Early the next morning, Cao Jie returned to his hometown.
Yu Chun asked Yu’s mother to stay home with Cao Fang, while she and Yu Xiao, who had taken leave, went to the pharmacy and general store.
The entire Western Market was filled with hurried people. Anxiety was frozen on their faces, their steps rushed, their eyes panicked—like startled chickens scattering at the slightest disturbance.
Whenever small groups gathered, others would stop to listen, trying to piece together the truth from fragments.
Where had the rebels reached? Had the Anxi army arrived? What preparations had the court made—
In front of the luxurious shops, camels and carriages stood waiting as shop assistants quietly packed away valuable goods.
Long lines formed outside grain shops and pharmacies. A silent panic spread—prices on the signs kept changing: ten coins, twenty, thirty… rising almost by the minute. Those who bought regretted not buying more; those who hadn’t feared the doors would close before their turn.
More Imperial Guards patrolled the streets, stern-faced, occasionally stopping and questioning passersby. Order had not yet completely collapsed.
“Let’s go to the general store first,” Yu Chun decided immediately, heading with Yu Xiao toward the market area.
Her judgment was correct. It was only the second day since news of Luoyang’s massacre reached the city, and the food market was unusually quiet.
The sweet scent of fruit, the fishy smell of poultry and seafood, the faint bloodiness of butcher stalls, and the spices—cinnamon, pepper, cloves, scallions, ginger, garlic—all mingled in the air.
Scattered snack stalls remained open. The wonton stall they had eaten at the day before was still there.
“Boss Xiao, you’re still open today?”
“Ah, Madam Yu.” The vendor gave a bitter smile. “Tomorrow I won’t be. The meat I bought must be sold, and I can’t afford the salt to preserve it.”
That’s right—dried meat.
Yu Chun’s eyes lit up. There were also scallions, ginger, garlic—useful for treating common illnesses, and they could be replanted for seeds.
And meat. As for salt, although she had stored a lot, she was reluctant to use it for curing. Dried meat would be more practical.
After discussing with Yu Xiao, Yu Chun exchanged all ten strings of cash for nearly ten cartloads of supplies. Carrying baskets back and forth twenty times, they stocked everything except bricks.
Five baskets of pepper, scallions, ginger, garlic, fermented beans, sauces; four baskets of strong liquor; one basket of salt; one basket of vinegar; two baskets of honeysuckle, forsythia, coptis, gypsum; six baskets of soybeans; one basket each of sweet potatoes, potatoes, cabbage, and radish seeds.
Then twenty live chickens, five slaughtered pigs, fifty rabbit skins, and eight baskets of dried vegetables.
The chickens were transported in cages provided by the sellers, carried back in five trips.
All the goods filled Yu Chun’s main hall to the brim.
Fresh items were piled in her courtyard. While no one was watching, she stored a quarter of the supplies in her hidden cellar, and the remaining three-quarters in Yu family’s cellar.
Salt, seeds, and medicine were sealed in earthen jars and buried beneath a tree near the manure pit.
Both of them instinctively thought of guarding against theft.
Things would only grow more chaotic. Since Cao Jie had connections in the area from his past, storing supplies at their home was relatively safe. The two households were close enough to share meals.
Even with money gone, war wouldn’t stop the Yu family from working.
Yu’s mother soaked rabbit skins in a wooden bucket by the well. For her safety, Yu Chun and Yu Xiao insisted she quit her job. She would stay home to care for the children while Yu Chun sewed clothes, earning twenty coins a day.
Of course, Yu Chun had no money yet—she had to finish sewing first.
That was the good news from her day of inquiries. Though only about thirty percent of shops in the Western Market remained open, Hongyan House was still one of the largest.
With empty pockets, Yu Chun worked even harder.
These men’s clothes didn’t require embroidery—or at least, not work assigned to someone of her level.
In front of her were three pin cushions, bristling like hedgehogs.
Yu Xiao went back to work, earning fifty coins that afternoon—a huge sum for them.
Under Xiangyun’s patient guidance, Yu Chun practiced repeatedly. By afternoon, she had mastered hidden stitching, running stitch, and basting stitch, maintaining three to five stitches per centimeter and securing fabric edges properly.
She never imagined sewing required so many techniques.
Before her transmigration, aside from knitting in school, who did needlework anymore? Everything was mass-produced.
Now, she understood.
People needed skills to survive. Only then could they remain calm and avoid being taken advantage of.
Yu Chun quickened her pace.
With no money left, she had to prepare as much as possible before the city was sealed.
And those gold beads Cao Fang had received—she intended to exchange them for property and land. She had a feeling Chang’an would never again be as cheap as it was now.
She lifted a rabbit skin from the bucket, then looked toward the stove.
Yu’s mother was rendering pork fat. Cao Rong and Cao Fang sat nearby, eating crispy fried scraps sprinkled with salt—simple, yet a delicacy the children adored.