“Don’t worry, sir. I can go alone. My husband is still unconscious and needs care. Grandmother, mother-in-law, and the younger siblings will stay behind—I won’t abandon them. Besides, Sanhu and the others are coming along,” Su Niyue quickly reassured Liu Quan.
Seeing Liu Quan hesitate, she added, “The main reason is that my uncle didn’t give me much medicine. I need to collect more as backup—we can’t always be so lucky to find the herbs we need nearby. Also, we need to buy cooking utensils, rice, and dried food. My husband isn’t well; while I can’t afford supplements, at least I can cook some porridge with rice instead of just giving him water. And grandmother… she’s old…”
Liu Quan interrupted her, overwhelmed by her endless list of reasons.
“All right, you can go with Sanhu tomorrow!”
“Thank you, sir!” Su Niyue thought about the original story—Qingshui Town had the influence of the Third Prince. Even though her arrival had already changed the plot, it was worth trying; there might even be unexpected gains.
Excited by the thought of staying at the inn that evening, Su Niyue cheerfully led Yunran along, picking herbs on the way. There were dandelions, purslane, thistle, and motherwort—she picked them for both immediate use and to plant later in her space, knowing herbs would be in high demand.
Only a small portion went into the traveling bag. She worried about Nangong Yunqi, who had been carrying it; though Yunqi usually let her put it on the cart, Su Niyue didn’t want to add extra weight. She began thinking about bribing Liu Quan to arrange an ox cart. In her space, she had one bought in the capital, with two plump oxen.
Perhaps influenced by Su Niyue’s cheerfulness, the old madam’s journey didn’t feel as strenuous. Yunqi noticed the cart felt smoother despite the uneven path. At the start, bumps had made his hands go numb, but now it felt fine.
That night at the inn, the escorts stayed free, but the exiles had to pay upfront. The innkeeper quoted:
“The cheapest is a large dorm, thirty wen per person; private rooms, one hundred fifty wen; stove use ten wen, other ingredients extra.”
Most exiles chose the dorms.
Su Niyue, recalling the original story’s dorm description, asked, “Do the private rooms have hot water for baths?”
“Yes!”
She decisively paid 460 wen: “Three private rooms and one stove.”
Seeing her pay so willingly, the innkeeper’s attitude changed: “Please, come inside!”
Ruan Mingyu had considered the dorm to save money but gave up when she learned of hot water—after days on the dirt road, sweat-soaked and grimy, a bath was a must.
Su Niyue also gave the innkeeper 20 wen to watch their cart.
“Grandmother, let’s go to the rooms!” Su Niyue saw the old madam’s guilty look and grabbed her to hurry along. Yunqi followed, carrying his older brother.
“Yunqi, go wash first. Afterward, I’ll change your brother’s dressing.”
“Okay!”
“Ruan, I’ll stay with grandmother and Yunran. You rest in your own room—you’ve been working hard!”
“Thank you. You guys first. I’ll handle cooking.” Su Niyue flitted about like a busy little swallow.
She returned to her room and brought out eggs, pork, and a chicken from her space to the kitchen.
In the hall, she spotted the second wife, Xu, laying out a lavish table and glaring at her.
“You’ve got it tough!” Su Niyue ignored her. In the original story, Xu had found ways to make life difficult for Su Niyue along the journey. Now, Xu kept her distance, which was a relief. (In the original, Xu had been swept away in a flood, later found unrecognizable—Su Niyue smiled at the thought of a kinder ending.)
In the kitchen, she saw a round man cooking—likely the inn’s chef.
“Hello, master chef!” Su Niyue greeted, then immediately set to work, washing pots and preparing the meal.
The plump chef opened his mouth to speak but was stunned as the young lady worked faster than he had in twenty years—boiling eggs, plucking and gutting the chicken, all with incredible skill.
When the eggs were done, she began steaming rice. She told the chef, “Master, I’d like to rent another stove.” Cooking everything on one stove would take until midnight.
“Ten wen, and if you use condiments, that’s another ten wen,” the chef said. The spice area held only salt, cornelian cherry, and some soy sauce. Su Niyue paid the ten wen for the stove and added a piece of silver—essentially a hush fee.
“Later, can you taste the chicken soup and give me your feedback?” she asked.
“All right!” The chef regained some pride.
As Su Niyue braised the pork, the chef regretted taking the bribe—he’d never smelled anything so fragrant. What was that black syrupy thing? Ice sugar?
She served him a small bowl of the pork and some chicken soup; the rest she carried back to their room. The chef delightedly dug in.
Soon she returned to cook garlic stir-fried lettuce and braised baby cabbage in stock—both grown in her space.
To ensure Yunqi was safe, she and Yunran moved the food to the brothers’ room. Everyone washed up; only Su Niyue remained unwashed. Ruan Mingyu noticed and urged, “Come eat! You’ve worked hard, don’t worry about washing right now.”
Obedient as always, Su Niyue nodded. “Yes, let’s eat! We’ve barely eaten properly these past few days. The soup is hot, Yunqi, after eating, feed some to your brother!”