Public opinion quickly shifted. Since ancient times, the rich and poor were always in opposition. Most passersby were poor, so naturally, they empathized with Guan Xiyue.
Even Chunliu looked at her with newfound sympathy. She had originally thought Xiyue was simply talented, but she hadn’t realized Xiyue had gone through such hardship.
A vegetable-selling old woman even came forward, grasping her hand and offering heartfelt comfort.
As a result, the eldest young master of the Zhou family gained another notorious reputation on top of his “silver-like wax gun” nickname—he was now widely regarded as “heartless.”
Guan Xiyue and her attendants went to buy more ingredients before returning to the village. But back home, the villagers gave her strange looks.
Apparently, someone had seen her selling fried pastries in the market. Seeing her business thrive, they were both envious and jealous. Then, when they heard that Zhou Zhengye had publicly claimed Xiyue had been sold by him, the villagers felt a sense of balance restored.
She had built such a fine house and could sell fried cakes—yet she had been sold by someone. Where had all her money come from?
As the news spread, the villagers’ envy cooled, but rumors arose questioning whether Xiyue’s wealth was legitimate.
Xiyue and her attendants were puzzled, until Yang Daya loudly shouted, “What’s going on? If you have something to say, say it to her face! Xiyue is standing right here!”
Xiyue swept her gaze over the crowd and smiled: “Seems someone saw me selling fried pastries in the market. What’s so strange about that?”
Sister Liu hesitated, “Xiyue, someone in the village saw the eldest young master of the Zhou family say that you were a concubine he no longer wanted—that you were sold.”
Xiyue nodded calmly: “Yes, I was sold for a few taels of silver.”
Sister Liu continued awkwardly, “But he said the Daoist at Baiyun Temple claimed you were a calamity star, a bringer of misfortune…”
Xiyue gave her a wry look. Sister Liu, unable to withstand the pressure of that gaze, shifted uncomfortably.
Over the past few days, Xiyue had been working on making red bean paste at her place and had let Sister Liu taste some. It was delicate, sweet yet refreshing—nothing like the coarse, overly sugary paste sold on the streets.
That very morning, Xiyue had sold hundreds of these fried cakes at the market. Considering the costs, she had made a substantial profit in just one morning.
It was impossible not to feel a little jealous.
But Xiyue wasn’t angry at them—she understood human nature. Especially in a rural village, people’s perspectives were narrow; they only focused on the small plot of land in front of them, the few families nearby.
She spoke loudly, “If I’m truly a calamity star, why was I able to help the young master recover? Remember, he couldn’t even get out of bed for half a month, and he couldn’t take medicine. The Daoist at Baiyun Temple personally said that my luck is immense.”
Someone questioned, “Then why did your family sell you?”
Everyone fell silent, staring at Xiyue as she continued indignantly: “I was sold because my work here was complete. The Daoist said that the young master would have to rely on himself for future achievements. The Zhou family decided I was no longer useful.”
“But even if you were no longer needed, why sell you? The Zhou family isn’t short on silver. And you’ve somehow amassed enough to build this house,” another voice piped up.
The crowd grew larger, and even Yang Lizheng and his team looked on curiously.
Guan Wangshi suddenly shouted: “Xiyue built the house because of her own skill!”
Before Xiyue could feel a flicker of gratitude, Wangshi added proudly: “No matter where my granddaughter’s silver came from, this house belongs to our Guan family.”
The rest of the Guan family stared at Xiyue intently. Only members of the third branch looked uneasy; Guan Xiaomei was nearly in tears.
Xiyue finally revealed the truth: “During my time with the Zhou family, I created two delicious recipes in their kitchen and sold the formulas to Dongkang Tower, earning silver to redeem myself—essentially buying my freedom. If you really want to know, you can verify it at Dongkang Tower. Tai’an Tower also bought my recipes. That’s why I had the money to build this house. Is that clear enough?”
Looking around, she added, “If any of you can invent a new dish, you can sell it to the taverns too. Perhaps the shopkeepers would buy it. My fried cakes, for instance, are exceptionally tasty and sell extremely well—because I developed them myself.”
The crowd felt awkward. Xiyue had made everything perfectly clear: if they had the ability, they could sell their own recipes or snacks. Wealth would come to whoever had skill.
But they simply didn’t have the talent.
Sister Liu beamed and approached Xiyue, trying to draw closer. But Xiyue politely avoided her: “Sister Liu, it’s inconvenient for me to stay here. I plan to move to Yang Daya’s house. I’ll settle the accommodation fee for my stay immediately.”
Xiyue had stayed about twenty days. Originally, the arrangement was 200 wen for a month. Now she calculated carefully, and with Chunliu’s help, she handed over 134 wen.
Sister Liu deeply regretted having interfered and envied Xiyue.
Yang Daya’s eyes lit up. Though her family had a house, it was too shabby. Her father had passed away early, leaving her widowed mother to manage her household with her siblings.
Previously, Yang Daya had done small work for Xiyue, earning 30 wen a day, and she had been grateful. Today, she had merely spoken up in support, and Xiyue noticed.
Being straightforward herself, Yang Daya didn’t hesitate. She helped Xiyue carry her belongings and told Chunliu to fetch the rest from Sister Liu’s house, leading them away directly.
The villagers left behind blamed the gossipers for spreading rumors without understanding the full story. People always find it easier to blame others than themselves.
Meanwhile, Yang Daya swiftly prepared the two best rooms in her house for Xiyue.
Xiyue didn’t care about such trivial matters and focused on her red bean paste. Her baking skills were at chain-café standards—these tasks were effortless for her.
Accumulating capital slowly was tiring, but Xiyue enjoyed the process. In this era, life could be taken at a slower pace. Instant success was possible—selling all her recipes—but if she became too powerful too quickly, the ancient villagers might even see her as a witch.