’ll cry too.”
Those words seemed to work like magic—Su Chi’s tears actually stopped.
Before Xie Yushu could breathe a sigh of relief, he clamped his mouth shut, said nothing, and reached for her clothes, trying to pull them off.
“I… let me see if you have any scars,” Su Chi said, his voice thick with tears, pitifully.
Xie Yushu was caught between laughter and tears, letting him undress her.
After he’d checked every inch of her skin and confirmed there were no traces of harm, he finally relaxed—but his fingers didn’t let go. He traced her unmarked skin gently, as if trying to soothe away all the hurt Xie Yushu had suffered over the years.
“Feel better now?”
Thinking the crisis was over, Xie Yushu couldn’t help teasing him again: “Haven’t you seen it all before?”
How could he joke at a time like this?
Su Chi’s lashes still clung to teardrops, his wet gaze fixed on her, looking ready to cry again.
Xie Yushu panicked: “My body’s strong—not a thing wrong with it. I’ve been healthy since I left the Zhai household. Don’t cry anymore, or I’ll cry with you.”
Half coaxing, half threatening, she was betting that Su Chi couldn’t bear to see her cry.
Su Chi sat obediently in her lap, his arms reaching up from under her armpits to wrap around her shoulders, his hands resting on her shoulder blades. His arms pressed tight against her ribs, as if he’d found his place, nestling himself firmly into her embrace.
Xie Yushu loved how close he was to her. She wrapped her arms around him securely, her palm against his waist, tilting her head to press soft kisses to his tear-stained eyes.
His tears were salty—she didn’t like the taste.
Su Chi burrowed his face back into her chest, like a kitten clinging to a steady branch, and mumbled softly: “Yushu…”
“Hm, I’m listening.” Xie Yushu rested her chin on his still-damp hair, her voice low.
He was quiet for a moment before slowly speaking: “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“It’s in the past—nothing worth talking about.” Xie Yushu stroked his cold hair.
She regretted it deeply—she wanted to slap herself from half an hour ago.
Why had she brought it up?
Had to make him cry to be satisfied.
Su Chi’s voice hitched: “But… it hurts me to know.”
“You were so little back then… and they treated you like that… I… it hurts…”
“No more hurting—they’ve got what they deserved.” Xie Yushu patted his back gently, trying to soothe him.
Su Chi kept hiccuping through words of how much he hurt for her, soaking the fabric on her shoulder with his tears.
Xie Yushu kept comforting him, one hand wiping his tears while the other dried his hair—busy as could be.
But as she worked, something didn’t sit right.
She hadn’t lived through any of that—it had all happened to the original Xie Yushu.
Su Chi was hurting for the original owner—not for her.
She was just an imposter, not the real Xie Yushu.
The more she thought about it, the more sour she felt, bubbling with jealousy.
He’d never grieved like this for her.
Xie Yushu lay awake all night, feeling utterly wronged.
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