Wang Meng nodded. “Alright, I’ll go home and tell them.”
He was quick at washing up and left first. Li Feng still had the pig stomach to clean.
Pig stomachs were hard to wash and smelled strong. His mother liked them, so after he bought them, most of the time Lu Liu would handle the cleaning, occasionally Shun Ge or their mother would help. Doing it himself once, he knew how troublesome it was. Thinking about how Lu Liu always remembered their mother loved it, would remind him to buy it, then happily cook it into soup—Li Feng felt a pang in his chest.
Lu Liu wasn’t the type to seek credit; he treated daily chores as routine. But keeping everyday life smooth and prosperous was no easy task.
Li Feng finished cleaning the pig stomach, packed it into a bucket, and carried it home. A few people were at the house buying things. He exchanged a quick greeting, saw smoke rising from the chimney, and checked the kitchen—Lu Liu was indeed busy at the stove.
Seeing him, Lu Liu said, “All the vegetables are ready. For lunch, just stir-fry them. I’m rendering lard now. We bought a lot of fat this time—plenty of lard. The leftover cracklings can be used for cooking or making dumplings. Want a stuffed pancake? I can make filling for that too.”
Li Feng’s mouth watered. “Let’s make a pancake. Dumplings are too much trouble.”
Lu Liu agreed, checked the fire in the stove, washed his hands, took some flour, and kneaded a dough to rest.
The wet nurse had arrived, so the children were taken care of.
Their mother was at the little shop selling things, and the cousin-in-law was there printing books.
Hearing the cousin-in-law had arrived, Li Feng went to talk to her about something.
Lu Liu casually asked, “What is it?”
Li Feng explained, “We need to find something for the San Miao couple to do.”
Hearing it involved using drawings as wrapping paper, Lu Liu felt something was off.
He called out, “Why not just use scrap paper?”
Li Feng said, “Sure, scrap paper will also be used. We don’t have much; we need some other paper too.”
Lu Liu thought for a moment. “I’ve never seen other businesses put pictures in prominent places. Wouldn’t that look bad?”
Li Feng recalled a bit—it seemed that way.
Art books were usually sold in the study, tucked away in corners.
“I’ll ask Mom,” he said.
After asking, it turned out it couldn’t be done.
Chen Guizhi said, “You sell so many books, especially going to the docks often. There, people speak freely, and you hear things without thinking twice. But when running a proper shop, you can’t do this! Our shop is named after Xishan, and the reputation of the whole village is at stake. Using these illustrated papers as wrapping? What would people think of the village? And what about the shop?”
Li Feng listened obediently. He knew he needed to be cautious—people outside were easily influenced by their surroundings.
As hunters, when they went up the mountain, they aimed to blend with the environment, staying low-key.
But in business, interacting with people and the environment, one had to maintain principles at all times.
Li Feng reflected. From last year to this, he had encountered some danger and dealt with bandits. Overall, it had gone smoothly. He had authority; those who went to the prefecture with him never gave signals to shady people, so he hadn’t guarded against this.
That was why he hadn’t thought much about the content of the picture books.
Pictures couldn’t be used, but paper was still needed. Li Feng told the cousin-in-law to cut some large sheets and prepare them.
He went back to the kitchen and told Lu Liu that the illustrations couldn’t be used.
Lu Liu had already thought about it—if the illustrations couldn’t be used, what could they print? Blank paper was too wasteful.
When selling goods, he always calculated costs—wasting paper felt wrong. It wasn’t even written on yet.
Lu Liu was good at imitation. Deep or broad concepts were hard for him to imagine, but for mass-use paper, it would need to be like a woodblock—carved to print in bulk. Handwriting wouldn’t work.
He also knew about molds. For making rice cakes, they used molds—round or long. His brother’s shop even had molds for patterned steamed buns.
If molds could make shapes, and illustrations could be made into woodblocks, then making a carved block to print on paper, like a living signboard, should work, right?
He shared his idea with Li Feng and told him to watch the lard pot while he went to get the shop’s banner from his room.
The banner had been custom-made by Lu Yang, just like the “Eat Your Fill” sign in the county. Once Lu Liu opened a shop in the county, he could hang it.
Lu Liu unfolded it and held it up for Li Feng to see.
“Our shop isn’t as well-known as my brother’s. We can make a paper banner. Customers take it home; family and neighbors see it, get familiar with it. Next time they stroll by and see our banner, they’ll know where the goods came from and might come in to check.”
Li Feng repeatedly said, “This is great. Practical and respectable. Let’s use it.”
He praised Lu Liu for his clever idea, saying he was smart and capable.
Lu Liu smiled, holding the banner to his chest.
He didn’t think he was clever—he just followed his brother’s lead. Whatever his brother did, he copied.
He had always noticed how sharp his brother’s mind was, never idle. Now that he was running a business and thinking about these matters himself, he realized just how brilliant his brother truly was.
Li Feng said, “Willing to learn humbly, not trying to prove yourself by arguing, that’s impressive too. Following in your brother’s footsteps puts you ahead of most people.”
Lu Liu loved hearing that, his lips curling in a shy smile.
It was late today. Li Feng would go to the county another day to have woodblocks made.
Lunch was plentiful: stir-fried shunfeng and braised spare ribs. A bowl was set aside for the wet nurse to take home.
At the midday table, Li Feng mentioned Lu Liu’s suggestion. Chen Guizhi nodded repeatedly, “Lu Ge’er’s mind works better than yours.”
Li Feng: “….”
Well, praising his husband was also praising him.
In the afternoon, Lu Liu stayed home doing needlework. Yao Fulang came, holding Yuan Yuan to play.
Since the children were born, Lu Liu rarely carried them out—two babies were too much for him.
Yuan Yuan was nearly six months old, interacting a lot with adults. Yao Fulang couldn’t stop smiling.
Lu Liu had been busy with needlework recently, leaving scraps of cloth.
He used them to make little socks for Yuan Yuan. The baby’s feet were tiny and couldn’t wear shoes yet, so socks were needed to keep them warm.
Yao Fulang took the socks and, without waiting to go home, put them on Yuan Yuan.
The baby wiggled his chubby little feet—they were adorable.
Seeing Lu Liu making a bellyband, he asked, “You’ve been working on this for a while and still not done?”
Lu Liu rarely hid things from Yao Fulang.
Last year, he would have been shy, keeping room matters private, only talking about the pictures.
Having children one after another deepened their bond. Lu Liu could share small secrets.
He put down the needle and thread, tugged at the neckline, showing Yao Fulang the bellyband.
To make it easier to see, he undid a couple of buttons to show the mandarin ducks embroidered on it.
Yao Fulang exclaimed, “Oh wow! Hurry up and finish the garment!”
“You’re so lucky, Da Feng. If it were me, just wearing it would be great, let alone embroidered mandarin ducks—forget it!”
Lu Liu ignored everything else. He was delighted Yao Fulang recognized the mandarin ducks. “Brother An, you know mandarin ducks?”
Yao Fulang: “Two little ducks together. What else would it be if not mandarin ducks?”
Lu Liu: “….”
He pulled a piece of silk from his pocket and handed it to Yao Fulang.
“Look, there’s a beautiful pair of mandarin ducks. Want to try embroidering them?”
Yao Fulang refused. “I have Yuan Yuan. No time for delicate work. The clothes inside, Da Qiang can see them. Why bother?”
Lu Liu said, “You can see it yourself. Once I wear it, I can look at it for a long time.”
Yao Fulang didn’t know he was so vain. Hearing this, Lu Liu chuckled, “You should make one too, wear it. As long as you like it.”
Yao Fulang looked at the handkerchief, seeing the design—it looked difficult.
