Lu Yang nodded to take note. After eating, he and Xie Yan took the filling and spring roll wrappers to the shop to make spring rolls, replacing his mother and Zhang Tie who had come over for a meal.
Xie Yan helped him wrap them.
Making spring rolls was simple: place the filling in the center of the wrapper, use chopsticks to spread it into a long strip, fold the bottom up, fold both sides in, then roll it up to seal the edges.
The seal was made with a flour paste—dip your finger in a little, and it sealed tightly.
Xie Yan followed the steps, memorizing the proportions and shape with his eyes, but his hands lacked precision. By the time Lu Yang had finished ten, Xie Yan had only managed two, each uneven in shape and length.
Seeing no one nearby during the quiet lunch rush, Xie Yan whispered to Lu Yang, “Brother Yang, have you decided on a nickname for yourself yet?”
Lu Yang had never had a nickname. When scolded, he was called “money-loser” or “worthless brat”; when praised, it was just “Brother Yang, blah blah blah.” What nickname could there be?
Xie Yan pressed him, but even after days of pondering, Lu Yang couldn’t think of a suitable one.
Xie Yan suggested, “How about Little Yang?”
Yang sounded like sheep, and sheep seemed weak and helpless. Lu Yang disliked it.
Xie Yan tried again, “Then Little Wolf? Wolves eat sheep.”
Lu Yang nitpicked, “Why would I eat myself?”
He hadn’t even admitted he was a sheep.
Xie Yan suggested again, “How about Little Lu?”
Lu sounded like deer, and deer were precious. Lu Yang liked it a little.
“But if you call me Little Lu, won’t it sound like you’re calling a buddy?”
Xie Yan was stumped. He asked, “How about giving you a courtesy name? I’ll call you by that.”
Few young lads had courtesy names—only the favored sons of wealthy families received them.
Lu Yang felt a flicker of interest. As a child, he’d yearned to be a scholar.
He asked, “What should my courtesy name be?”
Xie Yan’s own courtesy name was Zhuozi. He chose Jingzhi for Lu Yang.
One signified impurity, the other purity.
Lu Yang pondered briefly, murmuring the name to himself. It felt rather fitting.
Clean and pure, unblemished—he liked it.
As they wrapped spring rolls, the two called each other Zhuozi and Jingzhi back and forth, exchanging amused glances.
Here, spring rolls were typically steamed.
They were soft and tender, but lacked the crispy, savory crunch of fried ones.
Xie Yan brought back the book sales report. After pondering briefly, Lu Yang decided to fry spring rolls instead.
With over forty of them, he figured he might as well be generous and fry them all.
Once they finished here and waited for Zhang Tie to finish his meal and come to the front, the couple would hurry to fry the spring rolls.
Lu Yang recalled how much Lu Liu craved fried tofu. While the oil was still hot in the wok, he sliced two more pieces of tofu.
The spring rolls probably wouldn’t last until his younger brother arrived, but the fried tofu could keep for a few days. He’d have Li Feng bring it back when he delivered the sauces. Whether stir-fried in strips or chunks, stewed, or simply dipped in sauce, it would be perfect. Let his brother satisfy his craving.
Xie Yan wandered around the kitchen but didn’t see the lamb. Lamb sold quickly.
He said to Lu Yang, “We’ve had chicken, lamb, and rabbit these past few days. We always have pork at home. Next time, I’ll make you some pork tripe soup, okay?”
Lu Yang begged him not to: “Eating all these rich foods back-to-back gives me heartburn at night. Twice a month is plenty.”
Xie Yan thought that wasn’t enough.
He’d bought very few herbs, and no ginseng.
The first time he stewed ginseng and black chicken soup, he’d used a few slices from Wu Pingzhi.
That stuff was expensive—a huge favor.
Someday, when someone in Li Village dug up ginseng, he’d buy it to repay Wu Pingzhi.
Since they couldn’t afford expensive herbs, they’d eat more ordinary meats, vegetables, and soups.
Lu Yang was deeply gratified to hear him talk about repaying favors.
Xie Yan was pleased to receive the praise.
The fried spring rolls soon released their aroma, filling the kitchen with an indescribable, mouthwatering scent.
Even in his better days, Xie Yan had never tasted fried spring rolls.
He stood by the stove watching as Lu Yang slowly turned each roll, ensuring even cooking.
The heat in the pot was gentle; he fried them slowly.
The wrappers soon turned golden, a different shade from pancakes. Fried dough resembled ripe persimmons—a deep golden hue. It also resembled flowing oil, utterly tempting to behold.
Lu Yang couldn’t help but swallow, hearing the sound of his own throat. Glancing sideways, he saw his scholar husband staring at the pot with a hungry look.
Lu Yang smiled at the sight, heart warmed. Today’s oil was money well spent.
Xie Yan couldn’t linger long at home. After frying twenty spring rolls, Lu Yang paused, grabbed a food box, packed them up, and told him to take them all to the private school.
Xie Yan grabbed one, shoved it into Lu Yang’s mouth, urging him to taste it first.
Freshly fried, the spring roll was piping hot, steaming with fragrance. The outer layer was crispy, crumbling with every bite, while the filling inside remained exceptionally tender.
Lu Yang had worried the filling might not cook through, but this single bite left him utterly intoxicated by its aroma.
“Alright, hurry off now. You’ll be late if you linger. Give these spring rolls to the God of Wealth to try too.”
Xie Yan disliked the nickname “God of Wealth,” wrinkling his nose every time he heard it.
Taking the food box, he solemnly bid Lu Yang farewell: “Jingzhi, I’m leaving. I’ll be home in a few days for my leave.”
The name felt too formal, and his tone too earnest. Lu Yang mimicked a scholar’s bow, gesturing with his hands: “Alright, Zhuozi, go ahead.”
Both looked up and burst into laughter.
Their wedding day had been chaotic—far less formal than this moment.
Lu Yang suddenly remembered something and bowed again.
Xie Yan followed suit a moment later. They bowed to each other, laughing uncontrollably.
After seeing Xie Yan off, Lu Yang fried the remaining spring rolls. Using the same oil, he fried some tofu as well.
Since the oil was already hot, he thought of the meatballs for lunch. Glancing at the leftover wild greens, he lowered his eyes, pondered, then chopped meat, washed the greens, mixed the filling, made meatballs, and fried two bowls.
He set aside one bowl of meatballs and one bowl of fried tofu for his younger brother, keeping the rest for his own family.
Fried foods were expensive and scarce, so he divided them by number. Each member of Lu Lin’s family received one spring roll and one meatball, but no fried tofu. He’d worry about that when he became wealthy.
With spring rolls in short supply, Lu Yang took five more next door to Mr. Ding, offering him a taste.
Mr. Ding was also overwhelmed by the aroma.
“Mr. Lu, what’s the occasion today?”
Lu Yang replied, “Nothing special. My brother dug up two baskets of wild greens for me. I’ve been feeling down lately and didn’t have the energy to cook. I meant to bring you some sauce, but I haven’t had time to stir-fry it yet. Their sauce will take another couple of days. Today, my husband was craving something, so he fried a few spring rolls. I’m bringing them over for you to try. It’s also my way of apologizing for the delay. Please bear with us a little longer. Once the sauce arrives, I’ll bring it over for you.”
The sauce was fried for Mr. Ding to sample and approve. Lu Yang had been in such poor shape those days that his mind was foggy. Now that he felt a bit better, he came over to smooth things over.
Mr. Ding was always cheerful and seemed easygoing. He told Lu Yang, “It’s no big deal. Are you feeling better?” “
Lu Yang nodded. “Much better. Still need to recuperate a bit, but then I’ll be back in full swing.”
The scholars were preparing for their exams—a prime time to make money.
Mr. Ding’s shop sold a lot of liquor, especially to those who bought it to aid their sleep at night.
After the exams, his business would peak. Those who failed would drown their sorrows in drink.
His business and Lu Yang’s weren’t the same day—one rushed before the exams, the other after.
Both wore the sly expressions of shrewd merchants.
Lu Yang had come this time just to deliver spring rolls, exchange a few household words, then return to tend his shop. He said nothing else.
He couldn’t visit with business every time. No matter how well-mannered one was, it wasn’t right to trouble others so often. Once Ding Boss found leisure to ponder it, their connection would inevitably fade.
Upon reaching the shopfront, Lu Yang saw the afternoon trade was slow. With steamed buns and mantou available, plus dough left in the kitchen, he sent Zhang Tie out to make the rounds.
Carry some buns and mantou out to sell. He’d steamed two baskets of elaborately shaped mantou earlier that morning—half of them bearing the golden list’s names.
“Head toward the county school and the magistrate’s office. The scholars who recently registered are lining up there. Brother Lin and the others might be nearby. See if they have time to come back for lunch. If they’re too busy, just give them some steamed buns and mantou to eat. Carrying such heavy loads on their backs, how can they manage on an empty stomach?”
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