The sun climbed higher, and the flow of people on Shui Gui Street ebbed and surged.
Around Su Qingyan’s stall, there was always a circle of onlookers—but they were mostly the type who loved to watch a spectacle without actually buying anything.
“Almost noon already, and not a single one sold, huh?”“Twenty wen a piece! Who’s got money blowing in the wind? That’s enough to feed my wife and kids for two days!”“This little girl got lucky yesterday, let’s see how she handles today!”
The harsh murmurs were loud enough to reach the ears, yet not overwhelming.
Su Mingxuan’s forehead was slick with sweat. He bit the edge of his sleeve, almost drawing blood. The ten portions of egg cakes his sister had brought today—if they all failed—would mean wasting ten precious eggs, a handful of red dates, and a considerable amount of flour, all costly ingredients!
He anxiously glanced at Su Qingyan. But his sister seemed oblivious to the murmurs, calmly flipping through her book, as if it contained some unparalleled martial arts manual.
Only Su Qingyan herself knew that her fingers pressing the pages were turning white at the joints.
She was betting on people’s hearts.
Betting that in Bianjing, there were surely wealthy idlers who would not care about the price and would crave only a new, intriguing taste.
At that moment, a faint commotion arose at the street corner.
A carriage, crafted entirely from precious nanmu wood, advanced at a measured pace under the protection of two strong attendants. The carriage bore no flashy insignia, yet its teal curtains and the muffled thud of its wheels on the cobblestones announced the owner’s wealth and status unmistakably.
Pedestrians and vendors instinctively stepped aside, lowering their voices as they made way.
The carriage stopped not far from the “Su Ji” stall.
Inside, a young master in a moon-white silk robe flipped through a book absentmindedly. His features were refined, his bearing gentle, though a faint trace of weariness lingered between his brows.
This was none other than Xie Hui, the third son of the Xie family.
Renowned for his picky taste, no royal chef could satisfy him, and even the household cooks had cycled through one after another, yet he still found all the food dull and uninspired.
Suddenly, an unusual fragrance filtered through the gap of the carriage window.
It was neither floral nor perfumed, nor the aroma of ordinary food.
Warm, rich egg scent tinged with caramel, mingled with a subtle sweet, mellow fruitiness—two scents entwined, gentle yet commanding, like an invisible hand lightly teasing his taste buds.
Xie Hui paused mid-flip of the book.
He lifted his gaze, and for the first time, his normally placid eyes showed genuine curiosity.
“Afú,” he said softly.
The valet standing by the carriage door, Afú, immediately bowed. “Third Master, your command?”
“Go and see what’s causing that.”
“Yes, sir.”
Afú swiftly threaded through the crowd and immediately saw the simple yet spotless stall, and the calm young girl behind it. His eyes fell on the wooden sign displaying “Twenty wen.” His heart skipped a beat, but he dared not disobey his master.
“Little lady, may our master try your pastry?” Afú’s tone remained courteous.
Su Mingxuan froze, caught off guard.
Su Qingyan had already lifted her gaze, put down the book, and with a small, clean knife cut a tiny piece of the egg cake sample, placing it carefully on oiled paper, her smile just right.
“Of course.”
Afú took the small piece and swiftly returned to the carriage, presenting it respectfully.
Xie Hui accepted it.
The cake was golden, soft in appearance.
Bringing it closer, the unusual fragrance became more intense.
He took a bite.
The next moment, Xie Hui froze.
It was a taste he had never experienced!
The cake melted immediately on his tongue, like a delicate cloud.
Then, the rich egg aroma and the sweet red dates burst in his mouth, with none of the flour’s coarse texture or the cloying sweetness of typical pastries—just pure, soft, and comforting flavor.
His taste buds, dulled and fatigued by a life of exotic delicacies, seemed fully awakened in that instant.
He slowly swallowed, closing his eyes, savoring the lingering aftertaste between lips and teeth.
After a while, he opened his eyes.
Those usually weary eyes were now unprecedentedly bright.
Under Afu’s astonished gaze, Xie Hui actually drew back the carriage curtain and bent to step down.
“Wha—”
The crowd gasped in shock, instantly silent.
That was the Third Master of the Xie family!
Though seldom appearing in public, in Bianjing, who didn’t recognize the mutton-fat jade pendant at his waist, a symbol of the Xie family’s status?
Everyone was stunned.
A noble young master, descending from his carriage for a simple street stall!
All eyes focused on Xie Hui and the small stall.
Su Qingyan also stood.
She looked at the young noble approaching. His innate aura of prestige almost dimmed everything around him. Yet her face betrayed none of the usual flustered obsequiousness of a small vendor before a highborn guest.
She gave a slight bow in polite equality.
“Good sir,” her voice was clear, neither humble nor overbearing.
Xie Hui’s gaze fell on her face.
In the sunlight, the girl’s features retained a hint of innocence.
Tiny beads of sweat dotted her temple in the heat, but her eyes were clean and clear, as if washed by spring water.
While all others directed reverence or flattery toward him, hers was calm, straightforward.
As if she sold a product, and he bought a product.
Nothing more.
“How is this cake sold?” Xie Hui asked, his voice smooth as jade.
“Twenty wen per portion,” Su Qingyan replied.
“I’ll take them all.” Xie Hui’s tone showed no fluctuation, as if making the most ordinary statement.
Su Mingxuan’s eyes widened; he almost jumped with excitement.
Su Qingyan’s heart also leapt, but her expression remained calm.
She neatly arranged the ten portions of egg cake in the small bamboo baskets, along with the sample, totaling ten portions.
“That comes to two hundred wen.”
As Afu was about to pay, Xie Hui raised his hand.
From his sleeve, he drew a tiny silver leaf, roughly the size of a fingernail, and placed it casually on the wooden counter.
“Keep the change.”
The silver leaf gleamed sharply in the sunlight.
Su Mingxuan’s breath caught.
That was one tael of silver—enough to exchange for a thousand wen in copper coins!
Buying 200 wen worth of goods, and paying 1,000!
The surrounding crowd was dead silent, only the gasps punctuating the stillness.
The attendants carefully carried the ten small baskets over.
Xie Hui’s gaze returned to Su Qingyan.
He looked at the “Su Ji” wooden sign, then at the book she had just set down, and said quietly:
“Your pastry shows thought.”
Without another word, he turned and returned to the carriage.
The carriage slowly rolled away, leaving the people of the street in a mix of envy, jealousy, and awe.
Only after it completely disappeared did the stunned crowd erupt.
“Good heavens! Did I see that right? It’s Third Master Xie!”“Paid a whole silver leaf! This little girl’s made it big!”“What kind of divine pastry is that, to make him step down personally?!”
Those who had mocked Su Qingyan earlier now wished they could hit themselves. Had they known the cakes were so extraordinary, they would have bought a piece no matter the cost!
Grandma Lin, pushing her cart, was flushed with excitement, muttering nonstop: “Good child! Good child! Going places!”
Su Mingxuan trembled as he picked up the heavy silver leaf, stammering: “Sis… sister… how… how much is this worth?”
Su Qingyan carefully put away the silver leaf, looking at her brother’s wide-eyed innocence, and couldn’t help but smile.
“One thousand wen.”
“Shows thought…”
She softly chewed on the words, yet inside her, waves of exhilaration surged.
Third Master Xie had tasted not just flavor, but the scientific principles of modern baking hidden within the cake.
More than a thousand “delicious” praises, this insight truly moved her.
Taking a deep breath, Su Qingyan calmed herself, stored the “Sold Out” wooden sign, and efficiently began packing up the stall.
Su Mingxuan was still grinning foolishly: “Sister, we just earned a thousand wen!”