The next morning, He Mingyu woke to the sound of subtle squirming and eager breathing. No sooner had she stretched her limbs than a soft little body rolled into her arms.
“Big Sister! Big Sister! You’re awake!” Yingzi lifted her little face, her eyes as bright as black grapes covered in dew. “I can recite all the multiplication tables you taught me yesterday! Can I learn new ones?”
Seemingly afraid her sister wouldn’t believe her, Yingzi couldn’t wait to start: “One one is one, one two is two…”
He Mingyu looked at the little one in her arms, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Yawning, she mumbled a casual test: “Three threes?”
“Nine!”
“Four fives?”
“Twenty!”
…
Whether asked forward or backward, Yingzi answered fluently, her speed astonishing. He Mingyu was now fully awake. She hugged the girl tightly and planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “Our Yingzi is truly brilliant!”
With her interest piqued, the older sister couldn’t fall behind. She began to murmur the tables from “six sixes are thirty-six” to “nine nines are eighty-one.” Yingzi learned incredibly fast, and soon she was reciting them as if the numbers had been imprinted in her little head from birth, just waiting for someone to awaken them.
By the time the sun was high, He Mingyu finally rose at a leisurely pace. Wu Chunlan was busy tidying the small chicken coop in the backyard, while Shitou was silently chopping wood in the courtyard, his axe falling with swift precision. In the kitchen, Wu Chunlan had left warm porridge in the pot. As the warm sunlight streamed down, a sense of deep satisfaction filled He Mingyu’s heart. She took a deep breath of fresh air, quickly finished her warm meal, and began the day’s main event.
“Yingzi, come, carefully wash these sesame seeds and pick out the grit and bits of grass,” He Mingyu instructed. She stirred the sesame seeds in the bag and sighed inwardly; the sesame seeds of the ancient world were truly inferior to those of her former life—black and white were mixed together, the grains seemed smaller, and they carried a raw, rustic scent of the fields.
“Okay!” Yingzi was full of energy, muttering multiplication tables as she worked.
Shitou was a man of few words but very observant. Estimating when she would finish cleaning the seeds, he had already quietly started a small fire.
He Mingyu first poured the precious peanuts they had meticulously selected yesterday into a clean iron pot, roasting them slowly over a low flame. Once the peanuts were half-cooked, she added the cleaned sesame seeds to roast along with them.
Soon, the unique fragrance of peanuts and sesame seeds permeated the air, leaving a faint, oily sheen on the iron pot. It was so enticing that Yingzi couldn’t stop sniffing, looking as cute as a greedy little puppy.
He Mingyu kept a close eye on the process and removed them from the heat when they were about seventy percent roasted. Even after being transferred to a ceramic bowl, the residual heat would continue to draw out the aroma.
He Mingyu tasked the two little ones with stirring the seeds and nuts in the bowl with chopsticks, while she quickly kneaded a smooth ball of dough, covered it, and set it on the stove.
“Shitou, Yingzi, take turns grinding these roasted seeds and nuts.” She moved the stone mortar over and added, “Grind them as finely as possible—like mud, if you can.”
“Mm,” Shitou replied silently, taking the pestle and grinding firmly. Yingzi squatted to the side, watching, her lips moving: “One one is one…”
Shitou looked confused. “What are you muttering about?”
“Multiplication tables!” Yingzi stood up excitedly, buzzing around him like a sparrow. “Big Sister taught me; it’s like magic!”
With that, she stood still as if performing and said with slightly affected flair: “One one is one, one two is two, one three is three…”
He Mingyu couldn’t help but laugh as she heard them from the kitchen. The comparison was striking: one was as restless as a rabbit, the other as quiet as a virgin. She leaned to the side and poked her head out. “Shitou, do you want to learn? If you do, Big Sister can teach you.”
Before Shitou could answer, Yingzi flew to her side: “Big Sister! Let me teach! Let me teach!”
He Mingyu playfully pinched her nose and, seeing Shitou nod silently, agreed: “Fine~ I’ll let you teach.”
With her permission, Yingzi flew back to Shitou’s side, and the two began to recite together.
During this interval, He Mingyu divided the proofed dough into small, equal portions; her eyes were so accurate that the pieces were nearly identical in weight. Her technique for rolling the dough was unique: the small rolling pin whirled in her hands, pressing the dough so that it was slightly thicker in the middle while pushing out countless fine, uniform pleats around the edge, thin as a cicada’s wing. It was layered and intricate, truly a sight to behold.
Yingzi grew bored after teaching for a while; she couldn’t understand why her brother couldn’t grasp such simple things. She wandered into the kitchen and marveled, “Big Sister, I know! You’re making buns! But… why is the skin different from what Mother rolls? It looks like a flower.”
He Mingyu smiled mysteriously and deliberately put on a stern face: “Heavenly secrets must not be revealed! Go back and help your brother grind the peanuts—the finer the better! There will be a reward for you later!” She gently pushed the curious little one out of the kitchen.
Yingzi pouted but had no choice but to go back to work with her brother. By the time they had ground the sesame and peanuts into a fine, oily paste, He Mingyu had already skillfully wrapped the buns and placed them in the steamer, covering them tightly so no one could see what was inside.
He Mingyu mixed most of the sesame and peanut paste in a ceramic jar, added a spoonful of pure white lard, and stirred rapidly. As the lard melted in the heat, it instantly released a hauntingly savory fragrance. She scraped the mortar clean, rinsed it with hot water, and wasted nothing.
“Shitou, Yingzi, go invite Uncle Zhang and brother Dashan over for lunch.”
Before long, the father and son from the Zhang family arrived, feeling both shy and expectant, and sat at the small wooden table in the courtyard.
He Mingyu brought out a steamer of buns and smiled: “Uncle Zhang, brother Dashan, these are the buns I plan to sell at my stall. Try them and give me your opinion.” She slowly lifted the lid.
Instantly, steam rose, carrying the unique wheaty scent of dough mixed with the faint aroma of the filling. As the steam dissipated, everyone let out a low gasp of surprise at what lay inside.
These were no ordinary buns. They lay quietly in the steamer, their top pleats fine, uniform, and layered, unfolding like peony flowers about to bloom! The dough was so thin that the color of the filling inside was vaguely visible; it was so delicate that one felt bad about using chopsticks.
“These… these buns look too handsome!” Zhang Hu’s eyes widened. “In all my half-a-life, I’ve never seen food that looks so much like a flower!”
Encouraged by He Mingyu, they gingerly took a bite. They had expected the dense pleats to be thick and chewy, but the thin dough was perfect—providing just enough structure without being cumbersome, complementing the flavorful vegetable and egg filling. The entire steamer was devoured in moments.
“Big Sister, are there more?” Yingzi swallowed hard.
Seeing that everyone wanted more, He Mingyu smiled and returned to the kitchen. This time, she brought out something even more spectacular!
They were the same “peony” buns, but upon closer inspection, the crevices of those exquisite pleats were glistening with a crystal-clear, oily sauce. “These have a special sauce added—try these.”
They couldn’t wait to pick up their chopsticks again. This time, they first felt the supple texture of the cicada-wing-thin dough, followed immediately by the burst of unique, rich sesame and peanut sauce in their mouths. Even the vegetarian filling became exceptionally delicious, leaving a long-lasting, savory aftertaste.
“Delicious! These are even better!” Zhang Dashan praised, too busy eating to look up.
Zhang Hu nodded repeatedly, clicking his tongue in wonder: “He girl, your skill is truly superb! I dare say, there’s nothing like it in all of Bianjing! What… what do you call these buns?”
Seeing their satisfied faces, He Mingyu felt more confident: “Since the skin is as thin as a cicada’s wing, how about ‘Cicada-Wing Buns’? I plan to sell ten vegetarian ones for twelve coins, and eight meat ones for sixteen. Do you think that price is feasible?”
Zhang Hu pondered and analyzed seriously: “The price for the vegetarian ones is very reasonable, and your craft and presentation are worth it! The meat ones have two fewer, but meat is expensive, so sixteen is fair. I think it’ll work!”
As they spoke, the shouts of the bamboo craftsman, Old Man Chen, arrived at the alley—the thirty custom steamers had arrived on time. Upon seeing them, Zhang Hu immediately patted his chest and told He Mingyu: “Don’t you worry. My son and I will speed up work on your pushcart; we won’t delay your opening!”
Seeing the men still eyeing the kitchen, He Mingyu knew they hadn’t eaten their fill—five people sharing two steamers of buns was far too little. “Uncle Zhang, I mixed plenty of dough; I’ll steam another pot, and I’ll have Shitou and Yingzi bring them over later.” The Zhangs beamed, returning home full of gratitude and anticipation.
He Mingyu looked at the brand-new steamers in the courtyard, smelling the lingering aroma of buns and sesame in the air, and felt a rush of ambition. Yingzi and Shitou were glowing with excitement, chattering about how delicious the buns were.
Wu Chunlan quietly cleared the dishes, her heart filled with complex emotions as she looked at He Mingyu’s confident, busy figure.
The Kitchen God’s blessing… it seems to be real…
The idea felt incredibly vivid, giving her a glimmer of hope amidst her anxieties: with Yuniang’s divine culinary talent, why worry about not finding a footing in Bianjing? Perhaps the four of them could truly live a good life.
However, this newly risen hope was quickly buried under a deeper concern: good business and a far-reaching reputation were good, but they could also be bad.
Although the He Dalang family lived outside the city, they didn’t never enter it. If… if they happened to enter the city one day, smelled this unique aroma, and out of curiosity, followed the scent…
Wu Chunlan seemed to see them standing at the courtyard gate and tightened her grip on the rag, not daring to think further. It won’t happen, it absolutely won’t happen…