Jiang Mai sat back down before the stove.

Ye Li overheard the brothers’ conversation but said nothing. Clutching the sliced tofu blocks, he approached the pot, ready to continue frying the puffed tofu.

He needed to fry more samples to show Jiang Fuzheng.

The household lard was running low. Once these puffs were fried, there would be none left for the next batch.

And the original owner had only six wen left!

He planned to use the puffs to borrow some lard from Jiang Fuzheng.

Grinding tofu was grueling work. He wanted to sell the puffs as soon as possible.

Tofu puffs were versatile—perfect for hotpot, spicy stews, braising, or stir-frying.

Soon, he fried over a catty of tofu puffs.

He poured most of the oil from the wok into a clay jar, leaving just a spoonful for stir-frying garlic shoots with tofu.

The aroma of garlic shoots was overwhelmingly potent. After just a few quick stir-fries, the entire kitchen was filled with its fragrance.

Besides, Ye Li himself wasn’t a bad cook.

In his previous life, his family ran a farmhouse restaurant, and he’d assisted his parents in the kitchen since childhood.

After graduating from university, he’d intended to stay in the city to find work—being gay, he knew it would be difficult to find a partner back in the village.

But then his parents died in a car accident, and he returned to the village to take over the family business.

His culinary skills had sustained the family business in his previous life, let alone here.

But recalling that past life, he pressed his lips together, a tightness rising in his chest.

Just as he was feeling this ache, his peripheral vision caught a small head peeking through the kitchen doorway. He looked up, meeting Jiang Ya’s wide, startled eyes.

Jiang Ya had eaten some tofu puffs and wanted to return the chopsticks to the kitchen.

But he dared not enter directly, peering cautiously through the doorframe instead.

Ye Li turned his head unexpectedly, startling the boy into quickly ducking back.

“…”

Ye Li took a deep breath and continued stirring the garlic shoots and tofu in the pot.

Well.

His parents were gone anyway.

Everything was starting anew.

“Xiao Mai, you’re not needed here. Go play with Ya-ger. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” he said to Jiang Mai.

Jiang Mai looked surprised but stayed seated. “I’ll tend the fire.”

“Fine. You tend the fire for dinner. I’ll go play with Ya-ger.” Ye Li replied.

“!”

Jiang Mai shot to his feet. “I’ll go play with Ya-ger!”

Ye Li smiled. “Just don’t wander too far. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“…Okay.”

Jiang Mai scratched his head, looking thoroughly confused as he walked away.

What kind of mischief is that dimwit cooking up…

Ye Li ignored Jiang Mai’s confusion. He scooped the stir-fried garlic shoots and tofu into bowls, then poured water into the iron pot to prepare dinner.

The Jiang family was poor, relying mainly on cornmeal for their daily staple.

He’d steamed a pot of cornmeal cakes at noon; now he just needed to steam them again.

He just needed to add some cornmeal porridge, and dinner would be ready.

Jiang Mai stepped out of the kitchen and glanced left, spotting Jiang Ya clutching a chopstick pressed against the kitchen wall.

Jiang Ya spotted him and waved his small hand. “Brother.”　

He walked over and pointed at the chopstick in Jiang Ya’s hand. “Where’s the other one?”

“I saved the tofu block on that one for you,” Jiang Ya said, smiling as he tugged at his sleeve. “Brother, let’s go back inside. You can eat it.”

Jiang Mai ruffled his little head and walked back inside with him.

There were two pieces of fried tofu left. The brothers each took one.

Jiang Ya sat on the heated bed, eating it carefully, one small bite at a time.

His little face was full of contentment.

Jiang Mai, however, stuffed the whole thing into his mouth and chewed it in big bites.

“Brother, eat slower. If you finish it all, there won’t be any left,” Jiang Ya couldn’t help saying.

Jiang Mai’s chewing paused.

He remembered how strange their “brother-in-law” had been today.

Earlier, this man had said he’d call them when dinner was ready.

If he really did call them for supper, perhaps they’d get another chance to eat this strange fried tofu.

Just then, Jiang Ya swung his stubby legs, too short to reach the floor, and smiled again. “Brother, we ate so many good things today, I’m not afraid of getting beaten.”

Jiang Mai: “…”

True enough, neither he nor Ya had been beaten today.

But still, they should give up the fantasy!

Amidst Jiang Mai’s confusion and trepidation, Ye Li actually called them both to dinner.

When the two nervously entered the kitchen, they saw the meal already laid out on the table under the dim oil lamp.

“Eat up, the stir-fried tofu is getting cold.” Ye Li motioned for them to sit down and eat.

This unexpectedly gentle demeanor left the brothers utterly baffled.

But reasoning that eating wouldn’t hurt, they sat down and picked up corn cakes to eat.

“Have the stir-fried tofu and the tofu puffs,” Ye Li said.

The brothers exchanged glances, picked up their chopsticks, and began eating the stir-fried tofu and salted tofu puffs while carefully watching Ye Li’s expression.

Ye Li also began eating heartily.

After all the work, he was famished.

Though Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya had each had a bowl of tofu pudding earlier, it hadn’t satisfied their hunger. Together with Ye Li, the brothers polished off six cornmeal cakes each as big as an adult’s palm and a large plate of garlic chive stir-fried tofu.

They also polished off a good amount of the salted tofu puffs.

Ye Li finished off with a bowl of cornmeal gruel to fill the gaps.

But the brothers’ bellies were round and full—they couldn’t take another bite.

“There’s warm water in the pot. Go fetch some to wash up and get some sleep.”

Ye Li said as he sipped from his bowl.

After scooping the cornmeal gruel from the pot, he’d boiled some extra hot water.

But these words startled Jiang Mai.

Instead of making him scrub the pot and dishes, he was urging him and his little brother to sleep?

And he genuinely didn’t seem intent on beating them…

This was truly wonderful.

He and his little brother had to hurry away before the fool changed his mind.

He gave a quick reply, swiftly pulled Jiang Ya to his feet, and hurried off to wash up.

Ye Li sat at the table, still sipping corn gruel at a leisurely pace.

By the time he finished, Jiang Mai had already led Jiang Ya back inside.

The courtyard was eerily quiet.

He rose and tidied the kitchen by the dim light of the oil lamp.

After soaking the ten catties of soybeans he’d brought back from Jiang Fuzheng’s house, he fetched water to wash up.

The original owner had been quite particular—a pig-hair toothbrush, tooth powder, and bath beans for washing his face were all present.

He brushed his teeth, washed his hands and feet, then returned to the house.

In truth, the Jiang family also lived in a house made of blue bricks and tiles.

Twenty years prior, the Jiang family had prospered.

Back then, two southern provinces suffered severe drought, leading to crop failures. Some displaced peasants gradually turned into bandits, flooding into unaffected areas nearby.

One group followed the Nantong Canal northward, seizing control of Baxian Town twenty li away.

Baxian Town marked the starting point of the Nantong Canal, making its location strategically vital.

The magistrate of Beiyang County gathered locals familiar with Baxian Town’s terrain, planning to infiltrate the town and burn the bandits’ grain stores.

Among the villagers of Yezaopo Village, only Father Jiang and Jiang Fuzheng volunteered. Twenty brave men entered the town, but only three survived.

Fortunately, Father Jiang and Jiang Fuzheng were two of them.

Jiang Fuzheng even managed to slay several bandits.

After the bandit suppression, the magistrate rewarded them for their service. Father Jiang received fifty taels of silver, while Jiang Fuzheng was appointed Lizheng.

With the silver, Father Jiang not only built a three-room brick house but also married Mother Jiang.

When his eldest son reached seven years old, he sent him to a private school for education.

The family lived in prosperity and harmony until that fateful summer five years ago, when Mother Jiang died during childbirth while delivering Jiang Ya.

That autumn, while carrying heavy loads in Baxian Town, Father Jiang witnessed his coworker Ye Daji—Ye Daji, who happened to be the father of the body’s original owner, accidentally fall into the water.

In the attempt to save Ye Daji, Father Jiang lost his life.

The Jiang household was left with only the thirteen-year-old eldest son, the two-year-old Jiang Mai, and the three-month-old Jiang Ya.

Fortunately, Father Jiang’s younger brother, Jiang Dahe, was kind-hearted. He took Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya into his home to raise them.

The Ye family was not wealthy and could not afford to pay the gratitude silver. Ye Daji discussed with Jiang Dahe the idea of arranging a betrothal between the original body and the eldest son.

This way, the Ye family could dedicate all their resources to supporting the three brothers.

Though only thirteen at the time, his soon-to-be husband had already passed the child examination and was handsome. The twelve-year-old original body, dreaming of becoming a Xiucai’s wife or even a Juren’s wife, happily agreed to the match.

After the betrothal, the Ye family contributed half of their future husband’s tuition fees each year—three taels of silver.

Regardless of farming seasons, they frequently came to help with farm work.

But this only made the Ye family’s life increasingly difficult.

The original body, raised in pampered luxury, was forced to work the fields constantly and was also made to learn needlework. This led to deep regret, and eventually, hatred toward his future husband and the two burdens—Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya.

Two years ago, his future husband passed the prefectural examination.

With the carrot of a scholar’s husband dangling before him, the original body finally agreed to marry him twenty days ago.

Yet he vented years of pent-up frustration on Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya. While Jiang Ji was away, he found excuses daily to beat the brothers.

Three days ago, his husband returned home and caught him striking Jiang Ya’s head. They argued fiercely.

The two parted on bad terms.

Yesterday, Ye Daji came to help with the Jiang household chores and urged the original owner to mend his ways and live peacefully.

Already seething with anger and annoyed by Ye Daji’s nagging, the original owner flew into a rage and tried to sell Jiang Ya this morning.

But an accident occurred—Ye Li arrived instead.

At this point, Ye Li couldn’t be bothered to judge the original owner. After all, it was his life from here on out.

The main house comprised three tiled rooms. The eastern room had originally been the Jiangs’ parents’ bedroom, but the original owner deemed it unlucky. Since Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya had grown up, they moved back from Jiang Dahe’s house last winter.

Thus, the original owner had Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya occupy the eastern room.

The west room served as his and his new husband’s bridal chamber.

The room wasn’t small, but its age was evident—stepping inside, one immediately felt the distinctive chill of an old house.

Against the left wall stood a newly made double-door wardrobe and a five-drawer chest.

Opposite them lay the heated brick bed.

Beneath the window sat a brand-new, tall-legged poplar wood square table.

Beyond that, there was no other furniture.

He placed the oil lamp on the square table, removed his shoes, and climbed onto the kang.

His mind wandered in all directions. He lost track of time until he finally drifted into a deep sleep.

The first crow of the rooster woke him.

All he could see was darkness, and beneath him, the hard, unyielding surface of the kang.

He froze for a moment before coming to his senses.

Listening to the crowing outside, he rolled over, intending to sleep on.

By his experience, it should be around three in the morning.

Still early.

When he woke again, dawn had broken.

Voices of Jiang Mai, Jiang Ya, and Jiang Fuzheng drifted from the courtyard.

Ye Li: “…”

Did people in ancient times really have to rise this early…

He’d just promised yesterday to turn over a new leaf!

He scrambled to get dressed and out of bed.

Stepping out of the main hall, he prepared to offer an awkward smile and greet Jiang Fuzheng.

But Jiang Fuzheng beat him to it: “Ji’er, I heard from Xiao Mai that you fried tofu yesterday?”

“…Uh, yeah, that’s called tofu puffs.”

Ye Li blinked and walked toward the three standing by the kitchen door: “Xiao Mai, quickly bring out the tofu puffs for Grandpa Lizheng to taste.”

Jiang Mai heard the call and went into the kitchen.

Jiang Ya hid behind Jiang Fuzheng for a moment before peeking out cautiously and saying, “Li-ger, second brother has made breakfast.”

“How capable!”

Ye Li praised with a smile, then turned to Jiang Fuzheng: “Uncle Jiang, have you eaten yet? If not, join us for breakfast.”

“I’ve already eaten. I came to supervise your tofu-making.”

Jiang Fuzheng stated his purpose plainly.

He had informed the villagers yesterday.

The villagers would surely give him face and come to buy tofu.

But whether Ye Li could make the tofu on time was another matter.

So after breakfast, he came over.

Sure enough, Ji’er hadn’t gotten up yet.

But the candied-hawthorn-like tofu Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya mentioned piqued his interest.

Could fried tofu be both chewy and soft?

Soon, Jiang Mai brought out a bowl of tofu puffs.

Having sat overnight, they weren’t as round and plump as freshly fried ones, but they were clearly different from ordinary fried tofu.

Villagers would fry tofu during the New Year to make cold shredded tofu salad, but their fried tofu turned hard and dense after a night.

Nothing like these tofu cubes before him.

Had he not known beforehand that these were fried tofu cubes, Jiang Fuzheng would never have associated their appearance with tofu.

As for the taste, it was soft yet possessed a subtle resilience.

A truly unique texture.

“Uncle Jiang, these aren’t meant to be eaten plain. You can stir-fry them or stew them. Once they’ve soaked up the broth, that’s when they become truly delicious,”

Ye Li explained.

Soak up the broth?

Jiang Fuzheng couldn’t help imagining it—this texture, stewed with meat… Swallowing the puffed tofu, he asked, “Did you make this specifically to sell? But it wouldn’t sell well, would it?”

Tofu itself isn’t expensive.

But this puffed tofu was fried in lard.

Sell it too high, and the villagers would feel it wasn’t worth it.

Sell it too cheaply, and there’d be little profit.