The next day, Xie Yushu went to the Xie family branch shop.
Xie Qi was already waiting at the entrance. The moment she saw her, she forced a smile and came forward: “You’re here. If you hadn’t come, I would have gone to the Tang household to find you.”
She said it with a laugh, but anyone could see she looked terrible.
There were faint bruises under her eyes, her gaze was a bit unfocused, and her spirit was low—clearly, she hadn’t slept well last night.
Xie Qi had tossed and turned all night, unable to close her eyes.
She should have known—she should have known. Her eldest sister had been away for so many years. If she still cared about them, she wouldn’t have remained completely silent all this time.
All these years, the hatred had long faded, the anger had subsided—but she’d never even sent a single letter. It seemed her eldest sister had simply grown tired of this family.
The Xie family had long prepared for the worst. Xie Yushu’s appearance had only shattered their last lingering hope of seeing Xie Lan again.
A perfectly healthy person, gone so quietly. The eldest daughter of the Xie family, dead for years, and not a single one of them had known.
Xie Yushu steadied her wobbling aunt and urged her: “Auntie, please take care of yourself.”
“Good… good.” Xie Qi took a deep breath and led Xie Yushu inside. “Come in, quickly.”
After they were seated, Xie Yushu looked directly at her and asked, “Auntie, how did you know I was at the Tang household?”
“I asked around. The Tang family doesn’t entertain guests casually. Boss Tang thinks highly of you—that’s why she invited you to stay.” Xie Qi nodded, her gaze tender as she looked at Xie Yushu. “I asked you to come today to discuss your situation.”
The news of her eldest sister’s death had to be relayed to the family. And there was the matter of Xie Yushu being formally recognized—everything needed to be arranged.
Xie Qi suddenly remembered one extremely important detail—Xie Yushu’s name. She knew her eldest sister would never have chosen the character for “shallow learning.” There had to be some trickery behind it.
She asked, “Yushu, your mother must have chosen the ‘shu’ for ‘book’ (書), right?”
This time, Xie Yushu didn’t argue and admitted it: “Yes, it’s ‘book.’ The current ‘shu’ (疏) was changed by my aunt.”
“Why?” Xie Qi frowned slightly.
Xie Yushu didn’t go into detail, only briefly touching on her childhood spent with the Zhai family. Her tone was flat, as if she were telling a stranger’s story.
But when Xie Qi heard it, her expression twisted, her brows shooting up in fury.
“What utter scum! How dare they—how dare they treat you like this!” She slammed the table, rattling the teacups—tea sloshing across the table.
“Auntie, don’t upset yourself,” Xie Yushu soothed her, her tone warmer than before. “They’ve already gotten what they deserved. I don’t want to dwell on the past—we have to look forward, don’t we?”
Xie Qi stared at her in a daze. This beautiful young woman was unmistakably a Xie by blood, yet she lived with such clarity and wisdom—so unlike the Xie family’s other grandchildren.
What hurt most was the pain she’d endured—a Xie bloodline, orphaned and left to suffer under another family’s roof, while they’d known nothing.
Xie Qi took Xie Yushu’s hands, her voice sincere: “Child, you’ve suffered so much.”
“Your grandmother and grandfather will be overjoyed to see you.” Xie Qi gripped her hands tightly. “Tomorrow—we’ll go back tomorrow.”
Xie Yushu didn’t pull away, her tone steady: “Auntie, could we put off the return for now? I still have things to take care of in Tang’an County.”
Right—her niece had built her own business from nothing, now she was a boss managing a whole team.
At that thought, Xie Qi brightened again.
A natural-born businesswoman—who didn’t hide or hedge. Just like a Xie.
“Whatever you want—I won’t pressure you. As long as you come back eventually.”
·
Meanwhile, Ye Youchun had found Qin Fulang’s pancake shop on Jinliu Street. Qin Fulang, knowing she was sent by the Xie woman who’d helped him yesterday, treated her with respect.
The two carefully went over the seaweed snack process.
After a rough read-through, Ye Youchun asked, “Is it convenient to do this here?”
Qin Fulang nodded: “Yes, quite convenient. It’d be even better with other types of ovens, but my current ones will work fine.”
“Good. Then let’s get started—we’ll trouble you.”
Qin Fulang worked diligently. He took the packet of dried laver Ye Youchun had brought and was immediately amazed by its quality.
The finished product from this batch would be excellent.
He’d never seen this before—only heard rumors during the New Year that a dried product called “dried laver” had appeared in the county. This must be it.
Ye Youchun looked at him: “If you need any help, just say so.”
Qin Fulang waved her off: “No, no—I can manage on my own. No trouble at all.”
The method wasn’t difficult—simple, really. The key was just heat control, and he had confidence in that. After all, he’d been working with his wife for so many years. Anything related to fire and ovens, he knew well.
Without further ado, he spread the dried laver on a clean cutting board, tore it into pieces about half a palm wide and a palm long, as instructed. Using a spray bottle, he misted the surface evenly. Once the sheets had absorbed enough moisture and softened, they were ready to be removed.
Qin Fulang carefully lifted a corner with tweezers and gently peeled along the laver’s natural grain. One sheet of dried laver could yield three or four thin layers—each so translucent it was practically see-through. When held in the palm, you could even make out the lines of your hand—unbelievably thin.
He took out a copper wire baking rack, laid the peeled laver sheets flat, brushed each one with a thin layer of oil, sprinkled on fine salt and sesame seeds, and then placed them in the oven to roast.
The charcoal in the oven wasn’t burning too hot—the instructions said to use the residual heat of the fire. If the temperature was too high, it wouldn’t turn out well.
This was Qin Fulang’s first time baking something with residual heat. Before this, he and his wife had only ever baked thicker items. Seeing this new technique, he quietly committed it to memory.
He stayed by the oven, turning the sheets every so often, his eyes fixed on the seaweed inside—completely focused.
Under the gentle heat of the dying coals, the rows of thin seaweed sheets gradually changed from dark green to pale green, until the edges just began to curl. Qin Fulang knew that was the signal to take them out immediately.
If they roasted even a moment longer, they’d be ruined.
Roasting seaweed truly depended on the artisan’s eye and precise heat control.
Now he understood why Xie Yushu had asked him to do this—it was truly a craft requiring skill, with no room for carelessness.
The freshly baked seaweed snacks came out perfectly flat. Thanks to the thin layer of oil, they looked crisp and glossy, thin as a cicada’s wing. When you held both sides, they felt almost sharp with brittleness—they crackled at the slightest touch.
For a moment, he was amazed—how had Xie Yushu come up with such a brilliant idea?
Xie Yushu had spent a long time perfecting the seaweed snack method, drawing on her knowledge of food from her previous life.
In this era with limited conditions, she couldn’t process it like a modern factory, so she’d adapted a small-scale, household approach. Though the method was slightly different, the final flavor was just as good—and perfectly scalable for larger production here.
“Fragrant!” Qin Fulang’s eyes lit up. He picked up one piece and handed it to Ye Youchun. “Miss, try it.”
Ye Youchun had already smelled the roasting laver filling the room—but it was different from the dried laver they baked at the base.
Dried laver was savory and salty, but this seaweed snack had an appetizing fragrance that was entirely unique.
A sheet disappeared in two bites, leaving both of them wanting more. Qin Fulang remarked, “I’ve never tasted anything this fragrant.”
“Delicious.” Ye Youchun’s heart raced too after eating it.
No wonder her boss was so eager to make this—it was this tasty. It would definitely sell well.
Qin Fulang didn’t eat any more. He packed up the rest and handed it to Ye Youchun.
After she left, Qin Fulang was about to open for business when he noticed a small pile of copper coins left on the table.
·
“Try it.” Xie Yushu placed the seaweed snacks Qin Fulang had made on the table and slid them toward Tang Zhiyi.
Tang Zhiyi’s face lit up: “Is this the seaweed snack you mentioned last time?”
Xie Yushu nodded confidently: “Exactly.”
Tang Zhiyi carefully picked up the top sheet, brought it to her nose, and sniffed—truly unique, unlike anything she’d ever seen.
“Crunch—”
The moment it hit her mouth, she was amazed by the texture.
So crisp and light that it seemed to melt on the tongue without chewing, leaving behind nothing but a delicious, salty fragrance.
“Delicious.” Tang Zhiyi’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Xie Yushu with curiosity: “What’s going on in that head of yours? How do you come up with such novel ideas?”
Xie Yushu accepted the compliment but didn’t answer her question—just smiled at her.
“What?” Tang Zhiyi looked puzzled.
Why was she looking at her like that?
Xie Yushu pointed lightly: “You’ve got something on the corner of your mouth.”
“Here? Or here?”
“Left side.”
Under Xie Yushu’s direction, Tang Zhiyi found the seaweed crumb on her lip, picked it off with her finger, and popped it into her mouth.
Xie Yushu was a bit surprised by her casual manner—how had this woman changed so much? She used to be so refined and proper; now she seemed almost coarse.
Tang Zhiyi seemed to want more and picked up another sheet, nodding as she ate.
Then she asked, “What category does this fall under—seafood or snack?”
Xie Yushu had already decided on the positioning: “Snack.” She added, “This isn’t easy to make. I’m planning to sell it to wealthy families like yours.”
Tang Zhiyi nodded emphatically—exactly what she’d been thinking. Such a delicious snack would have no trouble finding buyers.
She was already mentally calculating the possibilities.
Even she had never tasted such a unique snack—let alone the rest of the county and the prefecture. It would definitely sell!
“Is this the only flavor? Any others?” Tang Zhiyi asked.
Xie Yushu raised an eyebrow slightly—the merchant’s instinct was sharp indeed. She’d immediately realized there could be different flavors.
She replied, “You can brush on honey for a sweet version; add a layer of sauce for a savory one; or sprinkle with extra sesame and salt.”
Tang Zhiyi suddenly laughed: “Ha! Not bad at all, Xie Yushu. You really have a business mind. When are you planning to scale up?”
“No rush—I’m still looking for a location.”
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