Just as Qiao Mianmian hung up the signboard, she saw Qingjiu and his master approaching. Qingjiu, smiling brightly, shouted from afar, “Miss Qiao, what are you selling today?”
He had a loud voice and exaggerated movements, running over noisily and attracting a lot of attention.
It was still early, not fully daylight yet. Most people in the market were stall owners, with only a few workers heading out.
While arranging her stall, Qiao Mianmian replied, “It’s our first day, so we didn’t prepare too much. Mainly pork bone soup noodles, braised minced meat noodles, and some simple stir-fried dishes. I’ll hang up the menu board—you can take a look. But in the morning, I recommend two bowls of pork bone soup noodles. It’s fifteen wen per bowl. Add braised offal for twenty wen, or braised pork for thirty.”
Street stalls focused on affordability. Compared to restaurants like Chunxi Restaurant, her prices were much cheaper—though the portions weren’t very large. Each serving was about enough for two people, since most customers didn’t have much money and just wanted to try something new.
Smaller portions also encouraged customers to order more dishes.
Qingjiu turned to his master. “Sir, what would you like?”
“Let’s follow Miss Qiao’s recommendation—two servings of pork bone soup noodles,” Lu Zhao said. The rich aroma of the broth had already whetted his appetite. After sitting down, he watched the Qiao siblings work smoothly and efficiently. They didn’t look like first-time vendors at all, which made him curious about Qiao Mianmian’s past—how she could remain so composed in any situation.
The noodles were handmade. Lin Shi and Madam Zhang had prepared them at home, and Qiao Mianmian had brought a basketful.
She cooked the noodles, added the broth, and then served Lu Zhao and Qingjiu some sliced braised offal and pork. “You’re our first customers—this is on the house. If you like it, please come again.”
“Miss Qiao, you’re so kind!” Qingjiu stared at the bowl. The milky-white broth shimmered with oil. After swallowing, he couldn’t help but dig in eagerly.
The handmade noodles were chewy and smooth, paired with the rich, savory broth. After a few bites, the bowl was already empty. Qingjiu even drank all the soup. When he looked up, he saw his master had also finished.
“Sir, isn’t it delicious?” he asked.
Lu Zhao nodded in agreement. It was ten thousand times better than Qingjiu’s cooking.
“If I had money, I’d pay for meals here and eat every day,” Qingjiu said with a satisfied burp, standing up comfortably. “Miss Qiao, your broth is the best I’ve ever had. Even in Bianjing, I’ve never tasted anything better. Your business will definitely thrive!”
Passersby overheard and looked over curiously. “Young man, is it really that good?”
“Of course! I’ve eaten at Fan Restaurant in Bianjing—I’m not exaggerating!” Qingjiu praised enthusiastically.
Meanwhile, Qiao Mianmian deliberately left the lid off the soup pot. The fragrance spread through the market, quickly attracting two new customers who ordered pork bone soup noodles.
In the morning, most people preferred noodles. Qiao Mianmian sold more than a dozen bowls in a row. Seeing the noodles in the basket running low, she told her brother to hurry home.
“Tell Mother and Grandmother to roll more noodles. There’ll be even more people soon.”
Qiao Jiawang had just finished cleaning dishes. He hadn’t stopped working since arriving, and despite the cool weather, sweat formed on his forehead. “Alright, I’ll go now.”
Just as he spoke, Qiao Mancang arrived carrying a load. He had walked slowly, thinking the noodles wouldn’t sell so quickly, but before he got close, he saw his son running toward him.
“Father, what did you bring?” Qiao Jiawang asked.
“Noodles. Your mother was worried business wouldn’t be good, so she didn’t dare make too much. She told me to bring these first,” Qiao Mancang replied.
Qiao Mianmian lifted the cloth covering the basket. “Father, please tell Mother to hurry—there’s only one portion left. It’s our first day, and Aunt Wu and others came to support us, plus some regular customers. Business is great!”
Many customers not only ordered noodles but also added braised offal—it cost just five extra wen to try. Fewer people added braised pork, but there were still a couple willing to spend.
Seeing the nearly empty basket, Qiao Mancang exclaimed in surprise. “It sold out so fast! I’ll go back and tell them to hurry. Your mother even thought the noodles wouldn’t sell—she was planning to come help later. If she knew business was this good, she’d be overjoyed!”
In just half an hour, they had made nearly four hundred wen from noodles and braised dishes. If this continued all day, the earnings would be incredible.
Qiao Mancang rushed home, reminding his son to stay alert and help wherever needed.
“Miss Qiao, you’ve started selling meals now?” Luo Da came to buy braised food. Seeing the stall, and since he hadn’t eaten breakfast, he ordered a bowl of pork bone soup noodles with braised pork. “What made you decide to set up a stall?”
Standing by the stall, he watched her cook.
“We wanted to earn more money. Today is our first day, so there’s a discount. Please have a seat—I’ll bring it over shortly,” Qiao Mianmian said while cooking the last portion.
“I’ll stand and chat with you,” Luo Da said. “I always thought your family should sell more dishes. Since you’ve set up a stall, I’d like to order several dishes—not now, but at noon. Can you deliver them to the Luo residence?”
“Of course,” Qiao Mianmian agreed immediately. “You’re a regular customer. Just tell me what you’d like, and my brother will deliver it.”
In this era, restaurants offered delivery services for an extra fee. Wealthier families often arranged for meals to be sent at specific times.
“Alright. Then make one portion each of braised fish, twice-cooked pork, and oil-braised shrimp,” Luo Da said after checking the prices.
“Sure. Any flavor preferences?” she asked.
“Not too spicy. My young master can’t handle spice. Otherwise, cook as usual.”
Qiao Mianmian noted it down and served his noodles—topped with broth and slices of braised pork head meat, plus a drizzle of vinegar.
Soon, more people arrived. Since the noodles hadn’t yet been delivered from home, she offered them bowls of soup first to keep them satisfied.
As the market grew busier, Qiao Mancang returned with more noodles, and they resumed cooking.
Later, as the sun rose and the crowd thinned, business slowed.
“We’ve probably sold enough,” Lin Shi said, glancing at the basket. “I’ve lost count of how many bowls we sold.”
“Fifty-seven bowls,” Qiao Mianmian said. “Twenty with offal, six with braised pork, and two with minced meat noodles.”
She then prepared the dishes for Luo Da’s order. The oil-braised shrimp was simple: fry to release shrimp oil, add ginger and garlic, pour in sauce, simmer briefly, and finish with scallions. The aroma spread through the street, making passersby hungry.
She packed the dishes into a food box and handed it to her brother. “Carry it steadily. Tell Luo Da this is our opening day, and since he’s a regular, I added a complimentary braised platter.”
After her brother left, Qiao Mianmian cleaned up, planning to rest briefly—until she saw someone she didn’t like.
From afar, Chen Honglian approached with a smile. “I thought I recognized this stall. Sister, give me a portion of braised fish.”
Before Qiao Mianmian could speak, Lin Shi stepped forward coldly. “No fish today.”
“Then twice-cooked pork.”
“Also none.”
“Then braised dishes?”
Lin Shi frowned. “Are you serious? We should have nothing to do with each other. Aren’t you afraid I’ll spit in your food?”
She still remembered the incident when Chen Honglian and Yuan Qiang knelt in their courtyard.
Chen Honglian stiffened, then apologized. She explained her situation and admitted her selfishness, saying she only wanted to support their business.
But Lin Shi refused. “I don’t need your support. Leave.”
Chen Honglian sighed and left.
Watching her go, Lin Shi spat in anger. “Now you see why I insisted on opening this stall?”
“To earn money—and hold your head high,” Qiao Mianmian said.
“Yes. I’ll show them our life will be better than theirs!” Lin Shi said firmly.
Later, as they rested, Qiao Mianmian comforted her mother, hugging her and speaking warmly. Embarrassed, Lin Shi urged her to let go when customers arrived.
“Welcome! What would you like?” Qiao Mianmian quickly turned to greet them.
“Your broth smells amazing. Two bowls of noodles—one spicy, one with scallions.”
“Coming right up!”
After cooking, she also made two bowls for herself and her mother, along with a cold dish of pig ears.
“I don’t usually eat lunch,” Lin Shi said.
“It’s already made—who else will eat it?” Qiao Mianmian teased, even trying to feed her.
Embarrassed, Lin Shi finally ate.
A customer nearby smiled. “You two have such a good relationship.”
“Of course—my mother is the best,” Qiao Mianmian said happily.
Lin Shi face turned red as she quietly agreed.