Ye Li called out to Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya, who were about to head out to gather firewood, just as he did yesterday.

“Come here. It’s time to pay your wages.”

Hearing this, Jiang Mai led Jiang Ya to the kitchen door.

He looked toward the stove.

Unsold tofu sat on the stove.

Ye Li had pressed the tofu in willow baskets—thirty pounds of tofu filled two baskets.

Now, one basket was full, while the other still held a large remaining chunk.

Jiang Mai stared at the two baskets and said, “The tofu didn’t sell out.”

“You two helped sell it, didn’t you? You weren’t slacking off.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fry the leftover tofu into puffs. They’ll sell for sure.”

Ye Li took two copper coins from the winnowing basket and handed them to him. “Here. Keep them safe. Don’t lose them while gathering firewood.”

Jiang Mai: “…”

He glanced again at the tofu on the stove, hesitated for a moment, then reached out his small hand to take the two copper coins.

“Alright, you two go gather firewood. I’ll go find Aunt Qiumei to trade for some soybean oil.”

Ye Li said with a smile.

The lard at home was running low.

Yesterday, while selling tofu, he had specifically asked several families familiar with the Jiang household to see if anyone had extra oil they’d be willing to sell him.

Wang Qiumei had gone to the county town two days prior to exchange for three catties of soybean oil. Since he was busy making tofu now and couldn’t go to the county town himself, Wang Qiumei was willing to trade this soybean oil to him.

At this time, soybean oil was all pressed using traditional methods. Even when cold-pressed, it retained a faint bean odor.

But its cheapness made up for it.

Nine pounds of beans could be exchanged for one pound of soybean oil at the oil mill.

That worked out to twenty-seven wen per pound, cheaper than rendering lard himself.

If he used soybean oil to fry the tofu puffs, the cost could be lowered even further.

As for taste, ordinary folk weren’t so particular.

Besides, the proper way to eat tofu puffs was to let them soak up all kinds of sauces. With enough seasoning, the beaniness could be completely masked.

After Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya left, Ye Li picked up eighteen pounds of soybeans and a small block of tofu to find Wang Qiumei for the oil exchange.

Carrying the two pounds of soybean oil home, he rolled up his sleeves and began frying the tofu puffs.

He also fried a few orchid-shaped tofu skewers.

These orchid-shaped tofu skewers, also known as tofu sticks, differed from the dry kind that barely absorbed sauce even after soaking for ages.

The inner layers of the orchid-shaped tofu skewers were honeycombed and fluffy, with a texture similar to puffed tofu. When soaked in hotpot or spicy broth, they absorbed the flavors exceptionally well.

If he could fry puffed tofu, he could certainly fry orchid-shaped tofu skewers, too.

After a busy half-hour, he fried two pounds of puffed tofu and one pound of orchid-shaped tofu skewers.

After turning off the stove, he found a piece of unused hemp cloth and sewed it into a bag—he had inherited the original body’s memories, and though not skilled, sewing a cloth bag was no problem.

He washed the finished bag and prepared to carry the puffed tofu and orchid-shaped tofu skewers into town to sell to restaurants.

Truth be told, he preferred setting up his own stall.

The best way to enjoy puffed tofu and orchid skewers was in spicy hotpot or hotpot broth.

Selling skewers would certainly earn more than selling puffed tofu or orchid skewers alone.

But he needed to make tofu daily, leaving him no time or energy to run a stall.

Packing half a pound of each food item, he was about to lock the main room door and head to the county town when a vaguely familiar voice sounded at the courtyard gate: “Li-ger.”

He turned his head and, recognizing the visitor, broke into a smile: “Big Brother, what brings you here?”

The original owner had two older brothers: the eldest, named Ye Liang, and the second, named Ye Wen.

The visitor was the eldest, Ye Liang.

Though only twenty-three, Ye Liang’s hands were calloused and his face weathered, bearing the marks of a life lived hard.

Standing at the gate, he watched Ye Li’s smiling face with surprise.

Just two days prior, their father had quarreled with this third brother. Given his temper, Ye Liang expected a cold stare, a sour expression, or a roll of the eyes.

Yet here he was, smiling!

Though puzzled, Ye Liang raised the small cloth bag in his hand and explained, “I’m delivering goods to the county town with my employer today. Father sent me to check on you. He stir-fried some dried shrimp.”

Dried shrimp?

Ye Li’s eyes lit up, and he hurried over.

The Ye family lived in Darong Village, close to the Nantong Canal, making it quite convenient to buy river delicacies.

Fresh dried shrimp, however, were expensive—over ten wen per catty.

Though the original owner loved them, Father Ye only splurged on a catty during major holidays.

Now, outside of any festival, Father Ye had bought some and sent Ye Liang to deliver them. The meaning was clear.

Sure enough, as soon as Ye Li took the cloth bag, Ye Liang said, “Father said that since you’re married to Xiao Ji now, you should settle down and live peacefully. All this bickering won’t make life any better.”

“Let Xiao Ji focus on his studies. Once he passes the exams to become a Xiucai or a Juren, then your good life will begin.”

Had the original self heard such words, he would have rolled his eyes in disbelief.

But standing before Ye Liang now was Ye Li.

Ye Li smiled. “Brother, you’re right. Since I’ve married into this family, I’m here to be the wife of a successful scholar. I’ve come to understand—I’ll never hold Jiang Ji back. You and Father can rest assured.”

These words left Ye Liang momentarily stunned.

Before he could process it, Ye Li beckoned him inside: “Have you eaten? Thirsty? I just fried some tofu puffs—try some.”

“The steward fed me. What are tofu puffs?”

Confused, Ye Li followed him.

“It’s a new delicacy. Taste it—take some back for Father and the others.”

Ye Li entered the kitchen, placing the stir-fried shrimp on the cutting board before retrieving a clay pot filled with tofu puffs and orchid-shaped tofu strips from the cupboard.

He picked up a pair of chopsticks and warmly invited Ye Liang to sample the novelty.

Once Ye Liang began eating, Ye Li recounted the tofu puffs’ origin—a revelation so astonishing that Ye Liang nearly choked.

“When did you learn to make tofu?” Ye Liang asked incredulously.

“Top secret. I’ll only tell Jiang Ji.”

A flicker of bashfulness appeared on Ye Li’s face.

Ye Liang: “……”

His eyes bulged as if he’d seen a ghost.

Has Third Brother suddenly developed feelings for Xiao Ji?

“Brother, don’t pry into the details. Right now, the most urgent thing is finding a market for the tofu puffs. I have no money—the beans and stone mill were given to me by Second Uncle. I need to earn money quickly to repay him.”

“I was just about to take some to the county town to sell.”

Ye Li set aside his shyness and changed the subject.

This was serious business, and Ye Liang immediately began pondering on his words.

Exactly.

Both the Ye and Jiang families were dirt poor. Now that they had this fresh food, the most important thing was to sell the tofu puffs.

Lost in thought, he heard Ye Li add, “Brother, what if we let Yí set up a stall in town?”

Liu Yi was Ye Liang’s husband.

The Ye family was poor, and everyone in the surrounding villages of Darong Village knew they had to pay Jiang Ji, an outsider, three taels of silver annually as a dowry. Because of this, Ye Liang, the older brother by marriage, had delayed his wedding until last year.

In truth, the Liu family was much better off than the Ye family. Liu Yi’s parents ran a stall selling cakes in Baxian Town, bringing in income daily.

But Liu Yi had set her heart on Ye Liang, this dark-faced fellow, insisting on marrying him. The Liu family could only acquiesce.

“Have Brother Yi set up a stall?” Ye Liang asked, surprised.

“Yes. Brother Yi has experience, and this stuff tastes good—it’ll definitely sell.”

Ye Li began demonstrating the proper way to eat tofu puffs and orchid skewers.

The secret? Just be generous with the ingredients.

Besides, Liu Yi’s parents sold pancakes—pancakes paired with skewers were a perfect match.

Half an hour later, Ye Li set off back to the village, a clay pot in his arms and a bamboo basket on his back.

Ye Li had given him the fried tofu puffs and orchid skewers he’d just prepared to sell at the Liu family’s pancake stall.

He also cut him a piece of tofu so the Ye family could sample his craft.

Darong Village lies south of Beiyang County. Ye Liang had to traverse Beiyang County to get home, and by the time he walked back, dusk was falling. In the small courtyard of the Ye family home, Father Ye and Liu Yi sat by the kitchen door doing needlework.

Ye Daji and Ye Wen had gone out to work in the fields and hadn’t returned yet.

Father Ye saw his eldest son push open the courtyard gate and enter. He quickly set down his needlework and went to meet him. “Did you see Li-ger? Is he still angry?”

Liu Yi also stood up.

But his attention was drawn to the clay jar in his husband’s arms.

He was puzzled. When Ye Liang left, he had only carried a small cloth bag. Why was he now holding a small jar?

“I saw him. Brother Li isn’t angry anymore. He can even make tofu now.”

Ye Liang said with a smile.

Father Ye gasped in surprise: “Ah?!”

“What?!”

Liu Yi froze. That blockhead can make tofu?

Ye Liang held up the small jar in his hand: “Father, Yige, you both try this red oil sesame paste tofu puff.”

He turned around, gesturing for them to look at his bamboo basket.

By the time Ye Father and Liu Yi had calmed down, night had fallen completely.

Ye Daji and Ye Wen also returned.

Ye Wen hadn’t married yet. In the dim, low-ceilinged kitchen, the family of five sat down at the old dining table.

Originally, there was only cornmeal porridge and pickled vegetables on the table.

At dinner, the Ye family couldn’t even afford corn cakes.

But with Ye Li’s extra dish today, supper felt plentiful.

Father Ye poured the red oil sesame tofu puffs into an earthenware bowl, then cut a block of firm tofu. The red oil diluted by the firm tofu lost some of its vibrant color and flavor, but the Ye family was content.

After this delicious meal, even Liu Yi—who had always looked down on the original body—felt confident about tomorrow’s pancake-wrapped skewers.

The next day, as dawn broke, Liu Yi set off for Baxian Town, carrying the pre-cooked tofu puffs and orchid-shaped skewers on his back.