At the Lu Family Courtyard.

Lu Erlang returned yesterday afternoon. He ate the leftover pot-sticker bun his family had saved for him. Since it had gone cold, his sister reheated it. The taste was actually quite ordinary, but he knew his family cherished him and had deliberately saved this treat for him. Regardless of the flavor, he felt deeply touched.

“Delicious.”

Lu Sanniang saw her second brother’s expression and knew he didn’t think it was very tasty.

“Why, Sanniang, are you hungry?” Lu Erlang wasn’t greedy and handed the pancake to his sister. “You can have it all.”

Lu Sanniang jumped up and down in anger. “I’m not greedy! Second Brother, you underestimate me!”

“Alright, alright, I misunderstood. I wanted to give you the bun, Sanniang,” Lu Erlang said cheerfully.

Lu Sanniang was still puffed up with anger. She took a bite of the bun first. The reheated pot-sticker bun had softened a bit and wasn’t as tasty anymore. She couldn’t help but say, “It’s not the bun’s fault, Second Brother. If you go to the medicine shop tomorrow afternoon, I’ll buy you a freshly baked one in the morning.”

“No need. I don’t care for buns,” Lu Erlang chuckled.

But Lu Sanniang insisted on letting her brother taste the freshly baked pot stickers. Her second brother had been studying medicine away from home for over half a month—it must be exhausting. Mother said so. When she asked about it, Second Brother never mentioned any hardships or difficulties, only praising everything. But she didn’t quite believe him.

Life outside naturally couldn’t compare to home.

That’s why, with these delicious pot-sticker buns, Lu Sanniang genuinely wanted her second brother to eat well.

“Fine, fine, whatever you say.” Lu Erlang couldn’t persuade his sister and casually asked, “How much is this? I’ll give you money.”

Lu Dalang arrived in the backyard and said, “Don’t give her money. Keep yours for spending outside. I’ll pay.”

“Exactly, Second Brother! We’ll take Big Brother’s money!” Lu Sanniang sweetly chimed in, “Big Brother has the most money!”

All three siblings burst into laughter.

Early that morning.

Lu Erlang hadn’t risen yet. Since he’d returned home for the night, his parents had told them not to disturb him. But years of early rising had become second nature. Lying in bed, he heard his sister’s voice, strained with urgency despite her attempts to keep it quiet: “Big Brother, hurry up and give me money! The line’s forming next door again!”

“I just went to check—the first batch is already sold out!”

Lu Dalang whispered, “Did Old Man Cui get up early to guard it again?”

“There were others, too. Quite a few people today.”

Inside the room, Lu Erlang pondered. He’d tried that pastry yesterday—the filling was a bit unusual, but nothing special. Why was there a line forming next door?

So Lu Erlang got up too. Through the door, he told Sanniang, “Don’t worry, I’ll go with you to buy some.”

“We absolutely must hurry, or they’ll sell out soon.” With that, Sanniang grabbed her silver and dashed out. “Second Brother, I’ll be back shortly.”

Curiosity piqued, Lu Erlang dressed, washed, and brushed his teeth. By the time he finished, Sanniang still hadn’t returned. “Brother,” he said, “I’m going next door to see what the fuss is about.”

“Go ahead.” Lu Dalang was grinding flour in the courtyard. Mother tended the shop, Father wrapped and steamed buns. Since the neighbors started selling pot-sticker buns, fewer customers bought buns for breakfast, but it didn’t matter much—his family wasn’t a breakfast shop anyway. They sold all day long.

Lu Erlang stepped out of their shop and immediately heard the clamor: “Two red bean paste ones, please! And a plum-pickled pork one! I’ll take three…”

He couldn’t help but be surprised. Was business really this good?

The line stretched all the way to the front of the Tang family’s shop. Lu Erlang spotted Sanniang waiting inside and started to walk in. Someone shouted, “Hey, get in line! No cutting!” “Line up! Line up!”

Lu Erlang realized he was being addressed and hurriedly stepped aside near the entrance. “I’m looking for my sister. I’m not cutting in line.”

After a moment, Lu Sanniang emerged carrying a food basket. Spotting her second brother, she quickly held out the basket for him to see and said in a crisp voice, “Second Brother, you must try this. It’s truly delicious.”

“Let’s go home first,” Lu Erlang said, not touching the pot-sticker.

They arrived at their family shop.

Lu Erlang saw only a few customers buying steamed buns. His mother was collecting money while his father lifted a steamer basket of freshly baked vegetarian-filled buns onto the counter. Lu Erlang stepped forward to help. After the customers left, he asked, “I see the shop next door is doing brisk business. Has it affected our sales?”

“It’s no trouble. Wu-ger only sells for a little over an hour each day, so the volume is small.” After Chen Qiaolian finished speaking, she saw Sanniang had bought a pot-sticker bun again and said to her second son, “That pot-sticker bun tastes best when warm. You two should eat it quickly.”

Lu Sanniang handed one to her second brother, then broke off half a piece for her mother and another for her father. “I only bought three today. Big Brother said we should save some and not eat these every day.”

Father Lu found this amusing and laughed heartily.

“My Sanniang is sensible. But how many buns can you eat? Go ahead, eat up.” Chen Qiaolian remarked. How many more years would their Sanniang stay at home? Once she married, life wouldn’t be the same as it was here. A few pot-sticker buns were a small price to pay.

Lu Sanniang was laughing so hard she could barely stand. She dashed to the back yard to bring buns to her eldest brother, then ran back, eagerly watching her second brother. ”Second Brother, Second Brother! Eat quickly! Haven’t you said if it’s good yet?”

Lu Erlang chuckled at his sister’s teasing. He took a bite, and his expression changed instantly. Staring at the pot-sticker bun in his hand, he couldn’t hide the astonishment in his eyes. Seeing this, Lu Sanniang knew she didn’t need an answer. Overjoyed, she skipped off to the backyard to bring her eldest brother more pot-sticker buns.

“Father, Mother, the neighbor’s pancakes are truly delicious. Their business is thriving. What if demand increases more than ours in the future?” Lu Erlang, savoring the tasty pancake, began worrying about the family business.

This stumped Chen Qiaolian and Father Lu.

After a moment, Father Lu said, “Our Lu family has sold steamed buns on Main Street for over twenty years. Ours are cheap and filling. The neighbors in the neighborhood can’t do without our buns. Don’t worry.”

Lu Erlang nodded. His father was right.

Though he thought this, after finishing his bun, Lu Erlang didn’t return to the back courtyard. Instead, he stayed to help in front of the shop, occasionally glancing outside to watch the neighboring stall. Sure enough, after more than half an hour, the neighboring stall had sold out.

Wu-ger said, “No need to wait in line, we’re sold out for today.”

“Please come again tomorrow,” Tang Xianling had intended to say, “Please come early tomorrow,” but he forced himself to change it to, “Please come again tomorrow.”

Some customers dispersed upon hearing this, seeking other options, while others lingered with questions: “Young Master Tang, will your pickled plum vegetables be gone tomorrow too?” 

“Sold out so quickly? My grandmother loves your pickled plum vegetables—does anyone know how to make them?”

Tang Xianling heard the second question. Was he really asking so bluntly?

“We only have tomorrow’s supply. The day after tomorrow, I plan to sell something else. You can come try the new item.”

The first questioner nodded. “Then I’ll come early tomorrow.”

Tang Xianling: …

As for the second question, Tang Xianling’s eyes crinkled with a smile, but his words were blunt and straightforward: “Pickled plum vegetables are our signature dish. The recipe is a secret. My mother’s livelihood and my father’s medicine money depend on this. I’m truly sorry, but I can’t share it.” He added a touch of appeal.

“Why are you prying into the recipe?” The customer who’d promised to come tomorrow spoke up for Brother Tang. “Would any business owner just give away their trade secrets?”

The inquisitive customer immediately flashed a sheepish smile. “I just hadn’t been able to buy any for days, so I asked. How thoughtless of me—I didn’t consider that angle. My bad.” With that, he made a quick exit.

Tang Xianling thanked the customer who had spoken up for him, “Thank you for your kind words.”

“He only had the nerve to ask you because you’re a widower. Why wouldn’t he dare ask the Lu family next door for their steamed bun recipe?” The Lu family had two sons, after all.

Tang Xianling struggled: … I… am also… a man…

Ah, never mind.

The customers were just kindly helping out. Arguing this point was pointless.

Speaking of the Lu family, Tang Xianling thought of the yeast starter used for leavening dough. After seeing off the customers, he told Jiang Yun he was heading next door. He took ten wen from the money box—he had no idea how much the yeast starter cost.

Tang Xianling arrived next door and saw an unfamiliar youth, about fourteen or fifteen. He wasn’t tall and was somewhat thin, but he bore a strong resemblance to Lu Dalang. At a glance, Tang knew this must be Lu Erlang, studying medicine away from home.

The youth noticed Tang Wu looking at him, and immediately averted his eyes.

Tang Xianling didn’t stare back. He asked, “Mr. Lu, Mrs. Lu, I’d like to buy some starter dough.”

“Starter dough?” Chen Qiaolian repeated. Father Lu chimed in from the side, “Go get some for Wu-ger. There’s no need to buy it—it’s a gift. It’s not worth much anyway.”

Behind them, Lu Erlang’s heart skipped a beat. Why would Wu-ger want starter dough? Was he planning to sell steamed buns, too?

Tang Xianling couldn’t refuse—he genuinely didn’t know how to make it. He’d offer money, they’d refuse, he’d insist, they’d politely decline again. He’d leave the money on the table, grab the starter, and dash out. That whole routine.

He really didn’t know how else to do it.

He’d always quietly slip red envelopes into his pocket when receiving them.

After getting the starter from the Lu household—smiling and insisting they didn’t need to send him anything—he returned to his shop, wiped his sweat, and placed the starter away. “Mom, no rush to return the bowl,” he said. “I took something for free. Once I bake some bread, I’ll bring some over to the neighbors. That’ll be the perfect time to return the bowl.”

“That’s only right,” Jiang Yun nodded, then whispered, “Wu-ger, don’t mention giving anything to the neighbors in front of your father.”

Tang Xianling:?

After a moment’s reaction, he finally recalled the reason.

“Old Tang has a screw loose. He’s so petty.”

Jiang Yun glanced around nervously, sighing in relief when no one overheard. Wu-ger was far too bold.

Tang Xianling swiftly organized the accounts—costs, reserves, lawyer fees—storing each separately. It was barely past nine in the morning. “Mother, I’m heading to the East Market to buy supplies. You tend to things at home. If I can’t make it back for lunch, don’t wait for me—eat first.”

With that, Tang Xianling tucked the reserve funds into his pocket, rounding it up to a neat six hundred wen—a hefty sack of money. He grabbed his basket and headed out. He hailed a rickshaw directly from the main street to the East Market. The driver, seeing he was alone and thin, charged him three wen.

In just a few short days, he’d already begun living the rickshaw life.

Tang Xianling: Life sure is getting better.

Money.jpg

The rickshaw was indeed faster than walking. Arriving at the East Market entrance, he found it bustling with merchants and caravans of all sizes. Naturally, wealthy city gentlemen, young masters, and well-heeled ladies were also common sights. Tang Xianling headed straight for the half-street of foreign merchants’ stalls.

After browsing, he found milk in abundance—as much as he wanted. Butter? What’s butter?

Worried he hadn’t been understood, the foreign shopkeeper called over a Rong Dynasty assistant to translate. 

Tang Xianling: …

He felt a twinge of despair, yet clung to a sliver of hope. He gestured and explained, afraid the term “butter” might be unfamiliar, describing it in great detail. The clerk listened patiently, then spoke to the owner in a foreign tongue. Finally, he shook his head: “Sir, no. Our boss says he’s never seen such a thing.”

Tang Xianling: !!!

Despair, yet not quite despair.

He knew how to make butter, but without an egg beater, kneading it by hand felt like it would wreck his arms. Just yesterday, he’d vowed to have a meat floss bun by tonight at the latest—

Brave Tang Xianling fears no hardship.

So the big eater Tang Xianling cheered himself up, gritted his teeth, and told the clerk: “Give me a bucket of milk.”

“Can you deliver it?”

The clerk beamed: “Sure, sure, sure.” He’d thought this deal was dead in the water, but unexpectedly, he’d landed a big customer.

In Fengyuan City, people mostly ate mutton, so goat’s milk was cheaper and more plentiful. Cow’s milk was pricier, but not outrageously so. The shop assistant was so happy because the hot weather meant unsold milk would spoil—every bucket sold was one less to waste.

It was rare to have a big customer order so much milk.

Forty wen for a bucket of milk, delivered free to their door.

Tang Xianling paid half the price, gave his address, and could head home to await delivery. He didn’t rush back immediately. Manual churning was out of the question—running a business would require large quantities. Manual churning was manageable once a day, but doing it daily would consume all his time.

He thought of modern hand-cranked garlic crushers—those weren’t electric either. An egg beater would be best if hand-cranked, but it would need gears. He’d read tomb-raiding novels before; ancient tomb mechanisms showed that gears existed in those times.

The Rong Dynasty was still quite prosperous.

Please, heavens above, grant me a hand-cranked egg beater with gears.

Tang Xianling turned toward the West Market. This time, he didn’t take a carriage—the Eastern and West Markets weren’t far apart, and he could walk there in just over twenty minutes. He found a blacksmith and began asking questions, gesturing wildly. The blacksmith was completely baffled, but the young son beside him seemed to catch on.

“Do you understand what I mean?”

“I get a little bit,” the blacksmith’s son nodded.

Tang Xianling:! 

He gestured again.

Finally, he asked, “If you could make it, how much would it cost?”

Ironware was expensive. A large iron pot like the ones in the shop costs at least two taels of silver. This gear, though using less iron, was more intricate. As for rust, that could be solved with diligent maintenance—wiping it dry and oiling it after use.

The blacksmith’s son said, “At least two taels, but I’ll need to figure it out. And since you want it large, I expect it’ll cost more.”

“I’m not trying to rip you off, but it really will be expensive—at least three and a half to four taels.”

Tang Xianling: …My apologies. He’ll begin kneading dough by hand.

“I don’t have that much money right now. How about I come back when I have the money?” Tang Xianling suggested to the young blacksmith.

The young blacksmith replied, “Sure. I wouldn’t be able to make it anyway.” But he was curious about the handle this gentleman described—one that, when turned, could drive the iron fork below. The fork itself was easy enough to make; it was the gear that needed careful consideration.

He could experiment with wood or bamboo strips first.

When Tang Xianling arrived, he felt like a wealthy man with six hundred wen tucked away. But now, he needed to earn more!

His craving for meat floss bread won out. Leaving the blacksmith’s shop, Tang Xianling turned toward the carpenter’s general store. There, he spotted a large kitchen scrub brush for pots and pans. Made of bamboo, it had a long handle with split bamboo strips at the bottom—perfect for an egg beater.

“How much?”

“Eight wen each.”

Tang—the wealthy man: “I’ll take it!” He still had money.

He headed back to make a giant meat floss bun.