It’s hard work, but there’s no other way. If you plant one less mu of land, that’s one less mu of grain to feed your family.
The yield per mu is what it is. After paying the grain tax and setting aside enough to keep us fed, whatever’s left is what we can sell.
If money’s tight, we have to sell even more. Once it’s all sold, there’s nothing left to eat at home, and we have to spend money to buy grain again.
Lu Yang said, “Ayan’s going to earn a good bit of silver this time. We can finally have a little home of our own. If you can manage things over there, bring Gofu along to help me out here.”
They’d have their own little place, freeing up the back yard for the laborers to stay.
Lu Lin thought about it, but the family wasn’t as harmonious as before.
When the whole family lived together, no one had it better than anyone else. At first, the couple worked half-day shifts, and no one thought much of it. Later, it became full-day shifts, but they left early and returned late, running through wind and snow. They knew it was hard work, but they didn’t complain.
Earlier, both Lu Lin and Zhang Tie had considered it. They didn’t have children yet, so they couldn’t be apart for long. For the sake of children, Lu Lin wanted to give up his job in the county town.
He’d already made it clear: come spring, he’d settle down to farming. Piglets were already being raised at home. But things changed too quickly. The fields were being plowed now—it was already mid-February. They were busy day after day, and after finishing their work, they still had to stay in the county to work. There was bound to be trouble at home.
After hearing this, Lu Yang thought the solution was simple: just split the household.
Brothers who’d started their own families never truly belonged under one roof.
Different personalities, unequal workloads, parents’ favoritism, extra spoonfuls of rice, who got lazy and ate meat while others worked for thin porridge—all these would spark arguments.
And that was when everyone farmed. If one brother suddenly stopped tilling the land, the resentment could drown a man.
Dividing the household was a major matter. He kept it to himself.
Lu Yang nodded. “It’s fine. There’s still time. Ayan needs to prepare for the imperial exams. We should plan our move for June. That’s peak farming season—we’ll see then.”
When it came to farming, Uncle’s family truly worked themselves to the bone.
They rose before dawn and labored until dusk. With two able-bodied men working the fields, their land was plowed morning and night.
They slept late and rose early, managing both ends without delay.
Since they needed donkeys for hauling goods to the county town, the animals couldn’t stay home. This meant family members couldn’t do much farmwork during the day.
They’d discussed it thoroughly and rented oxen from other relatives. After agreeing on the price, they calculated they’d still make a profit—worth the expense. In short, money must be earned, and the fields cannot lie fallow.
He still had to rush out to sell goods. After exchanging a few words with Lu Lin and finishing his meal in a few bites, he set down his chopsticks, used the outhouse, and hurried out with his basket on his back.
On the seventeenth day of the second month, the county examinations began.
Only Miao Qing and Lu Song came from his uncle’s house, leaving Er Bai at home to tend the farm.
The county lacked a dedicated examination hall, so the test was held within the magistrate’s office.
Families of the examinees gathered outside awaiting news. Nearby stalls were packed with customers, with more vendors than patrons milling about.
Business-savvy souls could see at a glance that nearly every stall sold food and drink—even fancy steamed buns had been copied.
Selling them here meant small profits.
The family’s fertile fields still needed tending. Lu Yang told them to wrap up. It was nearly time for the candidates to return, and then they could settle accounts and divide the profits.
They sold 270 catties of roasted flour. The flour was milled at home, costing six cash per catty.
They roasted it, doubling the price. Two packaging options: five taels per packet sold for six cash. One catty per packet sold for twelve cash. The profit was easy to calculate—a total of sixteen hundred and twenty cash.
Lu Lin had agreed to split the profits with Lu Yang.
Lu Yang had only suggested the idea—he hadn’t participated in the roasting or selling. Lu Lin and his wife earned wages helping sell steamed buns, dumplings, and melon seeds, which was fair. But his uncle’s family of three had purely volunteered, working ten days straight and kneading dough daily. They were fed and housed, but it didn’t cover wages.
Then there was the packaging for the roasted flour—Lu Yang bought the paper and cut it himself, contributing a small amount of money and minimal labor. Weighing both contributions, he laid it out plainly: it was mutual assistance. The profit from the roasted flour didn’t need to be shared with him. Nor would he pay out the wages for helping with the buns and steamed buns.
With over one liang and six qian left, Miao Qing still needed to pay wages at home. He calculated he’d have to pay out about five hundred wen.
He told Lu Yang, “Your father and the others can share one hundred and thirty wen.”
Lu Erbao and Wang Fengnian raised three pigs, brought home chicks to raise, and had an acre of good farmland to tend. An acre might sound small, but with only one laborer at home, the combined chores were quite demanding.
Lu Yang smiled and nodded. “So you earned a liang and one qian of silver this time. It’s only been ten days—it was worth it!”
After all that hard work, it really was worth it.
They all wore smiles.
At Lu Yang’s place, since they had stockpiles of various ingredients, it wasn’t like the earliest days of buying just enough flour and meat to make exactly the number of buns and steamed breads needed. Calculations were based on estimates.
These past few days, they sold an enormous variety of steamed buns. On the busiest day, they steamed twelve baskets. After some customers started imitating them, the quantity settled around six or seven baskets.
Combining sales from the shop and door-to-door deliveries, they made a little over six taels. The profit was just over two taels.
They sold quite a few sunflower seeds and peanuts alongside the main goods. Selling them loose made labor a bit more troublesome, but they wrapped them when idle and took them out when they had stock. These were minor, scattered earnings, not something they focused on, but together they sold over eighty jin. That brought in over eighty cash coins.
Lu Yang knew how hard they worked. He had some meat left in his shop, so he gave each of them two jin of meat, plus two jin of white mushrooms and five jin of bamboo shoots as a reward.
Converting these into silver, it was essentially spending the money earned from the melon seeds and peanuts.
After they left, Lu Yang looked over the ledger again.
February’s business was largely supported by steamed buns, flatbreads, sauces, and mountain produce.
The mountain mushroom trade had stabilized, with customers coming daily. Few affordable vegetables were available to common households, making mushrooms a rare treat.
Especially the low-priced varieties—dried, light, and easy to carry. Many bought just half a pound at a time, but the volume added up.
Bamboo shoots were a pity—prices plummeted as the weather warmed.
Spring shoots were tender and delicious, yet they couldn’t command the price of winter shoots. Selling for only three cash per pound, their strength lay in volume.
He has a set purchase price for these, calculated by the pound.
Regular customers bring in new ones. Plus, with the recent influx of people from the county, restaurants are packed, driving up demand for ingredients. Some kind soul must have spread the word about his place, because the entire cartload of spring bamboo shoots in the backyard was swept away in one go.
Today he distributed some, leaving only half a basket in the shop. If more people came tonight, it wouldn’t last.
Mid-month, Xie Yan had said he’d return home. It was already the seventeenth.
Lu Yang pondered for a moment, then moved the bamboo shoots to the kitchen to save them for his own family.
When his top scholar son came home, he’d let him enjoy some seasonal delicacies too.
The sauce business was relatively steady, so he had the spring bamboo shoot delivery shop take a few jars along.
Once things slowed down later, he’d set up a small tasting stall to build his reputation.
Last time, people said the tasting samples didn’t have enough flavor—you really needed to eat it in big bites.
Since they’d be eating heartily, he’d charge for it. He’d decided: he’d sell noodle bowls.
A bowl of noodles for five cash coins—a fair wage for his labor.
He wouldn’t lose money, and it would build his reputation. It might even attract noodle shop owners to negotiate prices.
He tallying up the numbers on his abacus, the shop’s profits over the past fortnight neared six taels.
Given the age and scale of their shop, this was an extraordinary figure.
Lu Yang had discussed it before: for a small street stall, earning a hundred taels a year was considered a huge profit.
At its current growth rate, his shop could reach a hundred taels.
A hundred taels could accomplish many things—at the very least, it would easily cover the education of his future top scholar.
They could easily afford to rent a house and still save silver for emergencies.
Just as Lu Yang was looking forward to this, darkness suddenly clouded his vision. He jolted awake to the harsh reality of his illness.
Supporting a sickly family member cost more than sending a child to school—a hundred taels wouldn’t even cover it. His medicine alone consumed thirty-six taels annually.
Add the cost of medicinal meals, and it doubled. Xie Yan was always insisting on buying premium ginseng.
Sigh!
Utterly pointless.
Lu Yang closed the ledger and peered out the door.
Xie Yan hurried home through the front gate just before the shop closed.
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