It was a two-day weekend, but the staff was all working overtime.

The Tang family spent two days preparing hot pot broth in their courtyard.

Mrs. Tong, A-Liang, Jiang Yun, and Tang Zhen—the four of them—were in charge of packaging: cutting wax paper, affixing red labels reading “Brother Tang Wu,” and tying them with hemp rope. Tieniu was responsible for moving and cutting the blocks. After the beef tallow hot pot base was stir-fried, it had to be poured into a large tray, allowed to cool completely, and then cut into blocks.

Since it’s cold today, it sets quite well.

Once the four packers had finished their preparatory work, the beef tallow base had solidified into blocks, ready for packaging.

Tang Xianling is in charge of preparing the ingredients and stir-frying; later, when Xiao Mi learned how to do it, he took over.

Lu Sanniang, meanwhile, wrote the “Brother Tang Wu” labels. This task used to be handled by Tieniu, but now that sales around the Tang household were booming, Tieniu sometimes couldn’t keep up. Lu Sanniang’s two older brothers had attended school, and when she was little, she’d learned to read and write for a few years by following them—though not as formally as they had—but writing the three characters “Brother Tang Wu” was no problem for her.

In short: the aroma had been wafting from the Tang family’s courtyard for two days.

Not to mention the neighbors—even people from the Second Alley were flocking to the Tang household. Then, with Jiang Yun’s announcement of “700 wen per block,” word of the beef tallow hot pot base spread like wildfire before it even hit the counter.

First of all, it was fragrant—truly, genuinely fragrant.

“I’ve never smelled a dish more fragrant than this broth.”

“I’m not exaggerating at all—really. I was walking down Main Street, planning to grab a sweet treat, but guess what? That faint, tantalizing aroma lured me all the way from the far end of the street to the Tang family’s restaurant. It wasn’t just me—a few people ahead of me had stopped too, all saying, ‘What’s that amazing smell?’ The neighbors in the neighborhood said it was the hot pot base…”

Second, it’s expensive—the seasoning costs seven hundred wen.

“It may smell good, but it’s too expensive. I don’t believe they’ll be able to sell it.”

“Maybe they won’t sell it all, and it’ll just sit there and go bad.”

“Sure, it’s cold out now so food keeps well, but it won’t stay fresh if it sits too long. They’ll definitely have to sell it at a discount eventually—I’ll give it a try then.”

Because of these two factors, even before the hot pot base hit the shelves, word had already spread far and wide—previously, Tang’s Restaurant had been just a small neighborhood eatery with little clout or fame, but step by step, it has truly transformed. This place now has a “hidden gem” vibe, and the grand restaurants in both the East and West Markets are all talking about Tang’s base.

However, the patrons of these grand restaurants tend to scoff at the claims that it’s expensive—reacting with comments like, “Is that really expensive?” “It’s just okay,” or “Seven hundred wen? That’s not even enough for a pot of my wine.” Yet when they hear people say the aroma is overpowering and exceptionally fragrant, their curiosity is piqued, and they plan to stop by later or send a servant to buy a piece to sample.

“Their flavor is indeed excellent—it’s just one thing: the portions are too small.”

“True, it’s just a small eatery—it can’t compare to the grand restaurants.”

“You can’t say that. Sure, the place isn’t as big as this one, but I think the few unique dishes they serve are actually better.”

Eating isn’t about whose place is bigger—that doesn’t make the food taste better.

Restaurants in the West Market and taverns in the East Market are all talking about the Tang family’s secret sauce.

“I hear it’s made with tallow supplied by those foreigners.”

“Huh? Then they really have some connections.”

“Indeed—to have pulled off that connection.”

“Not only do they have that connection, but even back during the summer, with those chili peppers—I heard they had a powerful backer in Lujing, a government official.” The speaker pointed up toward the sky.

The patrons at the tavern, their faces flushed from drinking, nodded in unison upon hearing this, fully convinced.

“This little eatery has some serious connections.”

“You bet. Otherwise, how could they have built such a big business? Not even those petty competitors in the West Market have managed to trip them up.”

“I heard that the County Princess of Tingjiang Prefecture even went there to buy pastries.”

“Really? Is that true?”

“It couldn’t be more true. Take those Treasure Balls, for instance—they’re truly delicious. This year’s batch sold out incredibly fast. The County Princess’s carriage was parked right in front of the shop. She was decked out in gold and jewels—as opulent as it gets. Though her face was hidden by a veil, just looking at her figure, you could tell she was as beautiful as a flower.”

“…You’re just talking nonsense because you’re drunk. You don’t know a thing. Would a noble lady really go out on the street to a restaurant to buy food? That was a maid from the County Lady’s mansion.”

“Oh! A maid? She was dressed so lavishly, I thought she was the County Princess herself.”

“How could the County Princess ever be called ‘Her Highness’? You really are drunk.”

And so, through the talk of these people—eight truths mixed with two lies—the story spread. The “Tang Wu-ger’s Restaurant” in Baxing District became a mysterious and enigmatic place of great significance. Later, whenever it was mentioned, people would only vaguely hint that there were “important figures” from Lujing involved, without specifying who they were. This vagueness only served to make the place seem even more extraordinary.

If Big Boss Tang found out, he’d just: …

Be speechless.

In two days, the container has been stocked with 100 units of the base ingredients, and Lord Pus is still working on his portion—there’s no rush on Pus’s end; his caravan is staying in Fengyuan City for half a month and will leave before the snow falls, so as long as the delivery is made before then, it’ll be fine.

Monday.

The Cui family—Father Cui and son—run a shop. With the recent cold snap, they’ve taken the stuffed buns off the menu and gone back to their original specialty: pot-sticker buns. They’ve added egg-stuffed pancakes to the lineup, though; Father Cui has learned to make them now, as long as his son prepares the batter and sauces in advance.

Cui Dabao placed the guo ke in the oven. Before he even opened the shop door, he said to his father, “Why does it feel like there are people everywhere outside?”

Father Cui laughed and said, “Even if I were blind and deaf, I’d still hear the chatter out there.”

“Hah, buying pot-sticker buns is just an excuse—they’re all here just to ask me,” Cui Dabao said with a smile as he went to open the shop door. Sure enough, as soon as the door swung open, Zhang Ming’s face was right at the front of the crowd.

The two smiled at each other the moment they saw one another.

“Good morning, Brother Zhang.”

“Good morning, Old Man Cui.”

After exchanging a few playful remarks, Zhang Ming ordered a pot cake with pickled mustard greens and pork, asking, “Are you using the special filling today? The rumors are going wild out there.”

The customers in the back craned their necks to listen, chattering away: “Is it true that it’s going to cost seven hundred wen?” 

“Seven hundred wen is impossible—I’d guess seventy wen. Someone must have misheard or spread the rumor about seven hundred wen.” 

“Right, right, right.”

Cui Dabao spoke up first: “The base sauce hits the shelves today. I heard from the boss there are only a hundred portions.” He then turned to the heads behind him and said, “The retail price is seven hundred wen—the rumors are true.”

“Whoa…” someone gasped, “We can’t afford that.”

“That’s even more expensive than dragon meat.”

“Have you ever eaten dragon meat? How can you say something like that?”

Everyone here was a neighbor from the neighborhood; while they could afford pot-buns, they certainly couldn’t afford the base sauce—not only that they couldn’t afford it, but spending that much on a meal just wasn’t worth it. Seven hundred wen—that was enough to buy groceries for the whole family for ten days or so.

“The old broth was better—it wasn’t expensive back then. Now it’s getting more and more expensive.”

“To me, this price doesn’t seem like something from our neighborhood.”

Cui Dabao heard the two men speaking in a half-hearted, sarcastic tone, glanced over at them, and said with a somewhat serious expression, “Our restaurant is located in our neighborhood, but Baxing District is Baxing District of Fengyuan City. The owner has said that eating and drinking here is optional—if you don’t want to eat, you don’t have to. We’re all neighbors here; why are you making these snide remarks?”

“Oh, come on, Cui Dabao. Do you really think this breakfast shop belongs to you?”

“Exactly. You’re just a handyman.”

Cui Dabao didn’t get angry; he just smiled and said, “Right, right, right.”

The ones who’d made the snide remarks were the ones left fuming. Later, right in front of Cui Dabao, one of them said, “I’m not eating,” while the other declared, “Let’s go get breakfast somewhere else—who cares about this place anyway?” 

Cui Dabao didn’t seem to mind, while Zhang Ming just laughed and said, “Why are you saying all that?”

“The Tang family’s business is booming. These past few years, most of their customers have been prominent figures from other districts. Those two still can’t see the difference—how could Brother Wu’s restaurant possibly compare to Old Tang’s?”

“That’s for sure. Old Tang’s place is just plain noodles—you can get those anywhere.”

“Come to think of it, Mr. Tang has really brought honor to our Baxing District. I hear the restaurants in the West Market are green with envy, hahaha.”

“Ever since Mr. Tang’s restaurant opened on this street, business has picked up a lot for the other places too.”

There are more people around, after all.

Tang Xianling was unaware of the little spat up ahead or the speculation about his restaurant in both the East and West Markets. Even if he had known, aside from feeling a bit flustered and at a loss for words, he would have been somewhat “pleased to see it happen”—free advertising, after all. How great is that?

He was currently talking to his staff in the backyard: “That’s right, no need for a big cast-iron pot. Just set up a table right at the front of the shop with a clay pot. Start by putting in a chunk of the base broth and let it simmer. Remember to add water every now and then—don’t let it boil dry.”

Big Boss Tang was even using his family’s broth to attract customers right then.

After all, at 700 wen a piece, it’s on the pricey side, so diners need to see what’s in it, how to eat it, and whether it smells good—Tang Xianling had previously considered dipping some vegetables in the broth and scooping them out for customers to taste, but since it was cold outside, the beef tallow would solidify and become unappetizing once it cooled. Plus, the soupy mixture of cooked meat and vegetables would be messy for diners to eat.

So the idea of a tasting was scrapped; instead, they simply let the customers smell the aroma.

The restaurant next door had opened.

When diners buying breakfast heard “700 wen” from Cui Dabao, they had completely given up hope and stopped fantasizing—the aroma had indeed been incredible for the past two days, tantalizing their appetites all that time, but the price was definitely too high. “Forget it, forget it,” they thought.

Everyone had decided not to buy it, but that didn’t stop them from stopping by to see the commotion and see if anyone else was buying.

Suddenly, the young owner of the Tang Family Restaurant came out carrying a table—a relatively small one—and set it up outside the restaurant entrance without blocking the doorway. Mrs. Tong and A-Liang followed, one carrying a clay pot and the other a stove; they then lit the charcoal fire and set the pot over it.

Zhang Ming paused mid-bite of his pot bread, his mouth making a “crunch, crunch” sound, and leaned in closer. He saw that the clay pot contained clear broth—truly clear, the kind you could see your reflection in—not bone broth at all.

The bone broth and mushroom soup at Tang’s Hot Pot were also delicious; every autumn and winter, he’d stop by the restaurant to treat himself, though he didn’t come every day.

“Why are you boiling plain water?” 

“What’s the point of boiling water?” 

“Is anyone thirsty enough to drink it?”

Early in the morning, the main street was filled with neighbors from both neighborhoods, all chattering away.

Tieniu said, “No, I’m going to use this pot of clear water to cook my new beef-fat spicy hot pot base.”

“Oh, that base again.” 

“Well, I’ll have to take a look then.”

“What you’re selling is really expensive—way too expensive,” 

“What’s in it?” 

“Is it a dipping sauce? Do you eat it with that?”

Tieniu had no answer to the comment about the high price of cash, so he simply remained silent.

Tang Xianling took out a block of the base, unwrapped it from the hemp rope packaging, and, holding it on a piece of the original oiled paper, showed it to everyone. “This is my family’s spicy hot pot base,” he said. “It’s made with beef tallow, chili peppers, and various spices. When you’re ready to eat, just cut off a piece with a clean knife. It’ll keep for a few days in cold weather, and you can use it for stir-frying or for your hot pot.”

“If you’re having hot pot, it’s most flavorful when you simmer your own bone broth and add the base to it. Then you can dip your ingredients—just toss in whatever you like. Today, I’ll just demonstrate using plain water.”

The clear water in the pot bubbled and boiled.

Tang Xianling slid the base into the pot. It was quite large, and once it hit the water, the clear water slowly turned red, dotted with oil droplets. The bright red chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, and various spices dissolved in the water and floated to the surface. At first, it was fine—those standing close could catch a faint whiff of the spicy aroma—but then someone said, “Something’s off. Why isn’t it as fragrant as it was the past couple of days?”

“The aroma’s weaker.” 

“Something’s definitely off—it smells okay, though.” 

“It’s not very fragrant.” 

“Spices are expensive, but Mr. Tang, did you use too little?”

The implication was that for such a high price, the aroma was too faint.

Tang Xianling smiled amiably. “It’s hot pot—simmer it slowly and eat it slowly. The longer it simmers, the more fragrant it gets. Just give it a little time.”

With that, Tang Xianling went to the backyard to tend to his business.

The neighbors gathered in front of the restaurant and wouldn’t budge, determined to see what was so special about this 700-wen broth—even though they wouldn’t get to taste it themselves.

As time passed, the clear water and the broth base blended completely into one, bubbling away as steam rose in wispy plumes, and the aroma grew increasingly rich…

The pot-sticker bun in Zhang Ming’s hand had grown cold. As he ate it, the flavor of the pickled mustard greens wasn’t strong; instead, it was filled with the aroma of a boiling hot pot—an aroma so intense it was indescribable, unlike anything he’d ever tasted before. He really wanted to try it—to see what it would taste like with some vegetables and meat added to the broth.

It must be delicious.

They haven’t even started cooking yet, but just the smell alone is so enticing.

Those who had initially said the aroma was faint began to remark in surprise as time went on: “Hey, it really is getting stronger and stronger,” “That’s strange,” and “I can see now that with all that oil, chili peppers, and spices, it’s definitely worth the price.”

If ordinary people went to the East Market to buy these ingredients themselves, they’d know just how expensive they really are.

Especially that beef tallow—while vegetable oil and lard are common and widely consumed, beef tallow is a rarity. Since people rarely even get to eat beef, it’s clear that beef tallow is also a rare and expensive commodity.

Thinking about it this way, everyone began to feel that seven hundred wen didn’t seem all that expensive after all.

The ingredients used are different, after all.

There’s a reason it’s expensive. Back in the day, with bone broth, pork bones cost just a few wen per jin—you could boil a huge pot just by adding some water. But buying a block of lard was a different story—that was expensive. And now, with such a large chunk of beef tallow…

Tang Xianling never imagined that a foodie’s willpower could be so strong—able to come up with excuses for delicious ingredients and then convince themselves: “I’ll buy it.”

“I’ll take one,” said Zhang Ming, who didn’t want to eat the pot cakes, as he approached the counter to pay with cash.

A-Liang, the shopkeeper, took the money and handed over the order, saying, “Sir, this base is meant for three to five people. If your whole family is sharing one pot, use the amount of water you see out there. If you add too much water, the spiciness and saltiness will be diluted. If you like it strong, add less water; if you prefer it milder, add more water…”

“Got it.” Zhang Ming, holding the heavy pot base and his pot bread, hurried straight home. He took a few steps, paused, then turned back.

A-Liang thought he’d changed his mind, but then heard him ask, “Mr. Tang just said it tastes better when cooked in bone broth, right?”

A-Liang first let out a sigh of relief, then hurriedly replied, “The bone broth base is richer; the spiciness isn’t as intense, and it’s more aromatic and flavorful.”

The people nearby heard this and were stunned: !!!

If the clear broth pot is already this fragrant, who knows how delicious it’ll be when cooked in bone broth!

So Zhang Ming took the seasoning mix and headed back to the end of the street to buy some bones.

……

The crowd at Tang’s Restaurant was growing by the minute. The aroma from the pot out front wafted far and wide. Regulars arrived early today, sticking to their usual routine: eating in the restaurant first, then taking the broth base home with them afterward.

But before they even stepped inside, they called out, “Is that the spicy hot base simmering in the pot out front?”

“Give me two packets.”

“I’ll take two packets, too.”

Others bought it to take straight home instead of eating at Tang’s. Just by looking at their expressions and attire, you could tell these buyers of the base were errand runners, hangers-on, or servants—and they bought plenty of it.

The butcher shop at the end of the street.

That morning, Zhu Si had wondered, “Why are there so many people coming to our shop to buy large pork ribs today?”

“Usually, we can’t even give them away as gifts.” People thought they’d use up too much firewood.

Zhou Xiangping knew the reason and explained, “I just asked around. Tang’s Restaurant has launched a new spicy hot pot base—they say it’s more fragrant when simmered in bone broth.”

As soon as Zhu Si heard this, he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. He nodded in understanding and said cheerfully, “For our pork shop, Mr. Tang is truly a benefactor. It’s a business that doesn’t make sense, but it’s bringing us good fortune.”

“What do you mean doesn’t make sense? The Tang family now needs pork every single day. Before, we’d sell half a pig or a whole pig a day—it’s different now.” Zhou Xiangping was delighted to bring it up; now their shop sold pork in lots of two pigs or more, and sometimes they even bought up all the pork that other shops couldn’t sell.

For example, during the summer, the Tang family’s barbecue stall would serve grilled pig’s feet—parts that other shops couldn’t sell well, so they’d buy them all up. Don’t underestimate the small amounts of cash; ordinary people make ends meet by scraping together every single coin and saving it bit by bit.

“Right, right, right. You’re absolutely right. Business is good now, so in a couple of years, we’ll be able to send our kid to a private school for a few years.”

Zhou Xiangping nodded; it was indeed time for the child to learn to read and do arithmetic.

Never mind passing the imperial exams—people like them didn’t even think that far ahead. Being able to read and do arithmetic would be more than enough; that way, the child could take over the family shop someday.

“Old Tang really has what it takes—he’s raised such a brilliant ger.” Zhu Si, overjoyed, couldn’t help but say this again.

Zhou Xiangping: “Don’t say that in front of Aunt Jiang—she doesn’t like hearing it, though she won’t say so to our faces. Personally, I think Mr. Tang wouldn’t like it either.”

“All right, I won’t say it. I’ll take your word for it.” Zhu Si was quick to change his tune. Back in the day, when Tang Wu-ger came to buy a few wen’s worth of meat from him—not that he was begging or fawning over him, mind you—but since Zhu Si was a bit older, he could still act like a sort of elder and lecture him a little. Things were different now, though.

Brother Tang Wu isn’t the Brother Tang Wu he used to be—he’s Big Boss Tang now.

Things sure change fast.

……

With summer chili dishes—such as chili stir-fried pork, spicy boiled pork slices, and spicy fish—serving as a foundation, once the spicy hot pot base was introduced, regulars knew exactly what “chili” meant. Those who couldn’t handle the heat naturally wouldn’t buy or order it, but for those who loved it, it was a must-try.

As a result, there weren’t many conflicts or problems.

At most, when people were eating the spicy hot pot in the restaurant—sweating profusely on a freezing cold day, their cheeks flushed red, while the air was thick with the pungent, spicy aroma—those sitting nearby who didn’t like spicy food would watch and smell it, feeling a bit tempted to try it, and then ask: “Mr. Tang, could you offer a hot pot that’s a little spicy but not quite that spicy?”

“Mildly spicy?”

Sure.

Owner Tang agreed and served it up.

Later, the restaurant introduced a light oil, mildly spicy hot pot, which became quite popular. It’s a favorite among those who aren’t big on spicy food—they’d eat until they were drenched in sweat, dipping vegetables and chatting with friends. After a full meal and drinks, they’d feel completely relaxed and refreshed.

“This is exactly what you need in winter—it’s delicious.”

“I’m all sweaty—let’s sit for a bit before we go.”

“It’s snowing outside.”

“Young boss, do you have any of this clear oil broth available to take home?” someone asked.

Tieniu said, “The clear oil doesn’t solidify, so we can’t pack it to go. Sorry, sir.”

“No problem, no problem. I just thought it looked so good I had to ask. I’ll just come in and eat here anyway.”

In just over half a month, the Tang family’s counter had earned more than 700 taels of silver from selling soup bases alone. After deducting costs, the net profit was quite substantial—over 600 taels.

Jiang Yun counted the money with a fluttering heart, feeling they’d made a fortune—

“We didn’t have much to begin with.”

Tang Xianling wasn’t cut out to be a “big boss” either. He actually shared his mother’s mindset: he liked making money, but turning such a small investment into such a huge profit felt a bit—if not exactly unsettling, then at least a little embarrassing. So he occasionally paid his employees overtime, raised their overtime rates, and tried to offer as many benefits as possible.

As for the rest, there was nothing he could do.

Grandpa Liu Baojian was right: now that he was partnering with Lord Pus, he couldn’t very well sell his goods cheaper than Lord Pus did.

So he said, “For the next couple of years, we’re the only ones with chili peppers, so we can sell them at a higher price. In a few years, when there are more chili peppers on the market, we can lower the price—and of course, we’ll give Lord Pus a discount first.”

“All right, all right, I think that works,” Jiang Yun nodded repeatedly.

Tieniu, listening nearby, felt like laughing, but he shifted his gaze slightly downward and said, “Xianling, haven’t you put on a little weight lately?”

“???” Tang Xianling was about to lose his temper, glaring at Tieniu as if he were a faithless lover. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’ve gotten fat?”

Jiang Yun was startled—Wu-ger’s temper had been as explosive as firecrackers lately—so she hurried to smooth things over: “Tieniu didn’t mean it that way. You must have misunderstood. Just let him finish speaking.”

Tieniu stepped forward, took his husband’s hand, and said, “I was just being careless. I only noticed yesterday that you’ve gotten a bit rounder—I mean, your belly’s a little fuller.”

“??? Tieniu, Tieniu, I never thought that just because I ate a little more and put on some weight, you’d—”

Tang Zhen caught on. “Little Brother, are you pregnant?”

Jiang Yun, who had been trying to “break up the fight,” let out an “Ah.”

Big Boss Tang, known for his explosive temper, abruptly stopped his barrage of questions.

Tang Xianling slowly turned to look at Tieniu, his expression blank, his mind filled with question marks.

Tieniu wrapped his arm around his husband’s waist and nodded. “I asked Old Man Cui earlier about how Sun Fulang was when he was carrying Xiaoyuan. He told me that at the beginning of his pregnancy, Sun Fulang couldn’t keep anything down—whatever he ate, he threw up. But you’ve been eating heartily, with an even better appetite than usual in the summer, so I didn’t think much of it.”

“Over the past ten days or so, you’ve been busy but full of energy, and you’ve been sleeping well at night—though you’ve always been a sound sleeper. It’s just that you’ve been getting up to use the bathroom a bit more often lately.”

“And your belly—it’s gotten a bit rounder.”

“I’m afraid I might be mistaken, but it doesn’t matter if I am—your health is what’s important. Since you’re not as busy anymore, let’s leave things to Xiao Mi and go see a doctor at the West Market.”

Tang Xianling blinked. He had no idea what Tieniu was babbling about.

In truth, he found it hard to believe—but he wasn’t exactly avoiding the issue either.

It had been four years. He and Tieniu had a harmonious relationship in bed, and their bond had grown stronger. Douzi’s Xiaoyuan was adorable, and Second Sister’s kids were all fun in their own ways. Although having more children meant more hassle, having a child of his own with Tieniu wasn’t such a bad thing. In fact, last winter, he’d even felt a bit of anticipation.

Now that it had actually come to pass, he couldn’t be afraid. The thoughts fell into place in Tang Xianling’s mind, as if a program had been “activated” on the spot. His earlier dazed and bewildered expression vanished, and a smile spread across his face. “You’re right!”

As soon as Tieniu saw Xianling’s smile, he smiled too.

That night, Tang Xianling took off his clothes and sat on the bed, no longer afraid of the cold. He pulled aside his undergarments and said to Tieniu, “Bring the candle closer so I can take a look.”

Tieniu held the candle to shine light on his husband.

“It’s not round yet,” Tang Xianling said, running a hand over his belly. It felt fine—not swollen at all—so he looked up at Tieniu: “If I’d conceived in the summer, I’d be nearly four months along by now.”

At four months, his belly should be showing, but it was still flat—well, maybe a little soft, but that was normal. He hadn’t been trying to make it look flat; if he had, it would have been slightly flatter.

Tieniu warmed his hands before placing them on Tang Xianling’s belly. As soon as Tang Xianling felt the touch, his stomach twitched, and he momentarily lost his grip. It had felt very strange just now, but scientifically speaking, even if he really were pregnant, the baby would still be no bigger than a peanut.

How could it possibly be moving?

“It really is a bit round,” Tieniu said with certainty.

Hearing this, Tang Xianling cheered up. He burrowed deeper into the blankets, smiling blissfully. “Whether it’s a boy, a girl, or a ger, we’ll call them Lala!”

“Sounds good. Tang Lala is a nice name,” Tieniu said.

Tang Xianling looked over at him and laughed, “That works. Even though I don’t like ‘Old Tang,’ my last name is Tang, so ‘Tang Lala’ sounds just like a bowl of delicious spicy soup!”

“Great name,” Tieniu said sincerely, hugging his husband and giving him a kiss.

Tang Lala was the child he and Xianling had together.