The next morning, Shu Rui prepared breakfast with Lu Ling and then set about cooking the food for delivery to the dock.
Today he planned three dishes: eggplant braised with long beans, cucumber with cauliflower, and a dish with smoked pork. His plan was two vegetarian dishes and one meat dish. Since he only bought vegetables yesterday and no fresh meat, he reused the smoked pork recipe from yesterday.
He also made a pot of kelp soup and a cold radish and lettuce salad as a side dish.
Shu Rui was adept at these simple home-style dishes. The vegetables had been washed the day before and were ready to be cooked.
The rice, however, needed extra attention. Dock laborers worked hard and had high appetites. Noodles from street stalls didn’t satisfy them—the broth temporarily filled the stomach, but hunger returned quickly, similar to eating porridge in the morning.
Therefore, many laborers preferred a proper rice-and-vegetable meal.
Shu Rui estimated, based on Lu Ling’s appetite, that a laborer would need an entire bowl of rice with vegetables to feel full. Most dock workers were men, with appetites slightly smaller than Lu Ling’s, but still not light eaters. Just vegetables wouldn’t suffice—they needed rice to fill their stomachs.
Rice wasn’t cheap; a stone (unit of measure) cost over one tael and two or three coins.
Shu Rui calculated that if he sold a meal for too high a price, most dock workers wouldn’t buy it. He needed to keep the price around twelve or thirteen coins to make it affordable.
Keeping the price low meant reducing costs.
Since he was new in the city and lacked connections to buy ingredients cheaply, he avoided buying spoiled rice. Instead, he mixed cheaper beans—soybeans, broad beans, and cowpeas—into the rice.
This effectively doubled the rice portion while keeping the price low, making it perfect for simple meals sold to laborers. Many poor families ate like this; few had plain rice at every meal. This approach didn’t seem stingy, and it gave a good impression before the food was even sold.
Lu Ling helped light the fire and split a pile of wood, as they needed to leave early to meet the people who hired him at the dock, arriving before the ship.
When it was nearly time, Shu Rui prepared to leave.
“I’ll drive back at mealtime to pick you up,” Lu Ling said.
The inn only had one cart and donkey. Lu Ling would take it for work, so Shu Rui couldn’t use it for delivery. Walking was possible, but carrying large pots of food would be tiring.
Shu Rui, however, reminded him, “Unloading isn’t quick work. If you went back and forth, that’s dozens, maybe hundreds of coins’ worth of cargo moved.”
“I rented the cart myself. Using it for just one day costs only thirty to fifty coins, and today we only need it for an hour or two. The price is even lower,” Lu Ling replied, knowing Shu Rui calculated everything carefully and would scold him if he tried to return the cart unnecessarily.
“Fine. I’ll find a good spot at the dock to wait for you,” Lu Ling said.
After he left, Shu Rui cleaned thirty large ceramic bowls bought yesterday, washed and dried them, and went to a carriage shop at the street’s end to arrange the donkey cart.
Inside, he found a heavy money pouch on the small bench used for cups. Opening it, he saw several bundles of coins—three hundred fifty in total—Lu Ling’s earnings from the day before.
Shu Rui carefully put the money away, thinking he would soon buy two bolts of cloth at Mrs. Yang’s shop to make Lu Ling new clothes. Summer was hot, and they changed clothing frequently; two sets of pants weren’t enough.
He spent thirty coins at the carriage shop renting a donkey cart.
Returning, he washed his hands and opened the rice steamer. A white mist rose, carrying the fragrant aroma of rice and beans. He took a portion, noting the beans were soft enough to mash with a light touch.
One pot of bean-and-rice was ready. He served it warm, brought down the kelp soup, and steamed a new batch of bean-and-rice on the stove.
With the large iron pot cleared, Shu Rui began frying the dishes.
Meanwhile, Zhang Shenpo, living a few alleys over, had just stepped out, locking her door, when the smell of hot food wafted to her nose. She licked her lips and looked around, curious where such a tempting aroma came from.
Following the scent, she realized it came from the old, long-abandoned inn.
“Witchcraft!” she muttered. “Who dares cook in broad daylight to lure people here?”
A few days ago, she had been selling incense and fortune-telling services at the temple and hadn’t yet known someone had moved into the inn.
Boldly, she approached. The closer she got, the more fragrant it became. At the slightly open back door, she nervously held a talisman in her sleeve and peeked inside.
The overgrown courtyard was gone, now clean and tidy.
In the kitchen, a young man was working efficiently with a spatula. His complexion was dark and yellowish, not particularly handsome. Zhang Shenpo relaxed slightly—but hadn’t yet put away her talisman.
Suddenly, a voice called from behind: “Zhang Niangzi, what are you looking at here?”
Startled, she turned and saw Yang Chunhua, exclaiming, “You scared me to death!”
Seeing the talisman in her sleeve, Yang Chunhua asked, “What’s that for?”
Zhang Shenpo hurriedly tucked it away. “The smell of your food drew me. This old inn had been empty for years. I thought something supernatural might be at work, so I came to see.”
Yang Chunhua laughed and explained that Shu Rui had recently moved in.
“Oh, so the owner has come!”
Zhang Shenpo was pleased. “Good! Now the place won’t stay empty. Empty houses tend to attract dirt and pests.”
Yang Chunhua wasn’t interested in such superstitions and lived next door, so any strange happenings didn’t bother her.
She quickly changed the subject. “It’s nothing like that. I need to head back to the shop to cook for Da Lang. Soon the children will be coming home from school.”
Only then did Zhang Shenpo remember her own pressing errand. “Ah! I nearly forgot—I must hurry to the eatery and arrange two small dishes.”
“Did a guest come?”
“My dear little sister said she wanted to visit me. She didn’t tell me in advance and arrived quite suddenly. I just came home from the temple yesterday and hadn’t bought any meat or vegetables for the kitchen. She won’t stay long, so I can’t serve her a proper hot meal tonight. I must hurry to have the dishes ready at the eatery. If I let her come and there’s nothing hot to eat, it would upset her.”
Yang Chunhua said, “Why don’t you just buy a couple of dishes from Shao Ge’er’s place? That way you don’t have to go far. He cooks meals to sell at the dock anyway.”
Yesterday afternoon, when she had free time, she had gone to help Shu Rui clean vegetables.
“Not to brag, but this young man can really cook well,” Zhang Shenpo said. She wasn’t wealthy, but she cared for her sister; she wouldn’t serve anything substandard at home.
She thought of the rough men at the dock—what they ate for filling meals surely wasn’t gourmet. These dishes smelled fragrant, but a pleasant aroma didn’t guarantee good taste.
“Come with me and take a look.”
Though Zhang Shenpo had no real intention to buy, she accepted Yang Chunhua’s invitation, curious to see the inn’s new owner and the bustling activity in the alley.
Yang Chunhua, familiar with the place, opened the door. “I’ll show you inside.”
They entered the courtyard. Shu Rui had just put chicken into the pot. Braising the eggplant and beans took some time; after frying, the vegetables needed to simmer to absorb the flavor.
Seeing them arrive, he was busy with his cooking and couldn’t come greet them. “You’ve come at the right time—the dishes just finished cooking. I’ll put some aside for A Xing after school.”
“No need to be so polite. We’ve brought a guest to try your food,” Yang Chunhua said, leading Zhang Shenpo forward. “This is our neighbor from the alley, Zhang Niangzi.”
Shu Rui said politely, “I’m busy with cooking. Please, have a seat, Zhang Niangzi.”
Zhang Shenpo looked around the courtyard. Half the inn was still under renovation, but the other half was neat and tidy, surprisingly well-kept after just a few days.
“Such fragrant food—you’ve got the whole street smelling good,” she said.
“Just some simple, coarse dishes,” Shu Rui replied.
Zhang Shenpo approached the stove and saw a basin about the size of a face filled with cooked vegetables.
Eggplant and beans were stewed together—not neatly plated like restaurant dishes—but cooked to perfection: neither overcooked nor dry, they absorbed the sauce fully, glistening with oil, perfect to eat with rice.
Shu Rui, finding a moment, scooped some eggplant and stewed beans into a bowl for Zhang Shenpo and Yang Chunhua to taste.
Yang Chunhua, familiar with Shu Rui’s cooking, took up her chopsticks first. Zhang Shenpo, seeing her start, followed.
A bite of beans: crisp yet tender, fresh; the eggplant: soft, rich, full of flavor—a humble, home-style dish, yet deeply satisfying.
Zhang Shenpo was a foodie. Though her own skills were average, she often visited eateries across the thriving Chaoshi Prefecture. She had tried many shops, but truly delicious dishes were rare.
Whether it was because she was hungry as lunchtime approached or because Shu Rui really could cook, she found these dishes exceptionally good—worthy of ranking in her memory.
It was clear this young man had genuine skill. Cooking in a large pot was difficult, flavors hard to control, yet he managed to make them perfectly palatable—a true display of talent.
She had originally only intended to look for novelty and hadn’t meant to buy, but now she decided to purchase some to serve her sister.
“Brother, how much are you selling these for?”
Shu Rui explained, “For the dock: one meat and two vegetables with bean-and-rice costs fifteen coins; one meat and one vegetable, thirteen coins; two vegetables, ten coins. The difference depends on portion size: bowls or a full basin of rice.”
He added, “You’re neighbors and Zhang Niangzi was introduced by my good sister, Yang Niangzi. If you like these simple dishes, I’ll give you a discount—no extra charge.”
Yang Chunhua felt pleased, and Zhang Shenpo thought the price reasonable.
She also calculated carefully: “It’s just my sister and me eating. Even if we stretch our chopsticks, our stomachs won’t hold much. Please give us the same portion as what you sell outside.”
Shu Rui agreed.
Zhang Shenpo asked which dishes would be ready. She was cautious and wanted to see all dishes cooked before deciding.
With that, she and Yang Chunhua went out to buy half a roasted chicken from a familiar shop and returned.
Once the dishes were ready, Zhang Shenpo tasted each and was satisfied, choosing one plate of each of the three dishes.
Shu Rui collected fifteen coins from Zhang Shenpo and packed three plates, along with two bowls of kelp soup and a small side of salad.
He gave them a fair deal without incurring a loss: the two received a reasonable portion of bean-and-rice, while the cooked dishes were a small plate—half the size sold at ordinary eateries.
Zhang Shenpo felt it was a bargain: a small sum, plus soup and vegetables included. She happily carried the foodbox away, promising she’d buy from Shu Rui again when entertaining guests.
After sending off this doorstep customer, Shu Rui quickly packed the remaining food onto the cart and slowly headed to the dock.
By the time he arrived, it was noon.
The dock was crowded with people and carts. Shu Rui’s cart was blocked at the entrance, unable to move forward or back. He craned his neck to look ahead. The midday sun beat down mercilessly, glaring and hot.
He was skilled at driving on sparsely trafficked official roads, but busy areas like this were tricky. People assumed he was there to haul cargo for hire, nudging his cart aside several times.
Shu Rui didn’t dare act rashly and took extra care. Just as he thought how to maneuver in, a shadow fell beside him.
He felt a presence blocking half the sun. Turning, he saw Lu Ling, forehead glistening with sweat.
Lu Ling grabbed the reins and skillfully steered the cart out from the side, twisting left and right. The donkey nearly bumped into him several times, but Lu Ling managed to control it.
Finally, they reached a spot under an elm tree with fewer people. Lu Ling jumped down and tied the donkey to the tree.
Shu Rui slid off the cart, sweat already soaking his back from the short distance and careful maneuvering. He feared the donkey might hit someone again.
It wasn’t surprising the foreman had chosen Lu Ling—efficient and capable—for another day of hauling. Without driving skills, those few dozen coins would have been hard to earn.
Shu Rui looked at Lu Ling, whose sharp eyes had sought him out for help. “Is the cargo unloaded?”
Lu Ling shook his head, lifted the pot lid, and peeked at what Shu Rui had prepared. “Looks like two more trips will be needed.”
“Then hurry and get to work. I can manage here.”
Lu Ling glanced at Shu Rui. The midday heat had thinned his clothes; he looked lean and small. In a crowd, he could easily be pushed aside, which made Shu Rui uneasy.
Assuming he was hungry and reluctant to leave, Shu Rui took a water gourd from his waist, poured some strong jasmine tea freshly brewed at the inn, and gave him a piece of green bean cake wrapped in paper.
“Go on, finish your work. You can eat here afterward; I’ll have a meal ready in the foodbox for you.”
Lu Ling paused, then said, “Alright. Stay here selling the food; don’t push into crowded areas.”
Shu Rui agreed. Lu Ling blended into the crowd and soon vanished from sight.
The river breeze brought a cool, briny air. Shu Rui lifted the lids, letting the aroma of the dishes overpower the scent of the water. Hungry eyes immediately noticed the food before he even called out.
Seizing the moment, he cleared his throat and called: “Freshly cooked hot basin meals! Get them while they’re hot! Ten coins a bowl!”