Fu Wang took another bite of the stir-fried bamboo shoots. A breath of spring seemed to spread across his senses, and he ate with great enjoyment. After finishing, he said to Lady Yun, “Even if I didn’t come for the fish, I’d still visit often. Whatever you cook, it’s always delicious.”
Yun Yin blushed at the praise and smiled. “If you like it, then have more.”
By the time Fu Wang finished eating, there was barely any food left on the table. Yun Yin rubbed her slightly full stomach and asked, “Young Master Fu, will you be going to Xiaotao Village next?”
Fu Wang shook his head. “I was only helping Zhou Chang find the way. The rest is up to him. I’ll be staying in Long’an County for a while. After Shi Tou and the others return, I might head to the Western Regions again.”
After a pause, he added, “If I come across any seeds, I’ll bring some back for you.”
Then, as if remembering something, he asked, “Would you like me to bring you some pepper?”
Pepper? Yun Yin did want that seasoning, but in this era, it wasn’t something you could find everywhere like in modern times. The saying “an ounce of pepper costs an ounce of gold” was no exaggeration.
She had asked around in the county before—only wealthy families could afford such an expensive spice. Ordinary people had never even seen it. Her small shop certainly couldn’t hope to use something like that. Other spices were still possible, but pepper was out of the question.
She shook her head. “No need. Pepper is too expensive. A small shop like mine doesn’t use it.”
“Pepper from the Western Regions is still pricey, but much cheaper than in Chang’an. Still, you’re right—you don’t need it for now.” Fu Wang thought for a moment, then said, “I’ll see if I can find something affordable and useful to bring back for you.”
Yun Yin smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Young Master Fu.”
After seeing Fu Wang off, Yun Yin cleaned up the table and dishes. Soon after, Zhang Lin returned from the main road carrying large bundles. She hurried over to help him. “Why did you bring back so much?”
Looking through his things, she saw not only the mushrooms he had collected but also some vegetables.
After putting everything away, she brought him the meal she had saved earlier. “Eat first.”
Zhang Lin sat down heavily, catching his breath. “Thank you, Lady Yun. I came back late. I spent more time in the village across the way today, but I gathered all the mushrooms I could. If we want more, we’ll have to wait for them to grow again.”
Yun Yin nodded as she looked at the mushrooms. “It’s fine. These will be enough for now. In another month or so, fresh mushrooms will be available again.”
At the moment, her mushroom sauce was only sold around Long’an County. Once she found more sales channels, she could try the cultivation methods described in her book. Then, they would never run short of mushrooms.
While eating, Zhang Lin asked, “Lady Yun, what’s going on with those bandits? Will it affect us?”
Yun Yin shook her head. “It’s fine. I happened to meet Young Master Fu, and he said the authorities are handling it. It should be resolved in a couple of days and won’t affect our business. Still, we should be cautious. If you’re staying up front at night, be extra careful. If anything seems off, go up the hillside to find me.”
Zhang Lin nodded as he ate. “Got it. As long as it won’t affect us, that’s good.”
After he finished eating and rested, Yun Yin moved everything into his room and locked it up. Then she took out some red beans to soak and said, “Bring a basket. Let’s go up the mountain to pick some mugwort.”
“Pick mugwort?” Zhang Lin asked, puzzled. “It’s not the Dragon Boat Festival yet. Why pick it now?”
“I heard from Young Master Fu that the Cold Food Festival is in two days. We won’t be able to light fires then, so we can’t sell noodles. I plan to make more qingtuan and sell those instead.”
Zhang Lin suddenly understood. “So it’s already the Cold Food Festival? Then we should prepare offerings. After that comes Qingming—we’ll need to pay respects to the deceased.”
Thinking of her late grandmother and father, Yun Yin nodded. “Tomorrow, go to town and buy what we need. Let’s hurry and pick the mugwort while it’s still light.”
Back in the mountains, nothing had changed despite their frequent visits. The trees were still lush, and birds flitted lightly through the forest, only glancing curiously at the intruders before continuing their own affairs.
Passing through the bamboo grove, they spotted plenty of mugwort among the roadside weeds.
“Start picking. Gather as much as you can,” Yun Yin called.
Zhang Lin immediately rolled up his sleeves and began harvesting. Yun Yin did the same on the other side. The mugwort here grew especially well—much better than down the mountain. Without moving much, she quickly filled her basket.
“Alright, that’s enough,” she called. “Let’s head back. No one else will pick this—we can come again later.”
Zhang Lin nodded, looking at his full basket. “Alright, Lady Yun.”
They descended the mountain with full loads. Passing the Chinese toon trees, Yun Yin sighed. “I’ve been so busy lately. I wanted to make toon sauce, but I haven’t had time.”
Tomorrow she still had to make mushroom sauce, and the Cold Food Festival was approaching. Besides qingtuan, she also wanted to make bowl cakes and cold noodles—both suitable for eating without reheating.
Thinking of all this, she realized there simply wasn’t enough time. Fortunately, the toon shoots would still be available for another month.
Back home, Yun Yin handed Zhang Lin his basket. “You don’t need to help with the rest. Go plant the field we prepared earlier. Didn’t Sister Qian give you some seeds? Start with those.”
“Plant scallions, ginger, bok choy, chives, and cucumbers. For eggplants, wait until she has seedlings ready, then ask her for some.”
“And remember to bring her a gift—some meat or eggs will do. Even if she didn’t charge us for the seeds, we shouldn’t just take them for free.”
Zhang Lin scratched his head. “Got it. But can you manage on your own?”
“It’s nothing. Go ahead,” Yun Yin waved him off.
She began preparing ingredients, starting with red bean paste for the qingtuan filling. After boiling the soaked beans until soft, she mashed and strained them, then cooked the paste with sugar and a bit of lard until thick and smooth.
Next came the dough. She mixed glutinous rice flour and regular rice flour, added mugwort juice, and kneaded it with a little malt syrup.
Soon, she shaped the sweet red bean filling into balls, wrapped them in dough, and steamed them.
The finished qingtuan, jade-green and fragrant, were soft, chewy, and sweet without being cloying—even when cooled.
After that, she prepared wheat starch for cold noodles and bowl cakes by washing dough until only gluten remained, then letting the starch settle.
By the time everything was done, she carried some qingtuan to the fields.
Zhang Lin had already sown the seeds and was watering.
“Come take a break and eat something,” she called.
He washed his hands and sat down, taking a qingtuan. “Is this a specialty from your hometown?”
“Yes. Try it.”
He took a bite, then another. “It’s sweet! Is it red bean? It’s so delicious!”
“Then eat more. I made a lot. Tomorrow, when you go to town, take some to Sister A’man and Sister Qian.”
Zhang Lin nodded, mouth full. “Got it. I’ll deliver them first thing in the morning.”