Zhang Shi still couldn’t bring herself to let her precious son, Chen Dabao, suffer the cold.
Early the next morning, before dawn had even broken, the one dragged out of bed by Zhang Shi was the eldest daughter of the main branch—Chen Zhaodi.
Chen Zhaodi was thirteen this year. She took after Zhang Shi, with high, protruding cheekbones and a pair of restless, darting eyes. Wrapped in a tattered cotton coat and shrinking her neck, she slipped like a gray mouse to the back window of the third branch’s thatched hut.
In the kitchen, Chen Yinuo had already started working.
The aroma of flour mixed with pork fat drifted through the window cracks. Chen Zhaodi swallowed hard and quietly poked a hole in the freshly patched paper window.
Inside, Chen Zui was sitting by the hearth, tending the fire.
The moment Chen Zhaodi stepped on the first dry twig, Chen Zui’s ear had already twitched slightly.
A faint, cold smile curled at her lips.
As expected.
“Sis, hold on a second,” Chen Zui suddenly raised her voice, clear and crisp, just loud enough to carry through the window.
Chen Yinuo, confused, paused her rolling pin. “What is it, Xiao Liu?”
“The most important ‘ingredient’ hasn’t been added to today’s dough yet,” Chen Zui said, pulling out a paper packet from her chest with exaggerated seriousness.
Outside, Chen Zhaodi widened her eyes, staring fixedly at the packet.
Chen Zui scooped a handful of blackish ash from the stove and quickly mixed it with the contents of the packet (actually black pepper powder), then dumped it into the white flour.
“Xiao Liu… what is that? It’s so black,” Chen Yinuo asked, startled. She had never seen this before.
“Hush—” Chen Zui placed a finger to her lips, glancing meaningfully toward the window. “This is called ‘Heart-Scorching Grass Ash,’ taught by the old immortal.”
“Heart-Scorching Grass? Isn’t that poisonous?” Chen Yinuo’s face turned pale.
“This is called using poison to counter poison!” Chen Zui said solemnly, completely improvising nonsense. “Why are our pancakes so fragrant? Because this ingredient has toxicity that hooks people’s souls. Once they eat it, they crave more. As long as the heat is right, the poison dissipates, leaving only fragrance.”
Outside, Chen Zhaodi shivered in fear—but greed quickly overwhelmed her.
So that was it!
No wonder the third branch’s pancakes sold so well—they were using this addictive “poison herb”!
Feeling like she had discovered a shocking secret, Chen Zhaodi scrambled back to the old household.
In the old kitchen, Zhang Shi slammed her thigh after hearing the report.
“I knew it! That little brat is wicked beyond belief—so it’s this kind of dirty trick! Heart-Scorching Grass… we’ve got plenty of that in the back mountain!”
“Mother, isn’t that poison? Can we eat it?” Chen Dabao asked nervously.
“What are you afraid of!” Zhang Shi snapped. “Didn’t she say the poison disappears after enough heat? We just cook it longer!”
Her eyes gleamed wildly. “She sells it for five coins a piece—we’ll sell ours for three! We’ll steal her business!”
And so, they acted immediately.
Zhang Shi used up all her private savings to buy a bag of white flour and two jin of pork.
She then sent Chen Zhaodi to the back mountain to gather a large basket of unknown wild plants (since she didn’t actually recognize Heart-Scorching Grass, she just picked anything that looked similar) and burned them into black ash.
They mixed dough, added meat, and stirred in the ash.
The originally white dough soon turned into a coal-like gray-black mass, giving off a choking burnt smell.
“Mother… isn’t this a bit too black?” Chen Zhaodi hesitated.
“Black is right! The blacker it is, the richer the ingredients!” Zhang Shi said confidently. “That brat is scheming—she used less. We used more, so ours must be better!”
They heated the oil and dropped in the black pancakes.
Without spiritual spring water, without seasoning techniques, there was only ash, burnt wild plants, and bitterness.
Sizzle—
A nauseating stench of bitterness and scorched rot spread through the old courtyard.
“Cough cough cough!” Old Man Chen, inside the house, coughed violently. “What are you frying, shit?!”
“You know nothing! This is medicinal fragrance!” Zhang Shi insisted through tears and smoke.
At noon, Zhang Shi and Chen Zhaodi carried a basket full of “secret black pancakes” to the dock in town, full of confidence.
They deliberately set up near where the third branch had been selling earlier.
By then, Chen Zui’s scallion pancakes had already sold out, and many laborers were regretfully sighing.
“Come take a look! Come see!” Zhang Shi shouted. “Chen family secret recipe scallion pancakes! Same lineage! Only three coins each—two coins cheaper than theirs!”
Hearing “Chen family secret recipe” and the lower price, the laborers quickly gathered.
“I’ll take one!”
“Me too!”
Delighted, Zhang Shi collected the money and handed out the black pancakes.
A starving young worker took one, frowned at its strange color—but thinking it might be a specialty, he took a huge bite.
Crunch.
Hard.
Like biting into an ancient brick left in a ditch for three years.
Then a violent mix of bitterness, burnt taste, and earthy stench exploded in his mouth.
“Ugh—!”
He immediately bent over and vomited.
“What the hell is this! Even shit tastes better than this!”
Others who had bought it also took bites—and in the next moment, the entire dock erupted in waves of retching.
“Refund! Is this even human food?!”
“You damn heartless woman, selling us stove ash!”
“Beat her!”
The workers, feeling insulted after expecting food, exploded in rage.
Panic flashed across Zhang Shi’s face. “No—no, don’t rush! This is medicinal food! It’s good for your health!”
“Good your ass!”
The young worker kicked over her basket.
Black pancakes rolled everywhere like dung pellets.
The crowd surged forward.
Zhang Shi and Chen Zhaodi were shoved, scratched, and dragged. Their hair was torn, faces clawed, and the coins they had just earned were snatched back. Even the basket was trampled into pieces.
“Help! Murder!”
Zhang Shi screamed like a slaughtered pig, rolling on the ground to protect her head.
In the distance, Chen Zui sat on a bullock cart heading back to the village.
She listened to the chaos echoing from the dock, casually peeling roasted peanuts and tossing them into her mouth.
Crunch. Crunch.
“Xiao Liu, what’s going on over there?” Chen Yinuo asked curiously.
“Nothing,” Chen Zui said lightly, brushing peanut shells from her hands with a faint smile. “Probably just someone paying their debts for bad intentions.”
By the time Zhang Shi and her daughter limped back to the village at dusk, their hair covered in rotten vegetable leaves, it was already evening.
They hadn’t earned a single coin. Instead, they lost all their investment and became the joke of the surrounding villages.
It was said Old Man Chen was so furious he fainted on the spot, and after waking up, chased Zhang Shi with a pipe for two whole li.
Meanwhile, the third branch’s courtyard was peaceful.
Under the warm lamplight, Chen Zui watched her second sister carefully stitching winter clothes for the family, her gaze softening.
The eldest branch’s little scheme had ended in farce.
Next… it was time for the second sister to shine.
“Second sister,” Chen Zui said, walking over and touching the finely made patchwork cotton coat, “tomorrow, let’s go to the biggest fabric shop in town—Jinxiu Pavilion.”