Li Feng explained, “Back when my mom first started the workshop, we couldn’t afford to buy much rice. Less rice meant fewer cakes, and since our village is far from the county town, it wasn’t worth the trip. She spent over half a month negotiating with the rice shop owner before he agreed to sell rice at a discount. When you do the math, it evens out—he earns about seven hundred coins more, and we earn seven hundred less. It’s kind of a goodwill partnership.”
Basically, the rice shop owner was like a silent partner in their business. After the profit-sharing, each household took home just over five hundred coins.
Selling directly to the rice shop also saved them two days of travel—less wear and tear on the body, no need to pay for food or stall fees.
Li Feng had calculated exactly how many rice cakes to sell to the rice shop. Since the other guy was already giving them a five-hundred-coin discount on rice, they couldn’t afford to offer him any less in return.
The first couple of years, it was all about building that relationship. Now, whenever they went to the shop for rice or flour, they got a discount. Bit by bit, it added up.
Xie Yan’s ears perked up at the mention of “relationship building.”
He had a sharp memory—after running those numbers in his head and thinking about their monthly rice and flour expenses, he figured this setup really was mutually beneficial.
Sure, the rice shop owner was making money—but even after the discount, he still had a profit, and he had a reliable workshop churning out rice cakes every year.
And Li Feng’s side gained something too. They didn’t have any other suppliers, and they needed rice and flour every day. Giving up a bit of profit now earned them savings every time they shopped.
Lu Yang lowered his gaze, gave it some thought, and had nothing to object to.
“You’ve actually thought this through,” he admitted, giving Li Feng a rare compliment—for the sake of family harmony.
Lu Liu looked even happier than Li Feng, beaming from ear to ear.
Lu Yang turned to him. “Are those rice cakes in your cart meant for the rice shop?”
Li Feng nodded. “Yeah. We’re having a meal today, right? I didn’t have time to sell them myself.”
Lu Yang: “…”
Okay, maybe he had acted a bit on his own, but what was with that look Li Feng just gave him? It made him want to punch the guy. He hadn’t said anything at the time either!
Lu Yang stayed still.
So did Li Feng.
Xie Yan, ever the loyal defender of his husband, also kept silent in solidarity.
Finally, Lu Liu sensed the tension. He glanced at his brother, then at his man, and asked, “Da Feng, are we still selling the cakes?”
Li Feng said, “Yeah. Didn’t your brother just say we might not sell them all?”
Just then, Lu Lin—who had been selling goods up front—called from the back, “Liu ge’er! Come help move the rice cakes! Silly Zhu’s not here, I’ve already sold out, and customers are waiting!”
Lu Yang laughed out loud.
Xie Yan took the cue and asked Li Feng, “So, are we selling or not?”
Li Feng: “…”
He had just said yes. What could he do now?
“…Yeah, we’re selling.”
Lu Yang didn’t press him. “It’s fine if you don’t. You can sell them anywhere and still make money.”
But Li Feng stood by his word. “We didn’t send that many to the rice shop anyway. I’ll just buy more rice and make another batch later.”
There were four people in the room. The two younger husbands obviously weren’t expected to carry anything. Li Feng glanced at Xie Yan but couldn’t be bothered to call on him. He stepped outside himself to carry the rice cakes, then came back in to continue the conversation.
Lu Yang also had some glutinous rice on hand—eighty pounds’ worth. Not many people in the county made rice cakes, but some would steam sticky rice or cook it into porridge. He was just tagging it onto the sale.
That much rice wouldn’t make many cakes, and Li Feng knew it, so he didn’t say anything more.
Lu Yang had nothing else to say to Li Feng either. He took his now-full-bellied little brother to sit by the stove and warm up.
The two of them had things to talk about—and needed to stay far, far away from those smelly men. Whether those guys were cold or not, Lu Yang dragged the stove to the other side of the room, by the door.
Lu Liu trailed behind, dragging a small wooden stool. He plopped down and immediately called out, “Gege!”
Lu Yang asked him again, “So Li Feng really treats you well?”
Lu Liu nodded enthusiastically. “Mm-hmm! Really! Look at me—I’ve even put on weight!”
He used to be skin and bones—sharp elbows and knees—but now he had meat on his hips and belly. You could see it in his face, too. He hadn’t looked in the mirror, but Li Feng told him he was getting nice and soft to the touch.
Lu Yang chuckled. “I can tell. Back then, you’d blush just from a glance. Now you’re saying stuff like that out loud.”
Lu Liu’s cheeks turned bright red. He confessed to Lu Yang, “Before the wedding, Auntie tried to explain some things to me, but I didn’t really get it. I just slept next to Da Feng on the first night, and he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until the second day that we actually consummated the marriage.”
“Auntie” here referred to Lu Sanfeng. Since they were no longer with the Chen family, Lu Liu didn’t call her “mother.”
Lu Yang’s heart ached. On their wedding night—even if Li Feng had been respectful—he was still a rough, rugged man, and his little brother was so small and frail. The Chens had tricked them into marriage. If Li Feng had been even slightly less patient, Lu Liu could’ve really suffered.
He asked, “Did you read those books I had Xie Yan bring over?”
Lu Liu blushed even harder.
He had read them. Even picked out some recipes. They’d even cooked some wild game.
Lu Yang was a lot more open-minded than his brother—and very much the responsible older sibling. As soon as Lu Liu admitted he hadn’t understood anything, Lu Yang felt he should teach him more.
He started explaining things like “passing the imperial exam” and “making soup.” Lu Liu felt like he was burning up—like a hot coal, sizzling all over, inside and out.
Lu Yang raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you two actually did it? Did you even know what you were doing?”
Lu Liu was suddenly unsure. “I… I think I did? Da Feng didn’t say anything, though.”
Lu Yang replied dryly, “Maybe he didn’t know either.”
Then he added, “I’ve got a few more illustrated books at home. They’re sitting there anyway. On our way back, when we pass by the village, wait for me—I’ll go grab them for you. Study them properly. Who knows, you might become a top scholar.”
Lu Liu had no interest in becoming a scholar. He didn’t understand half of what Lu Yang was saying—just enough to feel totally embarrassed. Da Feng’s cookbooks were way easier to follow. A hundred ways to eat chicken—that he understood. He wanted chicken.
Still, Lu Yang played along. “Then study your cookbooks and become a master chef.”
Lu Liu nodded eagerly. “Mm-hmm! Thanks, Gege!”
He’d never had a proper conversation about this stuff before. When others teased him, like Yao’s husband, it never got serious. But with his brother, he had so much he wanted to say. He hesitated at first, but seeing Lu Yang was about to change the topic, he quickly asked, “Gege, how are things with the Xie family? Do their relatives bully you?”
Lu Yang didn’t want to get into it. Things weren’t fully resolved yet. It was almost New Year’s, and the local magistrate was busy preparing gifts and schmoozing superiors. Submitting a grievance now wouldn’t get good results.
Steward Jin had advised them to wait until after the new year. Once the government office reopened, he’d personally submit the case to the magistrate—who’d be in a foul mood and eager to take it out on someone. That was the best way to get justice, and it wouldn’t waste the bribes they’d already paid.
Lu Yang also checked with the Luo brothers, who confirmed that Steward Jin was dependable—he took gifts but got things done. It was smart to follow his advice.
They just had to hold out a little longer.
Lu Liu stared at him with wide, worried eyes. He stayed silent, but his gaze grew increasingly anxious and guilty. Lu Yang had no choice but to switch gears and brag a little to reassure him.
“You saw that guy who was helping move the rice cakes just now? Silly Zhu? He was working for free. He made a scene at my wedding—I hit him right in the rooster. You know what I mean by ‘rooster’?”
Lu Liu nodded.
He didn’t expect a question about how things were going to turn into talk about roosters. His face turned red again.
But as Lu Yang continued, especially when he talked about how he’d stood up to the local bully, stirred things up in the village, and even watched a shouting match unfold—then started going after debts—Lu Liu got really excited.
He nodded along with everything Lu Yang said. Whenever Lu Yang paused for breath, Lu Liu jumped in with praise, hyping him up to the heavens. Lu Yang got carried away, spitting out stories like fireworks—some a little exaggerated for dramatic effect.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the two men who didn’t particularly like each other started chatting too.
Xie Yan was the one to break the ice. He was earnestly trying to learn the ways of social interaction—and fully understood that, as the host, he should make conversation with the guest. But his “social skills” were still… a work in progress.
He asked Li Feng, “How much do you make from pounding rice cakes?”
Li Feng didn’t hide anything. A man’s ability to earn wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
“Last time we made about one tael. This time should be a little more than that.”
It was simple math. Xie Yan’s deflated ego puffed back up.
“I made three taels of silver a few days ago,” he said proudly.
Li Feng was slightly stung by that smug tone.
Xie Yan beamed. “And I haven’t even collected my salary yet. Today’s the fifteenth, right? If you all hadn’t come, I would’ve gone to the county school to pick it up. It’s five qian!”
He didn’t mention the rice—it was just old rice, not worth bragging about. Compared to silver, rice sounded cheap.
Li Feng rested both arms on the table and began cracking his knuckles.
