Aunt Liu lingered at the Zhou family’s house for quite a while after her full meal before finally taking her leave.
Madam Yu had found the woman’s uncouth eating habits rather appalling. But knowing how desperate the woman’s circumstances were, she kept her disapproval to herself.
Ye Jia watched as Aunt Liu scurried away.
Turning back into the house, she found Madam Yu had already taken the dishes to the stove to wash. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a flurry of activity, producing over two hundred more pancakes. By the time Ye Jia looked up again, night had already fallen.
She went back to her room and brought out the half-basin of pork intestines, planning to slice some and fry them up for dinner. She also had the pork belly from the day before. Since the family had a bit of silver saved, Ye Jia decided to treat them.
Let’s be a little extravagant, she thought. braised pork belly!
It wasn’t that Ye Jia was stingy for not serving meat to their guest at noon. As the saying went, wealth must not be flaunted.
The Zhou family was notorious for being poor in Wangjia Village. A widow and her son, with no one to lean on—they had to keep their resources hidden to live in peace.
Ye Jia carried the slab of pork to the back kitchen. Rui’er, ever sharp-eyed, trotted after her on short legs.
The sentence the child spoke most fluently was: “Auntie, yummy!”
“Yes, it will be,” Ye Jia replied.
It was true what they said—affection grew with time. Previously, Ye Jia had found Rui’er rather plain, but now, the more she looked at the child, the more endearing she seemed.
“Don’t get in the way,” Ye Jia told her, keeping the girl out of the path as she washed the meat.
She scalded the pork in a pot to remove the remaining hairs, then chopped it up and blanched it in boiling water. “Wait here. I’ll give you a big piece later!”
The child’s eyes shone as she grinned. “Big piece!”
While Ye Jia was busy in the kitchen, Madam Yu helped Zhou Jingchen back to his room. After settling him into bed, a tense silence hung between mother and son.
After a long moment, Madam Yu sighed. She knew that repeated arguments were useless; her son was too stubborn to be swayed by a few words. She considered urging him to move to the west room again, but thought better of it and swallowed the words.
Instead, she simply smoothed his bedding and announced she was going to help Ye Jia with the fire in the back kitchen.
When she returned, the pork was already simmering. Braised pork belly needed a long cook to become tender. With only one stove, they couldn’t cook anything else while the meat was stewing.
Madam Yu’s curiosity was piqued when she saw Ye Jia lift the large pan used for frying pancakes. “What are you making? Pancakes for dinner?”
Radish pancakes were delicious, whether sold or eaten at home. It was late, and they didn’t have time to knead dough for steamed buns, so frying a few pancakes for the main course made sense. However, while they could eat them, the man resting in the east room could not. He was still taking his medicine, and until he finished the course, radishes were strictly forbidden.
A nineteen-year-old man couldn’t survive on porridge alone; he needed real food.
Ye Jia smiled. “No, let’s try something different tonight.”
In her past life, Ye Jia had traveled to the Northeast on a business trip and tried an authentic rustic dish called hubing. It was a clever method where flatbreads were pressed against the sides of a pot while vegetables stewed inside. By the time the vegetables were tender, the bread had absorbed all the savory juices, making it incredibly fragrant.
Tonight was the perfect occasion for hubing.
A single piece of braised pork belly wouldn’t be enough for four people. Once Ye Jia saw the meat was tender enough for a chopstick to slide through, she tossed in some Napa cabbage and hard-boiled eggs.
When she lifted the lid, the steam cleared to reveal a pot overflowing with food. Madam Yu stared, her eyes wide.
To be honest, ever since they had been exiled to Libei Town, Madam Yu’s only hope had been for her son to survive the western grounds. Their lives had been a mess, devoid of any real future. Her daughter-in-law, Ye Jia, had a peculiar temperament, but she somehow managed to conjure a sense of hope where none had existed. Now, just like Rui’er, Madam Yu found herself eagerly anticipating what would come out of that stove each day.
“Mother, could you go to the east room and help Husband over here?”
Ye Jia was truly not cut out for nursing the sick. She’d seen Zhou Jingchen sitting on a stool for the entire afternoon, yet she kept forgetting his leg was broken.
“This hubing needs to be eaten hot, straight from the pot,” she added. “It won’t taste the same if we serve it in the other room.”
Madam Yu hesitated for a moment, then decided to ignore her doubts and went to the east room to help Zhou Jingchen up.
As he was assisted from the bed, Zhou Jingchen couldn’t help but press a hand to his forehead in a mixture of frustration and amusement. Yet, after days of nothing but congee, he—like Madam Yu—had developed a newfound longing for the stove.
The family gathered in the cramped kitchen, circling the large frying pan. Behind them, the stove radiated a steady warmth that cut through the early February chill. In the swirling steam, the scene felt unexpectedly cozy.
Ye Jia handed each person a bowl, then used a large iron spatula to scoop meat and vegetables into them, topping each portion with a thick piece of flatbread.
“Eat up,” she urged as they sat down. “It’ll get hard if it gets cold.”
While they ate, she continued to add pork intestines to the pan. They sizzled in the oil, releasing a savory aroma that filled the air.
Zhou Jingchen held his bowl, torn between amusement and disbelief. His upbringing as a prince regent had ingrained a level of decorum in him that made this casual meal a first.
Rui’er abandoned her chopsticks, tearing off a piece of bread and stuffing it into her mouth. Madam Yu, after taking a bite of the meat, stared in amazement. “Jia-niang, how are your hands made? How can you cook meat so deliciously?”
Ye Jia chuckled, swapped her chopsticks, and turned the intestines in the pan.
The pork intestines sizzled in the pan. Ye Jia used a pair of large kitchen shears to snip them into bite-sized pieces, turning each one carefully. She had prepared a simple dry seasoning of minced scallions, ginger, garlic, and sesame salt. When one piece looked perfectly crisped, she dipped it into the seasoning before eating it.
The others followed her lead. The first bite was a revelation—smoky, charred, and crisp on the outside, yet tender within. It was even better than a stir-fry.
Zhou Jingchen found the casual manner of the meal strange, but he wasn’t one to be overly precious. He took a bite, learning by example.
Soon, the room fell silent. Every eye was glued to the pan, and no one looked up from their bowl. Rui’er, being small, struggled to eat as smoothly as the adults. She chewed each tiny piece for ages, wincing and pulling faces as the hot food scorched her mouth.
With something to look forward to, even sleep came easier. Madam Yu no longer tossed and turned all night, for she had to wake early the next morning to set up their stall in town.
Perhaps it was because they were the only food stall in the area, but the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law’s business was booming. In just ten days, they had earned seven or eight taels of silver—a net profit after costs and household expenses. With money tucked away in her pocket, the bitterness on Madam Yu’s face had largely vanished. Eating and sleeping well, she grew more radiant by the day, her natural beauty finally beginning to shine through.
In the Tile Market, a pair of exceptionally beautiful women—a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law—had set up a pancake stall. Their presence was becoming the talk of the town.
Someone, perhaps with a playful sense of mischief, had given their stall an elegant name: the Xi Shi Stall. Though Ye Jia found the nickname utterly embarrassing, it nonetheless brought them a wave of fame. Not only the locals from the Tile Market came to eat, but even the town’s permanent residents ventured out to sample the food.
As their business flourished and their savings grew, Ye Jia’s mind turned to the leaky roof.
Libei Town rarely saw much rain, but this year had been freakishly wet. Even if the weather improved, they couldn’t leave the roof in its current state. One day, after closing up their stall, Ye Jia and Madam Yu headed straight for the brick kiln.
Libei Town had only one brick kiln, which also produced tiles. Everyone in town—and even in the neighboring ones—bought their building materials here.
When they arrived, the manager was nowhere to be seen. Only a few teenage boys guarded the entrance.
Ye Jia explained their purpose. After a long moment, a burly, middle-aged man emerged from the main building. He sported a goatee and had a large nose and swollen, drooping eyelids. He wore a felt hat and was dressed quite formally.
When he saw his visitors—two women in ragged clothes—his heavy eyes flickered with a reluctant, lazy look.
But when the man heard they only wanted a thousand small tiles and some broken ones, his interest evaporated instantly. Still, a sale was a sale, even if small.
“Five hundred wen,” he demanded curtly, giving them no chance to haggle. He turned to leave.
Ye Jia’s brow furrowed at his blatant arrogance. She’d wanted to ask him to show them the tiles, but the manager’s dismissive attitude made the gesture seem pointless.
Of course, she thought bitterly, they can act like this when they’re the only brick kiln for miles.
Having worked for years at a design institute, Ye Jia was well-versed in engineering. Firing bricks and tiles wasn’t a difficult process—she could have done it herself if she had a kiln—but setting one up was a major undertaking. The scarcity of such knowledge was why these kiln owners were so insufferable.
With a slow, steadying breath, Ye Jia followed one of the apprentices to the back to inspect the tiles.
They had come in a hurry, stopping by after their stall closed, and hadn’t yet prepared the materials at home. Ye Jia examined the tiles, feeling their texture. The quality was passable.
“We’ll bring someone to pick them up this afternoon,” she said. “We’ll pay then.”
The apprentice didn’t argue. His eyes simply kept drifting back to Ye Jia’s face.
Ye Jia’s beauty was renowned for miles, and Madam Yu, sensing the leering glances, immediately pulled her daughter behind her. But she was nearly the same height as Ye Jia, making her a poor shield. The young apprentices’ eyes still drifted over her shoulder. Ye Jia paid them no mind; they had been doing business in the tile market for over a month, and she’d long since grown accustomed to the attention.
“Mother, let’s go back,” Ye Jia said. “The roof needs to be fixed, and we have to deliver the goods from the stall.”
As they exited the brick kiln’s courtyard, they ran into a mule cart at the alley entrance. The path was too narrow for two vehicles to pass, and though their single-wheel cart took up little space, they would have scraped each other if they tried to squeeze by.
The two women simply backed their cart back into the brick kiln’s courtyard.
Before the apprentices could say a word, the mule cart also backed inside. A pot-bellied middle-aged man climbed down from it, patting his stomach as he landed.
The manager, who had been too lazy to move earlier, now jogged out. Someone must have spotted the owner’s arrival and alerted him. A beaming, eager smile was plastered on his face as he rushed to support the man’s arm. “Master, what brings you here?”
The man addressed as Master glanced at Ye Jia and Madam Yu with his narrow, slitted eyes.
The manager’s demeanor shifted instantly. His smile broadened as he turned to the women. “Ladies, have you chosen your tiles? I’ll have someone take you to see them right away.”
If the apprentices’ glances had been harmless, the lecherous gaze of the pot-bellied man was utterly repulsive. Madam Yu stepped forward, blocking the man’s view.
“We’ve seen enough,” she declared. “We’ll be back this afternoon.”
Without another word, she and Ye Jia pushed their single-wheel cart out of the alley. Only then did the lecherous eyes finally vanish from their backs.
As they walked, Ye Jia glanced down at their dusty, drab clothes and felt a wave of relief. Libei Town was no place for a beautiful woman; it was a liability. Both she and Madam Yu pushed the cart home in heavy silence, their minds churning with the same uneasy thoughts.
After the meal, Ye Jia did something unusual—she went to the east room.
Madam Yu noticed and quietly pulled Rui’er away before the girl could follow her to see her aunt.
“Husband,” Ye Jia called, her voice sweet and melodious.
Though he had heard her say it before, the sound of her calling him “husband” face-to-face still felt strange to Zhou Jingchen.
Ye Jia, oblivious to his expression, frowned as she stared at his leg for a long moment. Then, her hands reached out to touch him. Zhou Jingchen’s eyes flickered, but he forced himself not to flinch. The muscle in his brow twitched more violently as he remained unnervingly still, allowing her to knead and probe his leg for a long while. His sharp gaze scrutinized her every move.
After a long moment, Ye Jia withdrew her hands, her expression disappointed. “Husband, I’ll find someone to make you a crutch. You should come with me to town tomorrow to sell the food.”
The man hadn’t flinched or groaned, leaving her unable to gauge the severity of his injury.
She had been too desperate to care about how her beauty might attract trouble when they were at their lowest. But now, with silver stored away, she finally had the mental space to worry about such things.
Today had been a wake-up call. It was simply too dangerous for her and Madam Yu to do business on the streets alone. Libei Town was a lawless place, and they had only survived this long by sheer luck. But luck eventually ran out. They had to carry a heavy stove between them; if they ever encountered a real thug, they would be completely defenseless.
“Mother is getting older,” she said thoughtfully. “She should rest more in the mornings. It would be much better if you could help us with the business.”
Zhou Jingchen understood her meaning immediately. Recalling the grim expressions on their faces when they returned that morning, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Alright,” he agreed.