The old Guan family occupied an entire table. They had originally wanted to take up two tables, but the respected elders of the village harshly scolded them and refused to give them face, so they finally behaved themselves. Those who could sit, sat; those who couldn’t stood nearby and ate.
The children naturally weren’t allowed at the table. Each of them was given a steamed bun and an egg. Those who couldn’t bear to eat them took them home to share with their sisters or parents.
In short, Guan Xiyue’s “roof-raising ceremony” was carried out beautifully and received everyone’s praise. Everyone admired her ability. People secretly guessed how much compensation the Zhou family had given her—judging from her generosity, the Zhou family must be very decent people.
Little did they know that Guan Xiyue herself was also sighing inwardly. In this ancient era, resources were truly scarce; most rural households were extremely poor. When she first transmigrated and became a concubine in the Zhou family, she hadn’t even eaten white rice—only coarse grain rice and cornmeal buns.
Because of this, she took this roof-raising event as an opportunity to do a good deed. Gaining a good reputation was also worthwhile; after all, in ancient times, a good reputation opened many doors. A banquet like this would be nothing in modern times, but here, it was enough to win the hearts of the entire village, young and old alike.
Of course, this did not include the old Guan family, who ate greedily while also feeling their hearts bleed from the cost.
After the banquet, everyone worked together enthusiastically to tile the roof. The work went quickly and was finished in just half a day. That evening’s meal, though not as good as lunch, still had meat dishes and white flour steamed buns, which satisfied everyone greatly.
After the excitement died down, the neighboring women kindly helped clean up, so Guan Xiyue didn’t have to do much. By night, she and Chunliu finished tidying the new house. In this era, houses were not like modern ones that needed renovation and ventilation.
Once the beams were raised and the tiles laid, the house could already be lived in. It just didn’t yet have furniture, and many things still needed to be added, so the two of them were still staying at Sister Liu’s home.
Lying in bed at night, Guan Xiyue pressed her temples and checked the silver in her space. Only a thin six taels remained. Fortunately, the money for furniture had already been paid, and they were just waiting for the wardrobes and bed to be made before moving into the new house. Earning money had once again become urgent. Should she sell another recipe, or do something else?
She had to admit that her biggest advantage after transmigrating into ancient times was the various foods she had learned in modern life. If she didn’t sell recipes, should she try opening a small business herself? Unfortunately, she didn’t have much capital, but it might still be enough for a small venture.
She had bought many snacks at pastry shops in town before. The pastries in this era were simple but not refined, and the taste was rather rough.
Of course, she also knew she had only been visiting lower-end shops. If she went to a prefectural city—or even the capital—she would surely see the most exquisite pastries of this era. Even though modern technology was advanced, she never underestimated the people of ancient times.
Six taels of silver—it might be better to start a breakfast business. And so, she acted immediately. Guan Xiyue took Chunliu to the morning market. Arriving early, they secured a good spot, lit the stove, and set up an oil pan.
She kneaded flour into dough, wrapping either white sugar or red bean paste inside. When the oil reached about 50–60% heat, she dropped the dough balls in one by one. A rich aroma spread through the morning air, instantly whetting the appetites of passersby who were coming to the market. Their dry coarse grain buns suddenly seemed unappealing.
Golden fried pastries came out of the oil, round and plump. Soon people began asking the price. Chunliu replied clearly, “Sugar fried cakes, two wen each; red bean fried cakes, three wen each.”
Everyone thought it was expensive. Three wen could buy a meat bun, and two wen could buy a white flour steamed bun. Guan Xiyue patiently explained, “Neighbors, our fried cakes are definitely worth it. They’re big—two can make you full. And my red bean filling has a secret recipe; it’s different from ordinary ones. It’s oily, tasty, and very filling.”
Someone decided to try anyway. Three wen it is—let’s see how it compares to a meat bun.
Though they had been hesitant, the moment they took a bite, they immediately felt it was worth it.
Meat buns could be eaten anytime, but this red bean fried cake was something they had never seen before. It was packed with filling, soft and delicious, moderately sweet, and had a delicate texture.
The golden outer layer was chewy yet crisp. Combined, it was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside—absolutely delicious. Most impressive of all was the red bean filling; it was unlike anything they had eaten before. It wasn’t overly sweet, but incredibly smooth and refined, so even eating several wouldn’t feel cloying.
While eating, the customer said, “Give me five more. I’ll take them home for my family to try.”
Chunliu quickly wrapped them in lotus leaves and collected the coins.
Seeing this, others also decided to try. Guan Xiyue and Chunliu became very busy. By midday, they had already earned nearly one tael of silver, and the oil had been changed several times.
An elderly vegetable seller nearby felt heartache when she saw them about to throw away the used oil. In the end, Guan Xiyue couldn’t refuse her and let her take a container to bring it home. The old woman left happily, thinking young people were too wasteful—this oil had only been used a few times for frying.
Just as they were preparing to pack up, a figure suddenly rushed over, shouting, “So it’s you, you vile woman! Still daring to set up a stall here? Why don’t you just disappear somewhere far away? How dare you show your face in public…”
It was Zhou Zhengye again. He no longer looked as arrogant as before; his face was pale, and his eye sockets were slightly sunken. Life didn’t seem to be treating him well. It made sense—his business had been taken over by Tai’an Tower, his father constantly cursed him for being blind and driving away a money tree, and even his wife mocked him every day.
Guan Xiyue lifted a ladle of boiling oil and said with a faint smile, “Do you believe me if I say I’ll splash this on your face?”
Zhou Zhengye immediately shut his mouth, no longer daring to provoke her.
He backed away quickly with his servants, then shouted, “Don’t buy anything from this woman! She’s a disaster star, a jinx—personally divined by the Daoist from Baiyun Temple! She’s a concubine my family discarded and sold off!”
At that time, people strongly believed in gods and fate, and Daoist and Buddhist authority was very high. The passersby looked at Guan Xiyue in shock and gradually moved away. Even the old vegetable seller abandoned her oil.
Chunliu was about to rush forward and beat him up, but Guan Xiyue shook her head, cleared her throat, and said loudly, “It’s true I was a concubine sold by the Zhou family. But this man was originally on the brink of death—he couldn’t even take medicine anymore. I married into the Zhou family as a lucky bride to bring him good fortune, and I saved him. You can ask the Daoist priest from Baiyun Temple about this—the priest himself selected my birth chart. After I saved this ungrateful man, they decided I was useless and sold me off!”