On this cold winter night, the Chen family—like a young sapling—finally drove its first roots deep beneath the ice and snow.
But for those roots to grow thick and strong, they needed water and nourishment.
The next morning, before dawn had fully broken, white smoke was already curling from the chimney of the Chen family’s thatched cottage.
“Sitting on our savings won’t work forever,” Chen Zui said as she sat on a small stool in front of the stove, tossing another piece of firewood into the flames. “Those eighty taels of silver need to be saved for buying land and building a house. That’s our foundation. We need something that brings in money every day. Slow and steady income—that way we won’t attract envy.”
Chen Laosan was sharpening a knife in the yard. Hearing her words, he paused.
“Xiao Liu is right,” he said. “I’ve thought about it too. Even if I go to town and work as a porter, I’d only earn twenty wen a day. That’s not enough to feed the whole family.”
“We’ll sell food,” Chen Zui declared, brushing dust from her hands and looking toward her eldest sister, Chen Yinuo, who was kneading dough. “We’ll sell the pancakes Big Sister makes.”
“Pancakes?” Chen Yinuo’s hand trembled slightly, scattering flour across the chopping board. “The streets are already full of people selling steamed buns and dumplings. Can we really compete?”
“We’re not making buns. We’re making this.”
As if performing a magic trick, Chen Zui pulled out two small paper packets from her clothes—actually from her spatial storage.
The moment she opened them, an unusual fragrance rushed into everyone’s noses.
Cumin powder on the left.
Black pepper on the right.
“What’s this?” Chen Yinuo leaned closer to sniff and immediately sneezed. “Such a strong smell!”
“I found some wild seeds deep in the mountains and ground them into powder,” Chen Zui lied smoothly without batting an eye. “The immortal old master in my dream called it ‘Immortal Powder.’ Just a tiny bit is enough to steal a person’s soul.”
She handed the packets to her sister.
“Big Sister, today we’re going to make something called Thousand-Layer Scallion Pancakes. The secret is in the shortening paste.”
Though she’d never heard of Thousand-Layer Pancakes, Chen Yinuo possessed an instinctive understanding of food.
Following Chen Zui’s instructions, she scooped a large spoonful of snowy-white lard into a bowl and heated it. Then she added flour, salt, and the two packets of “Immortal Powder.”
Sizzle—
The hot oil hit the spices, releasing a bold, spicy fragrance that was both aggressive and irresistibly appetizing.
Using chopsticks, Chen Yinuo stirred rapidly until the mixture became a golden-yellow paste.
“It smells amazing…” The second sister, tending the fire, sniffed deeply as her stomach growled.
Next came the dough.
Chen Yinuo’s hands were skillful. Under her touch, the lump of dough seemed alive, becoming smooth and elastic. She rolled it into a large thin sheet, spread the seasoned oil paste evenly across the surface, then sprinkled it generously with chopped green onions.
Roll it up.
Coil it into a spiral.
Flatten it.
Roll it out again.
The movements flowed naturally, and what had once been an ordinary piece of dough now contained more than a dozen delicate layers of filling.
“Into the pan!” Chen Zui called.
A thin layer of oil coated the bottom of a large iron skillet.
The pancake slid into the pan.
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle—
The oil danced happily under the heat.
Spatula in hand, Chen Yinuo watched the edges closely. Without needing any reminder from Chen Zui, she flipped the pancake the moment its surface began to puff.
A golden-brown crust appeared.
Distinct spiral patterns covered the surface, and each layer looked so flaky it might crumble at a touch.
The rich aroma of scallion oil blended with the exotic scents of cumin and pepper. It drifted out through the chimney, only to be carried back by the icy northern wind, seasoning the entire courtyard with its fragrance.
Chen Laosan stopped sharpening his knife.
Madam Li stopped sewing shoe soles.
Everyone gathered around the stove, staring eagerly.
“It’s done!”
Chen Yinuo lifted out the first pancake and placed it on the chopping board.
Taking up a kitchen knife, she sliced downward.
Crunch.
The sound alone made hearts tremble.
The cross-section revealed distinct layers, steaming with heat.
“Try it,” Chen Zui said, picking up a piece and handing it to her father first.
Ignoring the heat, Chen Laosan took a huge bite.
Crunch.
The crust shattered into crisp flakes, while the inside remained soft and chewy.
The fragrance of scallions, lard, and that mysterious blend of spices exploded across his tongue before melting into a comforting warmth in his stomach.
“Mmm!”
His eyes widened.
In just a few bites, he finished the piece and immediately reached for another.
“What is this flavor? It’s incredible! It smells even better than meat!”
The second sister grabbed a piece as well. Her cheeks puffed out as she chewed, eyes narrowing into happy crescents.
“Big Sister, if we sell these outside, nobody will be able to walk past without stopping.”
Watching her family’s delighted expressions, the anxiety that had been weighing on Chen Yinuo’s heart finally disappeared.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead, unable to suppress her smile.
She could feel it—the process of turning simple flour into something delicious gave her an immense sense of accomplishment and control.
“This is called a Thousand-Layer Scallion Pancake,” Chen Zui said, brushing crumbs from her hands. “One pancake, five wen. We’ll sell them at the docks.”
“Five wen?” Madam Li clicked her tongue. “The meat buns in town only cost two wen each, and ours don’t even have meat…”
“Mother, that’s not how you calculate it.”
Chen Zui shook her head confidently.
“The dockworkers do hard physical labor all day. Their bodies need fat and energy. Our pancakes are made with plenty of lard. They’re filling, satisfying, and warming in the cold. To them, this is better than meat.”
And besides…
The flavors of cumin and black pepper were highly addictive.
Anyone who tasted them once would crave them again.
“Tomorrow morning we’ll take a cart there,” Chen Zui said, turning to her father. “Father, modify the wheelbarrow. Put a wooden platform on top and mount the pan on it. We’ll cook them fresh on-site. The key is serving them piping hot.”
The moment Chen Laosan heard that, he was energized.
“Good! I’ll get started right away!”
The entire family sprang into action.
Chen Yinuo continued kneading dough.
The second sister peeled and chopped scallions.
Madam Li rendered the remaining slabs of pork fat into lard.
Standing in the courtyard, Chen Zui silently calculated costs and profits.
Flour and lard were expensive, but with the free spices and spirit spring water from her spatial storage, each pancake could be made for around two wen.
A profit margin of roughly fifty percent.
If business went well and they sold a hundred pancakes a day, that would mean three hundred wen in pure profit.
Nine taels of silver a month.
In this era, that qualified as a high income.
Just as she was doing the math, a head suddenly poked through the courtyard gate.
It was Auntie Wang from next door.
Holding a chipped bowl, she peered toward the kitchen.
“Laosan’s wife, what are you all making? The smell’s drifting through the whole village. My grandson cried from being tempted by it.”
Chen Zui’s eyes cooled instantly, and she was about to respond when Madam Li stepped forward with a smile.
“Oh, Sister Wang.”
She blocked the doorway and held out a small piece cut from the edge of a pancake.
“Just something our eldest girl came up with. We were planning to let my husband take it to the docks as travel food tomorrow. Here, let the child have a taste.”
She didn’t give much—just a small piece.
Enough to maintain good neighborly relations.
Enough to stop gossip.
And enough to imply that the pancake was merely ordinary travel rations rather than some valuable secret recipe.
Auntie Wang accepted the piece and took a bite.
Her eyes brightened for a moment.
But she said nothing more and left with it.
Watching her mother’s back, Chen Zui felt a little surprised.
The mother who used to do nothing but cry had learned the subtle art of social maneuvering.
“Xiao Liu, see?” Madam Li turned around and winked at her daughter. “When we start doing business, we need to keep good relations with the villagers. But we can’t be suckers either.”
Chen Zui smiled.
Everyone was evolving.
And that felt pretty good.
“Big Sister!” she shouted toward the kitchen.
“Knead more dough! Tomorrow we’re going to the docks and blow those laborers’ minds with our pancakes!”