After closing her stall that day, Lu Yan went to the butcher shop and struck a deal with the owner. From now on, she would buy two jin of pork every day. Once the weather turned cold, she might only come every three to five days, but the cooperation would be long-term and stable, and the butcher agreed to sell her meat at fifteen wen per jin.
Delighted, Lu Yan bought four jin of pork this time.
When she got home, she found that Lu Sheng had already set the starch water outside in the courtyard to settle. She nodded in satisfaction.
Back in her room, she poured out the money from her basket and counted it.
She had 163 wen left. Adding the sixty wen she had spent on meat, she had made a total of 223 wen. After deducting the cost of the meat she’d bought yesterday, her net profit was over 180 wen.
Not bad at all—actually, it was excellent.
If she could maintain this level of income, she could earn five taels of silver a month!
As for the half-tael of silver Young Master Song had given her, that was an unexpected bonus. But since he had been so generous, she should prepare some special dishes just for him in return. After all, people liked being treated differently.
After putting away the money, Lu Yan went into Lu Sheng’s room.
Lu Sheng looked up, his eyes full of despair.
“What do you want me to do this time?”
Lu Yan: “…”
She might have overworked the kid.
“I’m not making you do anything.” She sat casually on his kang bed. “I was out selling food today, and a scholar wanted to get to know you. I’m asking what you think.”
“Get to know me?” Lu Sheng repeated in surprise. “Why?”
“He said your handwriting is beautiful,” Lu Yan replied. “His name is Song Bowen. He’s the young master of the bookstore A Drop of Ink. Whether you want to know him is up to you.”
Lu Sheng froze for a moment and suddenly looked at a loss.
“Ah… but I’ve never had friends before…”
“You’ve never had friends?” Lu Yan stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not.” Lu Sheng pursed his lips. “I really didn’t have any friends before.”
That wasn’t too hard to deal with. In modern society there were plenty of socially anxious people, and Lu Yan was long used to it.
She asked tentatively, “If you want to get to know him, why not start as pen pals? Write him a letter, and I’ll take it with me when I set up my stall. Whenever he comes by, I’ll give it to him.”
Lu Sheng was silent for a while before softly saying,
“Okay.”
Meanwhile, at the Song residence, Master Song had been so troubled by business problems these past two days that he could barely eat. He had grown visibly thinner, worrying Madam Song immensely.
At lunchtime, amid a table full of light dishes and vegetables, there sat a plate of braised pork glistening with rich sauce. Madam Song couldn’t help but pause.
A maid stepped forward and whispered,
“Madam, the young master added this dish. He said he found a wonderful food stall in town, and the meat was especially delicious. He bought it specifically for Master and Madam to try. He said that if Master could eat a few more bites, he’d be happy.”
Madam Song smiled slightly.
“Wen’er is very thoughtful.”
As soon as Master Song sat down, Madam Song scooped a piece of meat into his bowl.
“Master, Wen’er knows your appetite hasn’t been good lately. He bought this specially from the street. You must give it a try, or his filial intentions will have been wasted.”
Master Song looked at the meat in his bowl and wasn’t particularly interested. But since his son had bought it specially for him, he had to take a bite.
He picked it up with his spoon and put it into his mouth.
The moment the meat touched his tongue, all his reluctance vanished.
Only one thought remained in his mind:
No wonder Wen’er bought this specially.
For the first time in days, Master Song regained his appetite. He picked up another piece for Madam Song and then ate half a steamed flower roll along with the meat.
Madam Song nearly burst into tears.
Back at the Lu family home, Lu Yan was determined to make something delicious for Song Bowen. She also felt it was time to make something special for her own family. She had been so busy with the food stall these past few days that she hadn’t created any new dishes.
Since she had money now, she wandered around the village with a handful of coins and somehow managed to get a bundle of chives and a basket of shrimp.
It was almost noon, so Lu Yan scrambled a few eggs and made a batch of chive-and-egg dumplings.
Dumplings didn’t require leavened dough, and Lu Yan worked quickly. Her hands flew, and before long she had made two trays of large chive-and-egg dumplings.
With a new dish to enjoy, Lu Sheng was delighted. He devoured three big bowls of dumplings and drank two bowls of dumpling soup.
That afternoon, as usual, Lu Yan set a basin of dough to rise and stewed two jin of pork. Then she looked at the basket of shrimp, and the shrimp looked back at her.
Suddenly, an idea struck her.
She wanted to make shrimp dumplings!
Shrimp dumplings were beautiful and elegant—they looked incredibly impressive. The problem was that she didn’t have wheat starch.
So she’d have to make it herself.
As a food blogger in her previous life, there was practically nothing she hadn’t tried making. She had even filmed videos of washing dough to make cold-skin noodles, and the starchy water left behind was precisely wheat starch.
She took a basin of dough, kneaded it, and washed it with water until she obtained a bowl of wheat starch. After pouring off the water and drying it, she mixed it with the potato starch she had accumulated from washing potatoes every day.
She poured boiling water over the mixture and finally kneaded it into the dough needed for shrimp dumplings.
She cut a few fatty pieces from the two jin of pork she hadn’t stewed, minced the meat, then cleaned the shrimp, removing the heads, shells, and veins before mixing them into the fatty pork.
After seasoning the filling, she wrapped it in the dough.
When the shrimp dumplings were steamed, Lu Yan placed six of them in a small bamboo basket for Song Bowen. The rest went straight onto the Lu family’s dinner table, where they were enthusiastically welcomed.
Shrimp Dumplings
“They’re so beautiful,” Lu Sheng sighed. “And delicious too—fresh and sweet. But they wouldn’t sell well.”
Nowadays, whatever he did, he always considered whether it could be sold.
Lu Da nodded.
“This is the kind of dish only wealthy families could afford. It looks expensive.”
“Exactly,” Lu Yan said. “It’s meant for wealthy people. Today, Young Master Song bought my three pieces of braised pork and even took a jar with him, then gave me half a tael of silver. I thought I’d make him something extra delicious, so tomorrow I’ll bring him six dumplings.”
Both Lu Sheng and Lu Da couldn’t help exclaiming,
“Good heavens!”
Although everyone loved the shrimp dumplings, Lu Sheng couldn’t fill up on them alone.
Lu Yan cut the gluten into small pieces and stir-fried it with chili peppers. She also steamed a pot of mantou.
After eating a bowl of steamed dumplings and two large mantou with the spicy gluten and pickled vegetables, Lu Sheng was finally full.
When he finished, he rubbed his stomach and took a walk around the courtyard.
Lu Da glanced at him with exasperation.
“I never knew he was such a glutton before. No ambition at all.”
Lu Yan smiled.
“He should eat more and grow taller.”