Her money pouch bulging, Xie Yushu had suddenly leapfrogged from poor peasant to well-off farmer. That familiar feeling was back.
She headed toward the seafood market, which was still bustling. Stalls were piled high with fresh catches from the sea and rivers that hadn’t yet sold out.
Xie Yushu crouched in front of one stall to browse. She spotted a large piece of kelp, reached out, and pinched it. The edges were yellowed, the texture dry and rough—clearly the lowest grade.
“Feel free to look around, miss—all fresh goods here,” the stall owner called out, seeing she was interested.
Xie Yushu shook her head with a smile. “Boss, this kelp of yours isn’t all that fresh.”
The stall owner, a woman in her early forties, snatched the kelp back from Xie Yushu’s hand, her brows raised in indignation. “You young miss—do you even know your goods? This is top-quality stuff that arrived this morning! Don’t go making things up!”
Xie Yushu wasn’t offended by the rough treatment. She said calmly, “You can tell good kelp with just a touch.”
She spoke unhurriedly, with an air of composure: “First, look at the mucus. Good kelp has a layer of slime on the surface. Yours is dry and rough—likely due to improper drying, or it’s old stock that’s been sitting around.”
“Second, look at the color. Freshly dried kelp, even when dry, still has a deep brownish-green hue. Yours is dull, dark, and lifeless—it’s been ‘dead’ for quite some time.”
“Third, check the texture. High-quality kelp should be thick and resilient, bending without breaking. Look at yours—how shriveled is it?”
Xie Yushu spoke each point clearly. The first few were said with a smile, but when she reached the last point, her expression turned serious: “And most importantly, the white powder on the surface of your kelp isn’t natural sea salt—it’s clearly a sign of dampness and mildew.”
“Boss, selling such inferior kelp—if someone gets sick from eating it, that’s no small matter.”
The stall owner had no idea where this person had come from, picking apart her goods like that. She stiffened her neck and snapped, “Are you here to cause trouble? If you’re not buying, get lost—don’t disrupt my business.”
Feeling guilty, the owner instinctively tried to shove Xie Yushu away. But Xie Yushu was quicker—not only did she easily dodge the woman’s hand, she snatched the kelp back, shook it open, and revealed holes of varying sizes, some eaten away by insects.
She held it up coldly for the owner to see: “And you call this good kelp? It’s clearly rotten inside and out.”
“Kelp can be used as medicine. It’s cold in nature, salty in taste, and acts on the liver, stomach, and kidney meridians. Proper medicinal kelp should be thick, dark green, and free of sand or impurities, so it can dissolve phlegm, soften hardness, and promote diuresis to reduce swelling. But this inferior product you’re selling has no medicinal properties whatsoever. On the contrary, mildew toxins entering the body will cause vomiting and diarrhea.”
Xie Yushu paused, then continued: “You should know, boss, how many medicinal herb traders pass through Mapu Ferry every day? If they take this kelp for medicinal use and patients get sick, your stall’s reputation would be the least of your worries—you’d be dragging down the ferry’s hard-won reputation for quality dried seafood and mountain goods as well.”
Xie Yushu’s words rang out with authority. Some passing merchants and travelers were drawn over by the commotion. Hearing her speak so logically and even demonstrate knowledge of pharmacology, they couldn’t help but applaud and cheer for her.
The stall owner’s face went pale, then red, then green. Xie Yushu had pinned her with a charge of harming the ferry’s reputation—something she couldn’t talk her way out of. Her eyes darted nervously as she struggled to respond.
She’d bought a batch of this low-grade kelp at a discount and was selling it cheap, hoping to make a little profit from penny-pinchers. She’d been selling it for a while without trouble—until today, when she ran into this young miss.
Just her luck. She quickly started packing up her stall, trying to slip away under the crowd’s accusations, but some onlookers grabbed her and said they’d take her to the Du family for an explanation.
The crowd soon dispersed. By then, the market was nearly over, and Xie Yushu’s plan to buy kelp had fallen through. She had no choice but to leave the ferry and head into town to see what she could find.
“Wait!”
Before she’d taken two steps, a crisp, pleasant voice called out to her. She turned to see a pair of mistress and servant—one older, one younger. The younger one carried a bundle and a small satchel; the older one had called out to her.
“Yes?” Xie Yushu stopped and asked.
The young woman stopped in front of her and said cheerfully, “Nothing much. I just found it very satisfying watching you put that unscrupulous vendor in her place. I didn’t expect you to know pharmacology—have you studied medical texts?”
Xie Yushu shook her head honestly. “No.”
She explained, “I just read a lot of miscellaneous books in my spare time, and some of them cover medicinal properties. But they’re not proper medical texts, so I wouldn’t say I’ve studied medicine.”
In her previous life, during her happy days of lounging at home, Xie Yushu had loved reading—a little bit of everything. Kelp’s medicinal properties were just common knowledge to her.
The woman nodded in understanding. “I see.”
She then gave a bright, open laugh. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sun Wuyou, and this is my attendant, Guizhi. We’re from Tang’an County and came here to collect some medicinal herbs to take back.”
Guizhi was also fond of a good spectacle and loved to chat. Besides, Sun Wuyou never restrained her from speaking. She gave Xie Yushu a polite bow and said, “This servant is Guizhi, and this is our family’s Fifth Miss. We happened to pass by here—meeting you is fate.”
Guizhi spoke with pride when mentioning the Sun family. Who in Tang’an County didn’t know the Sun family? Not just in the county, but throughout the entire Jiangzhou—they were a renowned family of medicine that had practiced for generations.
Both mistress and servant fixed their eyes on Xie Yushu, waiting. It took her a moment to realize it was her turn to introduce herself: “My name is Xie Yushu. I live in Qingluo Village.”
She truly had no idea who the Sun family or Wu family were, but judging by their expressions, they must be quite an illustrious household.
Sun Wuyou sighed, “What a beautiful name. Much prettier than mine.”
Beside her, Guizhi tugged at her sleeve and whispered, “Miss, don’t say that. That name is your father’s wish for you—he only wants you to live without worries.”
The “husband” Guizhi referred to was Sun Wuyou’s father.
Guizhi was a few years younger than Sun Wuyou, but mentally she was far more mature. She took excellent care of her young mistress in every aspect—food, clothing, shelter, and daily needs—so the Sun family was at ease letting them travel together.
Xie Yushu nodded goodbye to the mistress and servant, then headed toward town with the oil-paper-wrapped dried goods clutched in her arms.
“I didn’t expect someone with such poise and bearing—and such eloquence—to come from a place like this. Guizhi, did you see her? The way she confronted that unscrupulous vendor was truly admirable,” Sun Wuyou remarked, gazing at Xie Yushu’s retreating figure.
Guizhi was busy counting the remaining silver they’d brought from home and nodded absently.
Her young mistress could generate all sorts of fanciful emotions about anything she encountered—Guizhi was long used to it.
When a dog had peed on her foot on the road, she called it “the nature of animals” and adored it. When someone had pickpocketed her money pouch at an inn, she called it “human nature” and revered it. When she’d come across a husband and wife arguing on the street, she called it “the dust of the mortal world” and listened with earnest attention.
She truly lived up to the name her father had given her—always cheerful and carefree, untouched by worry, which allowed her to possess such abundant and optimistic emotions.
The pair continued searching the ferry for various dried seafood products, many of which could be used in medicine. They’d heard the quality here was good and had come to see for themselves.
After a while, tired from browsing, they found a restaurant, ordered a few dishes, and sat down.
Guizhi wiped Sun Wuyou’s bowl and cup clean with a neat cloth, her small face scrunched up in worry. “Miss, when are we going back? The mistress told us to go to the neighboring county to collect herbs. We’ve detoured all the way here—I’m afraid we’ll be punished if the mistress finds out.”
Sun Wuyou cradled her tea cup and soothed her, “What are you afraid of when I’m here?”
At that, Guizhi grew anxious and huffed, “Miss, don’t even say that! I’m always the one who gets punished! The mistress cuts my snacks and makes me copy medical texts! And you always run off by then!”
The “mistress” she referred to was Sun Wuyou’s mother.
The Sun family had deep scholarly traditions and strict discipline. They never beat or scolded their servants but treated them well, so the household staff were neither timid nor arrogant. Guizhi, who had grown up serving Sun Wuyou since childhood, was treated like family.
“Oh, alright, alright. Let’s eat, let’s eat—have this braised chicken leg.” Sun Wuyou picked up a glistening braised chicken leg with her chopsticks and placed it in Guizhi’s bowl, trying to placate her.
Guizhi was still young at heart—no matter how mature she seemed, she was still a child. The sight of good food silenced her complaints. Her eyes locked onto the dish, and she finally devoured it with relish.
—
Xie Yushu returned to town, carrying the small fortune of fourteen guan, three qian, and two wen, thinking about what to buy for the house.
Her goal was to save up enough to buy a house in town—she really couldn’t get used to that rundown country shack.
Based on the original owner’s purchase price, she’d need at least thirty to thirty-five guan. She currently had just over fourteen—far too short. So she couldn’t spend recklessly; the bulk of it had to be saved.
She thought through what she needed. Furniture could wait—the few broken pieces she had were enough for one person.
She first went to a grain shop to buy rice. Rice wasn’t expensive—twenty wen per dou, and in this world, one dou was twelve jin. She bought one dou, packed it in a hemp sack, paid, and left.
Next, she went to the toiletries shop the original owner used to frequent and bought a bristle brush and mint tooth powder.
The tooth powder came in a coarse pottery jar slightly smaller than a man’s palm. The brush was the most common type—pig bristle. There were softer horsehair brushes, but the price made Xie Yushu think twice. She clutched her money pouch and went with the budget option.
The shopkeeper still remembered Xie Yushu—the original owner had been a regular. Seeing her back for more, the shopkeeper chatted warmly with her for a while, mentioning that new stock had arrived and inviting her to look around.
The shop wasn’t large. The shelves were neatly organized by category. On the left were the shop’s signature toothbrushes and tooth powders, which came in a surprising variety of flavors.
In the middle were an array of creams and bath powders: soapberry shampoo, hand cream, face cream, osmanthus hair oil, bath beans, and more—each available in different grades, priced from over a dozen to over a hundred wen.
On the right were finer items like fine-toothed combs, bronze mirrors, handkerchiefs, incense pellets, and incense cakes.
Xie Yushu was delighted. These were exactly what she needed. She could skip other things, but cleaning products were a must.
She bought a cheap jar of bath beans for fifteen wen, a jar of hand cream for thirty wen, and a jar of soapberry shampoo for thirty-five wen. Adding the bristle brush for twelve wen and tooth powder for twenty-five wen she’d picked upon entering, the total came to one hundred and seventeen wen—one qian and seventeen wen.
Xie Yushu handed over one qian in silver and counted out seventeen copper coins to the shopkeeper, then happily walked away with her purchases.
Spotting a bamboo basket stall still open by the roadside, she bought a durable one for nine wen. She placed the salted fish and all her creams and oils inside, then slung the basket onto her back. It was much easier than carrying everything in her hands.
The basket was well-made—the bamboo strips were smooth and polished, with not a single splinter. The curve of the back fit perfectly against her spine. Those nine wen were well spent.
Next, she went to the pork butcher and bought one jin of pork hind leg and two jin of pork leaf lard. It was early summer, and the weather was growing warm—pork wouldn’t keep long if bought in bulk. She bought just one jin to cook, and the leaf lard would be rendered into lard, which could be stored for a long time.
Pork hind leg was pricier than regular lean meat—twenty-three wen per jin. Leaf lard was cheap, only five wen per jin. She spent a total of thirty-three wen.
Passing a pastry shop, she bought a box of their best-selling cakes, which cost her thirty wen.
Next door was a spice shop. She bought some spices she’d used frequently in her previous life—just a small pinch of each. The total came to a small bag and cost her thirty-eight wen.
Finally, she went to an oil and seasoning shop and bought a jar each of light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, and vinegar, plus salt and sugar.
Salt and sugar were twenty-five wen per packet—twice the price of liquid seasonings. Xie Yushu bought them with tears in her eyes, spending a total of eighty-four wen.
She also wanted to buy some vegetables. After checking the prices in town, she thought for a moment and decided to buy from her neighbors back in the village instead—it would probably be cheaper.
For now, every single copper in her money pouch was a stepping stone toward her townhouse dream. She had to save wherever she could.
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