Inside was a full eleven guan in cash.
Eleven guan packed the box—neatly stacked strings of coins, heavy and solid.
They’d spent quite a lot on the wedding, and Su Chi had thought her savings were nearly empty. He hadn’t expected there’d be this much.
“It’s not much. Keep this for household expenses. I’ll earn more later.”
Xie Yushu hadn’t told Su Chi what kind of business she was running yet. She wanted to wait until things were on track before telling him.
She’d done the math: she’d originally had forty-four guan and borrowed one hundred and twenty from Sun Wuyou, totaling one hundred and sixty-four guan.
The house cost fifty guan, the betrothal gift ten, furniture and the well eight guan and three qian—these were the biggest expenses.
There were plenty of small wedding costs too: firecrackers, lucky coins, red envelopes, snacks, feast ingredients—all together about three guan. The red fabric for their wedding clothes cost six qian, and that was just for the material—ready-made would have cost more. All in all, that came to three guan six qian.
For the new house, new quilts, pillows, and bedding came to seven qian. And the toiletries and daily supplies she’d bought separately for Su Chi cost two qian.
Xie Yushu tallied it all up quickly.
Total spent: seventy-two guan eight qian. Left on hand: ninety-one guan two qian. Of that, eighty guan was earmarked as startup capital for renting the processing base—absolutely untouchable. That left eleven guan two qian. She kept two qian for pocket money and put the rest in the small box for Su Chi to manage.
That would be their household funds from now on.
Su Chi also did a quick tally of his own assets.
Xie Yushu had helped him recover eight guan from the quack doctor. And his father had insisted he take ten guan, though Su Chi had talked him down to keeping only two for daily expenses, leaving eight with Su Chi. So he now had sixteen guan, plus some loose change—about five or six qian more.
He figured that after renting a shop, he’d set aside some of the remaining money for daily operating costs—buying ingredients, flour, and so on. There should still be a good amount left, which he’d add to the household box.
He estimated that if he had only a few guan left after renting the shop, combined with the eleven guan in the household box, they’d have enough to last a family for years—and there were only two of them. With his shop bringing in income, their lives would only get better.
Feeling more confident, Su Chi let himself think further ahead.
Once his shop was up and running, he could save extra money to buy back the Su family’s land for his father. He could also hire a couple of laborers to help tend the fields, so his father wouldn’t have to work so hard. He’d cover the costs, and his father could live comfortably in the village.
“Alright, I’ll keep it.” Su Chi’s face reddened slightly, as if entrusted with an important duty. He carefully closed the money box, carried it to his large chest like a precious treasure, and set it inside before returning to bed.
He’d already washed his face and untied his hair, which now fell loosely around his shoulders. His face looked even softer—fair and delicate.
Xie Yushu felt a little dazed. She remembered when they’d first met—he always had a stiff expression, cold to everyone. She’d thought he was hard to get along with.
Now, looking at him, she realized she must have been blind. Cold? He was anything but—so well-behaved, so soft.
She didn’t hold back. She reached out and tousled his soft hair, then gave him a peck on the lips.
“So good.”
Flustered, he shyly dodged her next kiss, hurriedly pulling the blanket over himself and wrapping up tightly, leaving only his round, bright almond eyes visible, looking at her beseechingly.
His back was still a little sore—maybe they could skip that tonight.
His eyes blinked pleadingly at Xie Yushu, hoping she’d understand.
She’d layered two thick mattresses underneath—soft and comfortable. The cotton quilt was made of newly fluffed cotton, not too thick, just right for the weather.
Lying in it was pure bliss. Su Chi had never slept in such a comfortable bed. After a long day of work, drowsiness quickly overtook him—his eyelids grew heavy and began to close on their own.
Xie Yushu’s heart softened. She’d wanted to test out the new bed’s quality with him, but seeing how exhausted he was, she couldn’t bear to. She got up, blew out the candle, and the room went dark. Then she slipped back into bed, holding his soft body, and drifted off to sleep.
Just before sleep took her, she thought: next time she went to the Zhou carpenter, she’d have to order a bedside cabinet—small and practical, like the modern ones, so she wouldn’t have to keep getting up. She could draw a sketch, and Zhou could surely understand it.
With that thought, consciousness faded.
—
Morning light streamed through the window, brightening the main room until every speck of floating dust was visible.
Su Chi’s first act upon waking was to open both windows, propping them up with thin sticks to let in more light.
Xie Yushu had asked the Zhou carpenter to paste the mulberry paper tightly, which blocked some light. Su Chi preferred bright rooms.
The house was quiet, the bedding neatly folded.
Smoke drifted from the kitchen chimney—Su Chi was already preparing breakfast.
There were so many eggs his father had given them, piled high in a basket—enough to last a long time.
He made a few simple scallion and egg pancakes, then chopped some water celery, cracked two eggs into a bowl, and made a small pot of fresh water celery and egg soup to go with the pancakes.
They’d eaten meat for two days straight, and Su Chi worried Xie Yushu might get tired of it. He wanted to make something refreshing—shredded cabbage salad—to cleanse the palate.
They had pickled vegetables and salted sides, but he wanted to give her something fresh.
He picked the biggest head of cabbage, cut it in half to reveal the tender yellow heart, and shredded it finely. He salted it to draw out moisture, then added plenty of garlic and chili powder. A splash of hot oil—sizzle—brought out the fragrance, then he added sugar, vinegar, and other seasonings, mixing everything well.
Prepared this way, the shredded cabbage just needed to sit for the morning—by noon it would be ready. Sweet, spicy, and sour, it was the perfect complement to meat dishes, never growing tiresome.
After finishing, Su Chi went to call Xie Yushu, who was still slowly washing up.
Under the willow tree in the yard, Xie Yushu was brushing her teeth at a leisurely pace. She rinsed and spat, then followed Su Chi to breakfast.
She responded with a lazy hum. She realized that in just the two days since they’d married, she’d grown even more relaxed—taking her time with everything. She had a husband now; all was well.
Today they needed to shop for household items, then look for a shop space.
The egg pancakes Su Chi made were perfectly cooked—not too tough, not too soft. Xie Yushu ate three large ones and drank two bowls of egg soup.
Seeing her eat with such relish made him happy inside.
After they’d both finished, Su Chi took out the gate key, locked up, and headed into town with Xie Yushu.
Su Chi had never been to Qingshui Lane before. Today he memorized the route—it was only about fifteen minutes to the main street.
The street was bustling, people still finishing their breakfasts. They’d already eaten at home and went straight to the shops they needed.
Xie Yushu spotted two small pots and wanted them—they’d be handy for soups and stews, lighter than the big pot, and could be used with a separate stove. With the steamer, they could cook rice, stir-fry, and make soup all at once, saving time.
Su Chi thought the big kitchen pot was enough, but when she explained it would mean hot soup and meals faster, his heart softened, and he let her buy them.
He asked the prices—nothing was cheap. Now that he was managing the household, every coin had to be accounted for.
But while he hesitated, Xie Yushu also picked up a clay pot, a set of bamboo chopsticks, and some white porcelain bowls and plates. They were simple, without patterns, but still far prettier than the coarse pottery. She’d had enough of those ugly dishes.
The two pots weren’t cheap—five qian and eighty wen. Together with the chopsticks, bowls, and other kitchen essentials, the total came to two qian fifty-five wen.
The shopkeeper, seeing it was their first visit, kindly rounded it down to eight qian even.
Eight qian gone in an instant. Su Chi silently felt the pinch as he opened his money pouch.
Oblivious to his pained expression, Xie Yushu dragged him to a fabric shop and picked out several bolts of cloth—moon-white, sapphire blue, pale green—all for him. She planned to find a seamstress to make him new clothes.
That cost another two guan nine qian.
With their arms full, they decided to head home first to drop everything off. Then, light and free, they walked several more streets in search of an available shop.
If they could find one on their own, great—if not, they’d go to Aunt Liu. There were always options.
Though Songwan Town was just a small town, its proximity to the ferry brought in plenty of merchants and customers. Shops lined the streets—there was no shortage.
The shops they looked at were either too big or too small. Su Chi wanted a place he could manage alone—too big would be unnecessary, too small would only fit two tables and leave customers cramped.
None of them pleased him. He grew a little worried. Xie Yushu assured him they’d find something.
After lunch, they looked some more. Finally, Xie Yushu found a shop that satisfied Su Chi—the second one on the corner street east of the main road.
It wasn’t large—just the right size.
When they asked around, they saw that even though it was still morning, the shopkeeper was already putting up the door panels, getting ready to close.
Xie Yushu went up to ask—and got lucky.
The shopkeeper paused, said it was a coincidence—she was just about to sell the place. If they’d come a moment later, she’d have gone to an agent.
The shop had originally sold noodle dishes. The owner was an older, sharp, efficient woman. Business wasn’t booming, but she had a steady stream of regulars. She and her husband ran it together. They were both neat and clean—from the storefront to the kitchen, everything was spotless, not a trace of grease. The floor looked polished.
She explained that her daughter in the prefectural capital had recently had a granddaughter, and they’d saved enough for retirement—so they planned to close the shop and move to help their daughter.
While they talked, Su Chi carefully examined the space. It was modest—just right for two people.
The dining area could fit four tables, and there was a separate kitchen partitioned off by a curtain. He stepped in to inspect, even running his fingers along the edge of the stove. Clean.
He grew more satisfied. He thought that if they opened up the wall between the kitchen and the dining area, they could set up a large counter at the front. With steamers on display, the fragrance would draw in more customers.
He glanced at Xie Yushu. She understood immediately and began negotiating with the shopkeeper.
“My husband really likes this shop. We’re serious buyers—give us a good price. We’d like to buy it outright, not rent.”
The older woman was pleasantly surprised—what a straightforward couple.
She’d bought the shop from the previous owner herself and had run it for over a decade—she had an attachment to it. Seeing this easygoing, pleasant-looking pair, she felt the place would be in good hands.
She and her husband had already discussed the price. This street was close to the main road, so it wasn’t cheap. She felt a little uncertain.
“Miss, I can see you’re genuinely interested. You’ve seen for yourself—it’s a busy location. If your food is good, customers will come—regulars or new ones, it doesn’t matter.”
Xie Yushu understood—the shop wouldn’t be cheap.
Seeing she’d gotten the message, the shopkeeper nodded. “Twelve guan, and it’s yours. That’s a fair price.”
Su Chi frowned slightly.
Twelve guan? Fair?
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