West Market Tavern.

“What dish could have Old Man Cui so obsessed?”

“Exactly! What hasn’t Old Man Cui tasted?”

After a few cups of wine, Cui Dabao’s face flushed slightly, but his mind remained clear. Waving his hand with a smile, he said, “Stop flattering me. I’m no match for you, gentlemen. You frequent the grandest establishments and have truly tasted everything. I’m just a humble commoner.”

“Brother, you’re too modest.”

“Exactly!” Ding Quan chimed in before getting to the point. “Brother Cui, tell us properly—what breakfast dish has you so nostalgic? I’ll buy one to try the flavor myself.”

Other hangers-on chimed in: “If my Brother Cui says it’s good, the taste can’t be bad.”

“Exactly!”

Cui Dabao loved talking about food. He knew these young masters were trying to pry some fresh gossip from him—maybe one of them would get bored and need a new hangout to brag about. But he knew their temperaments; they probably wouldn’t be willing to wait in line for hours on Zheng Street in Baxing District just for a bite of breakfast.

Whether those young masters came or not was irrelevant to him. Better they didn’t, saving him the trouble of running out of stock.

Seeing everyone pressing him, Cui Dabao replied in a flat tone, “Nothing particularly novel. Old Tang’s mutton soup and dumplings on the main street switched to serving breakfast.”

The other loafers lost half their interest upon hearing this, but they were just tagging along for fun and wouldn’t dampen Cui Dabao’s enthusiasm. After all, they had nothing better to do than listen.

Cui Dabao had intended to keep a low profile, lest he later regret not buying any bread himself. He could manage a modest, humble response for Mr. Tang, but seeing the fleeting disdain flash across these men’s faces instantly soured his mood. He began to elaborate carefully: “At first, they sold pickled mustard greens and pork pot stickers. The pastry was baked to a translucent sheen—thin, crisp—and the filling inside was something else entirely. Nothing like ordinary pickled vegetables, A distinct vegetable aroma, satisfying to chew, and the meat was succulent without being greasy…“

”Oh, that’s all.“ So it was just a baked flatbread.

”Sounds pretty good.” They’d assumed Cui Dabao had discovered some exotic delicacy, but it turned out to be just this—and it used pork filling. The young masters would likely lose face if they heard it had pork filling; they wouldn’t even touch it.

Cui Dabao saw right through their half-hearted interest. He didn’t buy for a second that Mr. Tang’s breakfast was anything special, and his mood soured instantly. “Besides pot stickers, there’s also pork floss bread…”

He launched into another lengthy description.

The other hangers-on had already lost interest. All this talk boiled down to baked flatbread. They’d imagined the pork floss bread to be something special, but upon closer listening, it was just a baked mantou bun with pork floss—and pork floss was made from pork.

Why couldn’t they get away from pork?

Truly commoners’ fare.

Cui Dabao understood: food should simply be delicious. If dragon liver and phoenix marrow were prepared poorly, it would be a waste of rare ingredients. Master Tang’s true skill lay in making pork taste so exquisite.

“I’m done talking to you lot. You don’t know how to eat,” Cui Dabao declared finally, his words laced with the scent of alcohol.

The other hangers-on chuckled, smoothing things over. They raised their cups to toast Cui Dabao, offering polite platitudes: “Wherever we go, we can’t match Brother Cui’s palate,” “If Brother Cui says it’s good, it must be good,” “We’ll definitely come support you another day.”

These were all “next time for sure” excuses—polite refusals from adults, still giving face.

Cui Dabao heard it all, furrowing his brow. He didn’t lose his temper again, but thought to himself: These people can’t share the same pot with him; they’re no longer true brothers. What a waste that he’d treated them as friends before. Looks like from now on, they’ll only be drinking buddies—

Not even drinking buddies, since they wouldn’t share a meal with him!

They chatted some more about food and drink, but soon lost interest and dispersed. Soon, only Cui Dabao, Ding Quan, and another man remained at the table. Ding Quan poured tea for Cui Dabao and said, “Brother Cui, drink less wine. There’s nothing to pair it with anyway. Have some tea.”

Ding Quan sensed Cui Dabao’s irritation, but since drinking on an empty stomach was bad for one’s health, he offered gentle persuasion.

“Ah, I know they don’t trust me. Fine, believe it or not.” Cui Dabao sighed and switched to tea. The cooled brew tasted bitter, making him grimace. With a lingering whiff of alcohol on his breath, he remarked, “Mr. Tang’s breakfast is truly excellent. You know my nature—even if someone slipped me money to praise it, I wouldn’t lie. If it’s good, it’s good. If it’s bad, it’s bad.”

Ding Quan nodded earnestly. “Right, then I’ll go buy some tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow won’t work. Mr. Tang rests tomorrow. He sells for five days and rests two.” Cui Dabao thought about having to wait another day to taste Mr. Tang’s breakfast, and his stomach churned even more.

The other man perked up at this. “If business is as booming as Brother Cui says, wouldn’t anyone want to sell every day? Yet this Mr. Tang takes two days off. Either his food is so good he doesn’t fear customers staying away, or—”

Cui Dabao grabbed the man’s arm to cut him off. His drunken eyes held a hint of resolve as he shook his head. “There won’t be that second ‘either’. It won’t happen.”

Either the business is struggling, and he lacks experience, so he’s just selling haphazardly, throwing caution to the wind.

Ding Quan exchanged a glance with the other man, then finally laughed. It really did pique his curiosity. He’d go check it out the day after tomorrow. If it was good, he’d confirm it and then tell Gu Sanlang and Young Master Wei.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

At the shopfront of the Tang family, Jiang Yun was helping Wu-ger count the inventory.

“Today’s intermittent deliveries have all arrived. I didn’t send them to the back yard; I had them placed up front as you requested.”

Tang Xianling began checking the goods: flour, red beans, charcoal, oil, sugar, and spices he had brought himself, plus a large basket of vegetables. The eggs would be delivered tomorrow.

“Alright, the numbers match—no shortage of jin.”

Jiang Yun asked, “Did we buy too much charcoal?” She quickly added, “Not that I mind you spending money—we do need it. Buying extra saves us a trip later.”

“Not too much. We’ll use it ourselves. I also want to add a new food item,” Tang Xianling replied.

Jiang Yun asked, “What kind of food? Are you planning to sell it all day?”

“Not all day—that’s too exhausting,” Tang Xianling replied, anticipating her next question. “With just the two of us, you have to care for my father. Running a full-day stall would be too much work. I’m afraid I’d wear myself out.”

Even just handling breakfast properly is hard work now, let alone increasing the volume.

Once he settles the lawsuit, if things get too busy later, they can hire someone.

Labor is cheap these days.

“Mother, skip making dinner tonight. Let’s buy something to eat.” Tang Xianling had been running around all day. Even though he rode in a carriage, traveling between the eastern and western markets, searching for goods, haggling over prices, and dealing with people was exhausting.

Jiang Yun hesitated over the cost, saying, “I’ll make it—but fine, let’s buy.” She changed her mind again.

Wu-ger had the final say now, and she still listened to him.

Tang Xianling asked Jiang Yun what she wanted to eat from this street: sugar-coated pastries and other sweets, thick soup with fried dough twists, chicken soup wontons, steamed buns, mutton offal soup, steamed dumplings, various congees, and one place selling rice dishes—mixed grain or white rice topped with vegetables. The daily vegetable selection varied, offering one meat and one vegetarian option, priced slightly higher.

There were also other scattered snacks, pastries, fruits, and drinks.

“Anything is fine,” Jiang Yun said, undecided.

Tang Xianling: “Then I’ll pick them out. Let’s organize the goods first.”

The two tidied up the supplies: flour poured into the flour bin, charcoal sorted and stacked. There was no space in the stove room, so previously they’d crammed the charcoal into a corner of Tang Xianling’s room—charcoal was expensive, and they feared theft or loss. This time, Tang Xianling placed the charcoal in the front shop.

The shop had two large rooms, plenty of space. Storing it in the inner corner, hidden behind a table when not in use, was convenient—no need to haul coal to the front daily.

Spices, sugar, and oil definitely went into the kitchen.

After tidying everything up, dusk had fallen. Tang Xianling washed his hands, grabbed the food box with bowls, and headed out to buy dinner. He first went to the steamed dumpling and congee shop, ordering a serving of vegetarian steamed dumplings with chicken and cabbage filling and a large bowl of mixed bean congee. The total came to seven wen. Then he went to buy rice.

This shop was a small stall with five tables inside, its kitchen adjoining the back courtyard. Whether it was the evening meal or some other reason, business was slow—most common folk preferred to cook their own supper.

“What dishes do you have today?” Tang Xianling inquired.

The owner replied, “For vegetarian, scallion-braised tofu. For meat, braised pork ribs with soybeans.”

The description whetted Tang Xianling’s appetite. Having never tried this shop before, he ordered one portion each of the dishes. He planned to share them with Jiang Yun later so they could both taste them. He brought his own bowl, and the owner dished the food into it, while the mixed-grain rice came in a separate bowl.

The food basket was already heavy.

Holding his rice bowl in one hand and the food basket in the other, Tang Xianling hurried home.

Dinner time at home.

The courtyard was filled with tables laid out for sun-drying vegetables, so he and Jiang Yun had to eat in the shop. The light was dim, so they lit a candle. As usual, Jiang Yun served Old Tang his rice first, saying, ” The tofu’s good today—simmered with vegetables. Your father can eat it.“

Tang Xianling hummed in agreement and asked, ”Did we buy too little?“ He always forgot about Old Tang’s meals.

”It’s enough. Your father doesn’t have much appetite now and eats less. Too much would upset him,” Jiang Yun replied.

Finally, they could eat.

Tang Xianling picked up a steamed dumpling and put it in his mouth. The wrapper was thin enough to see the filling through after steaming—cabbage and egg, seasoned lightly for a fresh, tender taste. The mixed bean porridge had a hint of sugar added, with a faint scent of osmanthus lingering.

Candied osmanthus?

Seems every shop has its own ‘secret recipe’.

He picked up another dumpling, dipped it in the sauce—vinegar and a hint of sesame oil—and savored the enhanced flavor.

He took another sip of porridge. It was cooked perfectly, the beans tender and sticky, mixed with various grains like millet and white rice. Each bean retained its distinct flavor, creating a rich texture. The lingering sweetness of osmanthus blossoms added a refreshing finish.

Delicious and satisfying.

This shop operated all day and did brisk business.

Then came the rice. The portions here were quite generous. This set—one vegetable dish, one meat dish, and a serving of mixed grain rice—cost eighteen wen. That was actually quite pricey. At noon, he’d had mutton rice for twenty-two wen. That rice had mostly white rice with a little millet mixed in, and mutton was an expensive cut. Located in the East Market, that shop was actually the cheaper option when you compared everything.

Putting price aside, taste came first. If the flavor was good, it could still be salvaged. Tang Xianling took a bite of the scallion-braised tofu and immediately frowned. The bean odor was pronounced, it was under-salted, and the color looked dull—clearly cooked with too little oil and too much water.

Next came the braised pork ribs with soybeans.

Tang Xianling took a bite of the ribs—they weren’t stewed until tender and falling off the bone.

“This shop hasn’t been open long, has it?” Tang Xianling asked, though his tone carried certainty.

Jiang Yun replied, “I think it opened around the time your father first fell ill. The original owners never ran a business; they just rented out the shop to get by. Later, when they got too old, they sold the shop and the courtyard.”

Seeing her Wu-ger pause with a frown after one bite, she asked, “What’s wrong? Not good?”

“Yeah, not good. I bet they’ll close down sooner or later,” Tang Xianling said.

High prices, poor taste—people aren’t fools.

Jiang Yun took a bite of meat, chewing thoughtfully. Ever the good soul, she instinctively defended the owner first: “The flavor’s not bad. It just needs a bit more stewing. But stewing the ribs longer might burn through too much charcoal.”

“Eighteen wen per serving,” Tang Xianling stated.

Jiang Yun: !

Now she couldn’t find any kind words to say.

Though it wasn’t great, they finished everything. After eating, they divided tasks as usual: Tang Xianling fetched water while Jiang Yun cleaned the dishes. But halfway through, Father Tang in the east room woke up, complaining of hunger. Jiang Yun went to serve him his meal, and when Tang Xianling returned with the water, they cleaned up together.

By the time they finished, night had fallen.

Tang Xianling boiled water for washing up, thinking about tomorrow morning: first steam and sun-dry the vegetables from the past few days, then sun-dry the ones bought today. He’d handle them in two batches. After that, he’d sell breakfast in the morning and prepare goods for pickled mustard greens in the afternoon.

Tomorrow afternoon, he’d go to Xiangtangzi in the East Market to bathe.

He considered asking Jiang Yun to go instead—they could take turns. She could bathe in the morning while he stayed home to watch the shop.

But Father Tang was unusually restless today. Though Tang Xianling had the water boiling, the cursing from the east room persisted. Then came the sound of shattering bowls. Hearing the crash, Tang Xianling rolled up his sleeves and rushed into the east room.

Jiang Yun stood nearby as Old Tang, red-faced and neck bulging with rage, cursed from the bed. Food bowls lay scattered across the floor. Seeing Tang Xianling enter, Jiang Yun first soothed Little Brother Wu: “I didn’t hold it steady. Go back to sleep, Wu-ger.”

“Sleep my ass,” Tang Xianling muttered, frowning as he approached the bed. “Who are you cursing? No one in this family has wronged you, least of all mother. Madam Li only wants you dead so she can take over your shop. You gambled away Wu-ger’s marriage prospects, sold your own future short. Now you’re bedridden—your own body failed you, driven to this by your own rage. Who can you blame for any of this?“

”What good does it do to take it out on my mother, on me?”

Tang Xianling yanked Old Tang by the collar. “If you just died, this whole courtyard would finally have some peace—”

“Wu-ger, let go! Let go!” Jiang Yun rushed forward. Wu-ger was strong, gripping his husband’s collar so tightly his face turned crimson.

Tang Xianling released his grip abruptly. “I despise you. I bought the medicine today anyway. With your sickly body, who do you think you can still lord over? I owe you nothing.”

Father Tang coughed violently, gasping out, “You owe me… I’m your father…”

Tang Xianling gave a cold laugh and demanded, “Am I really your son? Don’t you know what Wu-ger looks like?“

Father Tang was struck dumb, staring at Wu-ger as if he were a stranger. Where was the usual timid, anxious shadow? His face darkened instantly, and he stammered, unable to utter a single word.

”Wu-ger, stop talking nonsense. Go outside.” Jiang Yun, frightened, pushed Wu-ger toward the door. By the time they reached the entrance, her eyes were red, and tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know who she was crying for, but her tone was firm as she said, ”Don’t ever say things like that again. Don’t talk nonsense. Don’t tell anyone.“

Seeing Jiang Yun like this, Tang Xianling’s heart softened. Jiang Yun was worried about him,m too.

”Yes, I understand, Mother.”

Jiang Yun exhaled in relief, her voice a mix of tears and laughter. “It’s fine. I’ll clean this up. You should go to sleep.”

From the east room came Father Tang’s faint, persistent coughing. He called out Jiang Yun’s name, muttering about ghosts. Jiang Yun went inside to comfort Old Tang. Tang Xianling stood at the doorway listening for a while. After a long time, the room finally fell silent.

Tang Xianling grabbed a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the scattered food. Old Tang lay on the bed—unclear if he was asleep or unconscious.

“Your father’s asleep. Step outside for now,” Jiang Yun whispered.

Tang Xianling nodded.

Out in the courtyard, they stood in silence. After a moment, Jiang Yun murmured, “Back when disaster struck, I fled without knowing east from west. It was your father who took me in, gave me food…”

That’s why Jiang Yun obeyed Old Tang’s every word, doing whatever he asked without complaint, working tirelessly like a beast of burden.

Tang Xianling remained silent. Even if their roles were reversed, he couldn’t have done what Jiang Yun did.

Different strokes for different folks.

“It’s my fault for meddling today.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jiang Yun hurriedly said, adding, “I know you meant well, worried I’d get hurt. Just don’t be like me, Wu-ger. I’m happy with you the way you are now. If only Wu-ger could be just like you…”

Tang Xianling watched Jiang Yun sob, her words jumbled and disjointed, yet he understood her meaning. After a pause, he reached out, wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and patted her shoulder gently. “Everything will be alright from now on, Mother.”

Late into the night, they eventually went their separate ways to sleep.

Tang Xianling lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. He pondered marriage. Perhaps Old Tang had been kind during their flight, but time changes people. Now he’d become so repulsive…

The next day dawned before sunrise.

Tang Xianling lay awake while Jiang Yun paced in the courtyard. When he finally woke and inquired, he learned Old Tang had run a fever the night before. Tang Xianling: …

Could he have been frightened by his own questioning?

That would be rather fragile.

“Should we fetch a doctor?” Tang Xianling asked, his reluctance evident.

Jiang Yun replied, “It’s fine. It was just a nighttime fever. I wiped him down, and it’s already subsided. We’ll just brew some medicine for him to drink later.”

“That’s good,” Tang Xianling muttered dismissively, then suddenly recalled that when Wu-ger had a fever at night before, Jiang Yun had also tended to him. Once the fever broke, there was no need to fetch medicine or see a doctor.

It seemed Jiang Yun treated everyone equally—this was her routine for any fever.

After all, the clinic was in the West Market. With the nighttime curfew on the main street and no “taxis,” summoning a doctor would mean trekking all the way to the West Market alone—only to find the clinic closed.

The only options were cooling measures and toughing it out.

Because Old Tang had a fever, the water in the vat was nearly gone. Tang Xianling would often grab his water-carrying pole and go fetch water. Truth be told, he still harbored some lingering resentment. Wu-ger had passed away from a high fever, but this Old Tang had managed to pull through.

He felt a bit annoyed.

When he finally opened the door, the sky was still dim with starlight. Standing before his house, a man led a mule. A basket lay on the ground, holding a deer.

Tang Xianling’s face had been slumped in despair, but upon recognizing the figure, he suddenly—!!!

His eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“Huangfu Tieniu!”

Huangfu Tieniu stood rooted to the spot. Hearing his name called brought him joy. His hair still damp with dew from the late-night journey, his eyes shone bright and intense as he said, “I hunted a deer and wanted to give it to you.”

He couldn’t wait, riding nonstop, desperate to see Tang Xianling.

Under Tieniu’s intense gaze, Tang Xianling felt a bit overwhelmed. His usual sharp tongue, always ready to tease and banter, seemed to fail him now. Even when driving on the rough road, he’d been able to crack jokes, but now everything felt off. His mouth felt stiff as he awkwardly changed the subject.

“A deer? You’re amazing. You must’ve sold it for a good price—it’s pretty expensive, right?” Tang Xianling felt a slight twinge of awkwardness.

He thought, Keep your dignity, don’t accept a gift without merit.

He completely forgot how bold he’d been earlier, wanting to talk about love with Tieniu.

Huangfu Tieniu shook his head. “Not for sale. You like eating it.”

“I never said that,” Tang Xianling muttered, unable to withstand Tieniu’s gaze any longer. This guy seemed so steady and mature when they first met—unlike any teenager—but now, with no one around and the sky pitch black, you’re showing your true colors!

Tang Xianling grumbled inwardly again. He knew he was embarrassed, but refused to admit it.

“When Gouwa mentioned deer earlier, your eyes lit up. Do you like eating it?” Huangfu Tieniu asked. “I guessed you did.”

Tang Xianling’s face flushed. “I’ve never eaten it.”

Modern people rarely get to eat venison. Later, during the apocalypse, he couldn’t even handle mutant rats. Ugh.

“Tang Xianling, you should try it. Roasted venison is delicious.” Huangfu Tieniu said, hoisting a basket over his shoulder. “Shall I put it in the shop for you?”

“Sure.” Tang Xianling stepped aside. As Tieniu passed him, a chill emanated from his body. The silent Tieniu’s profile was youthful yet resolutely handsome.

Last night before sleep, Tang Xianling had been lamenting marriage and human nature. Now, his heart was racing with the thrill of romance—

Tieniu was truly wonderful.

“I’ll go fetch water.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Alright.” Tang Xianling agreed. It seemed that whether Tieniu helped him or gave him gifts, he accepted them effortlessly, without any psychological burden. Naturally, after just feigning modesty, he still needed to put on a show of proper decorum—though it only lasted a few seconds. How strange—

But then again, it wasn’t strange. He wanted to be in a relationship with him.

A proper, genuine kind of relationship.

Tang Xianling rubbed his face. “Go bring the mule inside first. Leave it in the courtyard. I’ll tell my mother we’re closed today.”

“Alright.” Huangfu Tieniu obediently went to fetch the mule.

Tang Xianling told Jiang Yun that Tieniu had come. Jiang Yun looked utterly astonished and slightly flustered. “You… you two aren’t even betrothed yet. Having him stay overnight—”

“Mother, he didn’t stay overnight. He came in broad daylight,” Tang Xianling said, pointing at the dimly darkening sky, twisting the truth.

Jiang Yun remained uneasy. “What if the neighbors find out—”

“Let them find out,” Tang Xianling scoffed. “Do I need to guard some chastity reputation?”

Jiang Yun: “That’s not it. I was thinking we could find you a husband in a year or so.”

“I’m going to fetch water!” Tang Xianling dashed off, his footsteps light and swift.

Back home, he and Jiang Yun were the only ones strong enough for heavy labor in the courtyard. Naturally, Tang Xianling wouldn’t let Jiang Yun carry water—it was grueling work, and caring for Old Tang was already demanding enough. To Tang Xianling, tending to Old Tang was a torment for both body and soul.

He’d much rather take charge of the household water jars.

But fetching water was still exhausting. He had to make two or three trips back and forth. Unaccustomed to carrying the buckets at first, he could only fill half a bucket each time. After five or six trips, his shoulders ached so badly he could barely sleep that night.

Now Tang Xianling’s shoulders no longer hurt. He hurried to the shopfront and said, “Come on, I’ll take you to the well.”

Huangfu Tieniu shouldered the pole, buckets in hand.

Tang Xianling pretended to carry an empty bucket.

Heh heh heh, this was serious water-fetching.

Not some pre-dawn rendezvous.

Feeling more at ease, Tang Xianling’s mischievous streak surfaced. “Tieniu, Tieniu, moo moo moo~”

Huangfu Tieniu glanced over, his eyes showing no annoyance, but rather a hint of amusement. Tang Xianling chuckled, “I’m just teasing you. It’s the first time I heard your name, and I just felt like saying it.”

“Moo.” Huangfu Tieniu called out in a low voice. It wasn’t particularly funny, but it sounded steady and quite pleasant.

Tang Xianling thought: Absolutely amazing Tieniu sound!

Both of them burst out laughing.

Tang Xianling said, “I was busy all day yesterday. Later, I’ll treat you to a bath! To drive away the cold.”

Huangfu Tieniu nearly dropped the carrying pole in his hands. He stopped dead in his tracks, utterly shocked, and said, “No, no! We haven’t even been betrothed yet.”

“I haven’t found a matchmaker yet.”

“…” Tang Xianling felt inexplicably pleased. Was this what falling in love felt like? Seeing Tieniu’s serious expression, he couldn’t suppress a smirk. His words slipped out before he could stop them, deliberately teasing with a grin: “What are you talking about? I mean, I’ll treat you—the two of us. You go to the men’s bath, I’ll go to the ger bath. We’ll soak separately.”

“You bastard, Huangfu Tieniu! What are you thinking?!”

Tang Xianling turned the tables on him.

Huangfu Tieniu, falsely accused and saddled with the blame, was actually pleased. He grabbed the shoulder pole and bucket with renewed vigor and said, “Alright.”

“Tang Xianling, you’re so kind.”

Tang Xianling: What’s the big deal? You gave me a deer and helped with the heavy lifting. I just invited you to bathe, and you think I’m great? Are you stupid? Can’t you do math?

But he knew why Tieniu was ‘stupid’.

He was so happy.