Since she was setting up her stall today—her first day in business—Chen Cuihua wasn’t sure how many butter pancakes she’d be able to sell, so she prepared a smaller batch.

She got up at the crack of dawn to knead the dough and prepare the filling. Song Ning heard the noise and got up as well. “Mother, is there anything I can help you with?” 

“Then help me chop the chives—chop them finely. I’ll chop the glass noodles.”

“Okay.”

The two of them went about their business in the kitchen. Lan-ger had come over at first light to lead the oxen. Song Ning came out to greet him. “Lan-ger, come back for a bit this morning. Your aunt needs the ox cart. Just take the oxen over to graze for a while and then come right back.”

Lan-ger nodded. “Got it.”

Lan-ger led the ox out to graze, thinking that since he wouldn’t be tending the cattle for very long today, the ox might not get enough to eat. So he let the ox graze by the riverbank while he took a sickle and began cutting grass.

Worried that Song Ning and the others might be getting impatient, he led the ox back as soon as he finished cutting the grass. Over at Chen Cuihua’s place, everything was already prepared: a large bowl of fluffy white flour, a bowl of chive and glass noodle soup, and a small bowl of pork and glass noodle soup.

With everything ready, Chen Cuihua decided to make a few butter pancakes first. For breakfast, they would have butter pancakes with cornmeal porridge.

Since they were heading to town to do business, the sun hadn’t even risen yet—it was just getting light out. They planned to drive the oxcart to town in time for the morning market.

Chen Cuihua handed Lan-ger four butter pancakes. Lan-ger took the basket and, glancing at the kitchen full of prepared goods, asked, “Aunt Chen, are you going to town to do business?”

“Well, there’s nothing much to do sitting around at home.”

Upon hearing this, Lan-ger hurriedly asked, “Aunt Chen, will I still be able to come over to tend the ox?”

He’d finally landed such a great job—not only did he earn some pocket money, but he also got to eat well at Aunt Chen’s house. If he didn’t have to tend the ox anymore, what would he do?

Song Ning chuckled softly at this. He ruffled Lan-ger’s hair. “Of course you’ll still tend the ox. They still need to graze, just like before. Your aunt will be back right after noon.”

Lan-ger was relieved to hear this. He grabbed his basket and ran off. “Then I’ll be back this afternoon.”

Hearing that his help was still needed, Lan-ger perked up again. He dashed home with the basket in hand. “Grandpa, it’s time to eat! Aunt Chen made butter pancakes today, and there’s meat too!”

Song Ning and the others were also eating butter pancakes at home. The cakes were golden brown, with a soft, flaky crust and a generous filling. The vegetarian chive butter pancakes had a rich aroma, and the meat-filled ones were delicious too—though there wasn’t much meat inside, it was very flavorful.

Each butter cake was as big as a bowl; one was enough to fill a child, and two would satisfy an adult.

The two of them worked together to load the cast-iron pot and the workbench onto the oxcart. Chen Cuihua was in high spirits; she had long wanted to start a small business, but had never had the capital. Now that she had a little spare change, she had spent most of it on these supplies, yet she was truly happy.

Chen Cuihua sat down in the ox cart and called Song Ning to sit up front with her. “Ning, come over here—it’s roomier.” 

“Coming, Mother.”

Song Ning hugged his little cloth bundle and climbed aboard. Chen Cuihua drove the oxcart out of the courtyard gate.

They’d set out quite early; some households were just waking up, carrying basins of water to splash at the courtyard gates. “Cuihua, where are you taking all these things?”

“Off to town.”

The oxcart trotted off down the road, and the man was still craning his neck to watch. There was even a pot on top—was Chen Cuihua planning to set up some little business in town? She was a shrewd and capable woman, with a sharp tongue to boot. Tsk, she was three times more capable than most men.

Chen Cuihua was afraid she’d be late and miss the morning market. The town was bustling early in the morning with women and men coming out to buy vegetables, as well as laborers and errand runners heading to work—morning was the best time for business.

Chen Cuihua drove the oxcart a bit faster. Fortunately, even though she was in a bit of a rush, she still arrived in town before it was too late.

Chen Cuihua’s little stall was located at the entrance to the market. The prime spots in the middle had long been taken, leaving only this spot at the front. It wasn’t very crowded, and though the location wasn’t ideal, it was still a place to do business.

When she went to town to buy the iron pot, she paid the market tax, and the Market Office allocated her a small plot of land. She will be doing business here from now on. Chen Cuihua wasn’t sure how her business would go, so she paid the market tax for one month in advance.

Her current spot wasn’t ideal, but she planned to move to a spot in the center of the market once one became available—it would just mean paying a bit more market tax.

Chen Cuihua was stationed at the very edge. Next to her was a middle-aged man selling baked buns; across from her was an elderly woman selling fruit; and a little further in were a few vegetable vendors. The entrance to the market was already sparsely populated, with only a trickle of people passing by.

The moment they arrived, the two of them busied themselves unloading their goods. The man selling baked buns scanned Chen Cuihua’s stall from head to toe. Chen Cuihua set the mixing bowl and filling on the counter, while Song Ning fanned the fire from the side.

The man selling baked buns saw that another stall selling pastries had set up shop and couldn’t help but look displeased.

Chen Cuihua couldn’t help but notice. If it weren’t for the fact that the Market Bureau had assigned her this spot, she wouldn’t have wanted to be right next to the baked bun vendor either. Chen Cuihua didn’t bother paying him any mind. Although they were both flour-based foods, his family sold baked buns while she sold fried pancakes. Even though they were both pastries, the flavors were different—people would just buy whichever one they preferred.

Song Ning lit a fire under the stove. The smoke that wafted out made him sneeze a few times, which made Chen Cuihua laugh. Song Ning smiled sheepishly. “Mother, it’s ready.”

“Oh, the pastries are ready too.”

These flaky pastries were easy to make. The dough was already proofed; all she had to do was rub some rapeseed oil on her hands, wrap the filling inside, and shape it into a patty. Then she’d brush the pan with oil and gently press it into a flat cake.

Although there weren’t many people around now, she couldn’t let the pan sit idle. If she didn’t make a few, how would people know what she was selling? Chen Cuihua deftly began frying the cakes in the skillet, while Song Ning helped stoke the fire beneath it.

Spotting a new vendor’s cart approaching, a woman carrying a basket of vegetables peered over to take a look. Chen Cuihua called out warmly, “Pancakes, pancakes! First day of business today—two wen for the vegetarian filling, four wen for the meat filling!”

Song Ning joined in, shouting from the side, “Pancakes for sale! Pancakes for sale!”

Song Ning had accompanied Wei Hu to town to sell game before, and during the New Year he’d even sold couplets. Now, hawking goods was a piece of cake for him; his crisp voice rang out like jade hitting the ground, drawing the attention of some women and men out shopping for groceries.

Chen Cuihua’s butter pancakes were cheap. A vegetarian bun cost two wen, let alone these fried cakes—two wen each was a bargain. She priced the vegetarian ones at three wen and the meat-filled ones at five. On her first day of business, she wasn’t looking to make a profit; she just wanted people to try them. If they tasted good, she’d naturally get repeat customers.

Upon hearing how cheap Chen Cuihua’s cakes were, the woman selling fruit across the street came over first and handed over a coin. “Give me one. I’ve been here since early this morning and haven’t had a bite to eat yet.”

This was the first sale at her little stall, and Chen Cuihua beamed with joy. “Sure, just drop the coin right into the cash box.”

The elderly fruit vendor stood waiting in front of the stall and exchanged a few casual words with Chen Cuihua. “You’re from the countryside, aren’t you? I bet you even came here by oxcart.”

“Oh, I just came over after breakfast.”

“And your young man—he’s quite a handsome fellow.”

Chen Cuihua was even happier. “My son-in-law came over to help me out since I’m new to this business and might not know the ropes yet.” 

“Oh my, you’re so lucky—your son-in-law is quite a looker.”

Chen Cuihua kept flipping the pancakes with her hands. Her large frying pan could hold eight at a time. For her first batch, she made six with chives and two with meat filling.

Song Ning was also calling out to customers from beside the stall. Since his mother’s small stall was opening for the first time, the butter pancakes were sold at a bargain price, which attracted some women and men who had gotten up early to buy groceries.

“They’re so cheap! Give me one vegetarian and one meat-filled.” 

“I’ll take a vegetarian one too.”

“Give me three vegetarian ones.”

“Hey, everyone, take turns.” With the crowd growing, Song Ning took charge of collecting the coins up front. Although seven or eight people had gathered around their little stall, making it quite lively, his mother had said that at this price, they wouldn’t make much profit—just breaking even would be fine.

Chen Cuihua was delighted to see the crowd. Once the pancakes were fried, she deftly placed them on wax paper. “It’s our first day in business. If you like them, please come back often.”

A crowd had gathered in front of the two young people’s small stall, prompting the man selling baked buns nearby to roll his eyes several times. He, too, began to hawk his wares:

“Baked buns for sale! Baked buns for sale! Three wen each.”

That was the standard price for baked buns, but Chen Cuihua’s pancakes were fried in oil, and even the meat-filled ones were only four wen. In the next hour, many people had come to buy her butter pancakes.

To each their own—some prefer scallion pancakes, others fried pastries. Everyone has different tastes. Though they’re both pastries, the flavors are quite distinct. Logically, there shouldn’t be any conflict.

Chen Cuihua sold her goods cheaply, and Song Ning was running around like a headless chicken, collecting coins and tending the fire. A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and his face was flushed. He hadn’t expected his mother’s fried pastries to be such a hit—though a large part of it was due to the low price.

Once the morning market was over—after about an hour of hustle and bustle—Chen Cuihua had nearly sold out of the ingredients she’d prepared. Since she was just doing this to build a reputation, she hadn’t brought much to begin with. With some flour left and few customers remaining, Chen Cuihua sent Song Ning off to the study.

She wrapped up four butter pancakes and handed them to him. “Take a few of these to the shopkeeper for him to try. By the time you get back, we’ll have sold almost everything.”

Chen Cuihua didn’t know that Song Ning was acquainted with the young man at the study, but since he’d given her family the job of copying books, it was always a good idea to bring him a little something. Song Ning gave a nod, then set off, one arm holding a cloth bundle and the other carrying the butter pancakes.

No sooner had Song Ning left than the man next door began grumbling, “Selling them so cheap—how many copper coins can you make? It’s not even worth the trouble.”

Chen Cuihua wasn’t the type to take a slur lying down. She immediately shot back, “What’s it to you? We’re each minding our own business. If we can get along, great; if not, so be it. Do you think I need to kowtow to you just to run my shop?”

The man selling baked buns hadn’t expected Chen Cuihua to be so feisty. After she shot back at him, he didn’t dare say another word, though he still seethed inwardly, feeling that Chen Cuihua had stolen his business.

There was still some dough left in Chen Cuihua’s bowl. Now that the morning market had ended and the crowds had thinned, she leisurely kneaded the dough for her fried pancakes while calling out her wares, figuring she’d have sold most of them by the time her son returned.

Song Ning walked toward the study, clutching his little cloth bag. As he approached, he spotted Bai Xiaoyun lying bored on the counter, twiddling his fingers. The moment he saw him, his eyes lit up. “You’re here!”

Song Ning handed the butter pancake to Bai Xiaoyun first. “My mother asked me to bring this for you.”

Bai Xiaoyun had been twiddling his thumbs, so when he saw the food, he snatched it up immediately. “Thanks a bunch. You actually thought of me.”

Bai Xiaoyun took the pastry and started munching on it, his cheeks puffing out as he chewed. “Where did you buy this? It’s really well made.” 

Song Ning smiled. “My mother made it. She set up a little stall at the market entrance today.”

“Your mom’s really talented.”

Song Ning set the cloth bundle on the counter. “Can I wash my hands? I’ve got grease on them.”

“Well, go through that door. There’s water in my backyard. You’ll have to find it yourself—my dad isn’t home; he’s out having tea.”

Song Ning went through the small door to the backyard to wash his hands. Bai Xiaoyun’s shop was quite spacious—the study at the front had two stories, and the backyard was no small affair either, arranged with the refined elegance of a scholar’s retreat.

Song Ning came out after washing his hands. Bai Xiaoyun was still leaning on the counter, eating a pastry. He’d only been in the backyard for a moment, yet he’d already polished off that chive and butter pastry and was now munching on a fresh one.

“Where’s your husband? Why’d you come alone this time?” Bai Xiaoyun winked at Song Ning teasingly. “I did tell you, though—I won’t serve you if you come by yourself.”

Song Ning blushed slightly at the memory of the earlier awkwardness. He cleared his throat. “Brother Wei Hu went into the mountains to hunt. He should be coming back in the next couple of days.”

“I thought so.”

Bai Xiaoyun felt a bit disappointed; he’d only written half of his new story yet. Tsk, it had him pulling his hair out, but those young ladies and gentlemen loved reading it. He’d sent them the first few chapters, and they were hounding him to write faster. It was actually more popular than his previous stories about scholars and noble ladies.

Song Ning washed his hands before opening his cloth bag. “I didn’t copy much this time. You should check it.” 

“No need. I trust you to handle things.”

Bai Xiaoyun wolfed down another pancake in a few bites, letting out a satisfied belch. After putting away the Heart Sutra, he cheerfully handed over the copper coins. Song Ning grabbed his cloth bag and started to leave, but Bai Xiaoyun called out, “It’s still early. Sit down and have some tea.”

He was bored sitting alone; now that someone had finally come by, he wanted to chat a bit more.

“My mother is waiting for me back there.” 

“No rush—it’ll only take a moment to have a cup of tea.”

Bai Xiaoyun stepped out from behind the counter, brought out some candied fruit, and sat down beside him to brew some tea. He gave Song Ning a nod of his chin. “Want to read a book? Help yourself.”

Song Ning waved his hands repeatedly. “No, no, I won’t.”

Bai Xiaoyun clicked his tongue. “What are you thinking? I was talking about the books in the study, not those random ones. Hey, Song Xiaoning, what’s going on in your head?”

Song Ning’s face flushed bright red. “Well, I won’t look at those either.”

Bai Xiaoyun giggled, finding it especially amusing to tease Song Ning. “We’re such good friends. You don’t even need to pay to borrow books—just take whatever you want to read.”

Song Ning stammered out a reply.

Bai Xiaoyun crossed his legs and leaned back lazily in his chair, showing not a shred of a young man’s reserve. “You said before that you’re from that Song family rice shop. I asked around, and it drove me crazy!”

Bai Xiaoyun slapped his hand down on the table with a loud smack. The pain made him wince; he clutched his hand, his face contorted in pain, startling Song Ning. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just hit too hard.”

Bai Xiaoyun rubbed his hands. “Your stepmother is just too cruel. And that Zhao guy—what a piece of work! It makes me so angry!” 

“It’s okay, don’t get upset. It’s all in the past. I’m doing just fine now.”

“What a waste of all that silver your father spent—it’s all gone to the dogs.” Bai Xiaoyun grabbed Song Ning’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you get revenge. I’ll write that Zhao guy into a storybook and have everyone curse him to high heaven.”

Bai Xiaoyun had a lively temperament and was quite the hothead. Although he hadn’t met Song Ning more than a few times, he’d decided to treat him as a friend. Seeing his friend get bullied had left him fuming for days; in his mind, he’d already cursed Zhao Qingshu to high heaven.

“It’s all in the past.” Seeing Bai Xiaoyun’s face flush with anger, Song Ning—who was actually the one who’d been wronged—found himself comforting him instead.

“What do you mean it’s all in the past? You’re way too easy to push around. If it were me, I’d have punched that poor scholar in the eye and given him a black eye ages ago. Hmph!”

Seeing Bai Xiaoyun fuming like a ruffled rooster, Song Ning felt a chuckle rising. He feared that if he actually laughed, Bai Xiaoyun would surely glare at him, so he suppressed his laughter. “Don’t get so worked up. Wei Hu knocked out two of his teeth with a single punch that time.”

“Really?” Bai Xiaoyun immediately sat up straight. Song Ning nodded, and Bai Xiaoyun finally felt a little relieved. “Your husband is quite a capable man.”

The two sat together and chatted for a while. Bai Xiaoyun then dragged Song Ning upstairs to pick out a few storybooks before finally letting him go. He waved at Song Ning. “Come visit me again sometime.”

Song Ning nodded in agreement and walked away, clutching the storybooks.

When he returned, Chen Cuihua was already packing up. Song Ning hurried over to help. “Mother, have you sold everything?”

“We’re sold out, but it’s still early. We’ll make it back in time for lunch.”

The two of them loaded everything onto the oxcart together. Chen Cuihua drove the cart off. On the way, she asked Song Ning a couple of times why he’d been gone so long; she’d been worried he might have run into some trouble along the way. When he told her everything was fine, she finally put her mind at ease.

Chen Cuihua wore a smile the whole way home. Although she knew that breaking even today would be a good result, the first day’s business wasn’t bad at all—it had gone quite smoothly—and she was happy about that.

Back home, the two of them ate some hand-rolled noodles. As soon as she finished eating, Chen Cuihua couldn’t wait to count the coins. She let out a gasp of surprise. “Ning-ger, that’s quite a lot! We got four hundred and fifty wen this morning!”

Song Ning had been copying the Heart Sutra in the courtyard, but when he heard his mother call him, he went over. “Mom, you’re amazing!”

Chen Cuihua beamed with joy. “I never expected to make this much. We didn’t lose any money—we broke even—and we should still make another fifty wen or so today.”

The butter pancakes had sold at a discount today, and the vegetarian ones didn’t turn a profit. The extra money must have come from the meat-filled ones. Chen Cuihua was quite pleased—this was more than she’d ever made from her backbreaking work weaving baskets.

Chen Cuihua was now brimming with energy and felt even more confident in her little business.

In the afternoon, Lan-ger came by to lead the ox out to pasture, and Chen Cuihua, carrying her basket, headed out to buy chives, her steps light and brisk.

Song Ning was home alone for the time being. After copying a passage from the Heart Sutra, he began flipping through a storybook. The little calico cat at home rubbed against his legs and rolled onto its back. Song Ning gave it a quick rub and shooed it off to play by itself.

By the time it was time to cook, his mother had returned. Song Ning tidied up his things and glanced toward the door. Brother Wei Hu probably wouldn’t be coming back today.

If he didn’t come back today, he should be back tomorrow.

Chen Cuihua went to the kitchen to cook, and Song Ning sat alone in the courtyard, sorting through the chives. By the time dinner was ready, Lan-ger still hadn’t returned—he should have been back by now.

“Mom, I’m going to look for Lan-ger. Why hasn’t he come back yet today?”

“Oh, go take a look. I’ve been so busy I completely forgot—that boy should’ve been back by now, but he hasn’t returned yet.”

Song Ning went out to look for Lan-ger. He often took his family’s ox to graze by the small stream on the back of the mountain; the grass grew thick there, and there was water. Song Ning had also taken his family’s ox to that spot before.

From a distance, Song Ning spotted a small figure bent over, cutting grass. He called out to him, “Lan-ger, stop cutting. Come back for dinner.”

Hearing someone call his name, Lan-ger finally looked up. The sun had already set by then, and with the distance between them, Song Ning couldn’t see him clearly. He called out to Lan-ger, but the boy didn’t come over; instead, he bent down again to continue cutting grass.

Thinking Lan-ger hadn’t heard him, Song Ning walked over. “Lan-ger, it’s getting late. Let’s head back for dinner. Your aunt has the meal ready. She steamed white rice today.”

Lan-ger kept his head down, still cutting grass, as if he hadn’t heard Song Ning speaking to him. Song Ning thought Lan-ger was being stubborn again, so he reached out and tugged at him. “There’s enough grass for Dahuang to eat. Let’s go.”

When Song Ning tugged at Lan-ger, he gave him quite a start. “What’s wrong with your face?!”

A large bump had swollen up on Lan-ger’s forehead, and his face was all puffy. Even the ox, tethered to a tree and grazing, was now pacing back and forth restlessly.

Song Ning grew anxious. “What happened? Say something! Did those kids pick on you again?”

Lan-ger snorted. “No, I just accidentally rolled down the hill.”

“Nonsense! Rolling down wouldn’t cause this!”

Lan-ger’s body trembled slightly. He bit his lip but finally said, “I’m sorry, Aunt Ning. I didn’t keep an eye on the ox, and it bumped into something.” Lan-ger was terrified. He’d hurt the ox this time—and that ox was so valuable! Even if they sold him, he wouldn’t be worth as much as a single ox. He was also terrified that if he hadn’t taken good care of the ox, they wouldn’t let him tend it anymore—he’d worked so hard just to get this good job.

Not only could he and his grandfather eat their fill, but they also earned a few copper coins a day. If he lost this job, what on earth would he do? Song Ning quickly glanced at the ox and saw a swelling on its head—no wonder it had been pacing back and forth.

Song Ning untied the ox from the tree and stroked it sympathetically. Holding the ox with one hand and Lan-ger with the other, he said, “Come on, let’s go home first!”