With the land issue settled at home, the shop steadily gained a foothold. New items were introduced one after another, and both new and old customers kept coming back. The shop’s reputation in town only grew stronger.
Many travelers from the ferry even made a special trip to Su’s Bun Shop in town to find something to eat. Su Chi’s days were becoming more and more promising.
But the shop rarely had a quiet moment—especially these past few days after adding new side dishes.
Fresh vegetables and fruits were scarce and expensive in winter. Aside from farming families, ordinary people without land rarely got to eat anything fresh during the cold months.
Most households relied on preserved fish, cured meat, and salted meat they’d stocked up on in autumn, along with pickled vegetables thoroughly cured with coarse salt. The goal was simply for them to last, be filling, and go with rice. The flavors inevitably leaned heavy—everything boiled down to one word: “salty.” Eat that for too long and you’d get sick of it. People just swallowed it down with coarse rice—not about flavor, just about filling their bellies.
The side dishes Su Chi made used ingredients his father had sent—homegrown vegetables that cost nothing, fresh and delicious. Every few days, his father would have Ye Youchun bring over several baskets. He and Xie Yushu couldn’t possibly eat them all, so Su Chi turned them into refreshing side dishes to sell to customers, adding another stream of income to the shop.
Su’s Bun Shop made these side dishes—and they were absolutely delicious.
Not too salty, not too bland—just right. Crisp and refreshing, they didn’t make you reach for water afterward, leaving your mouth clean and light. Each bite gave a satisfying crunch. When a plate emptied, you’d want another. They paired well with anything.
Su Chi had Tao Xing custom-make several square earthenware trays—not too big, about the length of an arm—placed on a small table against the wall by the back kitchen door. Each tray lined up neatly beside the others, a pleasant, orderly sight.
Before, pickled vegetables had been stored in narrow-mouthed, deep-bellied jars that were a hassle to clean, with the worry that the inside wasn’t properly washed.
Now these new open square trays made it easy to retrieve and clean the vegetables. Each tray had its own dedicated ladle. Customers could scoop whatever side dish they wanted without the flavors mixing. Stacked beside them were small plates specially for the side dishes—just looking at them was satisfying.
Customers remarked that Su Chi was truly a meticulous, refined person.
The four square earthenware trays held: chili-oil bamboo shoots, sesame-oil sesame lettuce shreds, spicy-sour kelp shreds, and crisp smashed cucumbers.
The other three ingredients came from his father; the kelp was brought back by Xie Yushu from Qianwan Village—fresh kelp purchased from villagers, each piece thick and high-quality with a satisfying chew. Su Chi loved this dish the most and often made it for Xie Yushu at home.
One plate cost one wen, each plate holding just one type of dish.
The plate wasn’t large—just a few bites’ worth—but it was affordable for anyone. Paired with congee, wontons, or other soups, a big slurp followed by a bite of these side dishes was truly unbeatable.
“Boss, one ‘Four-in-One’ combo, please,” a customer called out to Su Chi.
The Four-in-One was a combo Su Chi introduced alongside the side dishes. Normally, a single dish cost one wen, but the Four-in-One came on a larger plate with all four dishes—for just three wen.
For three copper coins, you got four dishes—saving a whole wen. Customers did the math and felt like they were getting a steal.
Su Chi just smiled and said combos were more economical—he hoped they’d enjoy them and eat more.
But after paying, customers would think it over and realize—the shop owner was still the one making out.
Su Chi followed the customer’s order and scooped up a Four-in-One from the back kitchen.
Four colorful dishes—red and green—lay clearly separated on the same plate, a festive, appetizing sight. The Four-in-One was the most ordered item.
It was many times more delicious than the pickled vegetables people were sick of at home. For just three wen for all four dishes, only a fool wouldn’t order it.
Dishes and bowls were used heavily these days, and Chen Yun never left the sink, washing and scrubbing nonstop. He’d barely finish a stack when Su Chi brought over another pile.
Yet he never complained. His hands grew quicker and more efficient, cleaning thoroughly, his heart full of gratitude toward Su Chi—his Su boss—for giving him this job.
If not for Su Chi, his family wouldn’t be living so well this year.
Thanks to this work, their winter was much easier than before. In past years, when only his wife brought in wages, winters were tough—even buying firewood had to be calculated down to the last coin. Now, it was different: their eldest daughter never ran out of paper, ink, and brushes; their youngest had snacks to eat; and they could even scrape together enough to buy fabric and have Tailor Tao make new clothes for the whole family.
“The new year is approaching—the shop’s only going to get busier. After this rush, I’ll give you a raise,” Su Chi said, rolling up his sleeves in the warm kitchen to reveal a stretch of his increasingly fair wrist, his tone gentle.
The new year was just a month away. Around this time every year, Songwan Town would be flooded with out-of-town merchants. They came to stock up and ship goods back, hoping to make a killing before year’s end. Others passed through to rest or buy odds and ends. The town would only get livelier, bringing more customers to the shop—and more work for both of them.
Xie Yushu had told him this a few days ago. Since Su Chi had only moved to town a few months ago, he hadn’t known about it. She’d warned him to prepare for a big wave of customers before the new year.
“Whether you raise my pay or not, I’ll work just as hard,” Chen Yun said, though he was secretly overjoyed, scrubbing the bowls with even more vigor.
After noon, a familiar customer walked into the bun shop.
Hu Yuan found an empty seat and said cheerfully to Su Chi, who was wiping down a table: “Su Fulang, one bowl of wontons, a Four-in-One, a steamer of mini buns, and two red bean buns.”
Su Chi glanced back and smiled when he saw him: “Coming right up, customer.”
Soon after, Su Chi brought over everything Hu Yuan had ordered: “Why are you here at noon today?”
He remembered Hu Yuan and Aunt Hu usually came early in the morning or in the evening to take things to go. Today was unusual.
Hu Yuan first took a few sips of the wonderfully savory wonton broth before speaking slowly: “Mother went to the county and won’t be back for two days. I’m taking it easy—saving myself the trouble of cooking. Thought I’d grab a meal here.”
“Great, you’re welcome to grab meals here every day,” Su Chi joked, then turned back toward the kitchen.
Before he could take two steps, Hu Yuan grabbed his sleeve: “Su Fulang, don’t go—I have something to tell you.”
Su Chi turned back: “What is it?”
“Sit down first.” Hu Yuan pointed to the chair across from him, his demeanor unusually shy.
He’d chosen a seat against the wall near the back—if they spoke quietly, no one would overhear. That was why he’d mustered the courage to talk.
Su Chi sat down: “You can speak now.”
Hu Yuan finally felt at ease to speak: “Su Fulang, do you remember Qian Ai, the woman who sells firewood in the lane?”
Su Chi had a good memory—excellent, in fact. Qian Ai was the woman who’d been selling him firewood for several days in a row. She had a sharp tongue, was straightforward, and warm-hearted. Of course he remembered: “I do. What about her?”
Hu Yuan’s eyes blinked rapidly: “Do you think she’d be a match for me?”
“Ah?!” Su Chi was so startled he nearly stood up. He paused for a moment: “Why would you say that?”
“Shh—keep your voice down. Don’t let anyone hear.” Hu Yuan glanced behind him, relieved to see the dine-in customers weren’t looking their way.
Then he leaned close to Su Chi’s ear and quietly explained the situation.
Yesterday, when Qian Ai had delivered firewood to the Hu household, she’d overheard the mother and son talking through the gate before she even entered.
Aunt Hu had said Hu Yuan wasn’t getting any younger—she needed to find him a suitable unmarried woman to marry into their family, and she wouldn’t mistreat whoever came, and so on.
Hu Yuan disagreed, insisting he’d find his own wife—at least someone he could tolerate. The mother and son argued for a while, neither giving in.
Qian Ai had heard every word clearly from the gate. So she knew the Hu family was looking for a wife to marry into the household. After Aunt Hu left and Hu Yuan came out to pay, she’d actually boldly recommended herself!
This had startled Hu Yuan badly.
Qian Ai wasn’t shy at all. She sold things straightforwardly and introduced herself just as openly, clearly laying out her family situation and even admitting she’d long admired him.
She had no elders or sisters at home—just her alone. She farmed for a living, and in winter, she cut firewood in the mountains and brought it to town to sell. One person fed, the whole family fed—expenses were minimal. Many households in town needed firewood and were willing to pay, and over the years she’d even saved up a modest sum.
She’d told him that the first time she’d seen him, she’d been smitten. Since then, she’d quietly kept an eye on him—and she was quick to clarify that she wasn’t a rogue, just watched him from a distance and never overstepped.
The way she’d scrambled to explain herself had left Hu Yuan stunned.
This woman… how could she be like this!
She’d actually been harboring feelings for him!
Su Chi hadn’t expected this turn of events. After hearing the story, he was somewhat taken aback.
“No wonder you brought her along last time,” he said, referring to the time Hu Yuan had come to deliver vinegar jars.
“I thought she was just being helpful back then—I never imagined she had feelings for me…” Hu Yuan also recalled that previous visit, his voice growing quieter as he spoke. He unconsciously stirred his soup spoon, splattering a few drops onto the table.
Su Chi looked at him seriously: “Do you like her?”
“I don’t know.” At that question, Hu Yuan suddenly grew melancholic. He gulped down a big spoonful of wonton—seeming to burn his tongue—and opened his mouth to breathe for a moment before speaking in a muffled tone: “But she said that after marriage, she’d listen to whatever I say.”
That… was a statement Su Chi didn’t quite know how to respond to.
He only felt that these two were moving way too fast. Right after recommending herself, Qian Ai was already talking about deferring to him after marriage.
It made Su Chi think back to all the misunderstandings and complications he’d gone through with Xie Yushu—from meeting to marrying—before they’d finally made it work.
These two had barely met a handful of times, hadn’t exchanged more than a few proper words, and they were already discussing life after marriage.
Su Chi looked at Hu Yuan—wrestling with his thoughts yet not seeming opposed—and suddenly felt the two of them might actually suit each other. Both were the impatient type.
Su Chi immediately fired off three questions in a row: “Just because of that? So you think it’s worth a try? Even though you don’t have feelings for her yet?”
Asking Su Fulang had been exactly right—he’d hit the nail on the head. Hu Yuan nodded, bewildered: “Yes.”
Hu Yuan asked quietly: “Do you think what she said was true?”
“I’ve done business with her—I thought she seemed decent. But that’s only on the surface. Whether she’s just saying sweet words to charm you, I can’t be sure. And…” Su Chi took Hu Yuan’s hand and said earnestly, “marriage isn’t a game. You need to think it through properly.”
Su Chi knew very well how lucky he was to have a wife like his.
As for other women—you had to stay alert. You couldn’t let yourself be fooled by a few sweet words. Men could end up the ones losing out.
Hu Yuan agreed with that logic. He couldn’t just trust Qian Ai because she’d said exactly what he longed to hear.
He needed a wife who wasn’t domineering, who was considerate, cherished him, and would listen to him.
And that woman… she wasn’t ugly either—pleasant to look at, actually. Just a bit dull-witted. When she saw him, she seemed to lose the ability to speak, standing there dumbly—it made it hard to be on guard against her.
Her family situation was simple: no other elders, sisters, or brothers, no attachments—that alone met his mother’s requirements.
And the most embarrassing part was that every time she sold him firewood, she’d only charged him half price!
He’d unknowingly taken such a huge advantage of her, and now thinking about it made his face burn.
After seeing Hu Yuan off, Su Chi worked through the rest of the afternoon, counted the day’s earnings, closed up the shop, and went home.
On his way home, Su Chi couldn’t stop thinking that Hu Yuan probably did have some feelings for Qian Ai—otherwise, he wouldn’t have swallowed his pride as a ge’er to ask him.
Another piece of good news: Xin Miao had come to see them yesterday. He’d said he’d rather let go of the past and build a new home for his child—whoever wanted that house in the village could have it.
That was the first time they’d met. Su Chi’s heart ached seeing how gaunt he was—like he hadn’t had a proper meal in ages. He’d wanted to invite him to stay for dinner, but Xin Miao had politely declined.
Xin Miao said he and his wife were the kindest people, and he couldn’t take advantage of their generosity any further. He would work hard and not let their trust down.
Before leaving, he’d gone to the Sun household to apologize to the people he’d truly wronged. Sun Wuyou didn’t blame him at all—she’d just patiently urged him to live well from now on and prescribed him several doses of calming, restorative medicine.
So today, Xin Miao had been picked up by Ye Youchun and He Chao. It was getting late now—he should have been settled in by now.
Thinking of all this warmed Su Chi from head to toe. He was surrounded by the best people—warm-hearted and capable. He must have cultivated three lifetimes of blessings to have met them.
Especially Xie Yushu.
The thought of his wife, whom he hadn’t seen all day, made Su Chi quicken his pace home. All he could think about was making her favorite dishes and wishing she’d come home soon—he missed her.
After preparing dinner, Su Chi waited at the courtyard gate, anxiously watching for Xie Yushu.
She was late again today.
He was about to head back to the kitchen when he heard a familiar set of footsteps and immediately went to meet her: “You’re back.”
Xie Yushu pulled him inside: “Don’t wait for me outside. What if you catch cold?”
“I only stepped out for a moment—you showed up right away,” Su Chi protested softly.
Xie Yushu pinched his cheek before heading to the warm room to wash up. In that brief interval, Su Chi brought out the still-warm dishes from the pot.
Outside was pitch black, the cold wind gusting in waves, stirring up withered leaves on the ground.
The kitchen was warm and glowing with candlelight. The two ate quietly, occasionally speaking and serving each other food, their eyes full of each other.
When Xie Yushu was about halfway full, she finally set down her chopsticks and brought up Xin Miao—knowing Su Chi cared about this: “It’s all arranged. Xin Miao and his child are staying next to Xiu He and Xiuwei—they can look out for each other. Everyone at the base is honest and easy to get along with. They’ll have a better life than before.”
“I know—with you taking care of things, they’ll be fine.” Su Chi gave her a gentle smile and refilled her bowl.
Before bed, the two lay in each other’s arms in their underclothes.
Su Chi was still awake, unwilling to fall asleep, reluctant to let go in Xie Yushu’s embrace.
Xie Yushu kissed him for a while and was about to coax him to sleep when she heard him call her softly:
“Yushu.”
His voice was tender, soft, with a hint of a nasal, almost coquettish tone.
Xie Yushu’s arm around his waist tightened, pulling him closer: “Hm? What is it?”
Su Chi rarely called her by name—usually only when she was teasing him relentlessly and he was begging for mercy would those two syllables slip out.
What was different about her fulang today?
But Xie Yushu was secretly delighted. She wished he’d say it every day—she loved hearing her name from his lips.
Su Chi looked up at her from her arms, his gaze soft, as if holding back many words, finally gathering the courage to speak: “Yushu, I used to… really dislike my name.”
“Why? Xiao Chi—it’s a very cute name.” Xie Yushu traced his features as she spoke, echoing the way his father called him by his nickname.
Xie Yushu’s bias toward Su Chi was so strong that she thought any name he had sounded lovely—she never saw anything wrong with it.
Su Chi, tickled by her kisses, gently pushed her away: “Let me talk.”
He paused, his voice growing softer: “My mother gave me this name because I was born three years after they got married. She said I was a belated surprise.”
Xie Yushu traced his delicate features in the warm orange glow of the candlelight, listening quietly, unwilling to interrupt.
“But… after Mother was gone, I didn’t feel that way anymore.” Su Chi’s voice began to rough. “I just felt like I was always a step behind everyone else—what others had, I’d get later.”
“And… I met you so late too.”
This was the first time Su Chi had been so open with her about his heart. Xie Yushu’s chest tightened, and she was about to speak when he continued:
“But now I understand—being late has its benefits. If I hadn’t waited so long, how could I have met you?”
Hearing about Hu Yuan and Qian Ai earlier, Su Chi hadn’t thought much of it. But just now, after finishing his chores and lying in bed ready to sleep, something struck him—and he realized with surprise that he and Xie Yushu had married so late. So close—so close to losing her.
Other people got married because they’d taken a liking to each other, or through matchmaking, and settled into an ordinary, uneventful life together.
But what about him and Xie Yushu? They’d had to go in circles, through misunderstandings and a long winding road, before finally coming together.
Yet now, he understood.
She was so wonderful—and in the end, she belonged to him.
Perhaps being late truly had its reasons.
On those winding, muddy paths with no end in sight, he’d walked step by step and just happened to find this huge surprise hidden along the way—catching this perfect happiness at just the right time.
Xie Yushu could feel Su Chi’s delicate emotional shift. She held him tight, buried her face in his neck, and breathed in deeply. A soft, bewitching laugh escaped her: “A belated surprise. Your mother was absolutely right—you’re my belated surprise too.”
Su Chi froze for a moment, then closed his eyes happily, listening to the steady, powerful beat of her heart, breathing in her scent—so reassuring.
Yes—what comes late may be the very best of all.
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