Chapter Bonanza (10/10)

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Ye Tao put some thought into the bag that Granny Qiao had requested. Compared to the previous burlap bundle, which had only one large opening, he added a small pocket on both the inside and outside, and on the sides, two teacup compartments modeled after a modern schoolbag.

When Granny Qiao saw it, she didn’t think it was for a cup and asked Ye Tao, “Is this for holding a pen?”

Ye Tao remembered that when he was a child, his schoolbag had a water bottle on one side and an umbrella on the other. He realized there hadn’t been such a small folding umbrella or a water bottle with such a tight seal back then, so he said, “It doesn’t matter what you put in it—a pen would work, too.”

He thought for a moment, then trimmed the side pocket he’d been about to sew on a bit shorter. He added a strip of fabric above the pocket, securing it in three compartments. Then he found a twig, inserted it first into the top compartment and then into the side pocket, making it look just like a roll-up pencil case.

“That way, it won’t fall out easily.”

Granny Qiao praised the design.

All that remained was to attach the carrying strap; everything else went according to plan. As Ye Tao sewed, he found himself daydreaming: perhaps he could make a bag specifically designed to hold the Four Treasures of the Study in the future. However, making such a large bag would take quite a bit of time, so he decided to wait until Uncle Hong’s bamboo rings arrived to make a handbag instead—it looked nice and was simple to make, and the total length of stitching required was about the same as that of a single carrying strap.

When he finished sewing, Ye Tao handed the bag to Granny Qiao. Granny Qiao took it and examined it closely; the stitches were, as always, even and fine, with every detail executed with precision.

The outer layer was damask silk, and the inner layer was silk she had bought specifically for this purpose—it was slightly thicker than thin silk cloth and inevitably a bit stiff. She had originally worried that the two layers wouldn’t align properly once sewn together, but to her surprise, the two fabrics fit together like a single layer, clinging tightly to one another.

She tried rubbing the corner and asked in surprise, “Did you glue the two pieces of fabric together?”

“No, I didn’t glue them. Glue would make it hard to wash later. I just secured the corners with running stitches, and sewed a few stitches along the seam in the middle as well.”

The outer layer was pieced together from strips of fabric three or four cun wide. Ye Tao had pieced them together with great skill—neither following the irregular edges left over from cutting the fabric nor cutting them into straight, square shapes. Instead, he cut them into slightly irregular geometric shapes. Once pieced together, they fit together seamlessly. However, since it was damask silk, the fabric pieces had slightly different orientations, so depending on the angle, they would reflect light differently.

For craftsmanship like this, even without including the cost of materials, charging one hundred and sixty wen would be entirely justified.

Granny Qiao looked on with growing satisfaction, feeling certain that she had secured exactly what she wanted. She went home and brought back two bowls of herbal jelly—one for Ye Tao and one for Old Man Hong—each containing brown sugar syrup and piled high with fragrant melon.

Old Man Hong laughed and said, “I’m just riding on Brother Tao’s coattails here. I can’t eat this for free—I’ll buy a jar of pickles to take home.”

Granny Qiao refused: “Why on earth would I make you buy anything? It’s just a bowl of herbal jelly.”

Old Man Hong replied earnestly, “My son-in-law invited me over for a drink, so I’ll go buy a jar of pickles.”

Only then did Granny Qiao ask, “Do you want the big ones or the small ones? I’ll bring them to you in a little while.”

“The thirty-wen ones—no need to bring them over. I’ll pick them up after I close shop in a bit.” He said to Ye Tao, “Tao, I won’t be coming tomorrow. I’m heading into the mountains to look for some purple bamboo for you.”

The early rice was nearly ripe; once harvested, the threshing floor would be filled with grain. These past few days, Old Man Hong had been either mending bamboo mats or weaving new ones. Knowing how busy he was, Ye Tao said, “There’s no rush for the purple bamboo—we can use bamboo roots for now.”

Old Man Hong chuckled. “Do you think bamboo can be used right after it’s cut? It has to be left in a dark place to air out for two months. Then you have to split open the joints, fill them with hot sand, bend it over a fire, and let it air-dry to set the shape—that takes several days. I still have some bamboo roots left over from making handles for water pots. I’ll make a few rings for you first. I might not find the purple bamboo tomorrow, and even if I do, it’ll take several months.”

“That long?” Ye Tao was a bit surprised. “That embroidery hoop from last time was also heat-bent; I thought half a day would be enough.” 

“Bamboo strips are naturally different from whole bamboo.”

Ye Tao had originally planned to place orders in batches, just like with the “日” character clasps. If it was this much trouble, he might as well order a larger quantity at once—but he couldn’t stockpile too much either; he had to consider her savings.

“Uncle Hong, how much is each hoop?”

Old Man Hong pondered for a moment: “I won’t beat around the bush with you. The ones made from bamboo roots are ten wen each, and the purple bamboo ones are twenty wen each.”

Ye Tao had just counted his money yesterday. He’d earned 160 wen from Granny Qiao, and with the odd jobs over the past couple of days, he now had over 400 wen. He could have ten of each.”

Bamboo roots paired with hemp cloth, purple bamboo paired with silk. “Well, then, I’ll go ahead and…”

Old Man Hong interrupted him: “Don’t rush. My trade is different from yours. You have to pay for cloth and thread, but I don’t charge anything for the bamboo I cut. This time, I’ve cut some purple bamboo. I’ll pick out a couple of well-shaped pieces to sell to people for making a dongxiao, and I’ll make the rest into rings for you. They won’t spoil if I keep them here, so whenever you need them, just ask me to sell you some.”

“The same goes for the bamboo roots. Next time I cut bamboo, I’ll dig up some roots along the way. If you need them, just ask me to sell them to you.”

Ye Tao hadn’t expected him to offer this arrangement—after all, the bamboo buckles could easily have been sold to others at market price—so he expressed his sincere thanks. Old Man Hong waved his hand: “No need to thank me. It’s not that I won’t take money; I just hope your business does well so I can earn a little more too.”

Since he’d put it that way, Ye Tao naturally resolved to work harder to earn more. He decided to have Old Man Hong make a few U-shaped and Ω-shaped clasps in addition to the round and half-round ones, so they’d fit bags of various shapes.

Old Man Hong said, “The bamboo rings should be ready by the next big market; the purple bamboo ones will take a few months.” Since the bamboo rings wouldn’t be ready right away, Ye Tao decided to start by making coin purses.

From what he’d observed, most people’s coin purses were plain drawstring styles designed for practicality, though there were also some flashy ones that weren’t very practical.

Ye Tao planned to make the flashy ones—practical items wouldn’t fetch a good price.

He used scraps of fabric cut from clothes to make them in the shape of flip-phone cases, then embroidered some patterns on them—or stitched designs onto plain pieces of fabric—just like children’s patchwork art.

Sew a loop onto the flap and a small fabric pom-pom onto the body of the bag—that way, whatever you put inside won’t fall out so easily.

This project is quick and fun to make. Ye Tao took advantage of a break between setting up his stall to make two of them. When he brought the one with the patchwork design home and showed it to Lin Niangzi, she laughed and said, “Zhenniang should like this.”

As for the other pouch embroidered with little flowers, she said, “Embroidered with hemp thread? It’s rather charming, too.”

Ye Tao felt her praise was a bit forced, because right after she said that, she asked, “Have you finished embroidering that orchid yet?”

It was finished, but it wasn’t presentable.

Ye Tao brought it over to show her. The stitches were stiff and rigid—not much different from those on his coin purse, except that the silk thread was slightly finer than the hemp thread. Lin Niangzi didn’t criticize him: “Stick to sewing next time; you’re better at it than at embroidering.”

Seeing that Ye Tao looked a bit embarrassed, she reassured him: “Everyone has their own strengths. When it comes to mending clothes, ordinary people can’t hold a candle to you. How long have you been learning embroidery, anyway? Take your time—don’t rush. If you stitch just a couple of stitches every day, you’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

Ye Tao chuckled, “If I really can’t get the hang of it, I’ll just have to wait until Zhenniang grows up.”

Lin Niangzi said, “Then you’ll have quite a wait on your hands. Has this little pouch been promised to anyone yet?”

“Not yet. Next time Feng Shijiu comes to pick up the sachet, I’ll ask him if he’ll buy it. If he does, I’ll sell it to him; if not, I’ll take it to the big market.” Ye Tao wasn’t quite sure how to price it. “Aunt Lin, do you think I could sell it for twelve wen each?”

Twelve wen for a coin purse certainly isn’t cheap, but unlike bamboo buckles, this item requires a certain sense of color coordination and aesthetic taste. His style is very distinctive, and he didn’t want to sell it cheaply.

After all, the labor wasn’t that high; he could make one or two in his spare time, and it wouldn’t matter if they sold a little slower.

Lin Niangzi said, “Twelve wen—it should sell. But next time you set up your stall, why not move it a bit further forward? It’s livelier and busier up there.”

Old Man Hong had mentioned this to Ye Tao; he used to set up as far forward as possible—ideally right by the New Bridge. These past few times, he’d gone along with Ye Tao’s suggestion, but since business hadn’t been great last time, he’d naturally have to change locations next time.

“Uncle Hong said the same thing, but that spot’s hard to secure. He said he’d save it for me, but if I don’t get there before the sun comes up, I won’t be able to hold onto it.”

“That means we’ll have to get up at the hour of Yin.” Lin Niangzi furrowed her delicate brows slightly. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to wake up, but if I do, I’ll call you.”

Ye Tao wasn’t very confident in himself either; even if he woke up, he wouldn’t know what time it was. The two exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing: if only Chen Chuan were here.

And Chen Chuan had indeed returned.

At Xinqiao Dock, a boat ran into trouble while dropping anchor: the captain failed to lower the sail properly, colliding with a cargo ship that had just weighed anchor. One ship after another was involved in the chain reaction, affecting a total of six vessels, large and small.

Of the six vessels, three sank, and one was half-submerged—they didn’t dare move it. With the waterway blocked like this, shipping on the Jin River came to a near standstill.

News of such a major accident spread across both banks of the river that very same day.

There seemed to be an unusually large crowd under the banyan tree today. As evening approached, Granny Qiao had already gone home, but she rushed over to join the discussion. He said that next time he went to the market, he wouldn’t dare take the boat—the pontoon bridge wasn’t safe either—so he’d take the bus instead and walk across the new bridge to cross the river.

Ye Tao thought absently, “I wonder how Chen Chuan is doing. With shipping suspended, does he even have any work left?”

On the way back, he tallied up his savings. Yesterday he’d bought two jin of salt—since Granny Qiao had arranged it, it cost only thirteen wen per jin—so he still had over six hundred wen left from the money Chen Chuan had given him, and he had another five hundred or so of his own.

There was still some rice at home, and Chen Chuan surely had money as well, so they should be able to get by.

Relieved, he began planning what to eat for dinner: he’d bought some string beans that morning, so he could stir-fry a serving and pickle the rest. He’d also steam an egg—since Lin Niangzi and Zhenniang were both on the thin side, Ye Tao tried his best to make sure they ate fish, shrimp, and eggs every day.

With Chen Chuan away, the cost of food for the three of them hadn’t gone down—in fact, it had sometimes even gone up.

From the alley, Zhenniang’s voice carried a long way—laughing and calling out “Brother!” Ye Tao walked several dozen steps before he saw Chen Chuan playing “toss-and-catch” with her. Holding Zhenniang wasn’t too much of a strain for Ye Tao, but he didn’t dare play that game with her.

Zhenniang hadn’t played that way in a while and was absolutely thrilled.

As Ye Tao walked back, Chen Chuan spotted him first. He caught Zhenniang and set her back down on the ground, but Zhenniang clung to him, refusing to let go. Chen Siwu, who had been watching enviously, seized the opportunity, crouched down, and said to Zhenniang, “Come on, Big Brother Siwu will play with you.”

Zhenniang wasn’t picky—anyone would do.

But Chen Siwu didn’t toss her; instead, he tickled her under the arms while spinning her around in circles. Zhenniang couldn’t stop laughing.

Ye Tao walked over carrying a basket and asked Chen Chuan, “Have you guys stopped working?” 

“Yeah.”

Ye Tao recalled what he’d overheard earlier under the banyan tree: “Didn’t they say they were switching to trucks for hauling goods?”

Chen Siwu overheard their conversation and snorted, “How much can a truck really haul? Besides, it’s so expensive to use a truck—don’t you know those seafaring merchants are shrewd as hell—they’re not about to spend that kind of money.”

Some labor headmen would find work for their men to earn a little extra; in the past, Headman Li would have figured something out too, but this time he just told them to disperse. It just so happened that they hadn’t had a break in a long time, so they came right back.

He set Zhenniang down; she wanted to keep playing, but Lin Niangzi stopped her, afraid she’d get too tired and cry at night.

Zhenniang was a bit reluctant at first, but when she saw Ye Tao running over, she called out to Xiaotao, “Xiaotao, Xiao’e and I made nine sachets today.” Ye Tao praised her a couple of times, then asked, “Didn’t you say you were going to give your second older brother some milk candy?”

Zhenniang immediately went inside to look for the candy. She had plenty of money these days and often bought little snacks, so she had quite a stash; Ye Tao had also received some treats from her before. Lin Niangzi laughed, “You really know how to handle things. Shall we have rice or noodles for dinner today?”

“Let’s have rice. Aunt Lin, you wash the rice, and I’ll go buy some vegetables.”

Since Chen Chuan had suddenly come back, Chen Siwu might be home for dinner, which meant the groceries they’d bought that day wouldn’t be enough. He bought a bunch of Chinese chives, and on his way back, he stopped by the tofu shop and bought a block of soft tofu.

Back home, Ye Tao set down the basket, washed her hands, and got ready to cook. She noticed someone was missing: “Where’s Chen Siwu? Isn’t he staying for dinner?”

“He went to get some liquor,” Chen Chuan said. He stood next to Ye Tao to wash his hands, his shoulder brushing against hers. “He’s given up his place around here, and it’s a long way home, so he’s staying over at our place tonight. Is that okay?”

Ye Tao was puzzled: “Why are you asking me?” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t stayed over before.

He reached for the hand towel, but Chen Chuan beat him to it.

Chen Chuan turned his head and handed the hand towel to him, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth: “Now that it looks like you’re the one calling the shots at home, of course I have to ask you.”