Ever since Su Chi and Jiang Wanxue had hit it off at their first meeting, they’d begun meeting regularly.
Since Jiang Wanxue was heavily pregnant and couldn’t go out easily, it was always Xie Yushu who took Su Chi to the Tang household to chat, and then picked him up again when the sun went down.
The two expecting fulang had endless topics to talk about.
They’d chat about everything—from how many months along they were, to which private school their children should attend when they grew up.
Su Chi knew nothing about any of this. He’d lean obediently against the soft silver-thread cotton cushions, ears perked up, carefully noting down everything Jiang Wanxue said, storing up knowledge for the little one in his belly.
Jiang Wanxue had taken a liking to Su Chi at first sight. He treated him like a close friend, holding nothing back—sharing everything he knew about the county’s best academies, private schools, and where to find retired Hanlin scholars as teachers.
What Su Chi appreciated most was Jiang Wanxue’s advice on managing a household.
The Tang household had dozens of people—servant assignments, purchasing accounts, holiday schedules, even the servants’ family events—all handled by Jiang Wanxue.
He broke down his experience in bite-sized pieces for Su Chi.
“Managing a household starts with managing people. Managing people starts with setting clear rules. Rewards and punishments must be fair—you can’t indulge the lazy and sly, nor can you let the honest and hardworking feel slighted.”
“I understand. The Xie household may be small now, but you’ll be adding more people in the future. The sooner you learn from my experience, the better it’ll be for you.”
Su Chi was already a good fulang in the Xie household—all the servants praised him. With so few people, managing them came easily. But if the household grew, managing it truly wouldn’t be simple. Jiang Wanxue’s words had struck a chord.
During their visits, Jiang Wanxue would also send servants to buy breakfast from Su’s Bun Shop, praising the food.
Mornings were when his appetite was worst, but he could eat three or four of Su Chi’s buns, plus a bowl of wonton soup—he’d finish every drop.
When he learned that Su Chi personally trained all the shop’s staff, he praised his skill repeatedly, making Su Chi blush.
Jiang Wanxue sighed with regret: “If only I weren’t so heavy, I’d show you my pastry-making skills.”
Su Chi didn’t mind and comforted him: “That’s alright. Once you’ve had the baby and recovered, I’ll come back to try your pastries.”
When Su Chi got home, Xie Yushu would often hear things like “Wanxue said” or “Jiang Fulang said” from her fulang’s lips—always praising Jiang Wanxue in one way or another.
Seeing Su Chi had found a friend he could talk to in the county genuinely made Xie Yushu happy, even if it meant her fulang seemed to have forgotten about her for a while.
Su Chi genuinely liked Jiang Wanxue—he found him knowledgeable, well-spoken, and from a refined background. The county was crowded and full of eyes—there was no harm in learning more.
·
There was plenty of open space in the back courtyard. A few days earlier, several osmanthus saplings had been planted. Su Chi noticed there was still room left—it would be a waste to leave it empty. So he discussed it with Xie Yushu and had a small section fenced off to make a vegetable patch.
Su Chi had missed the little vegetable garden at their old home in Songwan Town—he and Xie Yushu had worked on it for so long to get such a good harvest. Though the Xie residence was grand, he wanted the household to have fresh vegetables every day. Having their own would be much more convenient.
Xie Yushu went along with whatever he wanted, so she agreed.
Su Chi had worried that a vegetable patch might look out of place—if guests came, would it embarrass her?
Xie Yushu had chuckled softly: “It doesn’t matter. Do whatever you like with the house—as long as you’re happy. You’re the fulang of the Xie household; you can do as you please.”
With her assurance, Su Chi acted quickly.
Xie Jiu, besides being strong, was also skilled at farming. Back in her hometown, she’d tended the fields every day—single-handedly managing several acres, with a good harvest year after year.
When she heard the fulang wanted a vegetable patch in the back courtyard, she puffed out her chest and took on the task.
Su Chi picked the spot, and Xie Jiu finished breaking the ground in one afternoon—turning the soil, fertilizing, and even setting up trellises for grapes and melons.
To keep it fitting for the elegant courtyard, Xie Jiu wove a low fence around the patch, adding a touch of rustic charm to the back yard. All that was left was for the fulang to pick the seeds.
From then on, Xie Jiu tended to it personally. Every day, the household would see her diligently caring for the fulang’s beloved little garden.
Besides that, Xie Yushu had a carpenter build a swing in the back courtyard.
Su Chi’s eyes lit up when he saw it: “Is this for the baby?”
Xie Yushu pinched his cheek, took his hand, and carefully helped him onto the swing: “Yes—for the baby, and for the baby’s father too.”
She’d been thinking about this for a long time—wanting to build a big swing for Su Chi. Back in town, the courtyard had been too small; there was no space. She’d kept the idea tucked away all this time.
Now that they had a new home—so much larger—the back courtyard was quiet and secluded. Beneath the largest old tree, a broad patch of shade fell like a canopy, its layered leaves blocking out the fierce sun. At this time of year, sitting there meant no sunburn, and you could still see the lotus pond not far off. Xie Yushu had fallen in love with the spot at first sight.
Su Chi gripped the swing ropes on either side, swaying gently, a childlike smile spreading across his face. Xie Yushu stood behind him, pushing at an easy, unhurried pace. Seeing him so happy, she couldn’t help the smile that crept across her lips.
When the swing came to a slow stop, Xie Yushu stepped around to the front, cupped his face, and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.
Golden specks of light flickered around them through the leaves, and the warm breeze brushed against them. Their light summer clothes fluttered and intertwined—lazy and sweet.
·
With the heat, Su Chi decided to make rolled pancakes for dinner.
In the kitchen, he and Shan Ge’er—who was skilled at making dough—kneaded the pancake batter together. Shan Ge’er rolled it into thin sheets and griddled them, while Su Chi prepared the stir-fried dishes to go with them.
His belly was now past three months. Whenever he cooked, at least one or two people helped out.
Su Chi didn’t insist on doing everything himself—with extra hands, the meal came together faster.
By the time Xie Yushu returned from the workshop, dinner was ready.
“Pancakes tonight?” Xie Yushu asked casually, not seeing any main dishes.
Su Chi wiped the sweat from her face and neck with a cloth: “Yes—go wash up and we’ll eat.”
Xie Jiu was drawing well water nearby for Xie Yushu to wash her hands.
Instead of eating indoors, they moved to a stone table near the kitchen. The evening breeze carried away the day’s heat, with a hint of coolness.
On the table was a stack of thin, soft pancakes—lightly golden and glossy, layered one on top of another. They were so springy you couldn’t tear them, even in your hands.
Around them were arranged side dishes: stir-fried mixed vegetables, shredded pork in rich sauce, cucumber shreds, scallion shreds, and bean sprout shreds.
The mixed veggies were a quick stir-fry of eggs, leeks, and vermicelli. The pork was coated in a thick sauce; the cucumber and scallions were cut into fine strips—the scallions fragrant, the cucumber fresh. The blanched bean sprouts added a crisp crunch.
The mung bean soup, boiled at noon, had been chilled in the well all afternoon. When brought up, the earthenware pot was beaded with fine droplets of cold water—cool and refreshing just to look at.
There were two wells in the back courtyard: one large one for washing, and a smaller one right next to the kitchen for cooking and cleaning.
Xie Yushu and Su Chi sat at one table; the four servants at another.
Xie Yushu spread a pancake in her hand—soft yet springy. She picked a bit of each dish and laid them evenly across the pancake, rolling it into a plump cylinder, and placed it in Su Chi’s hand.
Su Chi took a bite—the pancake was chewy, and the blend of flavors layered beautifully, crisp and refreshing. He nodded at her: “So good. You eat too.”
“Mm.” Xie Yushu took a bite from the same spot he’d bitten, chewing slowly, her eyes full of warmth. “Delicious.”
But they were outside, with Xie Jiu and Xiuwei at the table. Su Chi blushed and gave her a light shove, glancing around nervously. Fortunately, one was too busy eating and the other was fumbling with his pancake—no one had noticed. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Xie Jiu, after much effort, finally managed to roll one up like Xie Yushu had. One big bite and her eyes lit up. She mumbled “This is amazing!” and polished it off in a few bites.
Xiuwei rolled his with care and precision, nibbling delicately. The flavor left him speechless.
When he started rolling a second one, he sneaked a glance at his fulang and master—they didn’t seem to need him—and relaxed, enjoying his meal.
Since coming to serve them, Xiuwei had never gone hungry. They treated him well, asking only that he attend to the fulang. He served with all his heart.
Everyone also had a bowl of honeyed mung bean soup, cool and sweet, the creamy bean paste sliding down and washing away the heat.
·
With the shop doing well, Su Chi seized the momentum and added new items.
A business partner of Xie Yushu’s had recently sent the Xie household a cartload of fresh seafood—conchs, scallops, sea intestines—too much for one family to finish.
Rather than let it go to waste, Su Chi decided to turn it into seafood-stuffed buns for the shop.
The household also bought a good amount of bitter melon—Su Chi made stir-fried bitter melon with pork to cool the summer heat. He planned to make conch buns and chive-and-sea-intestine buns, served with a light bitter melon broth to balance the heat.
Because of the seafood filling, these buns would be priced higher than the usual ones.
But Su Chi wasn’t worried about selling them. There were plenty of well-off people in the county who cared about good food, and his ingredients were fresh. The locals knew quality—if the flavor suited them, they’d sell out.
That evening, Su Chi dragged Xie Yushu into the kitchen to experiment with the seafood filling recipe. Steamer after steamer came out—by the time Xie Yushu was nearly stuffed, Su Chi finally settled on the final version.
The next day, Su Chi and Shan Ge’er made an initial batch for the household and the Tang family to sample.
Jiang Wanxue ate with relish. The thin skin of the chive-and-sea-intestine bun burst open, releasing a flood of savory juice. Su Chi had finely chopped the sea intestines—not tough, not mushy, but smooth and chewy, carrying that distinctive briny freshness of the sea.
He’d added a bit of rich pork filling too. Once the chives were steamed, their unique flavor melded with the conch and meat—neither spicy nor pungent.
The filling held together in a tender, sticky ball that clung to the soft skin. The wrapper was pillowy, the filling springy, and the juice and meat were perfectly blended—so delicious you’d hate to swallow, and then go straight for another.
Tang Zhiyi was grateful that Su Chi had helped restore Jiang Wanxue’s appetite and sent over some rare ingredients to the Xie household. Xie Yushu accepted them without hesitation.
The new buns were an even bigger hit than Su Chi had expected. Within days, the cartload of seafood was gone, and Su Chi sent Xie Jiu to the county ferry for another load.
Many well-off families didn’t come to the shop themselves—they sent servants to buy steamer after steamer.
It was the first time the county folks had tasted buns with such bold fillings. Word spread fast—everyone who tried them praised them. The idea of putting such fresh seafood in buns was a revelation, and they all applauded the skill of the Su family bun shop’s owner.
Before long, the lines at the shop and the dine-in crowds grew even larger. People came from all corners of the county just to taste this seasonal freshness.
·
On a night in August, Jiang Wanxue safely gave birth to a baby girl.
Tang Zhiyi had her first child. Overjoyed to be a mother, the entire household erupted in celebration.
Congratulations poured in from the servants. Tang Zhiyi happily distributed red envelopes to everyone—the whole Tang household was bathed in the joy of their young lady’s arrival.
Su Chi didn’t hear the news until the next day. With his five-month belly, he went to the kitchen and carefully prepared a pot of rich ginseng and astragalus chicken soup.
“The Tang family has cooks for that—why are you working yourself up over it?” Xie Yushu fretted, watching Su Chi labor in the kitchen in the sweltering heat. Were the Tang family’s cooks dead or something?
“Wanxue had this soup once before and loved it,” Su Chi said, carefully skimming the foam with a ladle, not turning around. “We agreed earlier—when he had the baby, I’d make him a pot of chicken soup.”
“Fine, fine.” Xie Yushu gave in, hovering nearby, looking for ways to help.
Once the soup was ready, Xie Yushu wouldn’t let Su Chi touch the hot pot. She took over, ladling the soup into a jar, and went with Su Chi and Xiuwei to visit Jiang Wanxue.
She carried the soup jar, Xiuwei held gifts for Jiang Wanxue and the baby. Su Chi, with his round belly, urged them to walk faster—he didn’t want the soup to get cold.
At the Tang residence, a servant led them to see Jiang Wanxue.
Xie Yushu stayed outside to talk with Tang Zhiyi.
When she saw Tang Zhiyi, Xie Yushu did a double take.
Normally so composed and refined, the woman was now red-eyed, grinning from ear to ear, half-laughing, half-crying—almost unsettling in her frantic joy.
The sight made Xie Yushu a little uneasy.
Would she turn into this when Su Chi gave birth?
“I have a daughter!” Tang Zhiyi spotted Xie Yushu and grabbed her in a crushing hug.
She was as strong as an ox and nearly knocked the wind out of her. Xie Yushu winced, pushed her off, rubbed her aching shoulder, and managed a congratulations: “Congratulations—you’re a mother now.”
Tang Zhiyi giggled stupidly: “You’ll be one soon too!”
Inside the room, Jiang Wanxue had been cleaned up, changed into fresh clothes. Though still pale from childbirth, he couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes.
He leaned against the headboard, sipping the chicken soup Su Chi had brought, his gaze never leaving the tiny bundle in his arms.
Su Chi sat by the bed, also gazing at the soft, boneless little bundle, his eyes so gentle they seemed to overflow.
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