The Overachieving Little Husband of the Top Scholar’s Household - Chapter 26: Red Fermented Bean Curd

hi guyssss - I'm Pudding this is my first novel i'm tling please give love to this~ Chu chu chu😗😗😗

-making of tofu = soy milk – curdle it – soy curd – putting soy curd in mold- press and drain – curd solidify= tofu- thats why the term curd is used in the text

Chapter 26: Red Fermented Bean Curd

Qiu Huanian lifted his brows in slight surprise. Given Jiujiu’s introverted nature, this was the first time she had directly made a request of him. “Tell me, Jiujiu?”

“Cunlan said the neighboring town will host a Peach Blossom Banquet in a few days. Her mother will take her, and I want to go too.”

Worried he might not feel at ease, Jiujiu added, “It’s only an hour and a half by mule cart, and we can return the same day.”

Qiu Huanian understood—Jiujiu wanted an outing. Keeping a child this age shut in at home truly wasn’t good. He never believed in the strict inner-outer segregation of the household; whether boy or girl, one must go out and see the world to develop well in all respects.

“I’ll ask about the details tomorrow. If it’s convenient, I’ll ask Cunlan’s mother to take you along.”

The next day, Qiu Huanian spoke with the clan elder’s second daughter-in-law about the Peach Blossom Banquet.

The clan elder’s second daughter-in-law, Ye Taohong, had married in from the neighboring town. She had a pair of elegant phoenix eyes and looked about six or seven parts like her daughter, Cunlan.

Hearing his question, Ye Taohong realized Cunlan must have told Jiujiu and explained with a smile, “A few years ago, our town produced a gentleman surnamed Song who passed the county-level exam as a Juren. After retiring home, he planted a large peach orchard in the countryside. His wife is from Jiangnan, fond of elegance and lively gatherings, and every year when the peach blossoms are in full bloom, she invites local ladies and ge’er to the orchard for a banquet.”

“The Juren’s lady doesn’t put on airs; the banquet has no strict rules—everyone eats fruit, chats, and plays touhu and madioupai, those games brought from the south. If someone doesn’t know how, others will teach them, and if one wins often enough, there are little prizes.”

“Though I’ve been married out for years, my sisters-in-law at my natal home always remember me and invite me every year. If Brother Hua wants Jiujiu to go, I’ll take her along, say she’s a girl from my husband’s household—she can keep Cunlan company.”

Qiu Huanian felt attending would broaden Jiujiu’s horizons and agreed with Ye Taohong that she would bring Jiujiu along five days later.

He returned home and told Jiujiu the good news. Her little face flushed bright with excitement as she paced back and forth, already unable to help thinking which flowers to embroider on the clothes she would wear that day.

With Wei Liuhua’s help, new clothes for the family of four had already been made.

Cotton was plentiful, so Jiujiu also made Qiu Huanian a long robe—a style Wei Liuhua had learned while tailoring for a young ge’er of a wealthy city household—with a cinched waist, lapels, and bow sleeves. When Qiu Huanian tried it on, he appeared both handsome and capable.

Since work had been heavy lately and he feared soiling or damaging the clothes, he had kept them unworn, intending to put them on for the trip to the prefectural city.

Naturally, Jiujiu would wear new clothes to the Peach Blossom Banquet. With time left, she wanted to add embroidery to apply her newly learned skills.

In the end, after a long discussion, Jiujiu and Cunlan decided to embroider a sprig of peach blossoms at the collar—Jiujiu would handle the embroidery, while Cunlan would pick pretty wildflowers on the day to braid into a hair ornament.

The two children threw themselves into preparations—settling on their outfits and pestering Qiu Huanian about how to play madioupai. In his previous life he had actually chosen that topic for a video, so he planed forty long, thin wooden tiles from scrap wood and inked the “tens,” “myriads,” “strings,” and “cash” suits, making a simple set of madioupai.

Madioupai is the forerunner of mahjong; each round involves four players. It requires counting and selecting among tiles, making it a delightful, brain-teasing game.

After teaching the rules, he had Jiujiu, Cunlan, Chunsheng, and Yunkang play together in their spare time.

Though young, Chunsheng and Yunkang were clever and grasped the rules quickly. Cunlan was slower to get started and needed a few rounds to understand. The biggest surprise was Jiujiu. The quiet little girl swept the table once she sat down, never missing a count, winning eight out of ten rounds.

Ye Taohong learned from her daughter as well and had her husband, Baoyi, copy a set. When idle, she called her sisters-in-law and familiar neighbors for a game.

“Brother Hua really is capable. I’d only ever heard of madioupai from the Juren’s lady, but never learned it. Brother Hua not only knows it—he can make the tiles!”

…

Seeing the children having so much fun, Qiu Huanian began making red fermented bean curd. He had tasted the one in Wei Dexing’s thank-you gift; the flavor was good but not hard to surpass, and he was confident he could make something tastier.

On a trip to town to sell sugar, he ordered fifty catties of tofu from the Meng family tofu shop in one go, bought three large earthen jars, a small jar of huangjiu, and more than a dozen complex seasonings, spending almost all of the tael of silver he had and piling the mule cart high.

Meng Yuanling was baffled. “Brother Hua, are you holding a feast again?”

Even for a feast, this was too much!

Qiu Huanian smiled, keeping it mysterious. “Not a feast—I plan to make another snack to sell.”

Meng Yuanling’s eyes lit up. “Then you’ll earn even more, and my tofu will sell more too.”

He never doubted that whatever Qiu Huanian made would profit; in his heart, Brother Hua had long become synonymous with a divine page at the Wealth God’s seat.

“Good—then from now on, we’ll use only your tofu!” Qiu Huanian said, eyes smiling.

Meng Yuanling lowered his head in embarrassment, the dimples in his cheeks flickering. “Brother Hua, when you’re done, please let me taste it.”

“Don’t worry—you won’t be left out. I’ll send half a catty for your home to sample.”

…

Back home, Qiu Huanian thoroughly washed several large round winnowing trays over a meter in diameter, scalded them with boiling water, and set them under the midday sun to dry, completing sterilization.

The first step in making red fermented bean curd is to ferment stinky tofu. This process cannot admit the slightest stray bacteria, or what results won’t be edible “stinky tofu,” but truly rotten tofu.

He moved the tray rack to the shaded base of a wall that never got direct sunlight, cut the fifty catties of steamed tofu into mahjong-sized cubes, and spread them on the trays to ferment naturally in a warm, ventilated environment.

After a little more than three days, a dense, soft layer of white down grew on the tofu—the stinky tofu was properly fermented. If the down had turned black or green, it would indicate spoilage and it could not be eaten.

He sterilized the three large jars at high temperature; toasted salt, Sichuan pepper, chilies, and red yeast rice before pounding them into powders; then mixed them into a curing blend. Using long chopsticks, he dipped each stinky tofu cube in huangjiu, then coated it thickly with the curing spices and placed it into the jars.

Finally, he simmered star anise, cassia, and bay leaves with scallion and ginger to make an aromatic broth, cooled and strained it into the jars, poured in the remaining huangjiu, and sealed the mouths of the jars.

After about a week of fermentation, the red fermented bean curd would be ready.

To avoid revealing the recipe, he again scrambled the proportions when purchasing ingredients and even bought a few items he did not need, preventing prying minds from reconstructing the formula from a shopping list.

Properly stored in jars, red fermented bean curd would keep for several months. He made two jars filled to the brim to sell to Madam Huang in town; the leftover loose pieces from the first two jars were put into a third, to be gifted and eaten at home once ready.

He told people the recipe came from his birth mother and that he had refined it. After the recent grave visitation, people in Du Family Village knew Mei Xue’er’s background was unusual; no one doubted him.

On the day of the Peach Blossom Banquet, just at daybreak, Ye Taohong arrived with Cunlan to pick up Jiujiu.

Both little girls wore clean clothes with peach blossoms embroidered at the collar; their glossy black hair was adorned with pretty wildflower hairpins—utterly adorable.

Qiu Huanian packed a small pouch of sorghum taffy for Jiujiu and gave her a few copper coins for emergencies. After repeated instructions, he watched as she left on the clan elder’s mule cart.

By nearly sunset, there was still no sign of Jiujiu. Worried, he went several times to the clan elder’s home; they said the elder’s second son, Baoyi, had already gone to fetch her but hadn’t returned.

After asking three times, Du Yunse decided, “Let’s hitch the cart and go look. There’s only one main road—you may meet them on the way.”

The clan elder’s family was anxious too and readily agreed.

They pulled out the handcart and mule, left the village in the evening glow, and after about a quarter of an hour saw Baoyi’s mule cart.

“Uncle Baoyi, where’s our Jiujiu?” Qiu Huanian asked anxiously, seeing no one in the cart.

Recognizing their worry, Baoyi didn’t keep them guessing. “Jiujiu has been kept at Juren Song’s residence. Taohong stayed with her, and Cunlan too. I knew you’d worry, so I came back quickly to report.”

Qiu Huanian relaxed slightly, though his heart was still tight. “Uncle Baoyi, what exactly happened at the banquet? Why was our Jiujiu the one kept behind?”

They pulled both carts to the roadside, and Baoyi explained.

“I’m not fully clear. The Juren’s lady and a young lady from her natal family were present—the atmosphere felt off, so I didn’t pry. You’ll have to ask Jiujiu when you see her.”

“Taohong told me that at the banquet, a young lady visiting from the Juren’s wife’s natal home accidentally slipped and fell into the stream. Jiujiu happened to be nearby and went down to rescue her.”

“Jiujiu was soaked through, and the Juren’s lady feared she might catch a chill, so she kept her for the night. Because Jiujiu is young and shy, Taohong and Cunlan stayed too.”

“Don’t worry, Brother Hua, Yunse,” Baoyi reassured. “The Juren’s lady seemed kind and genuinely fond of Jiujiu—she won’t mistreat her.”

“It’s late today. Tomorrow morning, you can go to the Song residence and bring Jiujiu home.”

Even after hearing this, Qiu Huanian did not fully relax.

There was certainly more to it. Why had the young lady fallen into the water without cause, and what role had Jiujiu played? Everything remained a mystery—one could not be careless.

At first light the next day, Du Yunse and Qiu Huanian drove the mule cart to the Song residence in the neighboring town to fetch Jiujiu. Baoyi was occupied and asked them to bring back Ye Taohong and Cunlan as well.

Juren Song loved his hometown’s peach blossoms. The year he passed the autumn exam as a Juren, at the county magistrate’s invitation, he personally named the town “Peach Blossom Town.” Its people were proud of it; few remembered the old name.

He had not passed the metropolitan exam, but in a favorable time, as a Juren, he was appointed magistrate of a small northwestern county. A few years ago, feeling his age, he resigned and returned with his wife to Peach Blossom Town to enjoy his later years.

The Song residence, on two mu of land at the northern edge of town, was a three-courtyard compound with a small garden. With whitewashed walls, gray tiles, and flower lattice windows framing views, it had a clear Jiangnan flavor, evidently suiting the southern-born lady’s tastes.

In Peach Blossom Town, one need only turn one’s head to see the Song residence standing out from the crowd. After the hour-and-a-half mule-cart ride, they arrived and saw the distinctive compound from afar.

He admired it for a moment, thinking when he might be able to build such a home himself—adding a concrete goal in his mind.

Without air conditioning, Wi-Fi, or cars in ancient times—fine. At least live in a big house, eat white rice and wheat with meat and eggs at every meal, and afford beautiful clothes!

At the Song residence, after stating their purpose, the servants politely led them inside. Du Yunse remained in the outer hall to chat with Juren Song, while Qiu Huanian was led to the back hall to see Jiujiu.

Both of Juren Song’s children had established households elsewhere and had not returned with their parents. The residence had few masters and few servants; everything was arranged just so, with no excess—one glimpse of the lady’s skillful housekeeping.

In the back hall, Qiu Huanian met the lady. She was in her fifties, but well cared for, her hair still black and her face fair with little sign of age. Smaller-framed than northern women, she wore a pine-flower-colored silken robe and a ruby-inlaid forehead band.

Jiujiu sat below her, answering questions; the lady’s lips held a constant, kindly smile.

—

Across from Jiujiu sat a girl of fifteen or sixteen, fine-boned and smaller in build than her age suggested, her delicate, gentle face lowered in sorrow.

Judging by the girl’s attire, Qiu Huanian guessed she was the cousin from Madam Song’s natal family, and he was a little surprised.

Last night, when he heard from Baoyi that Jiujiu had saved the Song family’s cousin who fell into the water, he had assumed the cousin was about Jiujiu’s age. He hadn’t expected her to be already fifteen or sixteen.

At that age, to “accidentally” fall into the water was even less likely to be simple.

Worried about embarrassing her brothers, Jiujiu had carefully regulated her manners in the Song residence, turning her words over in her mouth three times before speaking. When she saw Qiu Huanian arrive, her eyes lit up at once, the childlike look returning to her face.

Qiu Huanian felt a softening in his chest, smiled at Jiujiu, and paid his respects to Madam Song.

“I’ve always heard Jiujiu say how capable her Brother Hua is. Today I finally see for myself. Chunshui, find a seat for Brother Hua.”

The chief maid by Madam Song’s side, Chunshui, led Qiu Huanian to sit. He and Madam Song chatted about household matters—how to farm, how to make sugar, how to cook and eat—simple topics of rural living.

After a while, Madam Song sighed. “Cotton loves heat and water but fears damp and pests—it’s very hard to grow. When my husband was magistrate in the northwest, he once purchased good seed and promoted cultivation, but the yields were poor. If you can devise a method to plant cotton in Zhang County, it would truly benefit the country and the people; you might even receive imperial recognition.”

Having long been an official’s wife, Madam Song naturally had different vision and insight, pointing out a path Qiu Huanian had not previously considered. Although his recording of cotton cultivation methods was meant to benefit the common folk, receiving honors in the process would not be a bad thing.

In ancient times, a lofty reputation was extremely important; with it, many matters became easier.

Madam Song then smiled and pointed to the sorghum taffy on the table. “This taffy is coarse, but it has a rustic charm. I like it very much. For the Peach Blossom Banquet, I even had the servants buy a batch for the fruit-and-sweets platters. I hadn’t expected it was made by you as well.”

That the sorghum taffy had reached Peach Blossom Town was naturally Meng Wudong’s doing. Every few days he found a new outlet; sales had steadily increased, and the daily volume now exceeded what Qiu Huanian sold in town.

The last time, Meng Wudong had taken eight hundred bars in one go, and the next pickup wasn’t due yet. Qiu Huanian hadn’t known his taffy had already entered the Song residence and appeared at the Peach Blossom Banquet.

He smiled and said, “Many thanks, Madam, for supporting our business.”

She appreciated his manner—smiling yet neither servile nor overbearing—and said, “Several families at the banquet asked me the name of this taffy and where to buy it. I had the servants tell them. You’ll likely have to work hard making more from now on.”

Although Madam Song’s original intent in holding the Peach Blossom Banquet was simply to entertain kin and compatriots, Juren Song’s status spoke for itself. Many prominent families in Zhang County would find ways to have their women attend and befriend her.

After this banquet, the fame of Qiu Huanian’s sorghum taffy would no longer be confined to the area around Qingfu Town but would spread throughout Zhang County. With good channels, sales should surge.

After chatting for a while, Madam Song turned the topic to Jiujiu. “Yesterday, Qinghe accidentally slipped into the water. Fortunately, Jiujiu was there and pulled her out. I’m fond of this child and wanted to give her some clothing and jewelry, but she refused them all, saying her elder brothers taught her not to accept rewards without merit. Even the clean clothes we changed her into after she fell in the water were taken off this morning, folded neatly, and set aside. I had no choice but to ask you, as her ‘sister-in-law,’ to persuade her.”

Qiu Huanian raised his brows slightly, catching Madam Song’s meaning—no matter what, the Song family’s official line for yesterday would only be “an accidental slip.”

He had no intention of probing the truth within. The gap in status between their families was too great; the farther one stayed from such hidden matters, the better.

Jiujiu had heeded Du Yunse’s teachings and did not rashly accept the gifts. But that would only unsettle Madam Song; better to clarify matters, accept the thanks, and be done with it.

Smiling, Qiu Huanian ruffled Jiujiu’s hair and said to Madam Song, “I thank Madam on Jiujiu’s behalf. Our Yunse has always taught the children to be rigorous and observant of propriety. Jiujiu is young and clung to her elder brother’s words; it’s inevitable she was a bit nervous. I ask Madam not to hold it against her.”

“How could I blame her?” Madam Song smiled. “I like clever, well-mannered children like her. I’d love to have her come often to the residence to play madioupai with me.”

“You might not know—Jiujiu took first at the banquet yesterday!”

Seeing him relent, Madam Song had Chunshui fetch the prepared gifts: two bolts of brightly colored figured satin suitable for the young—one lilac, one Consort Yang rose—along with a set of gilded-pearl hair ornaments for a little girl, a jade bangle of good luster, and a pouch of silver wrapped in red cloth—likely five taels by the look of it.

Seeing such generous gifts, Qiu Huanian understood why Jiujiu had been afraid to accept. These were worth no less than fifteen taels—enough to build a brick courtyard house in Du Family Village.

“I haven’t time to rush up finished garments, so I’ll simply send two bolts of cloth. Let Jiujiu make whatever styles she likes.”

When Qiu Huanian looked ready to decline, Madam Song added, “This is gratitude for saving a life. As a senior, it is proper for me to give generously. Moreover, since there’s something unusual about the matter, it should also serve to steady Jiujiu’s nerves.”

Her implication was clear: she knew there was more to the fall than met the eye, and such a thing could not be hidden from Jiujiu’s family. Thus the generous gift also included hush money.

The same life-saving grace, the same desire for discretion—Madam Song’s handling was far superior to Wei Dexing’s; even when one understood the subtext, it aroused no displeasure.

“In that case, I’ll accept on Jiujiu’s behalf and put them away at home, to be brought out when she needs them.” Qiu Huanian indicated that the cloth and jewelry would be kept for Jiujiu, not sold immediately for cash.

Madam Song’s smile deepened. After chatting a while longer, Qiu Huanian declined to stay for a meal on the grounds of farmwork and took his leave. Madam Song had Chunshui bundle the gifts onto the mule cart and sent someone to the rear guest rooms to bring out Ye Taohong and Cunlan to depart together.

Though she had not lived true rural life, human affairs are universal. Meeting Qiu Huanian alone ensured the specifics of the gifts would remain unknown to others, avoiding strife for Jiujiu back in the village.

Throughout, the young lady from Madam Song’s natal family, Chi Qinghe, kept her head bowed in silence. Her expression was desolate, eyes brimming with tears, as if a thousand-jin burden pressed on her heart.

After the outsiders had all left, Madam Song sighed and said to her young niece, “The things have been sent on your behalf. You can be at ease.”

There was another reason the gift was so generous: it combined items prepared by both Madam Song and Chi Qinghe. The figured satin and silver were from Madam Song; the hair ornaments and bangle had been selected from Chi Qinghe’s own jewelry—otherwise Madam Song had no girlish pieces to give.

Chi Qinghe nodded silently, the torment in her heart easing slightly.

Yesterday, she had resolved to die, but she did not want to implicate others. As she leapt into the river and was about to submerge her head, she suddenly saw a strange little girl step into the water and swim toward her. Startled, Chi Qinghe reflexively stood, and together the two dragged each other back to shore.

Had she not been truly determined to die, water only chest-deep would not drown a person.

Chi Qinghe did not know whether her failed suicide attempt was good or bad, but the girl named Jiujiu had indeed risked herself to save her, and that must be repaid and compensated. Jiujiu’s acceptance of her thanks felt like pulling out a thorn from a life she regarded as utterly worthless.

Seeing Chi Qinghe’s expression, Madam Song knew she remained lost and counseled earnestly, “If you wish to die, you can find a hundred faults in yourself. By southern clan law, if the ancestral hall were opened and judgment passed before the forebears, the end would likely be a white silk noose or a cup of poison.”

Chi Qinghe kept her head lowered, her thin shoulders trembling as tears slid down her gaunt cheeks.

“But if you wish to live, you need only one reason.”

Chi Qinghe lifted her head hesitantly. Looking into her tearful eyes, Madam Song said, “Your parents, by every means and across thousands of li, sent you from the south to the northeast to seek me—hoping you would live well.”

“Will you truly betray their devoted love for their daughter?”

Chi Qinghe let out a low sob. Madam Song sighed. “I am at the age of knowing fate. Having seen much, I know that what once seemed an insurmountable barrier is but a passing cloud.”

“When you are thirty, fifty, seventy, and look back at what happened in your teens—what will it amount to?”

Madam Song rose. “Think on it. I’m tired and will lie down for a while.”

“As for the maid you brought from the south, she is not suitable. I’ve taken it upon myself to free her deed and send her from the Song residence. Later, I’ll have Chunshui take you to choose a new one who suits your hand.”

Chi Qinghe opened her mouth, hesitated, and said nothing in the end.

In a corner of the Song residence’s back garden, Chunshui had the woodshed opened and brought out Zao’er—who had been locked up overnight—leading her to the back gate.

Zao’er was the chief maid Chi Qinghe had brought from the south. To avoid attention, Chi Qinghe had brought only one maid and an old nurse. Zao’er was sixteen this year, with a pointed chin, large eyes, and a lively little mole at the corner of her mouth—like a captivating little fox.

Not long after Chi Qinghe fell into the water yesterday, Chunshui had Zao’er locked away. Frightened all night, Zao’er began pleading the moment she saw Chunshui. “I’m innocent, Sister Chunshui! I truly don’t know why the young lady suddenly fell. Please tell the Madam—please intercede for me!”

Chunshui wasted no words and slapped a paper onto Zao’er’s pretty face.

As the chief maid, Zao’er had learned to read alongside her mistress. She stared at the paper for a long time, scarcely believing it. “Th-this is…”

“The Madam knows the Song household is too small to hold such a ‘great Buddha.’ Your deed is freed. Go wherever you wish—just don’t bring harm here again!”

Chunshui shoved a bundle into her hands. “Inside are your saved wages and your clothes. I packed them myself—nothing is missing. Don’t dally here and draw attention. Go.”

Unexpected joy welled up in Zao’er. Her lips moved as if to explain herself. “At least let me bid the young lady farewell, or I can’t explain when I return home.”

At this, Chunshui sneered. “Do you think I can’t see through you? Your parents are all in the south. You’re unwilling to remain in the northeast with the young lady for life, so you grew a wicked heart, urging her to throw herself into the river so you could carry her coffin south and go home. You thought yourself subtle, but every deed has been in the Madam’s eye!”

Zao’er’s face blanched. If investigated, her actions could be punishable by death.

Chunshui looked at her with disdain. “Now you know fear. Where was it when you schemed to harm? We servants may make our plans, but not at the cost of conscience. The young lady has not treated you poorly, and your parents have face in the Chi family—yet you repay kindness with enmity. If not for that Du family girl nearby yesterday, you might indeed have succeeded in killing the young lady!”

“The Madam is merciful, giving you a way out. If you twist the truth and stir up trouble again, I’ll have you dragged to the magistrate at once!”

Zao’er dared not linger—she quickly secured the deed and hugged her bundle as she ran out the back gate. In a quiet place, she opened the bundle to check—her two good sets of clothes, three taels of saved wages, and a gilded hairpin and pair of agate earrings gifted by Chi Qinghe—everything was there. She exhaled in relief.

Pawn these, and it would be enough to get all the way back south!

Joy first, then hesitation. If she returned south, she would have to explain why she hadn’t accompanied the young lady. If Madam Song said anything in a letter, the Chi family might seize her for the magistrate.

Also, though her own deed was freed, her family’s deeds remained with the Chi family. Returning home would likely mean continued servitude.

Zao’er’s heart pounded, mouth dry—she didn’t want to go back. She would gamble to make a life worth seeing, to make Madam Song and Chi Qinghe bow their heads to her one day, and to hack the humiliating Chunshui into pieces!

She took a few copper coins and found a mule cart bound for the county seat in Peach Blossom Town. First, she would go to the county office and completely erase her slave status.

Watching Zao’er’s figure disappear, Chunshui’s expression turned cold.

This play, staged for the young lady, was finally over. If not for the young lady’s extreme emotional instability—still not believing Zao’er meant her harm—the Madam would not have needed to go to such lengths; she could have reported Zao’er and had her seized immediately.

It was only a small detour.

Thinking of the letter Madam Song had already sent to the county office, and the “evidence” of stolen property tucked into Zao’er’s bundle, Chunshui smiled faintly.

…

Back home, Qiu Huanian put away the Song family’s thank-you gifts. Though the figured satin and jewelry were fine, Jiujiu could not wear them now. Partly for fear of damaging them during work, but more importantly, overly conspicuous dress in the village could invite other troubles.

With no outsiders present, Jiujiu finally whispered to Qiu Huanian about what had happened the day before.

“I won a pair of pearl earrings as a prize in madioupai, and a lot of strangers came over to say snide things. I couldn’t take it, so I slipped off to the deeper part of the peach grove to find some quiet.”

“I saw that Miss Qinghe and her maid were saying something by the riverbank. Miss Qinghe seemed to be crying. I was going to avoid them, but the next moment she suddenly jumped in. Not only did her maid not save her, she even backed away.”

“I was afraid someone would die, so I ran to save her. By the time I was brought to the Song residence, that maid was already gone.”

Qiu Huanian patted Jiujiu’s fluffy head, first affirming her. “It’s right that Jiujiu has a kind heart, but next time, pay attention to your own safety. If something happened to you in the river, what would your brothers do?”

“I can swim. Chunsheng is too mischievous—when the river swells in summer, he often goes in to catch fish. I was afraid I wouldn’t reach him in time if he started drowning, so I learned to swim. I wasn’t rashly trying to play the hero.”

Children in the village weren’t so fussy; boys and girls alike loved playing in the river from a young age.

“Even so, be careful. There’s an old saying: ‘Those who drown are often the ones who can swim,’ understand?”

“I understand, Brother Hua.” Jiujiu nodded obediently. “Brother Hua, isn’t there something off about Miss Qinghe ‘falling’ into the water? She clearly jumped herself, but Madam Song said it was a misstep.”

Jiujiu was very puzzled but hadn’t dared ask directly at the Song residence; instinct told her this was not a question to be asked carelessly.

Qiu Huanian grunted acknowledgment. “This is a household matter of the Song residence. Jiujiu should follow Madam Song’s account. Don’t repeat what you just said to others. If there’s ever another chance to visit the Song residence, don’t bring it up—pretend it never happened.”

Jiujiu tugged her little braids and thought for a long while, then reached her own understanding.

The Peach Blossom Banquet was only a rustic gathering. Madam Song hadn’t given out anything too valuable. The pearl earrings used as a madioupai prize held pearls only half the size of a pea, worth roughly four qian of silver.

Because they weren’t very conspicuous and many people knew Jiujiu had won them, Qiu Huanian didn’t put them away but had Jiujiu wear them directly.

Jiujiu had pierced ears since last year but hadn’t yet worn proper jewelry. She was overjoyed and would tilt her head to admire herself in the water of the vat or basin every time she fetched water, then, if someone saw her, would immediately blush and run off.

Qiu Huanian teased her, “That’s that for tiny pearls. When it’s gold, silver, coral, or jade next time, will seven or eight people need to follow you around holding mirrors?”

Jiujiu stamped her foot and darted out the door, her mind already drifting into fantasies of the jewelry Brother Hua had mentioned.

If that day really comes, how wonderful it would be!

…

After seven or eight days of fermenting in the jar, Qiu Huanian opened a four-catty pot of red fermented bean curd. A rich, complex aroma—salty, spicy, and fermented—rushed up.

Using a clean, high-temperature sterilized wooden spoon, he scooped out two pieces of red bean curd and called the family to dip freshly steamed wheat mantou in it.

Mantou with red fermented bean curd—this classic combo—has been one of the most popular breakfasts in countless northern university canteens.

The steaming, fluffy white mantou was split down the middle, half a piece of glossy red bean curd tucked inside and pressed together—whereupon the bean curd spread silkily. Pale pink curds coated the uneven torn interior. One bite in, the satisfaction from carbs and savory fragrance filled the brain, immediately urging a second bite.

Chunsheng took several bites in quick succession, nearly biting his tongue and choking until he was speechless. Jiujiu hurried to blow on a spoonful of porridge and fed him.

“Food should be eaten slowly and chewed well. Don’t be so reckless,” Du Yunse corrected him.

Chunsheng didn’t dare speak, his eyes shifting toward Qiu Huanian in silent plea. Smiling, Qiu Huanian smoothed things over. “He’s still young. Getting excited over favorite food is normal.”

Chunsheng nodded vigorously. “It’s just that Brother Hua’s red bean curd is too delicious!”

Once Qiu Huanian spoke, Du Yunse didn’t scold Chunsheng further. Chunsheng blinked triumphantly, but before he could keep wolfing food down, he got a kick under the table.

Startled by the pain, he turned and saw his older sister glaring at him. He didn’t dare misbehave and bent his head to chew slowly and carefully.

Qiu Huanian took it all in. He glanced at Jiujiu and Chunsheng, then at Du Yunse with a teasing look, smiling at him across the table. Du Yunse shook his head helplessly and continued eating.

Presently, the household “food chain” ran thus: Jiujiu and Chunsheng both held a respectful awe for Du Yunse, Du Yunse listened to Qiu Huanian, and Jiujiu could manage Chunsheng. In sum, Qiu Huanian undoubtedly stood at the top.

Truly, one thing tames another.

“Which tastes better—my red bean curd, or the county’s?” Qiu Huanian took out the bean curd Wei Dexing had gifted for comparison.

“Brother Hua’s is better!” Jiujiu and Chunsheng said in unison.

After careful tasting, Du Yunse said, “Yours is more gentle in aroma, finer in texture, and carries many added spice notes—significantly superior to what Wei’s shop sells.”

Qiu Huanian nodded in satisfaction. His recipe had been refined countless times on the internet, to which he added his own synthesized understanding—truly a crushing advantage in ancient times.

“Well said—rewarded with another bite!” He broke off a small piece of mantou, dipped it in the remaining red bean curd, and fed it to Du Yunse. Du Yunse bowed his head and ate from his hand; his soft, warm lips brushed Qiu Huanian’s fingertips, sending a shiver through him.

Qiu Huanian, feigning nonchalance, looked elsewhere—only to find Jiujiu and Chunsheng standing right beside them, heads tilted up with round, expectant eyes.

He coughed lightly and turned to the storeroom to weigh things. “Let me see how many catties the red bean curd comes to in total.”

Subtracting the weight of the empty jars previously measured, fifty catties of tofu with various seasonings, spiced broth, and huangjiu totaled eighty catties of red bean curd; around seventy catties were portioned into the two jars intended for Madam Huang.

He then took the small clay jars he had bought earlier for six wen apiece and split the ten catties from the “home-use” jar into individual containers—twelve half-catty jars—set aside for gifting, leaving four catties in the jar for the family to eat at leisure.

Before lunch, he took a small jar of red bean curd to the clan elder’s home. Yun Cheng had returned the day before and passed the county-level exam for tongsheng in a single attempt. The clan elder was overjoyed and planned to host a feast in the village in a few days. Qiu Huanian was there to ask about the prefectural city.

At the clan elder’s home, many relatives had come to offer congratulations, and Yun Cheng was surrounded, unable to step away. Qiu Huanian handed the red bean curd to Meng Fuyue and went with her into the garden to talk.

Meng Fuyue had already prepared a basketful of reminders. “The prefectural city is nothing like our village or county. Everything costs money. People in the streets all wear clean, good clothes—no patches. Two or three out of ten are dressed in fine silks.”

“Food and general goods cost two to three parts more than in Zhang County. Even hot water at the inn costs separately—a wen per pot. Luckily we brought enough supplies and didn’t spend much.”

“We stayed in a mid-range inn near the examination compound—one room cost 120 wen per day. At first we opened two rooms, but after one night, Baoren and I couldn’t sleep in them. Yun Cheng stayed there; the two of us went out to find a cheaper inn for 40 wen a night.”

“In Zhang County, 40 wen is enough for top-tier rooms. In Xiangping Prefecture, that only gets you a pigsty-sized kang with a straw mat.”

“I still say our village is best—being without money outside is pure suffering.”

Qiu Huanian calculated the prices and asked, “Auntie, did you see the Zhao family in Xiangping Prefecture?”

“We didn’t see them, but we heard news—since we arrived around the same time. They rented two rear-chambers in a household three streets from the examination compound and planned to keep them until the county exam finishes and results are posted—about two months—costing three taels of silver!”

Since they stayed longer, renting was more cost-effective than an inn. Three taels could buy a mu of paddy in Du Family Village. For Du Yunjing’s county exam, that family had truly spared no expense.

“Oh, Brother Hua—if you have good quilts and bedding, be sure to bring them to the prefectural city. The inn bedding is damp and stiff—impossible to sleep on. Yunse has to sit for the licentiate exam; don’t let this affect his results.”

Qiu Huanian took note of everything and began planning the trip.

There were about twenty days until the county exam. The journey itself would take three or four days. Preparations had to begin immediately.

Du Yunse said there was no need to lodge in the prefectural city a month or two in advance, but Qiu Huanian felt that arriving only two or three days before the exam wouldn’t do either. If issues arose—acclimatization, food intolerance, unfamiliar surroundings—his exam state might be affected.

As someone from the modern era, Qiu Huanian possessed extremely rich test-taking experience. Though he wouldn’t be sitting the exam, he strove to handle all external arrangements for Du Yunse, so together they could clear the county exam and open the first loop of their “civil service investment.”

The next day, with Du Yunse staying home to focus on study, Qiu Huanian took two large jars of red bean curd to the county seat. When he arrived at Second Madam Huang’s shop, her eyes lit up. She immediately asked a neighbor to mind the store and took him to her elder sister’s restaurant.

“I was just saying two days ago—if you didn’t bring the bean curd soon, it’d be too late!”

“Too late for what?” At midday, the restaurant named Xianweiju, located in the county center, bustled with customers and mouthwatering aromas.

“For the ‘Hundred Flavors Trial’ hosted by the prefect, of course! Our prefect is a gourmand. After each county exam, he holds a Hundred Flavors Trial, inviting all the famous chefs across the prefecture to cook their signature dishes for the new licentiates to judge, awarding first, second, and third places, with the exam’s top scorer composing a poem in praise.”

“The chefs who receive a poem gain fame and literary blessing; many grand restaurants in the prefectural city compete to hire them with high pay. My elder sister made her name twelve years ago by winning second-class merit at such an event.”

As they spoke, Madam Huang emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She resembled Second Madam Huang somewhat—forty-something, strong-armed and rosy-cheeked, brimming with earthy vitality.

“So this is Brother Hua? Let me see the red bean curd!”

“You see? I said my sister’s temper is even more impatient than mine,” Second Madam joked.

Qiu Huanian lifted the jars from the mule cart. Seeing his fine skin and tender looks, Madam Huang simply took them herself, one in each arm. “Let’s go taste them in the back kitchen.”

There, he opened a jar and, borrowing a clean long-handled spoon, scooped a small half-bowl with both curds and brine. Madam Huang dipped the tip of her chopsticks, touched her tongue, and smacked her lips.

“This flavor is right—better than what Wei Dexing sells. With this, I can win merit again at the Hundred Flavors Trial!”

Like the county exam, the trial took place twice in three years. Over so many sessions, traditional recipes had been honed to perfection—and tedium. Only novelty could win.

Madam Huang had planned to compete again after developing a proud new dish using red bean curd, but Wei Dexing had cut off her supply. She had thought to give up, never expecting Qiu Huanian to appear with a superior product.

“I don’t know the exact method, but I can taste the many spices in yours. The cost must be higher than Wei’s. I won’t take advantage—Brother Hua, name a new price.”

Qiu Huanian shook his head. “Let’s keep to the agreed seventy wen per catty. Since I make it myself, there’s no transport cost, and selling by the jar means no jar fee. It evens out.”

“If you’re willing, after you win at the Hundred Flavors Trial, tell everyone the red bean curd you used is mine—won’t I earn even more then?”

“Good! May your words come true—this time I’ll take the top prize!”

He said the two jars totaled seventy catties net. Madam Huang didn’t even weigh them—she went straight to the accounts room and brought five taels of silver to pay him.

“Let straightforward people do straightforward business. One price for a round sum. If the new dish sells well, I’ll keep buying from you long-term!”

Deducting a tael in costs, Qiu Huanian pocketed a net profit of four taels. Since crossing over, it was the first time he’d made so much at once. Smiling, he hefted the silver ingot and tucked it away carefully.

Hearing that his fiancé would be taking the county exam in the prefectural city in a few days, Madam Huang sent him a tray of “Koi Cakes” symbolizing a name on the honor roll and recommended an inn close to the examination compound.

“The proprietress is my sworn sister. Just mention my name when you arrive—everything will be arranged perfectly.”

“At the trial, I’ll be waiting for your lord to pass and compose a poem for me!”

After being invited to stay for a meal, Qiu Huanian toured the city, buying four catties of cotton, two well-sealed large water bladders, and some odds and ends.

Aunt Meng said the carriage to the prefectural city was very bumpy and the interior quite bare. He planned to sew a few seat and back cushions. With money in hand, one should treat oneself better.

The new exam outfits for the two of them were already done. Thinking that after Du Yunse passed the licentiate he would have engagements and banquets, Qiu Huanian decided to make him another set. The old, dull-colored cloth from Wei Dexing was unused; he took it to town, added money, and exchanged it for ash-reed-colored cotton.

The fabric resembled the hue of mist-veiled green mountains after spring-summer rains—elegant with a distant charm.

To save time, he asked Wei Liuhua to tailor the new clothes. He had originally planned to make only for Du Yunse, but the household—one adult and two children—insisted on making a set for Qiu Huanian as well. Unable to win the argument, he agreed.

Wei Liuhua went all out. For Du Yunse, she made a traditional scholar’s gown, embroidering several straight stands of green bamboo from the waist upward—staggered in height, the tallest reaching his chest. The deep green bamboo on the misty-mountain cloth made the wearer seem more noble and upright.

For Qiu Huanian, she made a cross-collar long shirt with pipa sleeves, adding a white chest placard fully embroidered with a motif of narcissus and butterflies—lively and fresh.

The two outfits shared the same main color but conveyed different moods. Worn together, they looked distinct yet harmonious.

When they tried them on, the phrase “couple’s outfits” flashed through his mind. Looking at Du Yunse—his bearing elevated in the new clothes—Qiu Huanian nodded in satisfaction.

When taking city orders, Wei Liuhua usually charged twenty wen for a garment, with embroidery priced by complexity—anywhere from five to thirty wen or more.

For these two pieces plus the exquisite embroidery, he simply paid the highest rate—one hundred wen.

Wei Liuhua could not stop smiling. All this money was hers alone—not a coin for her mother-in-law Zhao or sister-in-law Qiaoxing. She was happy to work around the clock!

Since Zhao left with the others, Wei Liuhua’s life had become more and more comfortable. Little You could already pull himself up and toddle along furniture, his little face growing fairer and cuter by the day. Wei Liuhua wished those people would never return in this lifetime.

While she sewed, Jiujiu was busy too—piecing together fabric scraps as instructed by Qiu Huanian to make four thick seat and back cushions—each using a full catty of cotton.

Hu Qiuyan, knowing they were going to the prefectural city for the exam, made each a pair of thick-soled new shoes; pear blossoms were embroidered across the vamp of Qiu Huanian’s.

Other close villagers also offered small gestures—eggs, toasted flour, wild greens.

“I’d thought Yunse really couldn’t sit the exams—who knew he’d be allowed! Be careful on the road!”

“Our Yunse is a child prodigy! He’ll be a great official someday—passing the licentiate is nothing!”

“Yunse, do your best! You must outscore Zhao’s precious son!”

Smiling, Qiu Huanian thanked the neighbors and shared out sorghum taffy. As for the few who were jealous—saying things like “Being able to take it means nothing; passing is what counts,” or “Clearly he can’t pass—just wasting money”—he pretended not to hear.

Once Du Yunse returned successful, such rumors would collapse on their own.

On the last day before departure, he set things in order for Jiujiu and Chunsheng.

“There’s nothing major to worry about. Feed the mule and chickens every day and stir the vat of fermenting bio-enzyme.”

“In the morning, send your bedding to Aunt Qiuyan’s. During the day, stay home with Yunkang to recite and practice characters. At night, lock up and sleep at Aunt Qiuyan’s place—understood?”

Jiujiu and Chunsheng nodded dutifully. Du Yunse had left nearly a month’s worth of coursework—they wouldn’t be idle.

Qiu Huanian gave the remaining vegetables and eggs at home to Hu Qiuyan as Jiujiu and Chunsheng’s food money. The cotton seedlings in the fields were still in early growth, with nothing requiring special care. He asked familiar villagers to keep an occasional eye on them.

As for sorghum taffy—though he’d made a great deal, it clearly wouldn’t last twenty-odd days.

After careful thought, he spent several days making a full hundred catties of sorghum starch and taught Jiujiu the recipe, letting her supply Meng Wudong.

He himself wouldn’t go to sell in Qingfu Town. Meng Wudong would pick up the taffy and give some to Meng Yuanling to sell at the tofu shop on consignment—both on a fifty-fifty split.

“Do you remember all the steps for sorghum taffy? When the sugar beet runs low, buy more from Sister Liuhua. If you can’t keep up, then don’t—don’t exhaust yourself just for money.”

“Don’t worry, Brother Hua,” Jiujiu said. “I’ve learned it. I’ll make a little each day—it won’t be tiring.”

Chunsheng thumped his chest beside her. “Don’t worry, Brother Hua—if Sister can’t stir, I’ll do it!”

The hardest and most laborious part of making sorghum taffy is stirring and folding the starch-and-syrup mixture in the pot until it solidifies. It requires precise heat control and constant, vigorous stirring; slack off even briefly and it will scorch.

During earlier practice, Jiujiu had run out of strength near the end. Chunsheng volunteered, dragged a small stool to the stove, and helped. Taking turns at the pot, they finally completed a batch together.

Since their meals improved, Chunsheng had grown sturdier and sturdier—like a little calf.

Though clever, his mind wasn’t on studying. He thought only of running wild outside every day. His progress lagged behind Jiujiu and Yunkang, who had started together—often drawing furrowed brows from Du Yunse.

Qiu Huanian was not a parent who forced children to “be successful” at all costs. He would always persuade Du Yunse that Chunsheng was still young and would do better as he grew. Aside from being playful, he had no other problems—not yet at the point of requiring strict discipline.

On the eve of departure, Qiu Huanian laid out all their money and did the accounts.

Earlier, the tomb visitation plus the ingredients for red bean curd had consumed almost all their silver, leaving only two taels. Now he had Madam Song’s five-tael thank-you gift, five taels from selling red bean curd, and increasingly steady trickles from sorghum taffy sales—totaling fifteen taels and over five hundred wen in small coins.

Unconsciously, they already had enough to build a house.

He planned to begin preparations for a new home upon returning from the prefectural city—the earlier they moved in, the earlier they’d enjoy it.

On departure day, the pre-booked carriage arrived at Du Family Village. Familiar faces came to see them off. After offering rites to Du Baoyan and his wife and to Mei Xue’er, they loaded their bundles onto the carriage and headed to the prefectural city for the exams.

Watching the fields and villages race past the window, anticipation rose in Qiu Huanian’s heart. What would the prefectural city of this era be like—and what would await him there?

—

Footnotes:

Touhu: An ancient literati game of tossing arrow-like sticks into a pot; common at refined gatherings.
Madioupai: A tile game regarded as a precursor to mahjong, with suits like “tens,” “myriads,” “strings,” and “cash,” requiring counting and strategic choice.
Red fermented bean curd: A fermented tofu condiment tinted by red yeast rice; safe production depends on clean fermentation with white mycelium (black/green indicates spoilage).
Huangjiu: Traditional Chinese yellow rice wine, often used in cooking and fermentation.
“Accidental slip” (失足落水): A euphemistic official phrasing often used to veil sensitive incidents and preserve reputation.
Slave deed (身契): A legal document of bonded servitude; “freeing the deed” emancipates the servant in historical contexts.
Tongsheng (童生): A pre-degree status attained by passing initial county-level exams in the imperial system.
Hundred Flavors Trial (百味試): A local culinary contest patronized by a prefect, where new licentiates judge chefs’ signature dishes; winning chefs gain fame and patronage.