It’s raining again.

Strange as it may seem, it hadn’t rained at all over the weekend, but as soon as Monday rolled around and the shop opened, it started pouring—on and off, just showers. The main street was constantly wet, and there were far fewer villagers and porters setting up stalls outside the city.

Today is Wednesday.

Business was affected for every shop on Main Street, and the Tang family was no exception. It was just a matter of which shop was doing worse—take Old Zhao’s sugar-oil pancakes, for example, which were already struggling; with the rain, no one was coming by at all.

The Lu family’s steamed buns, on the other hand, were priced to be a bargain, so they weren’t affected as much.

Residents of both the Baxing District and Dingyi District—everyone has moments when they’re too lazy to steam their own buns and just want a quick bite, especially on rainy days when they can’t be bothered to fetch water and cook, so they buy buns to get by.

Tang’s Breakfast was hit a bit harder; the usual hundred orders before the afternoon meal had dropped to about seventy over these three days—enough for maybe two or three people—but Mr. Tang added a serving of roasted meat.

When the shop opened for the evening meal on Monday, some customers hurried in as soon as they saw the rain had stopped.

“I didn’t come last week. I heard Mr. Tang has some new dishes?”

So word had gotten around. Tang Xianling chuckled and said, “It’s not really a new addition. I was craving it myself, so I made some skewered meat. Since everyone liked it, I added it to the menu.”

“So do you have any today?”

Tang Xianling: “Of course.”

When it wasn’t raining, he set up the grill out front. As he cooked, the aroma wafted everywhere. It wasn’t just him saying so—the smell of the grilled meat was truly irresistible, carrying down the street on the breeze and serving as a living advertisement to draw in customers.

If it rained, the grill could be moved to the covered walkway in the backyard—well-ventilated on all sides and sheltered from the rain, it was just right.

On the first day, it started raining not long after dinner service began, so the grill was moved to the courtyard. Tang Xianling had his mother pack some boxed meals while he grilled meat in the courtyard. Previously, it was one wen per skewer, but now that they were officially selling it, the price had gone up to two wen per skewer.

The meat was a bit larger than before.

Some customers asked, “Why is it more expensive now?”

Tang Xianling had a ready answer: “The trial run the other day was heavily discounted, and the portions were smaller. Now that we’re officially open, the price has gone up mainly because the spices are expensive. Why don’t you order a few to try the flavor? I’ve marinated some duck offal today, so I’ll treat you all to a sample.”

The customers, who had initially complained that the price had gone up from one wen to two wen—a significant increase—immediately forgot about the price hike. Instead, their minds and eyes were filled with: “There’s free food today?!”

“We’ve got to try that.”

Although duck offal is considered low-class—even cheaper and more humble than mutton offal—surely it must taste good when braised by Mr. Tang? After all, it’s free, so why not give it a try?

They immediately replied with enthusiasm, “Then I’ll take ten skewers of meat.” 

“Me too.”

“Mr. Tang, are you giving away the duck offal with the meat skewers? Do we have to buy something to get it?”

Tang Xianling chuckled and said, “I give them to any customer who’s ever had a boxed meal here, but there isn’t much. Just have a taste—I braised them myself just for fun. It’s hot out, and I’m afraid making too much would be a waste.”

The customers who hadn’t tried the grilled meat were delighted, so they decided to skip the grilled meat.

Once the grilling began in the back yard and the aroma wafted to the front of the shop, the customers who had been happily eating their boxed meals could no longer sit still. What on earth was being cooked that smelled so good? It was so tempting that the food in their hands suddenly seemed bland by comparison.

A diner nearby chuckled, “What else? Skewers, of course.”

As Tieniu brought the first batch of skewers to the front of the stall, he delivered them to their respective customers—ten skewers for this one, five for that one. The skewers sizzled with oil and smelled delicious, grilled to a golden brown and dripping with fat, topped with cumin seeds and white sesame seeds. The customers who hadn’t ordered skewers couldn’t help but swallow hard.

!!!

Why didn’t anyone tell him that grilled meat skewers were this delicious?

He’d thought they were just grilled pork, but this was nothing like the grilled pork he’d imagined. At Boss Tang’s place, they were skewered on bamboo sticks, and they smelled so much, much better.

“Can I order more? I’ll take ten skewers.” 

“I’ll add five more.”

Huangfu Tieniu had a good memory; he jotted everything down and headed to the back to “pass the order” to the kitchen staff. 

Tang Xianling: …So many skewers.

Tang Xianling agreed, grabbing two handfuls of meat to place on the grill while telling Tieniu, “Tell Sister Tong and A-Liang to wash their hands, prepare some duck products, and send some out to the customers. Also, send out some salted peanuts and edamame.”

“Give us a bit more of those two.”

Peanuts and edamame are cheap, and naturally, duck offal isn’t expensive either, but his family hadn’t prepared much of it.

After breakfast, Tieniu rode his mule to the East Market to find duck offal. They bought lunch from a vendor outside, and after eating, they started the braising process. In addition to the duck offal, there were six pigs’ trotters that Zhou’s wife had specially set aside for his family, which were braised together in the pot.

The edamame and peanuts were easy to prepare; he made more than half a bowlful.

Huangfu Tieniu agreed, “I’ll keep an eye on it. Don’t worry.”

The braised duck products were left to cool, allowing the flavors to penetrate deeper. The duck offal wasn’t greasy at all. He sliced up the duck gizzards, intestines, and tongues, placing a small portion on a clean porcelain plate, and arranged the remaining bulk alongside the salted peanuts and edamame.

The brown, damp peanut shells, the emerald-green, slightly fuzzy edamame, and the braised duck offal made up a small plate—not a lot, but certainly not a little either. After all, this was a gift! It didn’t cost a thing of qian!

Actually, the edamame and peanuts take up space and make the plate look more substantial.

Anyway, when diners see this plate, they feel quite pleased and happy. Eating at Boss Tang’s place isn’t just delicious and cheap; Boss Tang has a sweet tooth himself, and whenever he makes something tasty at home, he’ll send some over from time to time.

Regardless of the price, this is a free treat.

A customer waiting for his skewers picked up a peanut. He’d had salted peanuts before—nothing special—but at Boss Tang’s, the shell cracked open easily. Inside was a peanut kernel moistened by the brine. He brought it to his mouth, sucked it in gently, and chewed it lightly.

A faint saltiness, a hint of brine—delicious.

Next, he tried the edamame. The saltiness was so faint it was almost nonexistent—it tasted like it had been boiled in plain water. At first bite, it seemed bland and uninteresting, so he set it aside. Then he tried the duck offal, picking up a piece and popping it into my mouth. After just a few chews, my eyes lit up.

This is delicious.

The duck offal has a unique texture: the duck tongue is firm and chewy, the duck intestine is slightly softer, and the gizzards and hearts each have their own distinct flavors. Most importantly, Boss Tang’s marinade is superb—you can taste the duck without a hint of gaminess.

There wasn’t much offal—it was gone in just a few bites. He was left wanting more, but then he ate a soybean, and it instantly refreshed my palate… “Brother Tieniu, your braised duck is pretty good.”

“Yeah, is there any left?”

Huangfu Tieniu: “Sorry, everyone, we’re running low on the offal. We’ve given out most of what we had, and there are customers waiting behind you.”

“It’s so delicious—I guess I was just being greedy.” The diners understood and quickly added, “I always thought Owner Tang’s pork was the real star, his signature dish, but I didn’t expect the braised duck to be so good too.”

The diners in the shop nodded in agreement, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Brother Tieniu, could you ask Mr. Tang if he can prepare a bit more tomorrow? I’d like to take some home after I finish eating—it’d be perfect with a drink.”

Speaking of snacks to go with alcohol, many diners nodded and commented, “These are better than the bar snacks at the taverns in the East and West Markets. It’s a shame Tang’s Eatery doesn’t sell alcohol.”

This was a real compliment to Tang’s Eatery. In the current food scene, taverns and restaurants were considered the highest standard—selling alcohol was a major source of profit. Even the cheapest cloudy wine cost forty or fifty wen per small bottle at a tavern.

And then there were the snacks to go with it.

As for sweet rice wine—that doesn’t count as proper liquor.

Even now, with Tang’s Eatery doing brisk business, one would expect that success attracts envy—yet not only do the grand restaurants in the East and West Markets not give it a second glance—even some restaurants in the two markets, upon hearing of the Tang Family Eatery on Main Street, would just chuckle and look down on it with a touch of disdain.

“It’s all just a bit of theater; the customers are just there for the spectacle.” 

“What kind of proper restaurant is that little shop on Main Street?” 

“We’re not that shallow.” 

“I hear their specialty is pork—they’re just making a meager living.” 

“How can they compare to our proper restaurants?”

Of course, there are those in the Baxing District who are envious of the Tang family’s business, but as ordinary residents of the neighborhood, they have their reservations. Unless they can drive the Tang family out of business and force them to leave, all that commotion—like what happened to the old Zhao family—would only tarnish their own reputation and hurt their own business.

It’s not worth it.

“Since the Tang family isn’t selling liquor, we might as well take our stuff over to the tavern in the West Market for a drink,” said one diner with a smile. A companion teased, “Wouldn’t that make you a ‘fermented rice wine lady’?”

“You’re wrong—I’m a ‘Steamed-Mash Young Master.’” 

“You call yourself a ‘Young Master’?”

Everyone burst into laughter; this “young master” diner looked quite a bit older than his years. However, he was a broad-minded sort. After making fun of himself, he didn’t take offense when his companions teased him back. Smiling, he said, “If I can get my hands on the Tang family’s braised duck, I’ll carry a basket to the liveliest tavern in the East Market and go from table to table hawking it. ‘Would you like some duck offal, sir?’”

He pointed with his finger at the empty plate of duck offal on the table.

“When the time comes, I’ll buy them cheap from Master Tang, and once I’m back at the tavern, I can sell them for two or three times the price.”

His friend said, “You, you’ve really started thinking like a businessman.” He had originally wanted to ask, “Who’s going to buy that?” but then he thought about it: Mr. Tang’s shop always charged low prices, yet the food tasted far better than the bar snacks served at the taverns. Perhaps his friend’s playful remark might actually turn into a real business opportunity.

But…

His friend wasn’t exactly poor—how could he possibly go around with a basket, haggling at tables, trying to make a living as a street vendor? It was just playful banter. 

Huangfu Tieniu said, “Since you’re interested, I’ll ask Mr. Tang if he can increase the portion for tomorrow.”

Just as they were talking, Tang Xianling arrived carrying a tray. On the large tray were two skewers of freshly grilled meat. As soon as Huangfu Tieniu saw them, he hurried forward to take the tray. He kept track of who had ordered five skewers and who had ordered ten, and he went from table to table, delivering the skewers one by one.

Tang Xianling had just finished grilling the meat and called out to Tieniu, but Tieniu didn’t come. He could hear loud laughter coming from inside the shop, so he figured Tieniu hadn’t heard him and decided to deliver the skewers himself—

But now his hands were empty; Tieniu had already taken the tray. Tang Xianling was curious: what had the customers been laughing about just now? After all, his shop didn’t have a storyteller entertaining them over their meals. He didn’t even need to ask; just standing there, the customers were already chattering away, all vying to ask Mr. Tang questions.

“We were just saying, Master Tang, your braised duck is really delicious. Could you make more tomorrow?”

“Of course! We wouldn’t want Master Tang to go to all that trouble delivering it—we’d rather buy it.”

“That’s right, that’s right! Someone here even wants to be a ‘steamed rice wine’ groom!”

Everyone laughed again.

Tang Xianling knew what a “steamed rice wine lady” was—a female server in taverns and restaurants who carried appetizers from table to table, asking if customers wanted peanuts, edamame, or braised snacks. If a customer ordered a dish, she’d pour them a drink and attend to their needs.

But hearing the diners say this, he knew it was just a joke—they were thinking of using his family’s braised duck as a snack to go with their drinks.

“I’ll have to make a trip to the East Market for the duck offal. If I can buy a bit more after breakfast tomorrow, I’ll make a larger batch,” Tang Xianling said. This was easily arranged. He added, “I don’t have much braised duck today, but I do have some braised pig’s trotters—only six of them. I’ll sell them for half price. I think they’re best when roasted after braising.”

The young man dining at Zunzao’s eyes lit up, and he spoke up first: “Then I’ll take one.” Tang Xianling: He hadn’t even mentioned the price yet!

“Sir, those pork trotters are quite large. Since you’ve already had a boxed meal and some meat skewers, I’d suggest just half a trotter—you don’t want to overeat.”

It’s already late in the evening; eating too much meat won’t sit well.

The customer chuckled and said, “No problem. My friend and I will split it.”

“Alright, then.” Tang Xianling quoted a price on the spot. While the pig’s feet themselves weren’t expensive, roasting them required firewood, brine, and seasoning, and involved two separate steps, so he charged a bit more: “Eighteen wen per pig’s foot.”

“That’s almost as much as a boxed lunch. How can a pig’s trotter be so expensive?”

The customer didn’t bat an eye at the price and handed the money to Mr. Tang.

Tang Xianling took the money. With some customers ordering half a trotter and others a whole one, he soon got confused and nearly forgot to write it down. Huangfu Tieniu said, “You go ahead; I’ll take care of the orders.”

Thank goodness he had a human-shaped notebook. Tang Xianling happily went to the back, then came back and said, “There are only five roasted pigs’ trotters left.”

Huangfu Tieniu: … 

Diners: ???

“Mr. Tang, you just said there were six. Did I hear wrong?” 

“No, I heard six too.”

Tang Xianling was exasperated—damn his big mouth. He gave an awkward smile. “I was thinking of keeping one for my family… Let’s sell them first. If no one wants them and there are leftovers, I’ll roast them up and eat them myself.”

“Then I’ll take one.” 

“I’ll take half a pig’s trotter too.”

Soon, the shop was buzzing with voices again.

Tang Xianling: …Don’t start competing with each other. I’m not using scarcity tactics to scare you all—you… should probably save your money. 

Huangfu Tieniu glanced at his husband, then at the customers in the shop, and said, “All six are sold out.”

Mr. Tang: …

I’ll definitely bring more tomorrow!!!

Customers who had initially thought it was too expensive or that they were too full to eat more were now tempted when they heard even Mr. Tang was craving these roasted pigs’ trotters. 

Since Mr. Tang had mentioned them last Friday, he must have already tried them—and now he wanted more. This must mean the roasted pig’s trotters were truly delicious.

Those who didn’t get any were a bit disappointed. “I was full, so I said I’d come back later.” 

“Me too. I was also thinking it was a bit pricey.”

It wasn’t that the price was exorbitant, but everyone knew pork was usually cheap. So when it was priced “this high,” some felt it wasn’t good value for money—it was too expensive.

But when plate after plate of roasted pork knuckles arrived, the diners who’d managed to get some took a bite. The others didn’t even need to ask how it tasted—just by looking at the expressions of those eating, they knew it was delicious.

“It’s not expensive at all. They braise it first and then grill it—it’s a lot of work.”  

“The owner really doesn’t skimp on the spices.”

Hmm…

“Does the topping taste like peanut powder?”

“There’s no gaminess to the pork knuckles. The meat is tender and falling-off-the-bone, the skin is chewy, and the flavors and textures are layered and incredibly rich.”

A customer who didn’t order: Swallowing hard. 

It looks so good, and it’s so big—it really doesn’t look expensive. The boxed lunch business has slowed down a bit, but the barbecue business is booming; they can’t keep up with demand every day.

Since it’s been raining on and off these past few days and the weather’s cool, having some skewered grilled meat with Tang’s Herbal Tea is really quite pleasant.

Tang Xianling sold seventy boxed meals a day until Wednesday. He’s thinking of cutting back on the boxed meals a bit, since everyone at the little eatery now prefers to “order à la carte.” It used to be just braised duck offal, but now people ask, “Can you braise some other parts of the duck?” or “Mr. Tang, I’d like an extra serving of your grilled pig’s trotters,” or “For the meat skewers, I’d prefer them a bit fattier”—though some people prefer leaner cuts.

His family originally ran a boxed lunch business, but now it’s become increasingly “specialized.”

Since adding the barbecue business, Tang Xianling feels like he’s back to the way things were before he married Tieniu—exhausting! Getting up at the crack of dawn and working late into the night, with an endless pile of chores every day.

Boss Tang was starting to feel like slacking off. He really needed to find someone to handle breakfast—

“Why don’t I do it?” Huangfu Tieniu hugged his husband. It had gotten cooler lately, and the nights were a bit chilly, so his husband loved to snuggle up against him as they slept. “I’ll learn how to make pancakes from you. You get some extra sleep, and let Sister Tong and Uncle A-Liang help out.”

Tang Xianling shook his head. “No, no. You do all the odd jobs around the courtyard and the shop—even if you were made of iron, you’d wear yourself out.” He couldn’t bear to see him overworked. Tieniu was truly much busier than either he or his mother, handling all sorts of menial tasks.

He got up earlier than Tang Xianling, and after finishing breakfast duties, he’d have to ride his mule to the East Market to buy duck products before the shops opened. When he returned, he’d have to wash up, fetch water, and go get meat to prepare the ingredients. Once dinner service began, he’d have to manage the front of the house, taking orders, and then run around serving tables…

He went to bed later than he did.

At home, Tieniu even had to wash his underwear for him.

It wasn’t that Tang Xianling was too lazy to do it himself; he was just so exhausted that he was half-asleep. Tieniu worked with such efficiency that by the time Tang Xianling said he’d wash them later, Tieniu had already finished scrubbing them clean.

Tang Xianling wrapped his arms around Tieniu’s shoulders and said firmly, “You’re young now and don’t feel the strain, but I do. Let’s just spend the money and hire someone.”

“We’ll have to look carefully for someone to help with the breakfast shop.” Huangfu Tieniu rubbed his husband’s back, patting gently downward as he coaxed him, “This little bit of work is nothing. I’m not tired, really. We’re in no rush with the breakfast business. Let’s take our time finding the right person to avoid trouble down the road.”

Tang Xianling knew this, of course, and nodded slightly.

“Let’s go to sleep. Don’t worry about it.”

Tang Xianling had barely closed his eyes when the crack of thunder rang out again outside. Startled awake, he asked dazedly, “Is it raining again?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Go back to sleep. Since it’s raining, not many people will be buying breakfast today, so we can get up a little later,” Huangfu Tieniu said softly. Hearing this, Tang Xianling felt a bit happier and quickly closed his eyes to catch up on sleep.

But when the time came, he woke up anyway. Tieniu was already up before him, and so was his mother. Outside, a light drizzle fell; it was still dark, but his mother and Tieniu were already busy in the kitchen.

Tang Xianling: I really need to hurry up and find someone.

This person must be thoroughly vetted, of good character, and not easily tempted by money. After all, with such a large daily income, he’d have to offer a fixed salary—he certainly couldn’t offer the same terms as he did to his older sister; that was simply out of the question.

Tang Xianling wasn’t usually so generous with outsiders, but in this situation, he had to ensure the person wouldn’t leak his family’s secret recipe. He even considered A-Liang and Sister Tong, but shook his head.

A-Liang’s family situation was a bit complicated; his husband was a hopeless gambler—a problem from years ago that had dragged the whole family down. Originally, the household he married into lived a modest life, but at least they had their own courtyard. Now they’d been reduced to selling their home and renting, with five people crammed into a ten-square-meter space.

The good news is: A-Liang’s husband had both legs broken, and now he can’t walk properly. Rumor has it he was beaten by debt collectors from the casino. They say they only broke one of his hands at first, but somehow it ended up with his legs being broken as well.

In short, A-Liang’s husband is now unable to walk properly and is being supported by A-Liang at home.

There’s also a stepson, about thirteen or fourteen years old. A-Liang has two children of his own, a boy and a ger. His in-laws were driven to their deaths by their own son—one died from the stress of repaying debts, the other from selling off the family estate.

Now it’s entirely up to A-Liang to support the family.

A-Liang is pitiful, but his husband is a liability. Even with his leg broken and unable to go anywhere, Tang Xianling has no intention of getting too deeply involved in A-Liang’s business affairs.

As for Mrs. Tong, her family didn’t have a gambling-addicted husband, but they had a large household. Sometimes when she shared her daily life, she mentioned that her elderly mother-in-law was quite a force to be reckoned with—she had to meddle in everything—while her father-in-law had a habit of pilfering things. He didn’t steal anything big, just a few vegetables from the neighbors or some sun-dried radishes.

Sister Tong would apologize and return the items. If her father-in-law took someone’s dried radishes, she’d give them a few eggs in return, only to have her mother-in-law scold her later for being wasteful with money. Sister Tong herself was fine—cheerful and capable—but with a family like that, Tang Xianling dared not take her on as a student.

After considering his options, Tang Xianling even thought of Lu Sanniang, but he only entertained the idea briefly. Sanniang was too young, unmarried, and still running her own family business. Given current attitudes toward marriage, an unmarried young woman running a business would invite gossip and rumors, making it difficult for her to find a husband later on.

Married men and women wouldn’t face that problem. 

Tang Xianling: Speechless.

He put on his clothes, grabbed his umbrella, and headed to the kitchen to work.

Sure enough, there were a few customers at breakfast today, and he hadn’t sold everything. With some dough left over, Tang Xianling planned to fry it all into flatbreads—without fillings, just brushed with anise-flavored oil. That way, they’d be fragrant, have a bit of flavor, and keep longer—they’d be fine until the day after tomorrow.

Stuffed buns, on the other hand, wouldn’t keep well.

When he set up his breakfast stall, the rain had stopped, but it started again shortly after he began selling. So he left the shop door wide open, allowing customers to buy cakes and take shelter from the rain inside. A few regulars from the neighborhood took shelter, chatting idly while eating their cakes.

“Hey, come to think of it, I haven’t seen Old Man Cui in a few days, have I?” someone asked. He’d been coming to the Tang family’s shop to buy breakfast for four days now and hadn’t seen a trace of Old Man Cui.

Zhang Ming thought about it for a moment and realized it was true.

“Has he changed his ways? Could he have stumbled upon some other tasty treat?”

Tang Xianling thought for a moment and chimed in, “Old Man Cui really hasn’t been here all week.” It’s already Thursday, and in the past, he used to come by every single meal, but he’d drop by every other day. He’s been coming for breakfast more often lately, and since Douzi loves yogurt, he’s been buying it every day.

This week had been so busy that it wasn’t until the customers brought it up that he realized with surprise: Old Man Cui and Douzi hadn’t shown their faces at all this week. Could something have happened to them?

“You guys didn’t know?” a regular asked. Seeing everyone look confused, he added, “It was the day of that heavy rain last week—the kiln where Old Man Cui’s father works seems to have collapsed…”

Zhang Ming was shocked and asked if everyone was okay.

“I heard they were taken straight to the West Market Pharmacy for treatment. They were just brought back from the pharmacy a few days ago. They said it wasn’t serious—nothing major. The kiln factory is going to have to pay the Cui family a hefty sum this time.” The remark carried a hint of envy, yet not entirely—after all, such a tragedy had befallen them.

Hearing this, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he was okay, that was all that mattered.

Tang Xianling furrowed his brow, thinking to himself: Given Old Man Cui’s temperament—he’s actually quite optimistic and easygoing—if it had been a false alarm, he wouldn’t have stayed out of sight all these days.

After breakfast was over, Tang Xianling said to his mother, “I’m going over to the Cui household to check on them and pay my respects.”

“Go ahead. They’ve been regulars at our place for years. Old Man Cui has always been the biggest supporter of your breakfast business. What will you take with you?” Jiang Yun said as she gathered a gift for Wu-ger.

Tang Xianling nodded; going out to buy something now would take too much time.

“We have apples, duck eggs, chicken eggs, and yogurt at home.”

Tang Xianling: “Take it all. That’ll be enough.” He took off his apron but didn’t change his clothes—he’d have to come back to marinate the duck after visiting—then grabbed the basket and hurried out the door.

The Cui family lived in the third alley.

Tang Xianling had never been to the Cui household before, but after counting the alleys to get there, he asked an elderly woman for directions. She pointed the way, and he finally arrived. The gate to the Cui family’s courtyard was tightly shut. Tang Xianling raised his hand to knock, and a muffled voice from inside asked who it was.

“It’s Tang Xianling from Tang’s Shop.”

The person inside seemed startled. “Mr. Tang?” Then there were hurried footsteps. The door opened shortly after.

As soon as Tang Xianling saw him, he was taken aback. Douzi looked haggard; the last time they’d met and chatted, his face had been a bit rounder, but now he’d lost a lot of weight. Tang couldn’t help but ask, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Sun Douzi led Boss Tang inside to sit down.

Tang Xianling caught a whiff of medicine and explained the reason for his visit, handing over the basket.

Sun Douzi didn’t take it. “Dabao told me to close the door and not receive visits from the neighborhood—he’s afraid he won’t be able to repay the favors.” He then lowered his head and spoke frankly to Mr. Tang, “Earlier, when neighbors came by, they were all asking how much the kiln had lost, and they said some hurtful things. It made Dabao so angry he threw them out.”

“It’s all homemade; there’s nothing valuable here,” Tang Xianling said, then added, “I just heard from a customer today that the old master was injured, but they said it wasn’t serious.”

Sun Douzi closed the door, his eyes reddening. Knowing that Mr. Tang wasn’t the type to gloat over others’ misfortunes, he finally told him what had happened.

It turned out that Father Cui’s injuries were severe; he had lost consciousness on the spot. That day, there was a torrential downpour, and after much trouble trying to find someone to send a message, they finally managed to contact Cui Dabao. He was then taken to the West Market Pharmacy to see a doctor. According to the doctor, Father Cui was already beyond saving; his body had gone cold.

But it had been raining that day, and perhaps because of the cold, the doctor said that if they weren’t ready to give up hope, they could try using expensive herbs to keep him alive and see if he might wake up.

…It’s just like getting medical care today—it’s expensive these days, too.

Father Cui spoiled his son, occasionally loosening his purse strings to slip Dabao some extra wages. The Cui family had some means. Cui Dabao was just a big eater—he had no other vices—but he certainly hadn’t saved much over the years.

Consequently, this accident had completely wiped out the Cui family’s savings.

Fortunately, Father Cui has regained consciousness. He has a broken arm and is now recuperating at home. He’s feeling a bit sluggish and won’t be able to get up for a while.

“…The brick kiln hasn’t paid any compensation yet. Dabao has been demanding it for days, but they still haven’t given him a dime.” Sun Douzi said bitterly, “The neighbors even say that if Dabao hadn’t spent so much money on his gluttony, his father wouldn’t be in this state now.”

“Dabao cried behind my back for a long time.”

“He tried to reassure me that he didn’t take it to heart, but I know deep down he did.”

“I don’t know what to say. Dad got hurt—neither Dabao nor I wanted that to happen. Why is everyone now blaming it all on Dabao?”

Tang Xianling comforted her, “Don’t listen to those busybodies and armchair critics. It was an accident—no one could have foreseen it. The fact that Uncle Cui is okay is the greatest blessing of all.”

The Cui family has a solid foundation. Once they get through this year, they’ll still be able to collect rent next year. He was sure plenty of people used to envy the Cui family’s steady annual income. Now that the Cui family has fallen on hard times, others are spouting nonsense just to make things worse.

“The burden on our family is heavy right now. If I weren’t so far along in my pregnancy, I’d have the nerve to ask if you still need extra hands over there…” Sun Douzi spoke with a touch of hesitation. He felt his relationship with Boss Tang was decent, but was he overestimating himself by asking this?

But with things so tough at home, he just wanted to find some work.

Tang Xianling sensed Douzi’s uncertainty and replied with confidence, “Given your character, if you come work for me, I’d definitely say yes—wait, what do you mean your belly’s getting big?”

“I’m pregnant. This baby came at a bad time…” Sun Douzi lowered his head and placed a hand on his belly. As he touched it, the originally loose-fitting clothes revealed a slight curve.

Tang Xianling’s gaze drifted downward, his mind spinning in a daze, his face repeating the words “I’m pregnant.” 

“I’m pregnant.”

Could he really be pregnant?

!!!!