At the entrance to the blacksmith’s shop, Li Yao met up with Dazhuang.
“Mother,” Dazhuang said, his voice laced with concern, “prices have spiked tremendously. Flour is 12 wen a jin, and polished rice is 15 wen a jin. I only dared to buy 10 jin of each.”
“It’s fine,” Li Yao replied. She knew the prices would only continue to climb.
“I didn’t buy meat, either,” Dazhuang added. “Pork belly is just too expensive.”
In this era, fat was the most expensive commodity; a single jin cost 40 wen! Lean meat, ribs, and trotters were slightly more reasonable, but “pig offal” (organ meats) and bones were the cheapest items in the market, often sold for pennies on the dollar.
Li Yao walked to a pork stall. Seeing that an entire set of offal—about 25 jin—remained unsold, she haggled until she secured the lot for a mere 80 wen, coming out to just 3.2 wen per jin. She spent another 20 wen on all the trimmed bones. Finally, she bought a pair of straw sandals for everyone. Winter hadn’t arrived yet, but the mornings and evenings were getting cold, and sandals were far better than going barefoot.
After the 800 wen from the herbs were spent, only a dozen copper coins remained. Li Yao handed them to Dazhuang.
“From now on, you will manage the family’s petty cash.”
“Yes!”
Dazhuang beamed as he took the coins. He wasn’t exactly “head of the house,” but at the very least, Mother was finally trusting him with the money!
“Mother, why did we buy so much offal?” Dazhuang asked on the way home, looking puzzled. “This stuff is fishy, stinking, and doesn’t taste good at all.”
“What would you know?” Li Yao smiled. It wasn’t that the ingredients were bad; they just didn’t know how to prepare them.
She had gathered plenty of spices yesterday and planned to try making a braised dish. Once home, after a quick lunch, the family began the arduous task of cleaning the offal. They washed it thoroughly in warm water, soaked it for at least two hours in a mixture of scallions, ginger, and salt, and then blanched it. Meanwhile, a pot of bone broth was simmering on the stove.
By the time the ingredients were ready, the bone broth had turned a milky, snow-white color and emitted a delicate, savory fragrance. Li Yao lightly toasted the spices, stirred them into the broth, and added oil, a generous amount of scallions, ginger, salt, soy sauce, and brown sugar for color. She brought it to a roaring boil, dropped in the offal, and once it boiled again, lowered the heat to a simmer until everything was tender. Finally, she covered it to let the flavors steep.
Once the meat had absorbed the braising liquid, she fished it out to drain. She brushed a layer of the seasoned oil from the pot over the meat, making the color pop—rich, glossy, and incredibly inviting.
“Mother,” He Xiaoya had been watching from the side, her eyes wide with wonder. “Where on earth did you learn to cook like this?”
“Just because you hadn’t seen me cook before doesn’t mean I don’t know how,” Li Yao replied. “I was just too lazy to bother in the past. Today, I’m showing you a thing or two—watch and learn.”
“Yes!” He Xiaoya understood; her mother-in-law had been hiding her light under a bushel all this time.
Braised dishes needed more than just meat; vegetables were essential. In this season, cabbages and radishes were the market staples. Li Yao ladled out most of the braising liquid to save as a “master stock” for the future, then tossed sliced radishes and cabbage into the pot, simmering them until they were soft and flavor-packed. She also shredded some raw radish with vinegar and salt as a refreshing side dish to cut the richness.
When He Xiaoya finished steaming the buns, the family gathered around the table for the evening meal. The children had never seen such a fragrant, opulent feast. The meat was savory and tender, and even the radishes and cabbage were so saturated with the braising liquid that they tasted as divine as the meat itself. It was worlds apart from the boiled, unseasoned offal they had been served in the past!
They dipped their hot buns into the savory, oily broth and paired them with the crisp, tangy shredded radish. It was a meal of pure comfort.
“Mother, this braised dish is delicious! Even better than the roasted chicken!”
“Mother’s hands are truly magical.”
Li Yao basked in another wave of adoring gazes.
“We are going to sell this braised dish at the market,” Li Yao announced, “along with rice and steamed buns.”
The children’s eyes lit up simultaneously. Something this aromatic, delicious, and made with such cheap ingredients was sure to be a hit—they were bound to make money!
“Mother!” Dazhuang was already brimming with excitement. “I think we can do it!”
“We’ll help, too!”
“Then it’s settled. You all stay home and prepare tomorrow, and I’ll head back into the mountains to dig more herbs for our starting capital.”
After instructing He Xiaoya on how to properly store the master stock, Li Yao grabbed her wood-chopping knife and headed back into the mountains. This time, she brought a long hemp rope, making the descent into the valley much easier and leaving her more time to pick spices and dig for herbs.
With her newfound experience, she ignored the low-value herbs and focused exclusively on the premium ones. By the end of the day, she had a full basket. When she returned to the apothecary to sell them, even the shopkeeper was astonished.
The shopkeeper had never encountered anyone who could dig up so many high-quality, mature medicinal herbs in just two days. He couldn’t hide his delight. “This batch is worth 1500 wen.”
Li Yao frowned and reached out to grab her basket, turning to leave. Did he really think he could hoodwink a simple village woman?
“Wait, wait! Don’t go!” The shopkeeper, unwilling to let such prime stock slip away, scrambled out from behind the counter. “The price is negotiable! Everything is negotiable!”
“Three taels of silver. Otherwise, I’m taking it to another shop.”
“I’ve never seen anyone drive such a hard bargain!” Three taels was a fair market price. The shopkeeper didn’t hesitate long before agreeing. “But in the future, any herbs you find must be sold to me.”
Three taels of silver was 3,000 wen. For an official day laborer, that was a whole year’s wages—a significant fortune. But they needed so much more: rice, flour, oil, salt, sauce… these basic necessities were the priority. She also purchased offal, more spices, an iron wok, a stove, tables, bowls and chopsticks, and bamboo steamers. She even splurged on extra hemp rope and the finest iron wood-chopping knife in town. By the time they finished spending, she was back down to a few dozen copper coins. A cart would have to wait.
Once everything was gathered, the family worked in unison: cleaning, braising, steaming buns… They were busy until dusk. Aside from the rice, which needed to be cooked fresh the next morning, everything was ready. Because she used a master stock, the flavor was even deeper—richer in umami and spice, with the harsh, bitter medicinal notes of the spices mellowed out. From now on, as long as she cared for that master stock, the food would only get better.
“Mother,” Dazhuang suddenly realized, “I need to go to Grandmother’s house to borrow their cart.”
Li Yao ladled out a bowl of the braised offal, drizzled it with two scoops of the liquid, and had Xiaoya set aside ten steamed buns for Dazhuang to take. You couldn’t show up empty-handed when asking for a favor.
Twilight had fallen. Li Yao’s mother-in-law, Granny Wang (the Widow Xue), was making flatbread out of wild greens and buckwheat flour.
“Grandmother!” Dazhuang called out as he entered the courtyard. “I wanted to borrow—”
“No,” Granny Wang said without even lifting her head. “Go back and tell your mother that if she wants to borrow grain, she should go ask her own mother’s family. We have no grain to spare here.”
Dazhuang quickly clarified, “It’s not that, Grandmother! I don’t need grain, I just want to borrow the cart.”
Granny Wang finally looked up. Seeing he was holding a heavy load, she asked, “What have you got there?”
“Oh,” Dazhuang said, placing the items on the table, “it’s some food my mother asked me to bring you.”
“Her? Being this kind?” Granny Wang was skeptical, but when she pulled back the cloth covering the basket, she froze. Good heavens, so many buns! They were large, white, and clearly made from pure, refined flour! And there was a bowl of meat! The aroma was like nothing she had ever smelled in her entire life.
“Where did this come from?”
Dazhuang explained, “Mother went into the mountains to dig for herbs the last two days and sold them for some money…”
“She sold them and then wasted it all like this? Doesn’t she know to save it for Er Dan’s wedding? She gets a few coins in her pocket and thinks she’s a wealthy landlord, eating white flour buns!”
“It’s not like that, Grandmother. We’re planning to set up a stall in town to sell food.”
“Her? Doing business? She’ll lose the very pants off her back!”
Dazhuang didn’t want to argue. “So, Grandmother, about the cart…”
“Take it, take it.”
Dazhuang felt a surge of joy. Mother was right—bringing a gift made borrowing the cart much easier. “Thanks, I’ll be off then.”
After Dazhuang left, Granny Wang stowed away the buns and the braised meat. Even she couldn’t help but salivate; that bowl of offal smelled truly divine.
“Big sister-in-law actually went digging for herbs and wants to start a business? And she didn’t come empty-handed, either,” Li Yao’s second sister-in-law, Zhou, popped her head in. “It seems she finally knows how to live a proper life.”
“Who knows what she’s planning?” the third sister-in-law chimed in. “Probably hit rock bottom and wants to move back to the family estate, so she’s buttering us up ahead of time…”
“If you don’t have anything to say, keep your mouth shut!” Granny Wang barked. “Your eldest sister-in-law brings some food, and that bothers you? Get back to chopping grass for the pigs!”
The third sister-in-law, Shen, pursed her lips and bent her head to her work. The old woman scolded them harshly to their faces, but wasn’t she defending her eldest daughter-in-law behind her back? Her favoritism was clear as day! And why? Just because she’d birthed four sons? What was so special about that? If her own husband, Third Brother Zhao, hadn’t been away working as a porter at the Yi Prefecture docks for years, she could have had eight!