Following behind Qin Suian with the shoulder pole, Xiaojuan counted today’s earnings as she walked.
They had been so busy all morning that she was practically dizzy. It really felt like her hands had gone numb from collecting money.
She hadn’t even realized how much money had piled up in the basket. All she could see were stacks of one-fen, two-fen, five-fen coins, along with one-mao, two-mao, fifty-fen, and one-yuan notes filling the basket.
When they returned home, Xiaomei had already finished cooking and kept the food warm in the pot.
She was sitting in the courtyard slicing cucumber strips. One whole basket had already been cut, making it obvious she had barely rested all morning.
“Big sister! So much money! We made so much money today! People were practically fighting to buy it!” Xiaojuan exclaimed as she set down the shoulder pole and placed the basket of money in front of Xiaomei.
Xiaomei glanced at the colorful pile of bills and coins in the basket and broke into a smile as well.
“It sold that well? No wonder Mom had to come back midway through the morning,” Xiaomei said happily.
“Let’s eat first. I already cooked everything and kept it warm in the pot.” It was already past one in the afternoon. Xiaomei had waited and waited for them to return, but when they still hadn’t come back, she finally ate by herself first.
“If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve forgotten. I’m starving. There were too many people just now—I was completely overwhelmed collecting money,” Xiaojuan said. It was her first time dealing with so many strangers at once. At first she had been somewhat nervous, but once things got busy, she no longer had the energy to feel shy.
Qin Suian herself was starving too. She quickly washed her hands and went into the kitchen with Xiaojuan to eat.
“Big sister, you didn’t see it, but today so many people said Mom’s pickles were delicious,” Xiaojuan said excitedly all through the meal. Then they started counting the money, and she became even more excited.
In the end, they counted a total of five yuan and seven mao.
After setting aside five mao for change, they still had five yuan and two mao left.
The amount was almost exactly what Qin Suian had expected.
At this time of year, cucumbers and celtuce were flooding the market and very cheap—only five fen per jin.
Yesterday, she had bought over a hundred jin for a little more than six yuan. Together with the chili peppers and various seasonings, she had spent more than ten yuan altogether.
One jar could hold ten jin of cucumbers after draining the water, producing six to seven jin of finished pickles, enough for thirteen to fifteen bowls.
Six jars held sixty jin total, which would make roughly seventy to ninety bowls of pickles.
They had sold four jars that morning and earned five yuan and two mao—exactly as expected.
“Mom, sales are so good. Should we buy more vegetables? I’m almost done slicing these,” Xiaomei said while continuing to cut cucumbers.
“Not yet. Once we sell the remaining two jars this afternoon, that’ll be enough. If we make too much at once and can’t sell it, it’ll just go to waste. Let’s wait and see how tomorrow goes first,” Qin Suian replied.
She still wasn’t certain how many regular customers they would steadily have.
That afternoon turned out exactly as Qin Suian had predicted. The remaining two jars sold much slower than in the morning, though fortunately they still sold out bit by bit.
Qin Suian guessed that by evening most workers had already gone home for dinner, so fewer people came to buy. Those who did purchase were mostly bringing some home for family members to try, which meant they had lost a large portion of their customer base.
At the moment, Qin Suian estimated that selling six or seven jars a day would not be a problem. Once word of mouth spread and business improved further, they could probably sell eight to ten jars daily.
They could increase or reduce production depending on the situation.
If they earned eight to ten yuan a day, with profits between four and six yuan, then they would make over one hundred yuan a month—more than enough for the daily expenses of the three women living in the county town.
After all, city workers at the time only earned a few dozen yuan a month.
Later, once long beans and lotus roots came into season, they could add more varieties too.
However, Qin Suian had no intention of spending all her time running a market stall—especially not for Xiaomei and Xiaojuan.
Once their income stabilized and after Xiaomei gave birth, she planned to send both girls back to school.
At the very least, she wanted them to finish middle school or high school.
Afterward, she would see what interested them and let them pursue it.
She didn’t expect them to become dragons or phoenixes—she simply wanted them to have the skills to support themselves.
And if they turned out even more capable, she hoped they might attend university.
In later years, university graduates would no longer seem so valuable. But in this era, anyone who managed to get into university generally didn’t end up living too badly.
Of course, she herself also wanted to continue learning. While she wasn’t too old yet and her mind hadn’t grown rigid, she wanted to study more, see more, and grow her pickle business into something greater.
That night, Qin Suian went to bed early, then woke up early the next morning. Together with Xiaojuan, she carried the shoulder pole to the farmers’ market and bought over eighty jin of celtuce and cucumbers.
By the time they returned, Xiaomei had already finished preparing breakfast. The three of them ate together again before Qin Suian and Xiaojuan headed back out to sell pickles.
Qin Suian repeatedly reminded Xiaomei not to work and only make some simple meals.
But after they left, Xiaomei still couldn’t sit idle. She washed clothes and then started washing bedsheets and quilt covers.
These had all been brought from the Wang and Li families. Most of them were decades old and covered with patch upon patch.
Before heading to the dockside market, Qin Suian specially prepared two plates of pickles and went to knock on Grandma Qin’s door.
Grandma Qin’s family was eating breakfast.
The one who opened the door was a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl.
“Hello, I’m looking for Auntie Qin,” Qin Suian said. She recognized the girl as Ning Kun, Grandma Qin’s granddaughter.
“Grandma, someone’s here for you!” Ning Kun shouted into the house.
Grandma Qin walked out from inside.
“Why are you shouting so loudly this early in the morning?” Grandma Qin still wore her usual indifferent expression.
Ning Kun made a face and ran back inside to continue eating breakfast.
“So it’s Xiao Qin.” When Grandma Qin saw Qin Suian visiting, she assumed she had come to borrow something.
“Auntie, these are pickles I made myself. I brought some for you to try.” Qin Suian handed over the plate.
“You finished making them this quickly? Alright then, I won’t be polite. Ning Kun, bring out a plate,” Grandma Qin called out.
Earlier, Qin Suian had mentioned wanting to try selling homemade pickles as a small business. Grandma Qin hadn’t expected her to actually make them so soon.
The girl from before brought out a plate.
Qin Suian transferred the pickles onto it.
“Auntie, if you could give me some feedback after tasting them, that would be even better,” Qin Suian said.
“Then I’ll have to give them a proper try,” Grandma Qin nodded.
Qin Suian didn’t linger any longer and left with Xiaojuan.
“Mom, that was the Xiao Qin you mentioned, the one who just moved into Jinfeng’s house, right?” her daughter-in-law Wu Xinyan asked curiously as she looked at the plate of pickles Ning Kun had carried in.
“Mm. Xiao Qin specially brought these pickles over for me.” Grandma Qin sat down and picked up a strip of brightly colored pickled cucumber that already looked appetizing.
To her surprise, it was genuinely delicious—sour, spicy, crisp, with a perfectly balanced saltiness and sweetness.
Even someone as picky as her couldn’t find fault with it.
Grandma Qin then tried the pickled celtuce as well. It was equally crisp and tasty.
Before she realized it, she had finished the large bowl of white porridge she’d barely touched earlier.
As she had grown older, her appetite had worsened considerably. Eating less left her with less energy, which in turn further reduced her appetite—a vicious cycle.
Qin Suian’s little pickles were actually quite impressive.
“These pickles look really delicious. Mom, even your appetite’s improved,” Wu Xinyan remarked enviously as she watched.