That night, Brother Tang was cradled in Huangfu’s arms as he was lulled to sleep. After all, Brother Tang was too embarrassed by his barrage of elbow strikes. In the darkness, Huangfu smiled blissfully, leaned down to kiss his husband, and fanned him with one hand.

A while passed.

The person in his arms mumbled sleepily, “You’ve been fanning me for ages. Go to sleep—don’t wear yourself out.”

“Okay.” Huangfu Tieniu stopped fanning him. After a moment, when Xianling had fallen asleep, he fanned him again for a bit. Gazing at his husband’s sleeping face in the darkness, he couldn’t resist kissing Xianling on the lips, then drifted off to sleep himself.

In summer, dawn comes early; in fact, it was only a little past four in the morning.

Huangfu Tieniu was the first to wake up. He tiptoed out of bed, dressed quietly, and went outside. Upon stepping out, he saw that his mother’s door was also open.

“Is Wu-ger still asleep?” Jiang Yun asked in a low voice.

Tieniu replied, “Mother, I’ll prepare the water for washing Wu-ger’s face, then go wake him up.”

Jiang Yun heard this and was about to say, “Just let him sleep a little longer,” but after a moment’s thought, she held her tongue. Tieniu’s affection for Wu-ger was a good thing. “I’ll go to the front to fetch the milk.”

The milk delivery had been switched to the morning, and Tang Xianling paid for it monthly.

The two split up to handle their tasks. Huangfu Tieniu finished his own ablutions, prepared the face-washing water for Xianling, and dipped his toothbrush in tooth powder before going into the room to wake him. Tang Xianling had been preoccupied with his thoughts; he’d actually woken up groggily, hovering in that half-asleep, half-awake state, and dozed for another five or six minutes—a span that felt particularly long.

Now that he’d been woken up, he felt fully rested and refreshed. Tang Xianling stretched, took the clothes Tieniu handed him, and put them on. The two said little, each going about their own business—he washed his face and brushed his teeth, while Tieniu went to fetch water, and their mother returned carrying the milk pail.

“Wu-ger, there are quite a few people outside, and surprisingly, Old Man Cui isn’t leading the group,” Jiang Yun said.

Tang Xianling continued working while asking curiously, “Huh? Who is it then?”

“Zhang Ming,” Jiang Yun replied cheerfully.

He was also a regular customer of theirs.

“Old Man Cui is second in line; I’ve already given him a discount on the milk,” Jiang Yun added.

Old Tang had once said that business was cut-dried; customers always crave something new and grow tired of the old. If a shop stays closed for too long, who’s going to remember you? That’s why, with the shop having been closed for over a month and Wu-ger having stocked up on so much merchandise, Jiang Yun was worried.

Now, however, she felt a little more at ease.

Tang Xianling, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as worried. He had confidence in his craftsmanship; it was simply a matter of how much he’d earn.

Stoking the fire, boiling red beans, kneading dough—each had their own task.

Not only was the Tang family courtyard bustling, but the Lu family next door was just as busy. However, no other household was as lively as the Tang family’s shopfront—it was barely dawn, and the shops on Main Street were still shuttered, yet a crowd had already gathered in front of the Tang family’s shop.

Li Erlang of Li’s Sweet Rice Wine, along with his mother and wife, headed toward their shop. Their family rented a place at the end of the third alley in Dingyi District, but the shop itself was on Main Street. They’d thought it would be a bargain, but when they did the math, not only was it not cheap, it had actually caused them some trouble.

The main issue was that their shop rent was high, and the landlord wasn’t short on silver. The family in the back courtyard intended to live there themselves; they wouldn’t rent out even a single empty room, complaining that outsiders were too noisy.

Now, they had to prepare their goods in the courtyard every day, then push a cart to the shop to set everything up.

The three of them passed by the Tang family’s gate and saw that it was tightly shut, yet seven or eight people were stationed outside. Li Erlang looked on with envy; that shop should have been theirs.

If the Tang family had sold them a shop, their business wouldn’t have been such a hassle.

Fortunately, the Tang family compensated them with twelve taels of silver, which covered a year’s rent and two years’ worth of taxes.

“Stop staring. It’s just a few people—what’s so impressive about that?” Mrs. Li said, not wanting Jiang Yun to see her family making a spectacle of themselves.

The group headed toward the back of the street.

“It’s hot out. I still think our sweet rice wine is the best-selling item. I hear those pot-sticker buns are all baked, piping hot, and there are some fried pastries that smell strongly of oil. People only started craving them because the Tang family’s shop was closed for a month; they’ll probably get sick of them after just a few days,” said Li Erlang’s wife.

Mrs. Li nodded. “You’re right. Just look at Old Zhao’s sugar-oil cakes at the street corner—they’re not selling well anymore.”

“Come to think of it, the Zhaos and the Tangs don’t get along.”

Her mother-in-law was asking a question she already knew the answer to. Earlier, when Brother Tang Wu had gone to the Zhao family’s doorstep, her mother-in-law had even told her to send sweet rice wine to the Zhaos, saying it was to mend fences. It was just a pity that their family was now renting in Dingyi District—all that effort to mend fences back then had been in vain. Li Erlang’s wife thought to herself.

“Mother, that’s right. You’ve forgotten—Brother Tang even got into a fight with them before.”

Mrs. Li: “I remember now.” She then put on an act and said, “Our family has no connection to the Tang family. We’re in the beverage business, so we don’t have any major conflicts with them. If Old Zhao sees how well the Tang family’s business is doing, he’s bound to be furious…”

Their casual chatter faded into the distance.

Old Zhao’s sugar-oil pancake business was sluggish, and he opened his shop a bit later than usual.

“It’s hot out—who wants fried food? Just wait a bit. When your father ran his business, summer was always slow too; things pick up once it cools down,” said Mrs. Zhao.

Zhao Dalang had been suffering from a heat rash lately, with a ring of blisters forming at the corners of his mouth.

“Just look down the street—all those steaming hot treats are the same.”

Sun Honghong, who had been butting heads with her mother-in-law, chimed in now. After all, business was a major concern; their livelihood depended entirely on the shop, so Sun Honghong had no time to spar with her mother-in-law at a moment like this.

“We still have to keep the business going. Let’s fry a little less today to avoid wasting more,” Sun Honghong said gently.

Zhao Dalang grunted in agreement. There was no other choice but to cut back for now. Fortunately, the shop and its courtyard were their own property, and they’d saved up enough to cover next year’s shop taxes. Since the children were living off their younger brother back in the countryside, they could easily cut back on their own food expenses here—it wouldn’t cost much.

The shop door swung open.

Mrs. Zhao spotted a horse-drawn carriage on the street. Three people got out and hurried into the street, as if something urgent had happened. She turned her head to look in the direction they were running—

Why was there such a crowd over there?

It was a sea of people—there must have been thirty or forty of them.

“Honghong, you have good eyesight. What’s going on over there? It’s nothing serious, is it?”

Sun Honghong stepped out of the shop and looked in the direction her mother-in-law was pointing. Her face immediately fell. Was her mother-in-law deliberately trying to upset her husband?

“Mother, that’s the Tang family’s direction.”

“The Tang family?!” Mrs. Zhao’s voice rose in disbelief as she took in the crowd. She immediately remembered, “Is their shop opening today?”

Sun Honghong gave a soft “Mm-hmm” and went back inside. If her mother-in-law hadn’t schemed to set up Brother Tang Wu with some “dimwit” fool, the two families wouldn’t have gotten into a fight. It was only after Brother Tang Wu came storming over that their business started to suffer…

In front of the Tang family’s shop.

Cui Dabao was feeling frustrated. He’d gotten up early and timed it perfectly, but Zhang Ming had spotted him from a distance and beaten him to the spot by a hair—he’d arrived first, while Cui Dabao was second.

Second place was second place.

They’d arrived too early, so they exchanged a few words—all small talk.

“Good morning.” 

“You’re up early, sir. I’m just glad my legs are still quick.” 

“Don’t mention it—it’s still a bit chilly out.” 

“It is a bit cold.”

Later, more customers trickled in. When their names were called, or upon seeing their faces, they were all familiar faces. A few were from Dingyi District; previously, they’d looked down on Master Tang’s breakfast, boasting about eating at the West Market every day, but now they didn’t even mention the West Market anymore.

“The West Market does have its merits,” 

“A few of the restaurants there have decent grilled lamb,” 

“Lamb’s a bit too heating for the body this time of year,” 

“Can’t help it—my old man loves it.”

This was a sign of status—loving mutton, dining out for it every few days. Only those with deep pockets and wealth could afford to eat like this.

Cui Dabao didn’t join the conversation; instead, he stood on tiptoe, craning his neck to look behind him.

“What are you looking at?” Zhang Ming asked.

Cui Dabao: “Nothing.”

A little while later, they heard a commotion from inside the shop, and the door swung open.

Everyone greeted him in a jumble of voices, though they didn’t move from their spots—fearing the chaos might cause them to lose their front-row positions, they simply stayed put to chat with Owner Tang, mainly asking what was on sale today and if there were any preserved vegetables.

“Yes, we have both dried plum and red bean paste varieties. However, the pork floss bread will be available a bit later today, so if you’re craving that, please come back a little later,” Tang Xianling said with a smile. “Thanks to the support of my neighbors and customers these past few days—I don’t have any other skills, so I’ve roasted some qizi dou to offer everyone a free sample.”

Huangfu Tieniu arrived at the shop carrying a large basket. He set it down on the table where Zhang Ming and Cui Dabao could see it. The roasted beans were small and plump, and the two flavors looked quite appealing.

“Mr. Tang, you’re too kind.”

“It’s free?”

Tang Xianling: “That’s right, it’s free. Tieniu, hold the basket and let everyone have a taste first.”

The large basket was heavy with plenty of roasted beans; the two flavors were mixed together. A wooden spoon lay on top—neither too big nor too small, not the kind of small spoon used for daily meals. Upon hearing this, Mr. Tang’s new husband picked up the basket and began passing it along the line.

Zhang Ming took the spoon, scooped a handful into his palm, and didn’t stand on ceremony. Boss Tang was an open and straightforward man who spoke his mind; not wanting to waste his kindness, Zhang Ming popped a piece into his mouth. Before he even chewed, he mumbled, “Time sure flies. It feels like we just had this last February…” His voice trailed off, replaced only by the sound of chewing.

Cui Dabao didn’t waste any words; he scooped a handful and popped them into his mouth. He knew Mr. Tang’s skills—this one tasted as if it had been mixed with egg, fragrant, with some spices blended in. So fragrant.

He picked up another one, slightly greenish, and popped it into his mouth.

The moment it touched his tongue, the flavor made Cui Dabao’s eyes light up. He stared in awe at the qizi dou in his palm. “I can taste the Sichuan peppercorns and salt—there’s a slight numbing sensation, and the saltiness balances it out. The texture is so rich.”

“What do you think, Old Man?” 

“The way Old Man Cui describes these qizi dou is making my mouth water.” 

“Why even ask? They’re made by Mr. Tang—they’re bound to be delicious.”

The people at the back of the line were getting impatient, and some were shouting to those up front to take smaller portions so everyone could have a taste.

Everyone remained relatively restrained, not scooping spoonfuls into their clothes.

Those at the front started eating, raving about how delicious it was—saying Old Man Cui hadn’t exaggerated, that it was even more fragrant than what my grandma stir-fried, and so on. The people at the back grew impatient, craning their necks. When it was their turn, they each took a spoonful—no one took more than their share.

Before long, the whole line was munching away, exclaiming, “Delicious! How is this made? These are all qizi dou—I can’t get this flavor when I stir-fry them at home.”

Cui Dabao was also incredibly curious. Not only did he finish a whole handful of them without even realizing it, but he was hooked and wanted to keep chewing—how could they be this delicious?

The pot-sticker bunss were placed in the oven.

Tang Xianling kneaded the second batch, arranging them plate by plate on the cutting board.

He began preparing the egg-stuffed pancakes. Hearing the line outside discussing how the qizi dou were made to taste so good, Tang Xianling chimed in, raising his voice slightly: “There are two flavors. To make them taste good, sift the flour once, beat an egg into the dough, and add my own ground five-spice powder.”

“Sichuan pepper, star anise, fennel seeds, cinnamon, and cloves—you have to buy these spices in the East Market District.”

“The greenish one—that’s made by mixing mung bean flour into the dough, plus dried Sichuan pepper leaves ground into powder. If you’re making it just for yourself, this method is the most economical. The spices for the five-spice powder are too expensive; using Sichuan pepper leaves is a better deal.”

Tang Xianling explained each step.

“Oh, and you have to dry-roast the salt a bit to bring out the aroma.”

The crowd listened in astonishment.

“Mr. Tang, are you not worried we’ll steal your recipe and start selling it?” 

“No wonder it tastes so good—it’s such a hassle to make.” 

“I think the green one smells better, too.”

 “We’ve never tried the green one before. Mr. Tang came up with it himself; it’s different from the traditional qizi dou—the flavor is truly amazing.”

Tang Xianling: “qizi dou are a local snack from Fengyuan City. Everyone loves them, so feel free to try making them yourselves. I don’t sell them commercially.” He was happy to share the recipe with everyone.

“Are the pot buns ready?” Tieniu carried a basket to the table; half the qizi dou were still left inside.

Tang Xianling: “They’re ready. Here, take them—be careful, they’re hot.”

Tieniu really has a great memory; he knows exactly when things are ready.

“I’ll take three with pickled preserved vegetables and pork, and one with red beans.” “I’ll take two with pickled preserved vegetables and one with red beans.”

Zhang Ming and Cui Dabao were the first to order. The two carried their food baskets; Cui Dabao’s basket also held an egg-stuffed pancake, which he was taking home for his father.

Jiang Yun collected the money, while Huangfu Tieniu packed the orders for the customers. He folded the pot-sticker bunss in half with bamboo tongs, wrapped them neatly in oil paper, and handed them over.

At the front of the shop, Tang Xianling was making stuffed pancakes.

Business flowed like water; the crowd in front of the shop grew larger and larger, but everyone remained orderly. Some who had waited a long time would grab a handful of qizi dou to eat—even if they were just dry snacks, they’d stave off hunger.

When it was Zhou Xiangping’s turn, she said to Aunt Jiang, “…The soybeans are tasty enough, but I’m almost full.” She added, “Two meat-and-dried-plum pot-sticker bunss, one red bean paste, one—I’ll come back later for the pork floss bread.”

Jiang Yun: …She thought Zhou Xiangping was full and didn’t want any more.

Little did she know she’d end up buying so much.

Ding Quan had arrived early. After finishing his pickled vegetable and pork steamed bun, he bought an egg-stuffed pancake. To be honest, he hadn’t had one in a whole month—and now that he finally got to eat it, it was truly delicious, exactly as he remembered.

Mr. Tang’s craftsmanship is truly exceptional.

Hearing that the pork floss bread would take a while longer, he took the stuffed pancake to the tea shop to buy a bowl of tea to drink.

By the time it was nearly noon, not only had the goods sold out, but the baskets of qizi dou were also completely empty. Tang Xianling stretched his arms, and the family tidied up and took a break.

“It seems to me there were more people today than usual,” Jiang Yun asked. She’d been so busy she’d completely lost track of how much money they’d taken in.

Tang Xianling: “There were a few more.” He’d stocked up plenty, and it all sold out.

Huangfu Tieniu brought over some iced tea. Tang Xianling took it and gulped it down in big swallows. He’d been working nonstop all morning—one moment stuffing buns, the next shaping pot sticker buns, and then kneading bread dough.

Maybe it was because he’d been resting for a month; his body wasn’t used to working this hard anymore.

He was exhausted—exhausted and hot.

Tang Xianling didn’t even feel like eating. Huangfu Tieniu told Xianling to rest for a bit while he cleaned up. Xianling didn’t argue; he slowly fanned himself with a hand fan, occasionally fanning himself and occasionally fanning Tieniu.

“I was thinking, maybe we should stop making the pork floss bread.”

“It’s fine for a day or two, but otherwise we won’t be able to keep it up.”

Huangfu Tieniu nodded in agreement. “You’ve been on your feet all morning, kneading dough and shaping the buns. The griddle and oven are both scorching hot. Taking a break would be good.”

“…I’ll think it over. Let’s finish this week’s orders first. If I do stop, I’ll have to let the East Market Milk Shop know, and I’ll need to talk to Old Man Cui, too. His family has a milk subscription—they only signed up because they were worried—and it’s been less than two months. If I stop now, I’m afraid the shop owner won’t let them renew it later.” Tang Xianling was worried about this; everyone else bought in bulk, and he’d had to fight to get even half a barrel for his family.

Huangfu Tieniu: “It’s not much money. You might as well keep the subscription. See if anyone else on the street wants some, and we can split it. You’ll get to drink some too.”

“That’s too much trouble, and I can’t drink that much anyway.” As Tang Xianling said this, his eyes lit up. “I’ve got an idea. We can leave it at the evening meal spot to serve as a little dessert—or a sour treat.”

Yogurt, double-skin milk, milk tea, almond milk tofu, steamed sweet curd—anything small enough to serve as a dessert would work. Making yogurt in jars would be best; it’s refreshing and whets the appetite in the summer.

This way, the morning business could be simpler and more efficient—those pork floss breads really take a long time to make.

If they only sold pot-sticker buns and stuffed pancakes, they’d be done by around nine or ten.

The more Tang Xianling thought about it, the more sensible it seemed.

Seeing the sparkle in Xianling’s eyes, Huangfu Tieniu knew he’d found a solution.

“I’ll tell everyone tomorrow that we’re sold out of the pork floss bread for this week, and we’ll start selling it again in the fall and winter.” With his decision made, Tang Xianling felt a sudden sense of relief.

After the family had eaten lunch and cleaned up, Tang Xianling yawned and told his mother he was going to take a nap. He walked into the room, unbuttoned his shirt, and tossed it onto a rack. Underneath, he wore only a green undershirt and a pair of short pants. Huangfu Tieniu, who followed him in, was completely stunned by the sight.

Xianling was very fair-skinned. Huangfu Tieniu hadn’t yet had a chance to look closely at him from behind. Wearing only a green corset—fastened by a thin strap around his neck and two straps at the waist—Xianling’s entire back was beautiful and delicate, his waist narrow and slender.

Tang Xianling undressed all the way to the bed and flopped directly onto the bamboo mat. Feeling the coolness, he sprawled out in a relaxed position and told Tieniu, “Go take a nap.”

Sleep replenishes one’s vital energy.

“Cover yourself up; be careful not to catch a chill.” Huangfu Tieniu’s gaze was filled with nothing but concern.

Tang Xianling mumbled with his eyes closed, “I’m wearing a belly band. It protects my navel—I won’t get an upset stomach.” When he first arrived, he thought wearing a belly band was strange; in the TV shows and movies he’d seen, only girls wore them. Later, he learned that belly bands were worn as needed, regardless of gender or age.

Those with weak constitutions or sensitive stomachs wore a belly band to protect their abdomens.

Besides, it was hot out, and short-sleeved vests were uncomfortable. Wearing a belly band was no big deal in their own courtyard—apart from his mother, only Tieniu was around, so he wasn’t worried about being laughed at. As long as it kept him cool, that was all that mattered.

As he spoke, the man on the bed fell silent, leaving only the sound of shallow breathing.

Huangfu Tieniu walked over, picked up a fan, and gently fanned Xianling. The breeze blew softly, and the person on the bed shifted slightly, falling into an even deeper sleep. Huangfu Tieniu eventually dozed off as well, sleeping across the aisle from Xianling. He was afraid that if he got too hot and lay too close, it would disturb Xianling’s sleep.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Ding Quan carried a box of food from the Wei household and made his way to the Wei residence. Naturally, he entered through the side gate. “I’ve come to deliver something for Young Master Wei. Please let him know I’m here.”

It had been three days since Young Master Wei had gone out to play. With the weather so hot, Ding Quan feared the bread might spoil. Although he could buy more tomorrow, since Master Tang had just reopened his shop after more than a month’s closure, he had bought it himself and delivered it personally to the Wei residence—a gesture that carried significant weight.

The gatekeeper recognized him and didn’t give Ding Quan any trouble.

It was also a stroke of luck for Ding Quan that Wei Feng had just left his grandmother’s courtyard and was heading back to his own quarters. He had only just reached the courtyard gate when he ran into a servant who told him Ding Quan was waiting outside.

“These idlers from outside wouldn’t normally set foot in the mansion—they lack any sense of propriety.” Wei Feng frowned. The servant, seeing this, asked, “Shall I send him away?”

“Never mind, tell him to come in. He’s not the kind of shameless scoundrel.” Wei Feng let him in anyway—not because he looked down on him, but because some of these hangers-on were slick. After dealing with them for a while, if you treated them like human beings, they’d take you for a fool.

Wei Feng wasn’t afraid to spend money; after all, he was wealthy. It was just a matter of food, drink, and entertainment—small change.

Ding Quan had previously been quite perceptive and knew his limits—if he showed up this time with a thick skin, playing the victim to beg for money, there wouldn’t be a next time. Wei Feng thought to himself.

Before long, Ding Quan arrived.

Wei Feng had changed into a robe and was strolling leisurely in his courtyard. An ice box was set up in the hall. As soon as he saw Ding Quan arrive, he waved him over. “Why make such a long trip on a sweltering day? What did you bring?”

“It’s been several days since I last saw you, Young Master Wei. I recall you mentioning the pork floss bread before. Today, Mr. Tang’s shop reopened, so I bought some to bring you a taste.” Ding Quan’s tone was three parts friendly, two parts ingratiating, and five parts “neither servile nor arrogant.”

As a hang-around, his job was to suck up to these young masters. Even if he had any pride, he was worn down by the grind of making a living—how could he dare to put on airs of integrity in front of them? It was simply because Young Master Wei disliked hang-arounds who were too obsequious, and Ding Quan was playing to his preferences.

“I remember now. That’s very thoughtful of you.” Upon hearing this, Wei Feng’s face lit up with a smile, and he motioned for Ding Quan to sit down.

Ding Quan first handed over the food box, lifted the lid, and grinned sheepishly. “Last time, Young Master Wei said it was rough. I figured it must have been the appearance that was a bit rough. Please don’t laugh at me, Young Master Wei. I had the cook tidy it up a bit. Could you give me some pointers?”

Wei Feng’s interest was piqued. In truth, the heat had sapped his appetite—he couldn’t stomach a thing, and the whole idea of shredded pork had long since slipped his mind. But upon hearing this, he leaned forward for a peek and burst into laughter.

“Well, Ding Quan, are you feeding the birds?”

Inside the lunchbox, a small roll of pork floss bread sat in the center of a plain white plate, arranged to resemble the center of a flower, with carved radish flowers beside it. This bizarre, mismatched arrangement had Wei Feng clutching his stomach in laughter.

“No one arranges things like this and calls it elegant. Just look at this—is this elegant?”

Ding Quan feigned sudden realization and smiled apologetically. “Oh, Young Master Wei, please don’t make fun of me. I’m not very worldly—I actually paid a cook to arrange this in the lunchbox.” Bullshit. He’d washed his hands and arranged them himself; why would he spend money on that? It was just a carved radish flower.

“Never mind, never mind. I’m not hungry anyway. You eat it. I appreciate the gesture.” Wei Feng waved his hand. Still smiling from his recent laughter, he sat in his chair and said, “Now that you’ve done this, I actually think it’s better to keep it simple.”

……Later, Ding Quan left carrying an empty lunchbox. The bread meant for the birds had ended up in his own stomach. Ding Quan was tactful enough not to linger. Just before he left, Wei Feng chuckled and slipped some money into his hand.

“It’s hot out. Thanks for remembering me.”

Ding Quan weighed the money in his hand, stepped out of the Wei residence, and sighed, “Young Master Wei is truly generous. This trip was well worth it.”

A single pork floss bread costs only five wen, yet this just earned him five hundred wen.

No sooner had Ding Quan left than Wei Feng put on an outer robe and went to his grandmother’s courtyard for a meal. The Old Lady of the Wei family said, “I heard from the servants that you just had a visitor?”

“Just some friends I met outside,” Wei Feng replied, unconcerned about his grandmother’s scolding. After all, neither his father nor his older brother was home, and his grandmother doted on him the most.

The Old Lady Wei glanced at her grandson and admonished, “Don’t bring those kinds of people from the streets here. If your father hears about it, he’ll have something to say.”

“That man isn’t some thug—” Wei Feng had intended to defend Ding Quan a bit, mainly to clear his own name—he wasn’t that kind of ruffian—but after a moment’s thought, he changed his tune and said, “Grandmother, do you recall that opera that caused quite a stir in the streets a while back, about a widowed husband suing Juren for the imperial examinations?”

Lady Wei remembered. Her grandson always told her about any commotion he heard about out in the world. She was getting on in years and didn’t want to be an old woman who was blind and deaf to everything. She gave her grandson a sidelong glance. “They even brought that play back.”

“Right, I don’t have as good a memory as you do.” Now it was Wei Feng’s turn to play the fool to amuse the old lady.

Lady Wei was eager to hear more and asked, “Was it that woman who came by? Or Brother Tang?”

“No, his shop has reopened. A friend of mine brought me breakfast from Brother Tang’s place—pork floss bread…” Wei Feng used Ding Quan to have someone carve decorative patterns, all to amuse his grandmother.

Lady Wei didn’t say anything about how Brother Tang had reopened his shop just a month after his father’s passing. That would have shown a lack of understanding of the hardships of the common people—after all, ordinary folk couldn’t very well observe a three-year mourning period without working to support themselves; they’d starve to death.

Grandmother and grandson enjoyed a lively lunch together.

Wei Feng had heard Ding Quan talk about how early they had to get up to buy breakfast at Tang Wu’s place, so now he repeated the story to his grandmother, implying that Tang Wu’s business was thriving and she had nothing to worry about. Earlier, while watching the play, his grandmother had been in tears, saying that the young man had a hard life and his father had impure motives—she’d stopped mid-sentence. Now that Tang Wu’s business was doing well, he urged his grandmother to rest easy.

He also said he’d go there first thing tomorrow morning.

This was his way of showing filial piety to his grandmother.

Lady Wei laughed so hard she leaned back, then gently tapped her grandson in the air with her finger, her tone affectionate: “You lazy monkey—how could you possibly get up that early?”

“I know you’re the most dutiful of them all.”

Wei Feng hadn’t even bought the bread yet, but he’d already received some money from his grandmother.

“I really will have to make a trip for this bread.” Wei Feng was the most good-for-nothing and hopeless member of the family, spending his days eating, drinking, and carousing, but his heart was sincere. He told his servant to have the horse harnessed early tomorrow morning so he could go buy the bread.

Whether his grandmother ate it or not, the gesture would be appreciated.