Once she had stir-fried all the winter melon candy, Bai Qianqian set aside a portion for Zhao Anyao to snack on and another batch for New Year’s gifts. The rest went into her back basket, ready to be sold in town.
Zhao Anyao was left at home as usual, but this time Bai Qianqian gave him a new assignment: learning to count. She asked him to recognize the Arabic numerals from one to twenty, and she promised to test him when she returned.
The little boy, thinking this was just a game, didn’t even beg to go to town with her. He sat diligently on his small stool, studying the numbers she had written with charcoal.
Only then was Bai Qianqian able to leave for town with her basket of candy.
She was used to the walk from the village by now, so the distance didn’t feel long. However, the lingering snow, though thin, slowed her pace.
This time, Bai Qianqian decided against selling the candy on the street. It was far too cold in winter, and if she fell ill from the exposure, any silver she earned would go straight to the doctor.
Instead, she headed straight for the town’s pastry shop.
“What can I get for you, miss?” the clerk asked warmly as she entered.
“Do you buy candy here?” Bai Qianqian asked.
The clerk recognized her immediately. “You’re the lady who sells those brown sugar jujube cake in town, aren’t you?”
His memory of her was vivid—partly because of her striking figure, and partly because her cakes had sold so well that his own shopkeeper had mentioned them several times.
“I am,” she replied, unfazed by his recognition. “I’ve made some winter melon candy this time and was wondering if the pastry shop would be interested.”
“I’m afraid not,” the clerk said politely. “All our pastries are made by our own hired pastry maker. We don’t sell outside goods. After all, we have to be careful about what people eat here.”
He spoke reasonably. The shopkeeper feared that selling unverified sweets could lead to food poisoning, which would ruin their reputation.
“Could you ask your shopkeeper to come out? My winter melon candy is made from thoroughly cleaned ingredients, and the flavor is excellent. You can try some first,” Bai Qianqian said.
She opened her back basket, revealing a full load of translucent candies coated in fine white sugar. They looked impeccably clean—even more appetizing than the sweets already on their shelves.
The clerk couldn’t find a way to refuse.
Bai Qianqian pressed a handful of winter melon candy into his palm, leaving him too embarrassed to decline.
He popped one into his mouth and was immediately struck by its refreshing sweetness, followed by a subtle, clean scent of winter melon. It was unlike any candy they sold in their own shop.
“I’ll go find the shopkeeper,” he said, feeling a bit indebted after eating the sweet. “But he’s very picky. If he isn’t interested, please don’t press the matter.”
“Didn’t I tell you we don’t sell outside goods?” Zhou Dafu complained, his face a mask of impatience as the clerk led him out. “Why did you bother me for this?”
He stopped short when he saw Bai Qianqian. “You?”
He recognized her from the cakes she’d sold nearby. By a strange coincidence, the old madam of his house had taken a particular fondness for her jujube cakes and had been talking about them for days.
“Shopkeeper, I’ve come to sell winter melon candy,” Bai Qianqian explained. “I just finished a batch yesterday, and the quality is excellent.”
She’d never met the man before, but she was well aware of Manfu Pastry Shop. With two thriving branches in town, it was clearly a successful business, which was exactly why she had chosen it as her first stop.
“My shop has never sold outside goods. You’ve come to the wrong place,” Zhou Dafu declared, unwilling to make an exception.
His mother might have loved the brown sugar jujube cake, but that didn’t mean he trusted Bai Qianqian’s skill. He’d looked into her background after the old madam’s request and learned she was just a peasant woman.
What if her kitchen was unsanitary? If a customer got sick, the damage to his shop’s reputation would be irreparable.
“Shopkeeper, please, just take a look,” Bai Qianqian pleaded. “This batch of winter melon candy is of the highest quality. It was thoroughly washed multiple times before preparation—I guarantee it’s perfectly clean.”
Zhou Dafu tasted one. It was undeniably good, but he knew exactly how it was made. If he wanted to sell such candy, he could simply instruct his own pastry maker to prepare it. There was no need to source it from a village woman.
“The flavor is excellent,” he admitted, “but rules are rules. You’d best find another buyer.”
Seeing his unwavering refusal, Bai Qianqian resigned herself to failure. She began to cover the remaining candy in her basket, preparing to try another shop.
“Wait,” Zhou Dafu called out as she turned to leave. He suddenly remembered his mother’s request from that morning. “Lady Bai, why haven’t you been selling your brown sugar jujube cake lately?”
“The weather’s grown too cold for me to travel to town every day,” she explained. “Why do you ask, Shopkeeper Zhou?”
“The Old Madam likes them. She wanted me to buy some today, but if you have none, then never mind.”
“Shopkeeper Zhou, why not take some winter melon candy instead?” Bai Qianqian seized the opportunity. “It’s perfect for the elderly—sweet but not cloying, with a moist, tender texture.”
Zhou Dafu considered it. He’d already tasted the candy and found it excellent. It would suit his mother’s palate perfectly. He decided to buy two jin for her to try.
“Two jin for sixty wen. Here you go,” Bai Qianqian said, weighing the candy before handing it over. She took the copper coins and left.
“Shopkeeper,” his apprentice asked, “Lady Bai’s brown sugar jujube cake are truly delicious. Why not just buy the recipe from her?”
“Country fare is only prized by commoners,” Zhou Dafu replied, feigning an air of superiority. “Our shop caters to the wealthy. If we sold the same treats as a peasant woman, we’d be the laughingstock of the town.”
His apprentice showered him with flattery, but only Zhou Dafu knew the truth. He’d already had his pastry maker try to replicate the cakes. But they could never match Bai Qianqian’s—they lacked that same airy, melt-in-your-mouth softness.
He refused to sell them for fear customers would compare the two and find his version lacking.
Zhou Dafu’s mind was already racing with a plan. He was convinced he could replicate the winter melon candy this time. The candy had a wonderful appearance, and if he launched it as a new specialty in his shop, he was sure it would be a goldmine.
A smug smile spread across his face.
Bai Qianqian, unaware that her candy had become a target, continued her search for a shop willing to sell it.
There were five pastry shops in town.
Learning from her previous experience, she approached the smallest and most unassuming one. This shop was unremarkable compared to the others, and Bai Qianqian noted that its offerings were quite simple: malt syrup, candied haws, and Osmanthus cakes—all common staples.
“Shopkeeper, I’ve brought some candy to sell. Do you accept new stock?”
“Let me see,” the shopkeeper replied. “If the quality is good, we’ll take it.”
Li Niang, the proprietor of the Yunhe Pastry Shop, came over to inspect Bai Qianqian’s winter melon candy.
Unlike the other shops, she didn’t employ a professional pastry maker. She baked almost everything herself, but to keep her inventory varied, she occasionally bought treats from outside vendors.
The candied haws in her shop, for example, were sourced from others.