There was no big market today, so the area under the banyan tree was bustling again.

Old Man Hong and Sai Shenxian were both there. Old Man Hong had a few fewer bamboo-woven items on display, and Sai Shenxian had bought a cup of tea early this morning—it seemed business at yesterday’s market must have gone well for both of them.

Most of the regulars under the banyan tree were neighbors, and news spread quickly—they’d all heard by today that Ye Tao had done well in business yesterday. Old Man Hong said, “I saw a woman at the market yesterday carrying a basket and mending clothes for people. I was thinking of asking you to join her next time, but it turns out your business here is going well too.”

Ye Tao brushed the dust off the tree roots and sat down, smiling cheerfully. “It’s all thanks to Granny Qiao for bringing me customers.”

“But it’s also because your work is excellent and your prices are fair that she brought you customers.”

Ye Tao’s prices weren’t just fair—they were incredibly cheap.

After the sun had fully risen, Granny Qiao arrived with her basket slung over her shoulder. She used to come only occasionally, but now she’d been coming three days in a row. People who knew her teased, “Granny Qiao, have you come to see that young tailor again?”

Granny Qiao joked back, “This old woman likes to look her best, too.”

This was a compliment on Ye Tao’s good looks, but after saying it, Granny Qiao shook her head with a hint of regret: “A man as handsome as Brother Tao—how come he doesn’t know how to make himself a nice outfit?”

For a moment, Ye Tao couldn’t tell if she was referring to his delicate face or his delicate hands, so he smiled awkwardly and said, “It’s not practical for working.”

In reality, he didn’t have much money either. A single hemp sack cost dozens of wen, and given his build, making a narrow-sleeved jacket with minimal fabric would require at least two hemp sacks. Not counting the money Chen Chuan had given him for groceries, he had a total of only fifty-one wen.

Granny Qiao actually realized what she’d said right after speaking. If he had money, he wouldn’t have come here to set up a stall and set such a low price. She pointed to the Damask Quilt Cover in Ye Tao’s hands: “How much did you charge for this Damask Quilt Cover?”

Granny Qiao had been there when Ye Tao quoted the price yesterday; thinking she might not remember, he repeated it: “Ten wen.”

Granny Qiao covered her mouth with her hand and said mysteriously, “Do you know how much others are paying for it?”

Ye Tao shook his head honestly.

“Seventy wen!” Granny Qiao slapped her thigh, her face a picture of deep distress, as if she were the one paying the money. “I took a look—their craftsmanship isn’t even as good as yours.”

Ye Tao was shocked as well. Seventy wen?

He knew his price was certainly a bit lower than the market rate, but he hadn’t expected it to be this much lower.

But on second thought, it made sense. In later times, a simple hem would cost three or five yuan, and invisible mending would start at thirty or fifty—that was just the starting price. Even if he could do it, he wouldn’t want to make money that way—it was too much of a hassle. How could that possibly be as fun as making clothes?

Now not only was the mending a hassle, but he also had to compete on price just to get business. Ye Tao looked dejected.

Granny Qiao thought he was regretting charging too little, so she hurried to reassure him: “You’re new here, so it’s good to charge a bit less. Once you become more well-known, you can raise your prices—but don’t raise them too much; you’ll still need to stay a little below the others.” 

She taught Ye Tao the secrets of making money: “Take my pickled vegetables, for example. There are so many people making pickled vegetables in Quanzhou. Even though mine were good, not many people knew about them at first. So I started selling them cheaper than everyone else. I didn’t make much money that first year, but the following year, everyone who had tasted my pickled vegetables came looking for me. My reputation spread—word of mouth carried it from ten to a hundred, and before I knew it, it had spread far and wide. My husband used to be an official, but he gave that up to sell only my pickles.”

Ye Tao listened intently and nodded when she finished: “I’ll ask for thirty wen for the next batch.”

Seeing that he had taken her words to heart, Granny Qiao wore a look of relief.

But for now, it was still ten wen, so Ye Tao continued to study the ten wen.

Thin silk cloth is different from plain weave. Plain weave is a plain weave pattern: with the warp threads fixed, the weft threads alternate one up and one down, forming a group of two vertical and two horizontal threads, which is then repeated. Twill is a twill weave: the weft threads alternate two up and two down, forming a group of four vertical and four horizontal threads—somewhat like the bamboo-strip drying tray Old Man Hong is currently weaving. 

Once he figured out the weave pattern, the rest was simple: unpicking the stitches and mending the fabric just required time and patience.

After finishing the brocade quilt, Ye Tao took a short break. Instead of rushing to mend the scholar robe, he began examining the hemp sack.

This particular hemp sack had several holes; he had no idea how much thread it would take to mend it. Although Ye Tao had some hemp thread, he didn’t use his own. Instead, he picked out a hemp sack that was nearly torn into strips and began unraveling the threads from it.

The jute thread was easy to unravel; he pulled out dozens of strands one by one, straightened them out, and tied them together with a rough knot.

The scholar robe was made of plain ramie fabric. The person who brought the garment also provided the fabric, specifically requesting that it be patched, so Ye Tao followed their instructions. After finishing yesterday’s work in the morning, he also sewed two hemp sacks—a substantial amount of work, yet he didn’t earn a single fen more. 

When he returned at noon, Lin Niangzi had already mended the few hemp sacks left at home. After lunch, Ye Tao hurried to deliver them to the mill.

His timing was perfect—he happened to catch the Young Flour Mill Boss being scolded by the Flour Mill Owner, who was grabbing him by the ear: “Didn’t you say you’d bring it? Where is it? Earlier you spent over ten guan on invitations to some poetry gathering, only to end up drinking and carousing; I thought you were just a clueless kid who didn’t know the cost of daily necessities. I had you stay up all night—pouring wheat into the millstone and sifting out the flour—such a simple task, yet you managed to squander two guan on it. If I ever let you run the household, I’ll pack your things and send you out to freeze in the cold!”

When Ye Tao heard the mention of “spending money on women,” he grew curious and wanted to listen more closely to find out what kind of “women” they were talking about. But when he heard that two guan had been “skimmed off,” he couldn’t stand it anymore and shouted, “Young Master, the hemp sack is mended!”

The young master looked at him as if he’d seen a savior. Grabbing his mother’s hand—which was still tugging at his ear—he pointed at Ye Tao and said, “Mother, it’s him, it’s him! Look, here he comes!”

Half out of excitement and half to seize the opportunity, he pushed open the gate and stepped out of the mill, asking Ye Tao enthusiastically, “Is it all patched up? How much does it cost?”

Ye Tao knew full well that he wasn’t the one calling the shots, so he said loudly, “I’ve repaired seventeen of them, and there are a few more that will have to wait until tomorrow. I figured your mill might need them urgently, so I brought these over first. We agreed on two wen each earlier—would you like to pay for these now, or wait until tomorrow to settle the entire bill?”

If he hadn’t known the value of the hemp sacks, Ye Tao would certainly have asked for payment upfront. But now that he knew, he wasn’t worried they’d renege on the payment—he still had the “merchandise” in his hands.

“Let’s pay now,” the young master said, then turned to look at his mother, his tone becoming hesitant. “…Right?”

The Flour Mill Owner stood with his arms crossed, his cloak draped behind him, sizing Ye Tao up and down. After a moment, he nodded.

The young master hurriedly gathered the hemp sacks and went to fetch the money. Ye Tao waited where he was, feeling the same awkwardness as when you go to play with a classmate but run into a strict parent. He stole a quick glance toward the miller’s wife, caught her gaze, gave an embarrassed smile, and immediately looked away—afraid she might ask, “Don’t you know the rules?”

Fortunately, she didn’t ask. After successfully receiving the money, Ye Tao added that he’d bring the rest tomorrow, then slipped away.

He’d been walking for a while before he finally slowed his pace, thinking to himself, “Thank goodness Lin Niangzi isn’t that kind of parent—otherwise, I definitely wouldn’t have dared to stay.”

It was the fifth month of the lunar calendar. In Ye Tao’s memory, it was usually already hot enough to require air conditioning, but here it was still bearable—in the shade, and where the breeze blew, he could still feel a hint of coolness.

However, at midday the shadows were short, and with few trees in the residential area, there was hardly any cool breeze. Ye Tao tried to walk as close as possible to the eaves of people’s houses, but he still worked up a sweat. When he got home, he drew a basin of well water and wiped himself down.

He usually wiped himself right by the pond at night, but it wasn’t quite appropriate to do so in broad daylight like this, so he went inside instead. After wiping himself and resting for a moment, he finally felt a bit cooler. He tidied up his basket and got ready to head under the banyan tree. Just as he stepped outside, he ran into Lin Niangzi returning home. He was a bit surprised—he’d thought she was inside taking an afternoon nap with Zhenniang.

Lin Niangzi was holding several thick pieces of stiff cloth; Ye Tao knew these were for sewing shoe soles. He called out, “Aunt Lin,” and handed her the money he’d just collected: “Seventeen hemp sacks—that comes to 34 wen.”

Lin Niangzi refused to take it, but Ye Tao insisted, “You mended all those hemp sacks yourself; you deserve this money.”

Lin Niangzi shook her head: “Why be so particular about such things? Since you’ve come to live with us, I treat you the same as I do Zhenniang and A-Chuan.”

“Then you’ll take the money Chen Chuan gives you, but why won’t you take what I give you? Do you think it’s too little?” Ye Tao said pointedly.

To his surprise, Lin Niangzi actually nodded and said with a smile, “A-Chuan gives me two guan a month. As for your pittance, keep it to buy yourself some cold drinks and fruit to beat the heat.” 

Ye Tao felt dejected.

Aunt Lin truly didn’t treat him as an outsider—in every sense of the word. So he didn’t argue any further.

But Lin Niangzi wasn’t done teasing him yet. She added, “You’re just like a newlywed bride.” 

Ye Tao: “……”

Ye Tao went back to the banyan tree and mended the remaining pile of hemp sacks.

The sacks varied in size, but even the smallest could hold five dou of flour. Since the payment was based on the number of sacks, Ye Tao did his best to mend them all. For those that were too badly torn, he patched three together to make two, or two together to make one. After piecing them all together like this, he ran out of fabric, so Ye Tao sewed the remaining scraps into a small sack that could hold about two or three dou.

In addition to the hemp sacks, there were a few other mending jobs that afternoon. One was repairing a lampshade—it was made of thin silk cloth and had a hole burned in it by a spark. Another was for the young woman who had had her pleated skirt mended yesterday; she brought in a pleated skirt and asked to have the color altered.

Ye Tao mended the lampshade on the spot, using silk thread with a slight color difference—with the customer’s permission. As for the skirt, since she had arrived too late and the job was too extensive, there wasn’t enough time to finish it today; she would have to wait another day.

As the sun gradually turned golden-red, Ye Tao carried her basket home. Passing the entrance to the alley, he saw an old farmer carrying a shoulder pole coming out of town, calling out as he walked. Ye Tao walked closer to take a look and saw that there were still a few muskmelons in his basket.

“How much are the muskmelons?”

“They were originally four wen each, but since it’s getting late, I’ll sell them to you for three wen each.”

Muskmelons are also known as fragrant melons; Hami melons are a type of melon—a very sweet and juicy fruit. The price wasn’t too high, so Ye Tao picked out two that felt heavy in her hands and haggled, “Five wen for both.”

These were leftovers from other vendors; just selling them at all was a profit. The old farmer agreed almost immediately: “Deal.”

Ye Tao took the two muskmelons home, sliced one right away, and the three of them shared it to tide them over. They’d be having noodles for dinner tonight, and it would take a little while to knead the dough.

Toward the end of the morning market, Ye Tao had taken some time to browse and bought water bamboo, duck eggs, and loofahs. For lunch, they had stir-fried Water Bamboo with pickled vegetables and Tianluo egg soup.

Since they’d stir-fried plenty of pickled vegetables, they could use the leftovers to cook noodles.

Eating only vegetarian food isn’t enough, so he cracked two eggs into his noodles—a relatively inexpensive source of protein. Fish and shrimp aren’t expensive either, but you can’t always find fresh ones every day.

If he had the chance, he’d buy some dried seafood that fishermen had sun-dried themselves to stock up—he figured it wouldn’t be too expensive.

With that in mind, Ye Tao carried the noodles to the table and motioned for Zhenniang to wash her hands and eat. Lin Niangzi glanced at the sky and asked Ye Tao, “Has A-Chuan not come back yet?” 

Ye Tao paused, hesitating. “Didn’t he say he wouldn’t be back tonight?”

He hadn’t even cooked Chen Chuan’s dinner.

“He’s not coming back?” Lin Niangzi asked in return, then added, “Well, let’s eat then.”

Lin Niangzi didn’t think much of it, but Ye Tao found it a bit odd—why had Chen Chuan told only him and not Aunt Lin? He also recalled the teasing remark Aunt Lin had made earlier that day: “Little wife…” 

Pfft, pfft, pfft.