The cured meat was from the batch Wang Wen had brought last time—several large strips as thick as an arm, enough to last them half the winter.
Xie Yushu took down a small piece and sliced it into thin, translucent slices. She stir-fried them with diced bamboo shoots in oil. The fat rendered until fragrant, releasing the smoky aroma of the cured meat and the fresh fragrance of bamboo shoots. Just the smell alone was enough to go with rice—absolutely delicious.
The two ate in comfortable silence, each quietly finishing the food in their bowls, occasionally picking up food for the other.
By now, the neighbors had all finished their meals and retreated indoors. The lane was silent, save for the howling of the strong wind—no other extraneous noise. Only after they’d both finished eating did they set down their chopsticks.
There was still hot water in the pot for them to wash up. Su Chi told Xie Yushu to go to the bathhouse first while he washed the dishes.
Xie Yushu took the bowls from his hands, refusing: “I’ve been idle all day. You’ve been busy nonstop—you must be exhausted. Go wash up first and relax. I’ll take care of the cleaning here.”
Su Chi didn’t want to argue with her over small chores. Around the house, whoever had time would do the work. He thought this arrangement was fine—he’d need to get to his calligraphy practice early anyway.
Just as he was about to leave, he turned back and glanced at Xie Yushu.
She was bent over, efficiently clearing the dishes—tall and upright, her broad silhouette making the kitchen seem almost cramped. Yet she showed not a hint of complaint.
Su Chi felt grateful that his wife was different from other women—she was considerate of him in every way and never believed that housework was solely a man’s responsibility. Whenever she had free time, she’d come help with the chores. She never raised her voice at him, never even said a harsh word.
The corners of his mouth curved upward. How was he so fortunate to have married her?
After the two lanterns outside the Xie courtyard were finally extinguished, only the main bedroom still had candlelight.
Xie Yushu came out of the bathhouse, washed up, and pushed the door open. She saw Su Chi already sitting properly at the table in his undergarments, practicing calligraphy—holding the brush correctly, focused on every stroke, so absorbed he hadn’t even noticed her enter.
She leaned against the doorframe and watched for a while, her heart feeling as if a small hand were squeezing it soft, a warmth rising in her eyes. She walked over quietly, bent down from behind, and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the skin revealed by his slightly open collar.
The warmth from the bathhouse still lingered on his skin, and the touch of her nose made Su Chi shrink his neck slightly. Xie Yushu, deliberately teasing him, playfully nuzzled and rubbed against the tender hollow of his neck. Her straight nose traced from behind his ear to his collarbone, then back again, making Su Chi tilt his head away instinctively—but his eyes crinkled into crescent moons, bright and sparkling.
Having just washed up, he carried a moist, fresh scent, like dewdrops on morning petals—soft and endearing.
“How much longer will you write?” Xie Yushu’s voice was muffled, carrying an unconscious hint of grievance.
“I just started.” Su Chi used his free hand to stroke Xie Yushu’s left cheek, coaxing softly: “It’ll be another half hour. You rest first.”
Xie Yushu rested her chin on his shoulder, her voice softening: “Can we skip writing for tonight?”
At these words, Su Chi’s brush paused mid-stroke, a small blot of ink spreading across the paper. He looked at her with dazed, confused eyes.
Hadn’t she been the one so enthusiastic about teaching him to write? He’d only been practicing for a few days—how could she slack off already?
He placed his hand on her forearm and complained in a small voice: “What kind of teacher are you? Not properly teaching your student, and not letting your student be diligent either.”
Xie Yushu found her husband’s flustered expression absolutely adorable. She chuckled softly, then cupped the back of his head and pressed a kiss to his soft lips.
At first, it was just a light kiss—lips against lips, a brief taste. Then Xie Yushu was undone by the warm, wet tip of his tongue, and the kiss deepened. Hot breath fanned across each other’s faces. The kiss grew heavier, deeper, and at some point, Xie Yushu’s palm had found Su Chi’s waist, gently kneading.
“Mm…” Su Chi was enveloped by her scorching breath, losing himself completely. The brush in his hand slowly tipped over, clattering against the wooden table, but the sound wasn’t enough to snap them back to reason.
Soon, the atmosphere in the room turned unmistakably intimate. The warm yellow candlelight cast their intertwined shadows on the wall. The room was utterly quiet, save for the soft, sticky sounds of their kisses.
By the time Su Chi was kissed into a daze, his limp arms wrapped obediently around her neck, Xie Yushu hooked his knees and lifted him onto the bed.
“I won’t be back until evening tomorrow.” Xie Yushu laid Su Chi flat on the bed, reaching to untie his remaining undergarment, her voice leaving no room for refusal: “So… tonight, you’ll have to keep me company properly.”
“Alright… I’ll wait for you at home tomorrow.” Su Chi’s body was a little chilled, and he instinctively pressed closer to Xie Yushu. But he’d only half-heard her, catching just that she’d be coming back late.
Su Chi felt a bit unhappy.
Even when she was out, she always made it back by noon to eat with him.
Why did she have to be so late tomorrow? That meant they couldn’t have lunch together.
Before he could think further, a warm body pressed down on him.
Outside, the night wind kept howling, but inside the room, it was blissfully warm.
·
Out in the open space of the bluestone compound, everyone was so busy they barely had a moment to rest—even Xie Yushu’s arrival at the gate went unnoticed.
The open space was large, with each person responsible for their own section. At first glance, it seemed chaotic and disorganized, but in reality, each had their own way of working—some washing, some collecting, some sunning, some turning, some carrying—forming a small-scale assembly line.
Aunt Hong San oversaw the overall operation. The other three had to bring every batch of dried kelp from the bamboo trays on the wooden racks to her for inspection. Only after receiving her approval would they stack them neatly in layers, pack them into large hemp bags, tighten the openings, and store them in the warehouse.
The warehouse was a space Xie Yushu had specially cleared out a few days earlier. She’d chosen the driest room, laid a layer of wooden planks on the floor, and sprinkled lime thoroughly in the corners. Several bags were already stacked against the walls inside—all dried kelp harvested over the past few days. Each bag had a cloth strip tied to it, on which Xiu He had written the date it was dried and the date it was stored.
Their boss called this “keeping work records”—standard practice for a proper business, an essential step. He made sure to do it carefully every time.
He Chao was responsible for inspecting the quality of each bag before shipment. Today was no different. After he’d checked enough to fulfill this order, they hitched the ox-cart, loaded the several large bags of dried kelp with Xie Yushu, and headed to the ferry to meet the merchant.
They went and came back—by the time they returned, the ox-cart was empty.
With these two sizable deals completed, their makeshift base was finally on track.
But unlike her employees’ excitement, Xie Yushu was somewhat troubled. She knew these two transactions had been passive.
They couldn’t always wait at the ferry for merchants to come to them. They needed to take the initiative to attract a steady stream of buyers.
Xie Yushu came up with a plan. She found a seemingly honest stallholder at the ferry, left a few pieces of dried kelp, and slipped her some money to keep an eye out.
From then on, if any merchant wanted to buy dried kelp, they’d be directed to Ye Youchun at the ferry, who would then come notify Xie Yushu.
Ye Youchun worked near the stall regularly. Xie Yushu introduced the stallholder to her, and the stallholder took note, accepted the money, and promised to handle it properly.
Her own shop was also a ready-made showcase that could be put to good use. The shop often had merchants and casual customers coming from the ferry to eat.
She thought the shop could sell the kelp and minced meat buns she’d made before, as well as cold kelp salad and seaweed salad. These small side dishes could be paired with the vegetable congee, adding another option to the set meal while also boosting the visibility of her dried kelp.
Now that the weather was turning cold, the most prized thing in inland areas was shelf-stable food. Dried kelp, when rehydrated and used in soup, was nourishing and warming—the perfect winter choice.
They could also keep some at home. Dried kelp didn’t take up much space like fresh kelp—just a small spot and it would last a long time.
Before eating, just put in one piece, and it would soon rehydrate into a large sheet.
Xie Yushu did the math: five guan worth of fresh kelp bought from villagers could be sold for twenty-five guan in revenue. The open space in the compound had its limits, but by rotating batches every few days, each round could yield several hundred catties.
Based on producing over six hundred catties every five days, if each batch sold successfully—after subtracting employee wages, ox-cart fees, and various necessary overheads—they could earn at least one hundred guan a month.
With this assurance, she packed a small bag of dried kelp to take home that evening.
When Su Chi felt that small bag of dried kelp, even he could tell at a glance that the quality was excellent. He said such good things should be kept for their own use—why sell them in the shop? He was a bit reluctant.
It wasn’t that he begrudged the customers good ingredients—it was that he’d never seen such fine dried goods, and naturally wanted to save the best for Xie Yushu and his father.
Xie Yushu tapped him on the nose and told him that with all the good stuff at her base, the two of them couldn’t finish it in a lifetime.
Only then did Su Chi realize that such high-quality dried kelp was what her base produced.
Then Xie Yushu shared her idea with Su Chi. After hearing it, Su Chi naturally agreed—but he’d been busy these past two days dealing with Aunt Hu and the vinegar, which had been a bit troublesome. The kelp side dishes would have to wait.
“What happened with the Hu family?” Xie Yushu sensed there was a story behind this and asked.
At this, Su Chi let out a small sigh.
Putting vinegar jars on every table for customers to add as they pleased had occurred to him that day when a customer reminded him.
Each table only had a bamboo tube for chopsticks and spoons. It should also have two small jars—one for chili oil and one for vinegar—so customers could add their own, saving him the trouble of running back and forth.
So he immediately thought of the vinegar Fang Kui had brought back last night.
That vinegar was truly excellent—fragrant and mellow, not sharp, so smooth you could drink it straight without it scratching your throat. If placed on every table for dipping buns or adding to wonton broth, the flavor would be unbeatable.
He could also put out his own homemade chili oil.
The chili oil was easy—he could make it himself. The vinegar was the problem—he’d have to buy it from a household that made vinegar.
With this in mind, he’d taken a detour to the Hu household on his way back, hoping to set up a long-term arrangement. But who knew—the moment he said he ran a shop, Aunt Hu had chased him out.
She said she’d sell to individual customers, but she wouldn’t do business with shopkeepers.
Now he was at a loss.
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