The radish cake business had to be put on hold for a while. With dozens of pounds of radishes still in the cellar, they could only make enough filling for one last morning of sales.
After spending two days tidying the Wash-Intestine Grass in the backyard, Madam Yu took some free time to scrub the radishes clean. She didn’t know how to cook, so she stuck to these kinds of helper tasks.
That afternoon, she sliced the radishes, blanched them, and then set them aside to drain, waiting for Ye Jia to prepare the filling. With such a small amount left, she could handle the work alone without needing a second pair of hands.
Seeing the fine weather, Ye Jia decided to take a walk around the village.
Wangjia Village was a large settlement, and its proximity to the town made it relatively prosperous compared to the surrounding countryside. Most households had enough surplus grain to raise livestock and poultry.
Ye Jia had her own chickens, which were due to start laying in another month. The family’s own chickens would provide eggs for their table, while the ones she bought from others would be used for selling.
Whenever she saw chickens in a courtyard, Ye Jia would approach and ask if they had any spare eggs.
“If they’re fresh, I’ll buy them for one wen each,” she offered.
To be honest, eggs were a precious commodity in poor areas. Families who couldn’t afford meat relied on eggs to nourish their elderly and children. But precious as they were, people would still sell them if the price was right. After all, no matter how good the eggs were, they wouldn’t even fetch a single wen in town.
Ye Jia’s offer of one wen per egg was an excellent deal.
Regardless of how fresh the eggs were, anyone who had them came running, baskets in hand.
Ye Jia selected a few eggs, examining them in her palm. She eagerly bought the larger, high-quality ones from several families.
“Don’t worry, don’t rush,” she said. “I didn’t bring any money with me. If you ladies are free, please wait in my courtyard for a while. I’ll collect the eggs first and then pay you all back on the spot.”
The women buzzed with excitement at her words.
Ye Jia noticed that many households in the village stored eggs, and if her business took off, she would have a steady supply. With that worry settled, she turned her attention to the Guo family, who raised sheep. Guo Xing’s family was known to be wealthy in Wangjia Village, owning twenty or thirty sheep, several pigs, and flocks of chickens and ducks. Rumor had it that the butcher in town sourced his mutton from them.
The Guo family home was hard to miss—it was the largest brick-and-tile house in the village.
Though the family was well-off, Guo Xing’s wife ran the household with a tight fist. They stored so many eggs from their poultry that they couldn’t bear to eat them all, selling most of them in town instead.
Hearing that someone wanted to buy eggs in the village, she had rushed out to inquire. She pushed her way to the front, and when Ye Jia asked about their lamb, she was caught off guard.
Many families in the village raised sheep. The land in Libei Town was too poor to yield much of a crop, but its lush vegetation was perfect for livestock. Earlier in the year, several people had come to her house to adopt young lambs. Sheep were valuable these days; a full-grown one could fetch two taels of silver in town. But, of course, a lamb would cost much less.
Guo Xing’s wife hesitated, then named a high price. “Eight hundred wen.”
Ye Jia had no idea what the going rate for sheep was, but the looks on the surrounding faces told her the price was steep.
She paused, offering no reply.
Seeing her silence, Guo Xing’s wife’s expression shifted. She realized she had asked too much.
“But Jia-niang, you’re a neighbor, not a stranger,” she added. “If you want my lamb, I’ll give it to you for seven hundred fifty wen.”
Ye Jia didn’t agree immediately. She simply smiled faintly. “I’m just asking. I’ll consider it later when I have a moment.”
Guo Xing’s wife wasn’t in a hurry to sell. With the mountain slopes covered in grass, the sheep would graze all day and grow fat over the next few months. Their family had perfected the art of raising sheep, and with a butcher in town always looking for meat, money was never a concern.
Seeing Ye Jia was no longer interested in the lamb, she shifted gears. “When will you be taking the eggs? I have several large baskets stored up.” She paused. “Not just chicken eggs, either. I have goose and duck eggs too.”
At the mention of duck eggs, Ye Jia’s interest piqued. Thanks to her fondness for gourmet food in her past life, she knew how to make salted duck eggs—and even the ones with runny yolks.
In those days, duck eggs were far less prized than chicken eggs. Their strong, gamey flavor made them less appealing, and despite their larger size, few people ate them, let alone bought them.
Ye Jia hesitated for a moment, then tested the waters. “I’ll give you one wen for two.”
The women’s eyes lit up instantly.
Everyone knew duck eggs were hard to sell; usually, families just fried them up for their own meals. Guo Xing’s wife had only been asking out of curiosity, but who knew Ye Jia would actually buy them? The price was low, but a duck egg was just food—selling it meant real money in her pocket.
Immediately, another woman cut in, preempting Guo Xing’s wife. “I’ve got plenty of duck eggs too! How many do you need, Ye Jia?”
Ye Jia only wanted enough to make salted eggs for her own family. “About a hundred or so.”
At that, the women scrambled.
These country women had no time for modesty when money was on the line. With seven or eight mouths to feed in some households, every extra coin was a lifeline. They crowded around Ye Jia, each insisting her family could supply the entire hundred eggs.
The noise gave Ye Jia a headache. “Just bring the eggs to the Zhou family’s courtyard!” she shouted over the din. “I’ll take a hundred chicken eggs and a hundred duck eggs.”
Without waiting for them to argue over whose eggs were best, Ye Jia turned and walked away.
The women scattered in an instant, each rushing home to gather every egg they had. Ye Jia wandered through the village, eventually making her way to the back mountain.
The mountain had already turned a lush green in April. New leaves were budding, and the grass and shrubs were growing wild. Many village children were already halfway up the slope, herding sheep and cattle.
As Ye Jia climbed, she noticed several holes enclosed by wooden fences and brush. The interiors were clean and bore clear signs of recent human activity. Just as she was wondering about them, she spotted clumps of wild greens sprouting through the grass—and huge patches of wild green onions.
Wild green onions! They would taste incredibly fragrant. Ye Jia began pulling them up, filling her arms with a generous bundle before heading back.
By the time she returned to the Zhou family’s home, more women had gathered in the courtyard, surrounding Madam Yu in a noisy huddle. Madam Yu had heard the general idea of Ye Jia’s chive and egg pancake business, and after a few soft words, she managed to quiet the crowd.
Though she seemed frail, Madam Yu had a real knack for handling these situations.
Ye Jia carried her large bundle of wild green onions into the kitchen. After a moment’s thought, she set aside a smaller bunch, intending to plant and grow them.
In the future, we won’t have to buy green onions from the market, Ye Jia thought. We can just plant them in the backyard. Whenever we need some, we can just snip a handful.
Rui’er was in the courtyard playing with the chickens. She must have learned it from someone; every day she took a little shovel to the garden, dug up a bunch of earthworms, and fed them to the birds. The chicks grew faster eating worms than they did on millet, and the little girl had fed them all into plump, healthy birds.
“Auntie, look! It’s so good!”
The little girl, now fair and beautiful, looked like a little doll even with mud smudged on her face. She clung to the doorway, blinking her large eyes, then ran over to Ye Jia, holding something up. “Look! Ah Hua laid it!”
Ah Hua was the most colorful of the four chicks, and she was fiercely protective, pecking anyone who dared get too close.
Ye Jia looked up to see a smooth, round egg cradled in the child’s hands. Rui’er held it out carefully, and when Ye Jia touched it, the egg was still warm. It must have been laid just moments ago.
Heavens! Are the chickens already laying eggs?
Ye Jia rushed out and crouched by the coop to peer inside. Immediately, a large, mottled hen pecked her squarely on the head.
Zhou Jingchen stood by the window, a mischievous smile on his face as he watched the “war” between the chicken and the human. Only after Ye Jia retreated in defeat, nursing her bruised pride, did his grin widen into a full-blown laugh.
When Ye Jia turned and caught him gloating, her anger flared. “What are you laughing at?”
“They don’t recognize you because you never feed them,” Zhou Jingchen said, his smile lingering.
Ye Jia knew that. Poultry and livestock had small brains; they only bonded with the ones who fed them. She’d simply forgotten in her excitement over Rui’er’s egg. She had bought the four hens a long time ago and figured if one was laying, the others would soon follow. She hadn’t expected them to be so vicious.
“You didn’t clip their wings,” Zhou Jingchen added. He rubbed his nose under her glare, his lips still curved. “They might fly up and peck you again someday.”
Ye Jia stared at him. Do chickens fly? She wasn’t sure, but Zhou Jingchen’s gloating was unmistakable.
Then it clicked. Chickens were birds, after all. They had wings, and wings meant flight.
She remembered the chicken farms in the mountains from her past life—the birds there flew all over the place. She’d never raised chickens before and didn’t know any better, but now that he’d pointed it out, she vowed to learn her lesson.
Ye Jia brushed the chicken feathers off her head and turned to find a pair of scissors in the house.
Madam Yu had just finished dealing with the group of visitors. She turned to see her son still standing by the window, his gaze fixed on something outside.
A flicker of hope stirred in her heart. Ever since Zhou Jingchen had woken up, he had rarely looked this relaxed; most of the time, his expression was one of deep-seated bitterness. She didn’t know what was happening out there to put him in such a mood, but she privately took it as a sign that they had chosen the right daughter-in-law.
With a capable woman running the household, life was improving, and naturally, he was smiling.
She couldn’t help but walk over to him and bring up the matter of moving to the west room again.
Surprisingly, Zhou Jingchen didn’t immediately object this time. He simply lowered his eyes, fell silent for a moment, and said softly, “It’s not time yet.”
Madam Yu frowned, confused. What did he mean, “not time yet”?
After a moment of thought, she sighed. During their three-year exile, most of their family had died along the way. Come to think of it, it hadn’t even been three full years since Prince Jing had hanged himself on the road. The thought weighed heavily on her, pulling her back down from her brief moment of lightness. But the dead could not be brought back to life, and they still had to live.
With a sigh, she picked up the two large baskets of eggs and headed to the kitchen.
Ye Jia found a pair of scissors and marched to the east room to drag Zhou Jingchen outside.
They stood before the chicken coop, and she thrust the scissors into his hand. “You do it!”
Zhou Jingchen gripped the shears and shot her a sidelong glance.
Ye Jia frowned, her tone defiant. “What’s your problem? You’re a grown man—are you really too scared to trim a chicken’s wing?”
Amusement gradually filled Zhou Jingchen’s eyes. He feigned a moment of difficult deliberation, then slowly nodded.
Ye Jia’s face immediately fell. She glanced at his towering frame and rolled her eyes before snatching the scissors back. A bruise from a chicken’s peck still marred her forehead.
“Fine, give them here,” she declared in a last-ditch effort. “You catch them, and I’ll trim. You’re just eating for free.”
Zhou Jingchen fell silent.
“What are you looking at?” Ye Jia challenged. “You’re so big, yet you still can’t catch a chicken?”
“…You’ve got a point.”
He covered his mouth with one hand to hide a smile, about to speak when a small, sturdy figure came running over. Rui’er, wearing a tattered floral jacket, dashed to the coop, crouched down, and seized a large hen. She barely reached Zhou Jingchen’s thigh, yet she held the bird firmly by the neck with one hand while tugging at Ye Jia’s hem with the other.
“Auntie, trim it!”
Ye Jia’s focus shifted immediately. She grabbed one of the chicken’s flapping wings and made two quick snips, trimming the feathers. Snip, snip.
Whether it was just her imagination or not, Ye Jia felt the chicken was far more docile after the trimming.
She patted the little girl’s head. “Rui’er, you’re the one who’s actually useful.”
The young girl’s large eyes blinked, and she puffed out her small chest with pride.
Ye Jia had only just retrieved her scissors when Madam Yu caught her at the doorway. They had two hundred eggs—the chicken eggs were for the business, but Madam Yu didn’t know what to do with the duck eggs.
“Preserve them,” Ye Jia suggested. “Salted duck eggs are delicious, especially with breakfast. I’ll bring back some salt and jars after I close my stall tomorrow.”
Since they were short on radishes, they had only made 120 stuffed cakes. As it turned out, the townspeople still preferred Ye Jia’s cakes. They’d tasted her fresh ones yesterday, and a quick comparison left them all agreeing that the Xi Shi Stall sold the best food. Many of the lost customers returned.
The Zhang Family’s stall had set up early, but it was dismal compared to the previous day. On the other hand, the old man selling stuffed radish cakes with his grandson was doing quite well.
Perhaps because of yesterday’s success, he had made more today. Before the deer fence even opened, a crowd had already gathered at his stall. A well-meaning gossip approached Ye Jia and said, “Your business is being stolen like this. You can’t just let it go. You should go over there and demand an explanation.”
Ye Jia simply smiled.
The gossip, seeing Ye Jia’s lack of interest, lost his enthusiasm and walked away.
The 120 cakes sold out in no time. Ye Jia took Zhou Jingchen to the grain shop and bought another large bag of flour. If she was going to change her menu, she’d need to buy seasonings.
As she squatted in the shop, her eyes lit up at the sight of rice for sale. In these days of poor transportation, rice was incredibly expensive in the north. She asked the price and found it cost several more copper coins per catty than flour.
As a southerner, she craved steamed rice. After a moment’s thought, she gritted her teeth and bought twenty catties.
Zhou Jingchen didn’t say a word, simply loading the supplies onto their ox cart. They had just left the town gates when a man stepped out to block their path.
He was a tall, lean young man with a sallow complexion, though his features were still quite delicate. His family must have been struggling; his clothes were worn and poor, but they were washed clean. He watched Ye Jia and Zhou Jingchen approach, hesitated for a moment, and then stepped forward to stop the cart.
Ye Jia didn’t recognize him at first.
She stared at him for a long time before guessing, “Second Brother?”
The man nodded, a strange expression on his face. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “Third Sister, Mother is ill. You and your husband should come home when you have a moment.”