Over the next few days, Xie Yushu didn’t go anywhere—she stayed home diligently working on her business plan.
She was currently calculating the funds she had at her disposal.
Her miscellaneous expenses over this period came to less than three qian. The biggest expense was treating Sun Wuyou and Guizhi to a meal a few days ago, which had cost nearly two qian—even though they’d ordered modest dishes.
Excluding the small change, the remaining lump sum at home was thirteen guan, plus the ten guan she’d gotten from Zhai Yan, bringing her total to twenty-three guan.
Just a little more, and she could buy a house in town.
But Xie Yushu found herself in a dilemma—should she buy the house first, or rent a site for processing kelp first?
Both were important, but given her current funds, she could only prioritize one.
If she bought the house, she wouldn’t have enough to rent the site. If she rented the site, she couldn’t buy the house.
Xie Yushu sighed heavily. Cutting expenses alone wouldn’t do—the most important thing was to increase income. Money really wasn’t easy to earn.
There were other ways to make money—like in the novels she’d read, where the protagonist would open a food stall using skills far beyond the ancient people’s level.
She’d considered that, but after carefully thinking through the daily routine of running a food business, she dropped the idea.
Running a food business was exhausting—getting up early to prep ingredients, cook, and serve customers. Just thinking about it tired her out.
She wasn’t like her neighbor—hardworking and diligent. She was the laziest person around. Aside from the early-rising internal clock she’d inherited from the original owner, don’t expect any other form of industriousness from her.
Her thoughts drifted back to the kelp. Aunt Hong San should be finishing up her batch using Xie Yushu’s method in the next couple of days. She planned to check on it tomorrow.
The next day, after lunch, Xie Yushu headed to Qianwan Village. She’d barely gotten a distance from the ferry when a voice called out to her.
“Miss Xie!”
She turned to see He Chao running toward her. She stopped. “It’s you—your hand’s healed?” He looked much better, clearly recovered.
He Chao ran up to her, nodding gratefully: “All better, all better. Thanks to you, or my hand would have been ruined.” He showed her his healthy, no-longer-swollen hand.
Xie Yushu smiled, relieved. “Good to hear.”
He Chao had woken up the night after taking Sun Wuyou’s medicine. His father and sister had told him how Xie Yushu had helped, and he’d been holding onto that gratitude, waiting at the ferry every day since his recovery.
He also wished he could thank the kind and skilled doctor Sun Wuyou in person, but he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance.
He’d waited a few days, and today Xie Yushu had finally come.
“Miss, are you heading to Aunt Hong San’s place?” He Chao asked.
“I was just about to,” Xie Yushu nodded.
“No need to make the trip—I happened to pass by Aunt San’s. She said the kelp was ready and asked me to bring it to you directly.” He Chao pulled a black cloth bundle from his robes and handed it to her. Inside was the dried kelp she’d requested.
Xie Yushu gladly took the bundle and opened it to inspect the dried kelp Hong San had prepared according to her instructions.
She examined it carefully. The final product was extremely close to her standards. Her method had indeed worked better than Hong San’s. Xie Yushu felt reassured and was very satisfied with the results.
She pulled out thirty-six wen from her pouch and gave it to He Chao to pass on to Aunt San. He Chao accepted the coins and was happy to run the errand.
The bundle contained three jin. Hong San usually sold to middlemen at ten wen per jin. Xie Yushu had promised to buy at twenty percent above market price—twelve wen per jin—for a total of thirty-six wen.
Xie Yushu then asked He Chao for another favor.
He already regarded her as his savior. He’d do more than one favor—he’d willingly become her servant.
She asked him to sell these three jin of dried kelp at his stall at the ferry, and she gave him a pitch she’d just thought up on the spot.
He Chao leaned in to listen. After Xie Yushu finished, he repeated her lines several times before confidently patting his chest and agreeing.
After that, He Chao handed her a mesh bag: “Miss, this is fresh kelp—I harvested it early this morning. It’s not worth much, but I hope you won’t refuse it.”
He’d gotten up before dawn, cutting kelp before anyone else arrived. He’d picked the thickest, most plump leaves, rolled them up, and put them in the mesh bag, intending to give them to Xie Yushu.
Fresh kelp was slippery; he’d had to use a fine-mesh net his father had made to carry it.
The He family had spent all their money buying his medicine last time. He could never repay Xie Yushu for saving his life, so he’d gone early to cut this batch of kelp, hoping she’d accept this humble gift.
Xie Yushu hadn’t even noticed when he’d gotten hold of such large kelp leaves. Before she knew it, the bag was in her hands.
She couldn’t refuse, so she reluctantly took it.
Just like last time, Xie Yushu headed back with the mesh bag in hand.
They were huge pieces—how long would it take her to finish them all?
Kelp and pork rib soup? Kelp and shredded pork rice noodles? Kelp and trotter soup? Cold kelp salad? Hot and sour kelp?
On her way home, a flood of kelp recipes raced through her mind.
After getting off the ox-cart, Xie Yushu reached the village entrance just as dinner time approached. She walked briskly toward the end of the village, ready to light the fire and cook.
Passing by Su Chi’s gate, she noticed his two hens had somehow gotten out and were pecking at the wild grass along the wall.
Xie Yushu looked up and saw that the wooden gate to the Su yard wasn’t properly closed—that’s how the two chickens had gotten out.
She set down the mesh bag of kelp, bent down to catch the two hens, and gently pushed open the gate. Seeing the yard empty, she found it a bit odd.
Having lived next door to Su Chi for a while, she’d gotten a sense of his daily routine—which was basically constant busyness.
He usually returned from his stall around this time. The first thing he did was tidy the yard, then cook for his father.
Xie Yushu put the chickens securely back in the coop and was about to leave when she heard two soft voices from inside. The voices weren’t loud, but her ears were sharp—even a few faint words reached her clearly.
Su Chi’s father’s weak voice drifted out: “Xiao Chi, just leave it. I’ll eat later.”
Then came Su Chi’s firm, worried tone: “No, you need to eat now. Uncle Liu said you barely ate this morning or at noon. Father, have a few more bites before you sleep.”
Su Chi had come home to find that Liu Fūlang had told him his father hadn’t eaten much all day. He was deeply worried, so he’d reheated the lunch and brought it to him.
It was common for the sick to have poor appetite and weak digestion. It was normal for them not to want to eat, and you couldn’t force them. Xie Yushu felt an urge to rush in and tell Su Chi it was okay if his father ate less.
But then she thought of Su Chi’s stubborn, single-minded devotion to his father and decided against it.
As she stood there lost in thought, Su Chi came out of Wang Wen’s room with the dishes, intending to take them back to the kitchen. He spotted Xie Yushu in the yard.
Seeing her no longer surprised him—she’d been bringing him things so often lately that he’d grown used to her presence. He was just curious what she was here for this time.
Afraid he might misunderstand, Xie Yushu explained: “Your chickens got out. I caught them for you.”
Su Chi pressed his lips together and said nothing, looking listless. But she’d helped, so he forced himself to thank her: “Much obliged.”
“Are you upset about something?” Xie Yushu tilted her head to look at him.
Su Chi shook his head, not wanting to show it. “It’s nothing.”
Xie Yushu didn’t press. She remembered the fresh kelp lying quietly on the ground by Su Chi’s gate, so she went back, picked it up, and handed it to him.
“Take this kelp. Make a light, refreshing side dish for your father—something sweet and sour—and he should be able to eat.”
Su Chi looked at her quizzically, as if asking how she knew.
“Sorry, I overheard you two talking again. I know your father doesn’t have much appetite right now.”
Su Chi didn’t blame her, nor did he take the kelp. He simply thanked her for her kindness: “No need. My father can’t stomach anything right now.”
Occasionally, Su Chi would buy kelp from town and stew it with pork ribs for his father. But right now, his father probably couldn’t even handle rib soup—it was too greasy for a sick person.
Xie Yushu smiled and said she had a way to get his father to eat.
At that, Su Chi’s interest sparked. His eyes lit up, and his usually cool, gentle features turned hopeful as he looked at her. “R-Really?”
Xie Yushu was momentarily stunned by the way Su Chi’s bright eyes fixed on her. She wasn’t used to being looked at like that by a man—especially not by Su Chi, who was usually so cold to everyone.
He rarely showed such emotion, always keeping things bottled up, his face perpetually icy.
Xie Yushu told Su Chi about the kelp dish—one that would even tempt a sick person with no appetite to take a few bites.
If there was a way to make his father eat more, he was all for it. Her method was simple and easy to follow, so Su Chi was willing to give it a try.
With that decided, he didn’t refuse this time. He took the mesh bag of kelp into the kitchen and got to work.
He was skilled and quick to learn. Though Xie Yushu had only given him a general outline, he remembered everything.
She had suggested making a seaweed salad—a cold, tangy, sweet-and-sour dish, similar to the seaweed salad served as a condiment at hotpot restaurants.
Usually, such salads were made with shredded wakame, but since they only had thick kelp leaves, they’d use those instead.
The best part to use was the thickest, meatiest section of the kelp—easy to shred, naturally resilient, and with a better texture. A perfect choice.
And the kelp He Chao had given Xie Yushu had already been carefully selected—the thickness was just right, requiring no additional trimming.
Su Chi took the kelp into the kitchen. Xie Yushu didn’t follow—she didn’t want to risk gossip about them being alone together in the kitchen.
Since she had nothing better to do and wasn’t in a hurry to cook her own dinner, she stayed in the yard and helped him stack firewood.
A few thick logs were scattered on the ground—wood Su Chi had gathered from the back mountain last night. He’d been too busy to chop them into smaller pieces.
Xie Yushu figured that with Su Chi’s slender frame, chopping these would be tough. She, on the other hand, had plenty of strength. She took over and had the logs chopped in no time, stacking them neatly on the woodpile.
In the kitchen, Su Chi boiled some water. When it came to a rolling boil, he dropped in a large piece of kelp. After a while, he fished it out and rinsed it thoroughly with clean water.
Fresh kelp was a dark reddish-brown, but after blanching, it turned bright green—the high heat dissolved the white coating on its surface, revealing the chlorophyll beneath.
Su Chi covered the kelp with a clean cloth and pressed down on both sides to absorb all the moisture. If the kelp was going to be shredded, it needed to be dry—otherwise, it would slip and slide while cutting.
He rolled the kelp into a cylinder and sliced it into thin, resilient strips—about the thickness of a few strands of hair.
This step tested one’s knife skills, but for Su Chi, it was nothing. He curved his left hand to hold the rolled kelp, pressed his knuckles against the knife spine, and with steady, rhythmic motions, sliced through the kelp. Before long, he had a large bowl full of shreds.
He took out a jar of sesame seeds from the cupboard and, following Xie Yushu’s instructions, added a generous amount—she’d said that’s how you bring out the sesame aroma.
A spoonful of salt, then two big spoonfuls of sugar—also plenty. To other farming families, this would be painful to watch. The sugar jar happened to have just enough left for this batch. Su Chi didn’t begrudge the sugar—as long as his father could eat, nothing else mattered.
Then came light soy sauce and white rice vinegar.
The ratio of vinegar to sugar was one to one—Su Chi knew this without being told. He was used to making cold dishes and pickles, familiar with the right balance of sweet and sour.
After seasoning, he stirred the kelp in one direction with chopsticks to help the flavors penetrate and to release the kelp’s natural mucilage.
Once a thin layer of liquid had collected at the bottom, he drizzled in two circles of sesame oil, mixed well, and the dish was done.
He tasted it first. The moment it hit his tongue, a flash of surprise crossed his eyes—the sweet-and-sour flavor was beyond what he’d imagined.
The kelp was excellent—crisp, tender, and refreshing, with a delightful tangy sweetness.
The slippery shreds slid into his mouth. As he bit down, he felt the kelp’s resilient chewiness and the rich, appetizing flavors burst forth.
The sweet-and-sour balance was just right, mellow and not sharp, with a warm vinegar fragrance. The generous sugar rounded it out perfectly, while the sesame oil added a nutty finish. Each bite had a faint, crisp crunch—truly delicious.
He ate one bite after another, unable to stop.
“Done yet?” Xie Yushu came in, seeing enough time had passed.
This was a quick dish—once the shredding was done, the rest was simple.
Su Chi handed her a clean pair of chopsticks: “Done. Try it.”
Xie Yushu didn’t stand on ceremony. The rich sweet-and-sour aroma already had her mouth watering. She took a bite.
The flavor made her eyebrows lift slightly.
It tasted almost exactly like the seaweed salad from her previous life!
Appetizing and delicious.
Xie Yushu praised him without reserve: “This is it—this is exactly the flavor. Su Chi, you did a fantastic job. It’s almost identical to what I had in mind.”
She’d only given him a general outline, yet he’d recreated it nearly perfectly. Truly remarkable.
Every time Su Chi was praised by Xie Yushu, he felt a mix of modesty and embarrassment. He only knew a little—he hardly deserved such lavish compliments.
He took out another bowl, scooped out half the dressed kelp, and gave it to Xie Yushu. She’d been at the Su house long enough and didn’t want to overstay. She took the bowl and was about to leave when Su Chi called after her.
“Wait.”
Xie Yushu turned. “Yes?”
Su Chi clenched his hands nervously. After a moment, he slowly said, “It’s getting a bit late for you to go back and cook…”
Xie Yushu glanced at the sky—still bright. Not late at all. Then came Su Chi’s bold offer.
“…If you don’t mind, let me cook dinner for you?” He asked tentatively, afraid she might show the slightest reluctance.
He figured she’d be too rushed to cook now, and she’d helped him so much—coming up with ideas for his father’s meal, even chopping firewood for him. He couldn’t just take her kindness for granted.
To his surprise, Xie Yushu smiled and agreed readily.
Su Chi nodded, a little dazed, and told her to go home—he’d bring the food over when it was ready.
First, he took the reheated dishes and the seaweed salad back to Wang Wen’s room.
This time, Wang Wen ate. He finished a small bowl of rice and half a bowl of soup, a light sweat breaking out on his face.
Seeing his father finally eating, Su Chi’s mood lifted. He put extra care into cooking for Xie Yushu.
He took down the pork hanging on the wall, sliced it without a second thought, and marinated it with a bit of cornstarch and soy sauce. He pulled a handful of pickled long beans from the pickling jar and diced them. He stir-fried a glossy plate of pickled long beans with pork slices, and also made a braised tofu dish with homemade bean paste, simmered in a rich sauce—both dishes packed with flavor and perfect with rice.
He also steamed enough rice for three people.
Women had more strength and burned more energy, so they ate a lot. Two of the portions were meant for Xie Yushu—he wanted her to have her fill.
When the food was ready, he brought it over to her. He’d initially thought about inviting her to eat at his house, but on second thought, that wouldn’t be wise. Her reputation in the village was already shaky. If anyone saw them, rumors would spread—and it would only cause trouble for her.
Xie Yushu got to enjoy Su Chi’s cooking again. The two dishes were almost too good—his skills were far beyond her own amateur attempts.
She ate quickly and thoroughly, finishing even the two portions of rice. When she returned the bowls to the Su house, she’d already washed them clean. With bright eyes, she heaped endless praise on his cooking.
Su Chi’s ears burned at her words. He wasn’t nearly as good as she made him out to be.
Late at night, lying in bed, Su Chi’s thoughts churned restlessly.
His mind was a mess. He kept recalling Xie Yushu’s smile—that mischievous glint in her eyes when she looked at him. His heart felt suspended in midair, with nowhere to land.
Leave a Reply