Though Zhao Silang’s words were domineering, Shen Yulou felt not the slightest displeasure—in fact, a warmth flowed through her heart.
She gazed at the stubble-faced man before her, and after a long moment, nodded with a smile. “Mm, I won’t think about them anymore… They don’t deserve it.”
Her original body’s family didn’t deserve it.
Neither did that good-fortune brother of hers who had inherited her estate.
Shen Yulou lowered her gaze to the rain boots on Zhao Silang’s feet.
Though she had tested them at home, these were after all the first pair of rain boots she had ever made. She wondered if the quality could hold up… They hadn’t leaked, had they?
Just as the thought crossed her mind, Zhao Silang spoke up: “The boots are sturdy. No leaks, and they keep warm too.”
They just made his feet stink.
Because the new rain boots were so warm, while others’ toes were freezing into frostbite, his soles would sweat up a storm after a day of work.
Thinking of his smelly feet, Zhao Silang suddenly grew nervous again, worrying that Shen Yulou might want to take his boots off to inspect them.
His feet really stank.
He hurriedly said, “Uh… I’ll go grab my bowl for eating.”
Shen Yulou waved her hand to say it wasn’t necessary—she had brought her own bowl.
But before she could even open her mouth after two waves of her hand, Zhao Silang had already bolted.
His long legs covered twice the ground with each stride, and in the blink of an eye he had dashed off into the distance, faster than a cheetah by three parts.
Shen Yulou shook her head with a chuckle and set the clay pot of soup on the simple stove platform.
Zhao Baozhu had also returned with her firewood.
The two of them took charge—one tending the fire, one cooking the noodles.
Zhao Silang, clutching his bowl, caught the tantalizing aroma from afar.
Following the scent with his gaze, he suddenly quickened his pace, his expression turning cold and grim.
Shen Yulou knew she was a good cook.
But she hadn’t expected that a simple noodle dish she whipped up would attract so many people.
A crowd of laborers had surrounded her and Zhao Baozhu, chattering away all at once.
“Sister, that noodle dish of yours looks absolutely mouthwatering.”
“Yeah, yeah—look at that broth, and those noodles… No, no, I’m drooling!”
A laborer gnawing on a dry flatbread was salivating with craving.
His companion shoved him and said with disdain, “Scram, scram—go drool somewhere else. Don’t ruin the sister’s noodles.”
That was what he said, but then he himself stuck his head over the clay pot, flaring his nostrils to inhale the rising fragrance.
He wished he could bury his face right into the pot and slurp up a couple of mouthfuls.
Zhao Baozhu’s face darkened.
Shen Yulou was equally speechless.
Just as the two were at a loss for what to do, Zhao Silang pushed through the crowd, first shoving aside the head still stealing sniffs, then waving at everyone. “Stop crowding around here. Go eat your meals—there’s still work to do after. The foreman said we don’t knock off until today’s work is done.”
Zhao Silang was tall and broad-shouldered. Standing there, even without saying a word, he carried an inherent air of intimidation.
Let alone when he actually spoke.
And he’d brought up the work that needed doing today.
The laborers, though still craving the food, could only disperse with lingering reluctance.
But they didn’t wander far—they crouched at the upwind spot, gnawing on their cold, hard flatbreads while letting the drifting aroma wash over them.
“That Zhao Silang sure is lucky. Comes out to work, and his family still rushes over to cook for him.”
“Ah, I wish I had family like that too.”
“It’s just that her clay pot is too small—she can’t make much. Otherwise, I’d buy a bowl for sure.”
“Who wouldn’t want to buy one? Day in and day out, it’s either watery porridge or dry flatbread. My mouth’s gone completely bland.”
The speaker meant nothing by it, but the listener took it to heart. Shen Yulou’s eyes lit up as she quickly looked around.
This river embankment repair was a major project—the government office had conscripted over three hundred laborers.
Looking out across the riverbank, all she could see was a sea of bobbing heads.
So many people!
Where there were people, there was business!
The laborers only got one day off every ten days, time to go home and restock their rations.
The rest of the time, they ate and slept at the worksite, forbidden from leaving on their own—any violation would be treated as evasion of labor service.
And their rations were either dry flatbreads or lukewarm watery porridge.
If she set up a food stall here, business would absolutely explode!
Shen Yulou grew excited and turned to Zhao Silang, who was too busy eating to lift his head, his forehead covered in sweat from the hot noodles. “Brother Zhao, I want to do business here.”
Zhao Silang choked, nearly coughing on his noodle soup.
He lifted his face from the bowl—neither saying yes nor no, but asking instead: “What kind of business do you want to do?”
Shen Yulou looked at the bowl in his hand, then at the group of laborers sitting upwind gnawing on their dry flatbreads.
Zhao Silang understood and nodded. “You want to do a food business… That’s possible, but the people working here are all poor folk.”
The implication: they didn’t have much money on them, and they might not be willing to spend it.
Shen Yulou didn’t dwell on that question. Instead, she asked Zhao Silang, “Brother Zhao, do you think my noodle soup tastes good?”
It was definitely good.
It would be no exaggeration to say that in all his years, he had never eaten such fragrant noodles.
Zhao Silang nodded without hesitation.
Shen Yulou then asked again, “Then, if this bowl of noodles were sold for five wen, would you be willing to buy it?”
This time, Zhao Silang hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he still nodded and said, “Repairing the river embankment is very physically demanding. The rations issued by the government office aren’t enough to fill us up, and there’s no oil or fat in them either. The rations we brought ourselves are all dry, hard flatbreads. If spending five wen could get me a bowl of hot noodle soup with glistening oil floating on top, I would still be willing to buy it.”
After a pause, he added, “But I’d only eat one bowl a day, and I might even only eat one every other day.”
One bowl was enough.
Even one bowl every other day would do.
There were over three hundred laborers—if you came to eat a bowl today, and he came to eat a bowl tomorrow, wouldn’t the business pick up?
The more Shen Yulou thought about it, the more she felt this business could work. Her two eyes sparkled, brighter than the stars in the sky, and everything around her seemed to pale in comparison.
At least, that was how it appeared in Zhao Silang’s eyes.
Zhao Silang hastily averted his gaze, then faced the cold wind for a while. Only when his head had cooled down did he turn his face back. While slurping his noodles, he silently thought: it seemed he would need to find a way to build good relations with the officials.
Shen Yulou had no idea what was going through his mind, nor did she give any thought to the officials.
After Zhao Silang finished the noodles and drained the soup dry, she packed the earthen pot into the bamboo basket, then took out a large bamboo tube sealed at both ends from the basket and handed it to Zhao Silang.
“Brother Zhao, this bamboo tube contains simmered soup. When you finish work this evening, light a fire, set this tube over the flames to heat it up. Once the soup inside boils, pour the hot soup into a bowl, then tear the dry flatbread into small pieces and soak them in the soup.”
That way, he’d get himself a bowl of hot soup-soaked flatbread.
Shen Yulou gave her instructions methodically, not even noticing that Zhao Silang had looked at her more times today than he had in all the previous days combined.
And his gaze was different from before, too.
After she finished her instructions, she pulled Zhao Baozhu along and hurried back toward Dayawan Village.
This matter needed to be discussed with Auntie Zhao.
Without realizing it, Shen Yulou had already come to regard Mother Zhao as her elder.
The two had left home fairly early, and had only stopped in Huaishui River Town for about a quarter of an hour. By the time they hurried back to Dayawan Village, it was only the end of the Si hour (a little past nine in the morning).
From a distance, they could see Zhao Sanlang holding a knife in his hand, his face pale, muttering incessantly, “I can’t do it, I really can’t… Auntie, you should go find someone else!”