When Ye Tao arrived home, Lin Niangzi was washing rice, so he went to light the fire and prepare the meal.

The fire in the small stove had nearly gone out, so Ye Tao took the fire poker and blew on it vigorously a few times to reignite it. After blowing, he saw that Lin Niangzi was still washing the rice and asked in surprise, “Is there a bug in the rice?”

Lin Niangzi replied, “There’s some sand and gravel at the bottom of the rice jar.”

Gravel sinks to the bottom just like rice—it’s even harder to remove than bugs. With the light fading in the evening, no wonder he was having such a hard time.

Ye Tao washed his hands, took the rice-rinsing basket, drained the water, and carefully sifted through it. As he sorted, he asked, “Is that all there is? Why not just rinse it all and cook it? We can use the leftovers to make fried rice tomorrow.”

“There’s still some left.” Lin Niangzi had originally intended to say that if she mixed in some beans, they could have another meal, but when she heard him mention fried rice, she asked curiously, “Can you actually fry rice?”

Ye Tao nodded. “It can be stir-fried.”

Well, white rice can be stir-fried, so brown rice… should be able to be stir-fried too, right? Lin Niangzi asked again, “If we cook it now and save it for tomorrow, won’t the rice go bad?”

Ye Tao finally realized—without a refrigerator, the rice might turn into rice wine by tomorrow in this weather. As he hesitated, Lin Niangzi said: “Let’s wait until we buy some new rice to stir-fry it.”

Chen Chuan was coming home late today as well; the sun had already set, and he still hadn’t arrived. Lin Niangzi kept glancing toward the entrance of the alley, and Zhenniang’s stomach was already growling with hunger.

“We can’t just keep waiting like this,” said Ye Tao. “You guys go ahead and eat. I’ll go take a look.”

Lin Niangzi looked away. “Let’s eat together. He might be staying at Siwu’s place tonight.”

No sooner had she spoken than footsteps sounded from the entrance of the alley, and both pairs of eyes turned in that direction.

Chen Chuan saw the two of them peering out in the lamplight and quickened his pace as he walked back. Only when he drew near did he slow down again. “Haven’t you eaten yet?”

Ye Tao scooped up some water and pressed the bowl into his hand: “Hurry up and wash your hands so we can eat—Zhenniang is starving.”

Lin Niangzi brought the dishes, still warm from the rice pot, one by one to the table. Hearing such an expression for the first time, she found it both vivid and amusing, and shook her head with a smile.

Chen Chuan washed his hands and sat down. “The sun’s already set—you guys go ahead and eat. No need to wait for me.”

Ye Tao served him a portion of shredded bamboo shoots with his chopsticks and teased, “We’re counting on you to support the family—how could we not wait for you?”

Chen Chuan looked at him, and Ye Tao said, “We’re out of rice.”

“Completely out?”

Ye Tao nodded, and Lin Niangzi said, “I still have some left…”

Chen Chuan cut her off: “Tomorrow is the fifteenth—the big market day. Let’s buy a couple of dou to tide us over first. I’ll round up a few people, and we’ll go to the Great Flour Mill together.”

Going to the big market is different from the morning market—you can’t go too early, or it won’t be lively.

Lin Niangzi took her time finishing up Ye Tao’s shoes. Ye Tao hadn’t gone to the morning market to buy vegetables either; he scooped out the last bit of rice, rinsed it thoroughly, and cooked it for breakfast.

After breakfast, he began scrubbing the rice tub; once it was clean, he set it at an angle by the sink to dry in the sun.

After breakfast, Lin Niangzi handed the finished shoes to Ye Tao: “Try them on.”

Ye Tao put them on and took a few steps; he still felt the soles were stiff, but he nodded: “They fit just right.”

Lin Niangzi was also very pleased with her handiwork: “Then don’t change them—wear these to the market.”

Zhenniang had been waiting with her little money pouch for quite some time, and as soon as Lin Niangzi said they could go, she immediately set off, skipping and hopping along.

A large market was held at Xinqiao Bridge on the fifth day of each lunar month—three times a month—and the one on the fifteenth was the largest and most crowded. People came not only from the Nanguanxiang area but also from throughout Quanzhou City and the villages and towns across the Jin River.

The market stretched all the way from Deji Gate to Xinqiao, and then from Xinqiao to the opposite bank of the river—a distance of over one li.

The bridge’s original name was Jishun Bridge, but since its construction took many years and it had only recently been completed, everyone preferred to call it New Bridge.

Matchmaker Zhang took Ye Tao there earlier, and the bridge had already been bustling. Today it was teeming with people—from a distance, it looked like a French fry swarming with ants.

A cart pulled by two mules up ahead hadn’t budged for ages. Lin Niangzi stood on tiptoe to look ahead: “The grain stalls are all back there—we’ll have to cross the bridge.”

Zhenniang was squeezed in the crowd and couldn’t see a thing; someone even stepped on her, leaving a large footprint on the clean surface of her shoe. She pouted, and tears quickly welled up in her eyes.

Seeing this, Ye Tao handed the basket he was holding to Lin Niangzi: “Lin Niangzi, take this. I’ll carry Zhenniang.”

Lin Niangzi could no longer carry Zhenniang; Chen Chuan usually carried her, but now that Ye Tao was holding her, she didn’t feel the least bit out of place. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked around, her view even better than Ye Tao’s. Smelling the aroma of roasted sesame seeds, she stretched upward, and Ye Tao pointed in the direction: “Brother Xiaotao, over there, over there.”

A woman with an arm ribbon tied around her arm was pouring sesame seeds into a mold. Zhenniang climbed down from Ye Tao’s arms, clutching a money pouch in her hand, and looked up, saying, “I want  sesame candy.”

The woman was busy, so she told Zhenniang to choose for herself: “Three pieces for two wen worth of walnut candy, or four pieces for jujube candy.”

Zhenniang chose the ones with red dates, wrapped the candies in a handkerchief, and counted them out one by one for Ye Tao to hear: “This one’s for Mom, this one’s for Brother Xiaotao, this one’s for Zhenniang, and this one’s for Second Brother.”

She had it all laid out clearly, and Ye Tao hadn’t expected that she wasn’t just eating them herself. He had about ten wen in his hand as well, so he could buy some—he couldn’t just eat the child’s share.

The sesame candy was fragrant and sweet. Ye Tao held Zhenniang’s hand as they looked around together, buying two cups of Sweet Drink—one for Zhenniang and Lin Niangzi to share, and one for Ye Tao.

The further they went into the market, the fewer the delicate treats became, while grains and vegetables gradually increased in number. There were also vendors selling firewood and charcoal—it felt a bit like a morning market.

Ye Tao glanced at the firewood for a moment, but Lin Niangzi said there was no need to buy any—people would come specifically to the Guanxiang area to sell it, and the price would be about the same as at the market, plus it would be more convenient.

Lin Niangzi wasn’t in a hurry to buy rice either; she went from stall to stall asking for prices.

Ye Tao watched along with her. There were fewer vendors selling rice than wheat or other grains, and it was more expensive—a dou of rice cost around 160 wen, while wheat was just over 100 wen.

“Why is rice so much more expensive than wheat?” Ye Tao asked, puzzled. “Don’t we grow rice around here?”

Lin Niangzi had never farmed either; she’d spent half her life buying rice to eat. She simply replied, “Wheat has always been cheaper than rice.”

The vendor chimed in again: “The wheat is from the new harvest. If you like rice, young gentleman, you might want to wait a bit. This year’s harvest is good, so once the early rice is harvested, rice will definitely be cheaper.”

Ye Tao immediately asked, “How much cheaper will it be?”

“I’d guess about one guan and two wen per shi,” the man chuckled. “I can’t say for sure—it might not be enough, or it might even be a bit cheaper. But if you’re buying last year’s grain, that should definitely cover it.”

One guan and two meant 1,200 wen—1,200 wen per shi, 120 wen per dou—which was indeed quite a bit cheaper than the current price. Ye Tao ran his fingers through the wheat grains. “Why don’t we buy some wheat? It’ll be a nice change of pace.”

“Wheat rice isn’t very tasty; I’m afraid you won’t be used to it,” Lin Niangzi advised. “Why not buy some beans to mix in with it?” 

“I won’t make wheat rice—I’ll grind it into flour to eat.”

They’d been eating at home for the past couple of days, but Ye Tao had seen plenty of street stalls selling flour-based foods; the techniques for both grinding flour and fermentation seemed quite well-established.

Lin Niangzi was surprised: “You know how to make flour-based foods? Even A-Chuan’s father doesn’t know how.”

Ye Tao nodded confidently. Even if he couldn’t make steamed buns properly, surely he could make noodles? He could even mold little figures out of soft clay.

Rice cost 160 wen per dou, and wheat cost 105 wen per dou. Before leaving that morning, Chen Chuan had given him 350 wen. That was enough to buy two dou of rice with a little left over for vegetables. Since they were buying wheat now anyway, he decided to buy a bit more: two dou of wheat and one dou of rice, totaling 370 wen. Lin Niangzi chipped in an additional 20 wen.

They had brought their own hemp sacks for the grain. Ye Tao weighed them in his hand; these three dou should add up to about 15 kg. With four people in the household and hardly any meat on the table, they went through grain quickly—he really couldn’t make ends meet on his own.

With the hemp sacks in his hands, Ye Tao couldn’t carry Zhenniang. Lin Niangzi carried a basket in one hand and held Zhenniang’s hand with the other. She bought a gourd and wanted to buy a few eggs as well, but Ye Tao stopped her: “Eggs are cheaper at the end of the morning market, and it’s not convenient to carry them all the way back.”

Lin Niangzi thought he had a point. Glancing at the sky, she said, “It’s a long way back; let’s take a boat.”

Taking the boat would also let them get home sooner; otherwise, they’d have to spend money on food. In the past, when she could earn her own living, she’d had more to spare, but later, when times got tough at home and she had to take medicine constantly, life became tight. Now that there was one more person in the household, they had to be even more frugal.

The long bamboo raft held about ten people. The boatman steered from the stern with a bamboo pole. Since they were going against the current, the boat didn’t move very fast, but it was easy on the strength and inexpensive—the fare for three people was only three wen.

After getting off the raft, they had to cross the river via a pontoon bridge.

The pontoon bridge consisted of several boats tied together. It was Ye Tao’s first time crossing it, so he treaded carefully. Zhenniang, thinking he was afraid, took his hand: “Xiaotao, let me hold your hand.”

Ye Tao squeezed her small hand. “Thank you, Zhenniang.” He asked Lin Niangzi, “Has this bridge always been here?”

From what Old Man Hong had said, crossing the river seemed quite inconvenient.

Lin Niangzi shook her head: “In the past, it was only open in the morning and evening; during the day, it had to be dismantled to let boats through. Since the new bridge was built, it hasn’t been used much. But on market days that fall on the fifth day of the lunar month, the bridge gets so crowded that they set it up again.”

It’s the same as at the morning market: Quanzhou’s maritime trade is thriving, so during the day, whether by water or land, the priority is transporting goods.

When they got home, Ye Tao steamed a pot of rice and stir-fried nearly half a gourd. The three of them had a simple lunch with the vegetables. Zhenniang had walked quite a distance that morning, and now that she was full, she began to feel drowsy, so Lin Niangzi took her to rest for the afternoon.

Ye Tao filled a bamboo tube with water, picked up his basket, and headed out to his stall. Just as he reached the Banyan Tree Market, he heard someone call out, “Young tailor, come quickly! We’ve been waiting for you for ages.”

It was the elderly woman who had asked Ye Tao to mend her clothes the day before. Thinking the mending hadn’t been done properly, Ye Tao hurried over, only to learn from her that it wasn’t that it was poorly done—it was too well done. She had come to introduce a new customer today.

The old woman’s surname was Qiao; everyone called her Granny Qiao. She was famous for her delicious pickles. The young woman she’d brought with her looked to be in her early thirties; she was Granny Qiao’s niece and worked as a female cook.

Today’s garment was even more tattered than yesterday’s. At a glance, there were several holes of varying sizes, along with a dark stain. Granny Qiao said, “A mouse made a nest in the wardrobe and chewed up the clothes. Young gentleman, see if you can mend it.”

Mice again. Ye Tao looked at the jagged, dark stain and suddenly felt as though the clothes had an odd smell.