The face of Master Wu, flushed from both overeating and anger, froze instantly.
Across all of Bianjing, only she could make this?
This bold, complex aroma… this exterior-crispy, interior-tender texture with meat bursting in flavor… he had never encountered anything like it in his life.
Even the signature dishes at top-tier restaurants like Fan Lou and Hui Xian Lou, he had grown tired of them all—none could compare.
This meant it was a unique pleasure, a unique statement of prestige!
If he could present this at a private banquet, all the merchants and officials who usually competed with him would surely gawk in envy.
In an instant, the balance in Wu’s mind began to shake violently.
On one side was his pride—he could throw this insolent little girl out to maintain his lofty authority.
On the other side was this transcendent delicacy, and the immense prestige it symbolized.
Su Qingyan observed every flicker of his expression, coldly amused.
She didn’t rush to raise the stakes, but methodically wrapped the remaining half of the meat-stuffed bun in oiled paper and returned it to the food box.
“Y-you… what do you intend?” Wu finally spoke, his voice dry, the arrogance gone.
“Nothing,” Su Qingyan lifted her gaze, clear and sharp like a cold pool. “I said I came to collect an old debt. Once the debt is settled, I leave. As for the recipe for this braised meat, whether it rots in my belly or I choose another noble patron who respects craft, that’s up to my mood.”
She let out a soft sigh, almost as if talking to herself, but loud enough for Wu to hear clearly.
“Actually, before coming here, I thought… braising this meat takes time and effort, and the spices are expensive. If you aren’t interested, I can take it to the students at the Grand Academy for a taste. They study hard at night and need substantial food. I heard Mr. Shen Yan often stops by our stall lately.”
At the words “Grand Academy,” Wu’s eyelid twitched.
Su Qingyan seemed not to notice, continuing: “Also, our regular customers, like the Xie Mansion near Xuande Gate… Butler Fu recently asked my brother to see if there’s anything new for Young Master Sanlang to try. I thought, this meat bun may be humble, but its flavor is rich—perhaps Young Master Sanlang would enjoy it?”
“Xie Mansion’s Sanlang?!”
In Bianjing, who didn’t know Xie Hui, the youngest son of Grand Chancellor Xie? A red-hot figure in the imperial court, truly born to privilege.
And he, Master Wu, was merely a moderately wealthy man in East City, relying on ancestral connections. His greatest hope in life was to forge even a slight connection with families like the Xies!
Yet now, the little girl capable of making pastries for Xie Sanlang was standing before him, demanding payment for a mere one guan that he had withheld!
If word of this spread, not only would any chance of connecting with the Xies vanish, the upper circles of all Bianjing would ridicule him! A fool who, for one guan, offended the people around Xie Sanlang and even withheld money from the widowed!
Understanding the implications, Wu could only look at Su Qingyan with a changed expression.
“Miss… Su…” His voice unconsciously trembled and became fawning. “A misunderstanding, it’s all a misunderstanding! Your father’s handwriting is excellent, truly excellent! It was my staff who mishandled it and withheld the payment. I will make it right immediately!”
Seeing this groveling, Su Qingyan felt disgust, but her face remained calm.
“Master Wu, you are too kind,” she said lightly. “Since it’s a misunderstanding, let’s just settle it.”
She paused, then shifted her tone, presenting the bait she had prepared.
“Here’s the deal: you pay back the one guan to my father. Also, due to this matter, my father fell ill and was bedridden for half a year. The medicine cost… let’s say 200 wen? That’s not too much, is it?”
“Not much, not much!” Wu hastily agreed. For him, 200 wen was trivial.
“Once this debt is cleared, today’s matter ends here—just you and I know,” Su Qingyan softened her tone, feigning consideration. “Moreover, on the first day of each month, I will personally deliver ten of these braised meat buns to your residence. That settles our bond today, and for your banquets in East City, you gain a dish others cannot boast of. The face it brings is worth far more than one guan.”
Wu’s eyes lit up!
He had been worried that offending this little girl would mean never tasting this divine food again.
He hadn’t expected her to willingly supply it!
A tremendous blessing!
Su Qingyan, observing his greed and relief, turned her voice cold again.
“Of course, Master Wu, you may also choose not to pay. But tomorrow, all the major teahouses and theaters in Bianjing will likely hear a new tale. I’ve already thought of a title: ‘Master Wu Abuses Power, Sick Scholar Spits Blood in Bed.’ Do you think it would be popular?”
“Fine! I’ll pay!” Wu no longer dared hesitate, shouting hoarsely at the door: “Butler! Quick, get one guan and 200 wen from the accounts! Hurry!”
Soon, the same formerly arrogant butler now scurried like a lapdog, carrying a tray with a heavy string of copper coins and a small piece of silver with utmost respect.
Su Qingyan checked the coins, confirmed them, and put them into her pouch.
But she had no intention of leaving immediately.
Wu, uneasy, ventured, “Miss… anything else?”
From her sleeve, Su Qingyan took out a piece of paper and slowly unfolded it.
“Master Wu, words alone aren’t enough. For the sake of our long-term business, a written contract is better.”
Wu leaned in and saw, in delicate yet strong small characters, a supply contract clearly laid out.
It stated that from today, Su Ji would provide Wu Mansion with ten braised meat buns on the first of each month, each priced at fifty wen, settled monthly. Wu Mansion may not inquire into the recipe, and Su Ji guarantees this will be the only branch in East City.
The price was higher than the outside market, but Wu didn’t dare bargain. He even thought it was cheap!
“Good, good, good! I’ll sign!” He snatched the pen, barely looking, and scrawled his name, pressing the seal heavily.
Su Qingyan carefully folded the contract and slipped it into her sleeve.
Only then did she rise, giving Master Wu a polite yet distant bow.
“Then I won’t trouble you further. Farewell.”
She lifted the food box and walked away, her back straight and proud.
Wu watched her retreating figure, then glanced at the signed contract on the table, touching his still-savoring lips—his emotions a tangled mess.
Today, it felt like he had lost.
But somehow, not completely.
…
Back home, the moment they opened the courtyard door, Wang Shi and Su Xiucai almost simultaneously rushed forward, faces full of anxious concern.
“Qingyan! Are you… all right? Did Master Wu trouble you?” Wang Shi inspected her from head to toe.
Su Qingyan smiled, set the food box down, and then pulled out the heavy pouch of coins, placing it on the small stone table in the courtyard.
“Clatter—”
She untied the bag and poured out all the copper coins and silver.
The full one guan of copper coins, and a small silver piece of roughly two qian, gleamed dazzlingly in the sunset light.
Su Xiucai’s breath caught instantly.
He reached out trembling, fingertips lightly brushing the coins, the icy touch sending a shiver through him.
All this money… all for this…
His eyes warmed, and the resentment, humiliation, and frustration accumulated over half a year suddenly found release, streaming as hot tears down his face.
Su Qingyan didn’t comfort him. She quietly placed the signed contract next to her father.
“Father, the money—I recovered it. Not a single wen missing, plus 200 wen for medicine.”
“And this,” she added, “is the supply contract Master Wu begged me to sign. From now on, he will spend money monthly buying our products.”
Su Xiucai picked up the contract, seeing the signature and red seal of the Wu family, then looked at the pile of coins on the table. Gripping the paper tightly, veins bulging on his hands, the suppressed cry finally erupted into unrestrained laughter.
“Good! Good! Excellent!”