The seasonal breeze carried the savory aroma far and wide. As was her custom, Ye Jia prepared four cakes and brought them over to the guards, Wusu and Sile.
Usually, the two men stood at the gate with expressions as stern and imposing as door gods, but this was the first time they spoke while eating. Their continuous praise made the small vendors waiting by the deer fence salivate. Those who had initially thought seven wen was a bit expensive were now itching to try a taste for themselves.
In no time at all, a crowd gathered around the Xi Shi Stall.
The cakes were quick to make, with each batch yielding thirty pieces. Fresh off the griddle, they were piping hot and fragrant. One bite released a mouthful of filling, the savory chive juices so fresh it was impossible not to bolt them down.
When the customers discovered the egg inside, they grew even more excited. A seven-wen cake that actually contained egg was an incredible value, costing only one wen more than the radish silk cakes. Once they tasted the egg, no one thought the price was too high.
In these times, most people couldn’t even afford to eat eggs at home regularly. To put egg in a street snack meant the proprietor of the Xi Shi Stall was an honest merchant.
Just as Madam Yu had predicted, the chive cakes were far more alluring than the radish ones. These laborers found that one cake wasn’t enough and came back for more. Those who really enjoyed them made off with three or four at a time.
The family had prepared about three hundred cakes the previous day. In the short time since the market had opened, they had already sold nearly a hundred.
This time, there were no “buy more, pay less” deals. Seven wen apiece meant seven wen apiece, with no room for bargaining. Although the couple had anticipated these would sell better than the radish pancakes, they hadn’t expected them to be this popular.
When the market opened, Wusu followed his usual routine and reserved a spot for the Xi Shi Stall near the gate.
While Ye Jia directed Old Sun to hoist the stove onto the ox cart, eager customers followed alongside, pleading for her to make theirs first. Ye Jia agreed with a cheerful smile. Even Wusu and Sile came over with coins in hand to ask for a few more. Since becoming acquainted with Zhou Jingchen, they felt it wouldn’t be right to eat for free beyond the two she sent over every morning.
Without waiting for Ye Jia to speak, they grabbed their pancakes, tossed their copper coins into the bowl, and headed off.
Over three hundred pancakes were nearly gone just fifteen minutes past the hour of Chen.
Ye Jia had saved two for Old Sun. He had come out early that morning on an empty stomach and was now waiting outside the deer fence. Seeing Ye Jia offering him food again, Old Sun rubbed his hands together, looking somewhat embarrassed. The Zhou family already paid him well for the use of his cart, yet they still regularly handed him breakfast to tide him over. They truly were decent, kind-hearted people.
“It just so happens that this is our family business, so it’s not as if we went out and bought them,” Ye Jia said.
She had always had a soft spot for the elderly and looked after them whenever she could; it was a part of her nature she couldn’t change, no matter where she was. “Please, Uncle, just eat. Who knows? I might need to ask for your help with something at home down the road.”
Old Man Sun’s eyes grew warm with emotion. “Of course,” he said repeatedly. “Of course.”
The Sun family were actually military households. In his youth, the old man had fought on the battlefield. Only after he grew old and retired did he marry a woman from a nearby village and settle down. Now, except for his youngest son who stayed home to help, his grown sons and grandsons had all been sent to the military camps. Life was hard for the Suns, mostly because there were simply too many children to feed. His sons were like reincarnations of starving ghosts; they were good for fighting, but they knew how to do little else.
Ye Jia’s mention of needing help might actually come to pass. Old Man Sun had heard that the Zhous were outsiders and that all the men in the family had perished on the journey here, leaving only a single survivor. The Zhous were short-handed, but his own family had sons and grandsons in abundance.
Regardless of how much Old Man Sun took her polite words to heart, the day’s earnings were undeniable: two taels, three maces, and eighty copper coins.
Even Ye Jia felt a surge of excitement. Earning over two taels a day meant they could make sixty or seventy taels a month. Although eggs were somewhat expensive at one wen each, she only used seven or eight for a whole basin of chives. Even if she used ten eggs to satisfy her conscience, the business would still be highly profitable.
Chives were easy to grow at home, and a packet of seeds cost only a few dozen wen. They grew so quickly that they were ready for harvest in just seven days. Aside from the cost of the flour, her overhead was incredibly low. It was no wonder so many street food vendors in her previous life had struck it rich.
Ye Jia felt a rush of adrenaline. She reached out and patted Zhou Jingchen as he tidied up their things. “Husband, let’s go! We’re buying fabric today!”
Zhou Jingchen glanced at the fresh grease stain on his sleeve, then looked down at her with a speechless expression.
Ye Jia remained undeterred, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Since we’ve had such a successful opening, let’s get several bolts of cloth. We’ll make new outfits for Mother and Rui’er!”
Before heading to the draper’s, Ye Jia stopped at the old man’s stall to pick up half a bucket of goat milk. As she watched the kids bleating in the pen behind him, she couldn’t resist asking, “How much for a lamb?”
The old man, now quite familiar with her, was much more polite than when they had first met. “For you? I’ll give them to you for five hundred wen each.”
Five hundred wen? That was a bargain compared to Guo Xing’s wife, who had demanded eight hundred.
Ye Jia’s gaze lingered on the pen.
Raising a lamb was a long-term commitment, and she would have to wait for a female to reach maturity and give birth before there was any milk to speak of. To make it worthwhile, she would need a pair—a male and a female.
When she crunched the numbers, it seemed far more sensible to simply keep buying milk from the old man for ten wen a day.
However, her desire to raise sheep wasn’t purely for the milk. The Zhou family owned no land and no one knew how to farm; in their situation, livestock was a way of building assets.
“I’ll take two,” Ye Jia said, gritting her teeth as she made the decision. “A male and a female.”
The old man selling the sheep shot her a brief glance but said nothing as he moved to catch two for her.
The lambs bleated softly as they tried to run, their voices delicate and high-pitched. When Ye Jia gathered them up, they felt fluffy and quite adorable in her arms, though they smelled strongly of musk and lanolin.
She immediately spun around and shoved the lambs into Zhou Jingchen’s arms. Ignoring his sudden, stiff expression, she bossed him around with total confidence.
“I can’t carry them. You take them, Husband. This is our family’s property from now on, so hold on tight.”
Zhou Jingchen remained silent. What else could he do? No matter how fastidious he was about cleanliness, he had to endure it.
With the sheep purchased, another tael of silver was gone.
Ye Jia glanced down at the dirt where the lambs’ hooves had kicked her, but she didn’t mind. Back when she had first started her street stall, she had worried about the difficulties of being a woman doing business alone, so she had intentionally dressed in a way that made her look quite shabby.
It wasn’t that she was dirty—someone handling food couldn’t afford to be—but the clothes she wore were her dedicated cooking rags. They were faded from washing and covered in patches. She even wore a cloth wrap around her head to keep the increasingly fierce sun from burning her skin dark.
She had originally dressed this way because the Northwest was a lawless region, and she’d feared that a woman traveling alone for business would only invite trouble. But with Zhou Jingchen accompanying her now, she no longer needed to look quite so bedraggled. Once she bought some new fabric at the embroidery shop, she planned to throw these rags away for good.
Since she was already intent on tidying herself up, Ye Jia decided she might as well stop by a rouge shop.
At her core, she was someone who appreciated beauty. Earlier, survival had been her only priority, leaving no room for vanity, but with a little extra money in her pocket, it was time to reconsider.
She had a lovely face and delicate skin, while the sun and wind of the Northwest were merciless. If she continued to expose herself to the elements day after day without any protection, she would surely ruin her looks.
She could afford to be indifferent now because she was young, but what about a few years down the line? A woman’s skincare was not something to be taken lightly.
Lost in thought, Ye Jia’s feet led her toward a rouge shop. Zhou Jingchen watched her weave through the streets; instead of the embroidery shop, she had ducked into a cosmetics boutique. He found his wife’s unpredictable nature both baffling and quietly amusing.
Ye Jia circled the shop, inspecting the various scented powders and rouges, but in the end, she walked back out empty-handed.
It couldn’t be helped; the prices were simply outrageous. In a backwater like this, a single box of rouge cost three taels of silver. Even the cheapest fragrant powder went for one and a half taels, while the more expensive varieties fetched as much as five or six. Even if Ye Jia had the money to spare, she couldn’t bring herself to waste it on such poor quality.
The colors were lackluster, a dull and muddy red. The powder was even worse—an unnatural, stark white that lacked any staying power. When she tested a bit on her wrist, it sat on her skin in a chalky, artificial layer.
Ye Jia recalled that ancient face powders often contained lead. Uncertain whether these “fake white” concoctions would ruin her skin, she didn’t dare use them. However, the excursion had sparked an idea. If she could produce lip rouge with vibrant, appealing colors, the profit margins would be enormous.
Ye Jia happened to know the traditional methods for making rouge. It had been a hobby during her college years—one of those things students do just for the fun of it. Because she had a meticulous nature, she had researched the process thoroughly before ever attempting it. She never expected to find herself transported to this godforsaken place, but to survive, she was now determined to squeeze every bit of value out of the skills she had once cultivated out of boredom.
Money had to be earned bit by bit, and a path had to be walked one step at a time. No matter how many business ideas filled her head, Ye Jia knew she had to get her current venture off the ground to build the necessary capital. Exhaling a quiet breath, she made a mental note of the idea and moved on.
Ye Jia quickly pulled her thoughts together and dragged Zhou Jingchen toward the embroidery shop.
He let her lead him by the arm, carrying the lamb the entire way without a single word of complaint. His temperament was certainly the type to please a woman; at the very least, Ye Jia enjoyed taking him along on her errands. He was the perfect, silent accomplice.
Before they entered the shop, Zhou Jingchen glanced back at the rouge stall. He lowered his head slightly, his calm gaze landing on Ye Jia’s furrowed brow. He was a man of few words by nature, and he followed her into the shop in silence.
When he saw her grab several bolts of fabric and hold them up against him to measure, eventually picking out four or five different kinds, he couldn’t help but let his lips curl into a faint smile.
Ye Jia caught the look and rolled her eyes. “Have you ever heard the saying ‘a beauty to feast one’s eyes on’?”
“Hmm?” He paused, then asked, “A beauty? You mean me?”
It was a strange thing to hear. Zhou Jingchen had received countless compliments in his life, and many had praised his handsome features, but this was the first time anyone had used that particular phrase to describe him. The tall man looked down at himself, then back at Ye Jia with a look of genuine confusion.
Ye Jia nodded matter-of-factly. “If you’re walking around in front of me looking good, it’ll keep me in a much better mood every day.”
Zhou Jingchen was momentarily speechless.
After a long silence, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Should I… thank you for the compliment?”
“You’re welcome.”
Zhou Jingchen fell silent.
With a grand wave of her hand, Ye Jia loaded the bolts of fabric onto the ox cart and headed home in high spirits.
Money came easily to Ye Jia, but it left her even faster. Madam Yu had long known her daughter-in-law was the type of person who let money slip through her fingers, but she hadn’t expected the girl to blow through the morning’s entire earnings and still spend another two taels of silver.
The five bolts were made of durable material in tasteful colors, and Ye Jia had managed to haggle the price down to three taels for the lot. Madam Yu harbored some private reservations about the expense, but she wasn’t about to complain—not when she realized one of the bolts was meant for her. A smile instantly brightened her face.
“Is this color a bit too youthful for me?” Madam Yu asked, holding the fabric up to herself to judge the effect.
In the past, Madam Yu wouldn’t have spared a glance for material that even a low-ranking servant in a Prince’s Mansion would despise. But times had changed. It had been three years since she had seen anything of this quality. “I’m afraid I’ll look ridiculous.”
“Why would anyone think that?” Ye Jia asked.
The fabric was a shade of ‘autumn fragrance,’ a color similar to a light olive. While not overly vibrant, it was far more striking than the drab, coarse cloth worn by the local village women. Ye Jia noticed that Madam Yu’s complexion had improved lately; her skin was becoming fairer and losing its sallow, sickly tint. The olive tone suited her perfectly, making her skin look even brighter.
“This color really suits you, Mother,” Ye Jia encouraged. “It will make a lovely dress.”
Madam Yu’s eyes sparkled with delight. No woman truly outgrows her love for beautiful things, and she was no exception, even with the passing years.
She set the fabric down reluctantly, her hands lingering on it for a moment before she picked up the pale-colored material Ye Jia had bought for Rui’er. A few strokes were enough to tell her how soft it was—perfect for a child’s skin.
Beaming with pride, she couldn’t help but glance sideways at Zhou Jingchen. Her look was clear: Open your eyes and see for yourself what a thoughtful wife I’ve chosen for you.
When she looked up, however, she found her son’s gaze fixed on Ye Jia. Though his expression remained calm, his dark eyes held a deep, unreadable intensity. He noticed her observation and, in an instant, masked his emotions completely.
Madam Yu knit her brows slightly, momentarily unable to fathom what was crossing her son’s mind.
Ye Jia, oblivious to the silent exchange between mother and son, was busy inspecting the fabric she had chosen for herself. She planned to make two summer outfits with it. While she could manage sewing buttons well enough, she lacked the skill for embroidery or tailoring a full garment.
“It’s not difficult,” Madam Yu said. “I have plenty of free time at home. I can do it.”
Madam Yu excelled in the traditional feminine virtues, and her needlework was particularly refined; it was the very skill that had kept them from starving since their arrival. Rolling the fabric back up, she set it aside. “I’ll take everyone’s measurements later this evening. I’ll make sure they turn out beautifully.”
Ye Jia had intended to find a tailor, but seeing Madam Yu’s enthusiasm, she didn’t object.
“There’s no rush,” she said. “They’re just clothes for the family. You can work on them whenever you have a spare moment.”
Madam Yu nodded, a beaming smile lighting up her face.
After a moment of shared excitement, Ye Jia reached into the basket and released the two small lambs. They scampered across the courtyard, their little hooves pattering against the ground. Rui’er’s eyes widened in wonder before she began clapping her hands, chasing after their wagging tails.
Madam Yu had wondered why the basket was so heavy. Staring at the new additions, she gasped, “Are these…? Are we going to raise sheep now?”
“That’s right,” Ye Jia said with a wide grin. “We don’t have any land to farm, so we’ll raise some livestock. By the end of the year, at least we’ll have some assets to our name.”
She spoke casually, but the words struck a chord with Madam Yu. Suddenly, the older woman’s eyes welled with tears. Sniffing back her emotion, she nodded fervently.
“That’s true. With the sheep and the chickens, we finally have something to call our own for the New Year.”
Ye Jia didn’t quite grasp the depth of the woman’s agitation, though she understood the sentiment well enough. She set her things down and carried the food toward the back kitchen.
In the courtyard, Rui’er’s laughter echoed through the house as she ran circles after the lambs. Zhou Jingchen watched the girl’s playful antics, his gaze following her every move. He hadn’t even stirred when Madam Yu suddenly slapped him—a sharp blow born of sheer frustration.
“If you think Rui’er is so wonderful,” Madam Yu hissed, “why haven’t you fathered one of your own?”
Madam Yu was still fixated on the fact that Ye Jia’s neck had remained fair and unmarked for the past two days.
“You are living in the same room, and she is your lawfully wedded wife,” she pressed. “Yun’an, tell your mother—what is really going on in that head of yours?”
Zhou Jingchen had been watching his niece, Rui-jie, thinking the child as precious as a little luck-doll. He hadn’t expected the conversation to circle back to this so quickly.
He looked away and gave a faint sigh. “Mother, given our family’s current circumstances, how could I possibly be in the mood for such things? Besides, do you truly expect us to put down roots here? We will return to Yanjing sooner or later. It is better not to hinder Jia-niang’s future.”
“What do you mean, ‘hinder her’?” Madam Yu’s face clouded with immediate displeasure. “Jia-niang was married into the Zhou family through proper channels. I went to engage her myself; she is a legitimate daughter-in-law of this house. If our situation changes, she will naturally face it alongside us.
“I know you are restless,” she continued. “I know you cannot let go of the grudge over your father and brother’s deaths. I won’t stop you from seeking justice, but when Prince Jing’s Mansion is cleared of these false charges and your revenge is taken, Jia-niang will return to Yanjing with us. Why do you keep making excuses? Are you still pining for Gu Mingxi?”
Zhou Jingchen harbored many burdens he could not share with his mother. He remained silent for a long moment before finally answering, “Do not let your imagination run wild, Mother. This has nothing to do with Miss Gu.”
Madam Yu slapped him again, fuming. “Go on then, be stubborn! When you’re full of regret later, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll deserve it!”
Whether Zhou Jingchen would eventually regret his choices remained to be seen, but for now, Ye Jia was focused on the present. She emerged from the house carrying a basin of lamb and a couple of yams. She planned to stew a portion of the meat with the yams for soup, while the rest would be used for a simple lamb pilaf.
It had been so long since she’d had rice. After weeks of nothing but wheat-based meals, her craving for it had become nearly unbearable. Her mouth practically watered as she rinsed the grains, the mere thought of the savory pilaf enough to make her stomach growl.
Spotting Ye Jia’s shadow, Madam Yu bit back the rest of her scolding. She gave Zhou Jingchen one last parting swat, wiped her hands on her apron, and hurried over.
“What are you working on, Jia-niang?” she asked. “Are we having lamb with rice for lunch?”
“Lamb pilaf!” Ye Jia beamed at the prospect of a good meal. “It’s delicious. You’ll see when it’s ready, Mother.”
The mention of food helped soothe Madam Yu’s irritation with her son. She crouched down beside Ye Jia, watching with curiosity as the younger woman handled a purple, fist-sized bulb. To someone who rarely cooked, the vegetable was entirely unfamiliar.
Noticing her mother-in-law’s inquisitive look, Ye Jia explained as she washed it, “This is called xingqu. Some call it piyazi. It’s a vegetable from the Western Regions that adds a wonderful aroma to a dish.”
Xingqu was essentially just onion, a common enough staple in the Beiting Protectorate. It was only rare to someone like Madam Yu, who had spent little time in these parts.
Madam Yu nodded and squatted down to watch Ye Jia work. What began as idle curiosity quickly turned into a struggle; after only a few strokes of the knife, the pungent, stinging aroma wafted up, leaving both women a mess of tears and runny noses. Ye Jia sliced through a blur of tears until she could no longer see what she was doing. Finally, she straightened up and called for help, rubbing her eyes with hands that had just handled the onion, which only made the burning worse.
By the time she leaned out the window to call for him, her face was so tear-streaked that Zhou Jingchen thought something terrible had happened.
“It’s nothing, really,” Ye Jia stammered, great fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Could you… could you come out and help me?”
Seeing her weeping so bitterly, Zhou Jingchen didn’t dare refuse.
It took him a moment after stepping outside to realize that his mother and Ye Jia were in such a state simply because of a vegetable. It was far from the first time he found himself caught between laughter and tears since Ye Jia had joined the household; life with her always seemed to be full of such incidents.
He picked up the knife, privately wondering how a mere vegetable could cause such a fuss. But after a few brisk chops, his own eyes began to water uncontrollably. Watching him, Ye Jia couldn’t help herself—she doubled over with laughter.
“That’s enough, cutting it like that is fine,” Ye Jia said.
A little bit of asafoetida was plenty for the lamb pilaf. Since the family didn’t eat it often, they might not even be used to the taste; she only wanted a hint of it to enhance the aroma.
The pilaf wasn’t difficult to prepare. She sliced the carrots into long strips, blanched and diced the lamb, and cut the asafoetida into slivers. Once the oil was hot in the wok, she tossed in ginger to release its fragrance.
She sautéed the asafoetida and carrots until they softened, then added the lamb and seasonings, stir-frying everything over high heat until the meat changed color. Finally, she added the rice, water, and salt to let it simmer.
Technically, the carrots should have gone in later, but Ye Jia disliked the raw taste they sometimes retained. To her, they always had a certain lingering scent. Since the dish felt incomplete without them, she intentionally fried them early, hoping they would cook down until soft and tender.
This was a simplified version made for a home meal, so she wasn’t worried about being overly precise. The process was straightforward—once the water was in, the large pot did all the work.
The aroma was truly mouthwatering. Even as the fire roared beneath the pot, the scent wafting from the kitchen was enough to drive someone mad with hunger. The smell drifted so far that neighbors couldn’t help but drop by to ask what delicious thing she was cooking. Ye Jia gave them a few vague, perfunctory answers to brush them off.
Rui’er was so captivated by the scent that she stopped chasing her lamb. She clung to the kitchen doorframe, craning her neck to peer at the stove. Her little nose twitched with every breath, and she was practically drooling.
“Just you wait,” Ye Jia said, giving the girl’s soft, chubby cheek a playful squeeze. “Once it’s ready, I’ll give our Rui’er the very first bowl.”
Rui’er let out a cheer, wrapping her arms around Ye Jia’s legs and chanting, “Good Auntie! Good Auntie!”
Southerners truly did have a deep-seated love for rice. Even Ye Jia felt a pang of longing as the scent of the cooking grains began to drift through the air. Once the rice was done, she extinguished the fire and let the pot sit for another fifteen minutes before finally lifting the lid.
Madam Yu and Rui’er both craned their necks to see. Rui’er gripped the edge of the stove with her small hands, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look. As Ye Jia used an iron spatula to turn the lamb up from the bottom, the rich fragrance billowed out in every direction.
The lamb pilaf wasn’t particularly refined in appearance, but it was incredibly delicious. As Madam Yu ate, she couldn’t help but suggest, “We could probably sell this.”
“Better not.”
Ye Jia had polished off a bowl and a half and found she couldn’t manage another bite. She stood up to walk off the fullness. “This takes way too much effort, and the people in town couldn’t afford it. It’s better to keep the good things for ourselves; it wouldn’t make for much of a business.”
Madam Yu was only half-serious anyway. Chopping that asafoetida alone was enough to deal with.
After thinking it over, Ye Jia scooped out a large bowl of lamb pilaf to bring to the old lady next door.
In a remote village like this, sharing food with the neighbors was a practical necessity; it ensured someone would be there to lend a hand if trouble arose. She wanted to avoid a repeat of what happened when she first arrived, when the Zhou family faced a crisis and Madam Yu was left weeping alone with no one to turn to.
Their friendship had begun when Ye Jia first went over to borrow some wine. Since then, whether it was radish cakes, chive pancakes, or any other treat the family prepared, Ye Jia made sure to set aside a portion for her neighbor. The old lady was equally generous, returning the favor whenever her son or daughter-in-law brought something home.
Three months of these exchanges had fostered a genuine closeness. When the old lady saw Ye Jia approaching with another bowl, her weathered face crinkled into a joyful smile.
It was a stroke of luck that the old lady’s son happened to be home during the visit. He was a quintessential man of the northwest—tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing. Ye Jia wasn’t sure what he did for a living, but his appearance was remarkably fierce.
Thrilled to have him back for a rare visit, the old lady was in high spirits and couldn’t resist chatting a bit more than usual.
It turned out the old woman’s son worked with a merchant caravan. He usually served as an armed escort along the western route and was, by all accounts, quite formidable.