They needed to speak with Wu Pingzhi before making any decisions. The Wu family had long been connected to the literary circles in the capital. No matter how capable Boss Jin was, he was still just a small-town bookshop owner. In terms of connections, he couldn’t compare to Old Master Wu. Still, running a bookshop meant Boss Jin knew plenty of other shop owners—maybe he had some good leads.
Next was Lord Zhang. They needed to find an opportunity to build a connection, maybe send a few gifts.
He was a proper jinshi, after all. Whatever else, a jinshi was never short of fine essays. Borrowing a few to read would be worthwhile.
Then there were the instructors at the county academy. Lu Yang had met them before—they all liked Xie Yan, true lovers of talent.
Xie Yan couldn’t attend the academy, but personal connections were still possible. They could visit the teachers at home in the future.
If that wasn’t convenient, they could ask Mr. Mei from the private school to reconnect with his old colleagues.
Lu Yang remembered well—those academy instructors were poor.
Scholar-officials often lived with empty sleeves; being poor was miserable. Giving them too much money would make things awkward. Better to deposit some pork at the butcher’s. In the future, whenever the teachers wanted meat, they could just go and collect it without paying.
Depositing pork with the butcher was a common practice.
During holidays, when households slaughtered livestock and ended up with more meat than they could finish, they would send the extra to the butcher. He’d record the weight as a “deposit.”
The butcher would sell the original meat immediately, and later, when the family came to collect their pork, he’d give them fresh cuts from that day.
Recently Liu Feng had introduced Old Gong to him. If he went to buy from him, he could ask about depositing meat there too.
And he should deposit some with Butcher Liu in the East City as well.
The weather was warming, and running that far to buy meat wasn’t always convenient—but Liu had given him eight piglets before and even sold him meat at a discount. That kindness couldn’t be forgotten.
Earlier, when he had just started buying ingredients for selling baozi, Luo Dayong had also gotten him several dozen jin of pork. Back then he had silver in hand, and they always avoided each other on account day; once the initial enthusiasm faded, depositing meat later would make Luo unable to refuse, ensuring their relationship would last long-term.
In just a moment, his thoughts raced through all of this. Seeing him dazed, Xie Yan waved a hand in front of him and asked what he was thinking. Lu Yang laid everything out one by one, and by the end, Xie Yan was frowning so hard he looked ready to cry.
“Yang-ge… please think about fewer things!”
Lu Yang gave two awkward laughs and, seeing no one around, sneaked a kiss onto his cheek.
He tried to get away with it, but Xie Yan still worried about his health—there was no slipping past him.
The couple bickered lightly as they prepared to close up. Lu Yang wiped the tables; Xie Yan brought in the ladder, took down the shop banner, and boarded up the door.
Boss Ding next door saw he was home and struck up a conversation. “Scholar Xie! You’ve been making quite a name for yourself lately. I’ve been hearing all about you!”
He had never expected the quiet scholar next door to be so impressive.
Just judging by the book sales—he must’ve earned at least a hundred taels. Keeping such a low profile… now that was true silent fortune.
Xie Yan tried his best to handle the social niceties. “It’s nothing much—just writing a little here and there. Boss Ding, does your boy study? I still have two copies left over—I can give him one to read.”
Boss Ding had bought a copy earlier. His son was only seven, just starting school. The book was cheap, and business was booming, so he’d picked up a copy to support.
Only afterward did he hear the gossip—that the author was their neighbor, Scholar Xie Yan. He slapped his forehead in regret!
He only had one son; one copy was enough. But at the time he’d said, “No need, no need—I bought one already. You published a book; as neighbors, of course I have to support your business.”
Remembering his mother’s teaching, Xie rounded the topic neatly, whether the man meant it or not. “It’s all right. The book isn’t finished yet. After I finish the exams, I’ll publish the second volume. I’ll bring it to you then. We’re neighbors—your son is like my nephew. I’ll give him one.”
Boss Ding blinked rapidly, stunned.
Incredible—this scholar sure had a silver tongue.
He glanced into the baozi shop and indeed saw Lu Yang there, laughing as he listened.
Boss Ding clasped his hands. “Boss Lu, I’ll take your husband’s kindness first. Wishing your shop great fortune!”
Lu Yang clasped back. “Let’s prosper together!”
After closing, Xie Yan washed his hands. He planned to make old-duck soup for Lu Yang.
He still didn’t know how to slaughter ducks or chickens; those were always cleaned beforehand and delivered. He only had to chop them up and throw them into the pot.
While the duck simmered, he peeled bamboo shoots, washed and sliced them. Once the duck finished boiling, he fished it out, changed the water, and blanched the shoots. Then he stir-fried each separately before putting them together on the stove to stew.
The seasonings were simple—ginger to cut the gamey smell, salt for flavor. For extra savoriness, a few mountain mushrooms could be tossed in.
The pot would simmer over low heat. They wouldn’t be eating it tonight, but it’d be perfect in the morning.
Meanwhile, Lu Yang kneaded a piece of dough, cut off half, rolled it out, and sliced wide noodles.
His mother had been craving noodles—they hadn’t made them in a while. Lu fried three eggs, stir-fried a handful of greens, boiled water, added the noodles, and seasoned with salt and soy sauce.
For side dishes, he took out a bowl of mushroom-and-pork sauce, but it tasted too mild. He added a bit more seasoning.
After dinner, the couple tidied the kitchen, letting Mother rest.
She never came to the front during the day; she stayed busy in the back. The kitchen chores were endless and tiring.
After cleaning up, they heated water to wash.
Xie Yan carried the basin to help his mother wash her face and feet.
He went into the inner room and lit incense for his father.
Zhao Peilan looked at him with soft, gentle eyes. “A-Yan, your father can sleep peacefully tonight.”
Xie Yan’s eyes reddened.
He said, “Tomorrow when Brother Lin and Brother-in-law come back, we’ll visit his grave and add some earth.”
Zhao Peilan considered, then nodded. “I’ll trouble you boys with the trip.”
Xie smiled helplessly. “Mother, how is that trouble? He’s my father, not some stranger.”
She smiled too. On the kang beside her was a bamboo basket filled with paper ingots she had folded.
It wouldn’t do to fold them in the shop—customers would say it was bad luck.
After helping her wash, Xie dumped the water and returned to the room to wash up with Lu. The two of them folded more paper money on the kang.
They would return to the village for the tomb visit tomorrow. It hadn’t been long, but thinking of that village still felt unreal.
Lu told Xie, “Tomorrow when Brother Lin comes, we’ll ask how things are in the village. Wouldn’t want your uncles and cousins ambushing us.”
Xie nodded, finished folding, and massaged Lu’s stomach.
Whenever they slept at home, he always massaged Lu’s belly.
Before bed, Lu read the picture booklet again—the one Xie had made for him.
He loved it so much that after just a few days, the edges of the pages had curled.
Xie noticed, and jealousy flickered across his face.
“Yang-ge, I’m not even in those drawings. You don’t miss me at all.”
Lu laughed, warmth softening his features.
“There’s no you in the picture,” he said, “but I see you anyway.”
Some people look at the person in the picture. Some look at the one who painted it.
Whenever Lu saw the booklet or opened a scroll, his heart warmed all over again.
That one line soothed Xie immediately. He said, “When I have time, I’ll draw you lots and lots of pictures. When you finish one book, there’ll be another, so you can read them in rotation. That way, each one stays in good condition and you won’t feel bad when you flip through it.”
Lu wanted to learn to draw too. He’d been reading lately, but he only enjoyed short anecdotes and bits of wisdom—nothing long and dry. He had learned more characters and had begun practicing his handwriting; his small characters were neat and tidy.
Now he wanted to learn drawing as well. In the future, he could sketch everyone he cared about.
Xie was delighted to teach him—foolishly happy, even. “I’ll teach you hand-in-hand.”
Lu refused. “Dream on. You can only grab my hand after I learn it myself.”
Xie wasn’t offended; he only felt more motivated.
………………………………………
This morning, they drank old-duck soup.
After simmering over low heat all night, the broth was rich and thick, the surface shimmering gold with fragrant oil—utterly mouthwatering.
