The weather was hot, and cleaning fish at home was too pungent, attracting flies. With little children around, the two fathers would take the fish home to clean themselves. Both knew how to make fish soup, which was no trouble; they’d prepare it for Lu Liu the next day so he could sell it along with his other dishes.
Zhao Peilan could make buns. She had learned while living at the shop, and her savory meat buns were oily and fragrant. In the morning, she’d steam two baskets for the stall.
Chen Guizhi couldn’t stay idle either; she boiled eggs and duck eggs, and cooked egg pancakes. She mentioned that when radish season came, she would buy some and make pickled radish—her specialty, sure to captivate any scholar who tasted it.
Upon hearing this, Lu Erbao said he would plant more radishes. Growing them at home wasn’t hard; bigger radishes with more water weighed more, and buying them was expensive—homegrown was cost-effective.
Even a small breakfast stall became a family affair, with all three households busy. Everyone had something to do, and even just an hour or so of work in the morning could brighten their whole day.
After the morning rush at Luming Academy, if there were leftover goods, they would grab a carrying pole and go around the streets calling out their wares.
They never sold much per trip; a few streets were enough to clear stock. Daily earnings of 150 to 180 wen made Lu Liu beam, smiling from morning until night.
With the money earned, he bought good rice at the mill and steamed rice cakes to enjoy.
Li Feng bought a bamboo bed and placed it in the alley outside the courtyard.
The bamboo bed was slightly narrower than those made in the village—just enough for one person to lie down, yet both children could climb onto it.
Lu Liu laid an extra grass mat on the bed and brought the two children to sit.
The four elders of the household sat on small chairs and stools, forming a circle around the bamboo bed. As the children moved, they could easily play with them, entertaining them in turn.
Once that corner was settled, Lu Liu busied himself in the kitchen.
He first steamed a pot of rice cakes, which they shared. He made rice mush for the little ones and fed them a bit.
Neighbors noticed the lively scene and came by to chat. Seeing the two babies, they remarked on how lovely the children were. When they realized they were twins, the praise intensified, commenting on their good fortune.
Lu Liu was pleased and shared rice cakes with them, earning compliments for generosity.
The alley gradually emptied as scholars vacated their rentals, heading to the provincial capital for exams. Those who stayed were the neighbors likely to remain for many years.
Lu Liu hoped to make friends, but when others heard his husband was a businessman rather than a scholar, interest waned. Only He Fulang came by to sit a while.
He Fulang was from the countryside, with no particular skill. His family had been poor; he had not learned embroidery or cooking. When he reached the city, he hoped for a good life, but the expenses were high. He had to make do by doing laundry for others.
In summer, when work was sparse, he finished early and had idle afternoons. Seeing the activity at Lu Liu’s stall, and sensing the family’s friendliness, he tried to strike up conversation.
He Fulang said: “I do laundry, but no one wants to deal with me. My husband leaves early and returns late to study. At night, he reads and writes; there’s no time to talk.”
Lu Liu didn’t know what to say.
How could this be? His brother’s husband wasn’t that busy.
Talking with He Fulang about daily life and the years he’d endured, Lu Liu couldn’t help but think of the Xie family’s early hardships.
Marrying a scholar was truly difficult. Whether a husband would succeed in exams was uncertain. One simply endured.
His brother was competent, making life smooth. His brother-in-law managed responsibilities, shared household work, and could chat. Otherwise, life would be miserable.
He Fulang had gone long without anyone to talk to; here he could vent a lot. When he left, Chen Guizhi told Lu Liu: “Don’t talk too much about our family’s life in front of him; he might feel bad.”
Lu Liu understood. He had seen it in the village.
He had been looked down on during poverty, envied once he prospered. There was no reasoning with such things.
They had just met; there was no need to overshare.
This didn’t affect Lu Liu’s mood. Having grown up in the village, he had endured worse. A bit of venting was nothing; it only made him cherish his present life more.
They all ate lunch at Lu Liu’s. When he offered wages for work, the others refused, claiming they hadn’t done much. So Lu Liu treated them to a meal instead.
With a big group, Chen Guizhi organized shifts: the two fathers in one group, Chen Guizhi and Zhao Peilan in another, and Lu Liu in a group by himself.
They said Lu Liu was young and capable, no need to compare with older bones like theirs.
Lu Liu replied helplessly: “You’re not old bones! Forty years old isn’t old!”
It was his turn today. Business started smoothly. His earlier plan to stretch meat further was unnecessary; he generously cut meat and cracked eggs.
He bought tofu in the morning, soaked it in the well. It hadn’t soured, so he brought it to the kitchen. He made one portion of Mapo tofu for lunch, sliced and pan-fried another, then returned it to the well to soak until evening, when Li Feng and Shun’ge came home for braised tofu.
He also prepared stir-fried green beans with meat, simmering the beans longer so they’d be tender, a plate of stir-fried lotus root slices, a pot of spinach and egg soup, and a plate of smashed cucumbers.
One wet nurse stayed for lunch. Six people ate four dishes and one soup, ample portions to satisfy everyone.
Lu Liu checked watermelon prices in town. Once the sun lowered, he bought a large watermelon and soaked it in the well.
Their home well contained tofu and fresh meat, which they also soaked at his brother’s house. By evening, when his brothers returned, they could slice the watermelon and eat it.
Chen Guizhi laughed, saying he was no longer stingy; Lu Liu was cheerful.
In the city, earning money made him ecstatic. This was just a stall; without renting a shop, earning 150 wen a day meant four taels and five qian a month. Not only was food covered, but there was room to save a bit. How could he not be happy?
He could earn his own money and spend freely.
With family helping, he wasn’t overly tired. A morning outing meant the day could be spent at home, with children, with family, and still have time for other tasks—reading, learning characters, weaving hats and shoes, sewing clothes, mending soles. Life was fulfilling.
Lunchtime was lively at home.
Meanwhile, the stall at the dock was also bustling.
After Li Feng delivered the heart-protecting mirrors to Xiao Hong, there had been no further developments for several days. Today, Hong Lao Wu came by.
Hong Lao Wu was a figure of authority. Meeting Li Feng again, he didn’t mention the earlier neglect after the New Year, only smiled, exchanged pleasantries, and repeatedly called him “Brother Li.”
The dock stall had been organized by Lu Yang. On the stall’s cart, custom grass mats were laid, embroidered with “Rely on the Mountain to Eat the Mountain.” Passersby reading it would remember the name; the reputation was loud and clear.
The dustpan carried a circular sign, visible during loading and unloading. Since Li Feng asked Xiao Hong not to hang a high banner, they placed a circle of small flags on the cart. Each palm-sized flag had embroidered names of various mushroom dishes. Viewed in a row, one might think they ran a restaurant business.
Two assistants stayed in the shop. They delivered goods but did not return home with him. When Li Feng came home in the evening, they remained in the shop to watch the goods and call out sales.
They wore vests Lu Yang had custom-made—red, sleeveless, with a large circle on the back matching the shop’s sign on the dustpan, and “Rely on the Mountain to Eat the Mountain” on the front.
The attire was eye-catching, and a walk around the market drew many glances from passing merchants.
The shop’s exterior wall was decorated with red paper displaying the shop name, “Rely on the Mountain to Eat the Mountain,” and “Eat Your Fill,” along with “Li Zhai West Mountain” and “West Mountain Treasure Mountain.”
Hong Lao Wu inspected the stall, met the assistants, paused at the entrance to look at the signs, then Li Feng guided him inside. The shop’s layout had been remodeled.
Grass mats covered the walls, hiding cracks. A thin hemp cord hung signs above, with various mushroom dishes listed. Below, square bamboo baskets displayed goods openly.
