Ye Wen
Jiang Liu left with the copper coins, and Ye Li went straight into the kitchen to prepare fried tofu puffs and large skewers.
Before frying the skewers, he first had to score the tofu blocks with a diamond pattern.
It wasn’t difficult. He pinned each block between two chopsticks and sliced along them—using the chopsticks as guards so that even a beginner wouldn’t accidentally cut straight through.
He was working quickly when someone called from outside, “Li-ge’er.”
At the sound, he immediately set down the cleaver and stepped out of the kitchen.
Sure enough, standing by the courtyard gate was his body’s second brother: Ye Wen.
This bargain second brother was twenty-one this year. Compared to Ye Liang, Ye Wen carried far less of life’s weathering. Ye Liang’s silence had been beaten into him by hardship; Ye Wen, by contrast, had been shy by nature—gentle and quiet, just as his name suggested.
“Second Brother, what brings you here? Have you eaten? Where’s Eldest Brother? Come inside—I saved you some food.”
Ye Li greeted him warmly while asking after Ye Liang.
Ye Wen stepped into the courtyard, scratching his head, eyes fixed on the ground rather than on Ye Li. “Mm… yesterday afternoon Uncle Zhang next door came to propose a match for me. The ge’er is from Xiao Wang Village. Father told me to come by and carry back some tofu puffs.”
Xiao Wang Village lay between Baxian Town and Beiyang County—directly along his route.
“Oh! That’s wonderful news!”
Ye Li had never imagined this was why Ye Liang hadn’t come. Wonderful—truly wonderful!
This bargain second brother was practically a leftover bachelor, and their bargain father had been losing sleep night after night over it. Yet they’d been selling tofu puffs for less than half a month, and already a matchmaker had appeared!
“Second Brother, what’s the young ge’er like? Do you like him? Does he like you?”
Ignoring Ye Wen’s obvious embarrassment, Ye Li fired off questions one after another.
Pressed so closely, Ye Wen looked as if he wanted to slide along the wall and disappear. He muttered, “He’s… he’s all right.”
The young ge’er truly was good-looking—but only seventeen.
Ye Wen was older. And poor.
He sighed softly, scratching his head again as he stepped into the kitchen, a flicker of melancholy crossing his face.
Just then Ye Li spoke behind him. “Second Brother, speaking of your marriage, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“I can earn money now. From here on, I’ll pay for Jiang Ji’s schooling. The three taels of silver we agreed to each year—our Ye family won’t need to provide it anymore.”
“You, Father, and Eldest Brother should focus on saving. Let’s make sure your marriage is settled this year.”
The words came without warning. Ye Wen turned around, stunned.
“You’ll support Xiao Ji’s studies?”
“Yes. I spoke to him this morning—he agreed.”
At the time, Ye Li hadn’t mentioned the Ye family specifically. After all, he wasn’t the original owner of this body. The original had deeply resented those three taels of silver, believing that this bargain husband had dragged the Ye family down.
But to him? He hadn’t paid the money. He hadn’t borne the Ye family’s burdens. To him, the matter felt weightless.
Now that he had thought it through, however, he absolutely could not allow the Ye family to continue paying.
“Studying costs far too much. For you to shoulder it alone—it’s too heavy a burden,” Ye Wen said, shaking his head. “Now that we have a small business, money comes easier than before. Let’s support Xiao Ji for a few more years.”
Ye Li shook his head earnestly. “Second Brother, everything I earn is mine. But what you and Eldest Brother earn must be split in two. If you keep funding Jiang Ji’s studies, when will you ever marry?”
Previously, all income in the Ye household had to be handed over to Father Ye, who managed the family’s expenses.
Later, after Ye Liang married Liu Yi and formed a smaller household, naturally they had to think of their own future. The couple only needed to submit half their earnings.
The tofu puff business was mainly managed by Ye Liang and Liu Yi, with Father Ye helping out. Ye Wen and Ye Daji took on all the farm labor. Even so, Liu Yi still turned over half the profits from the pancake-and-vegetable stall.
Ye Li felt half was too little.
Ye Wen, however, was deeply satisfied. He smiled. “Business is good. Even if I split the earnings evenly with Eldest Brother, it’s enough to fund Xiao Ji and not delay my marriage.”
“The tofu puffs and skewers earn remarkably well.”
These past two days, with Jiang Ji home, more tofu had been ground, so Ye Li made more fried goods—up to twenty-five jin a day.
Each jin sold brought in five wen of profit.
Twenty-five jin meant one hundred twenty-five wen.
Add in tofu, eggs, vegetables—the daily profit could reach one hundred sixty or seventy wen.
Split in half, that was around eighty wen.
At eighty wen per day, he would earn three taels for tuition in just over thirty days.
Of course, that was ideal. Windy or rainy days meant no stall. But such days were few.
It could work.
As long as the young ge’er didn’t make excessive demands, both schooling and marriage could proceed without conflict.
But what if…
Suppressing his worry, Ye Wen continued, “Xiao Ji spends all day at the private school. You’re carrying this business and this household alone—it’s not easy. You and Xiao Ji should simply live well together.”
“We managed before when times were harder. Now that money is easier to earn, how can we stop supporting him?”
Seeing Ye Li about to argue again, Ye Wen quickly changed the subject. “Oh—someone’s competing with us. Other pancake stalls have started selling chili sesame sauce pancake sandwiches too.”
“They have?!” Ye Li exclaimed, instantly distracted. “Since when?”
“Just yesterday. The clay-oven pancake stall in town started selling them.”
“But don’t worry—they won’t take much business. Eldest Brother came home before I left today and said sales are still good.”
Because no one else had tofu puffs and large skewers.
Most customers paying four or five wen for a pancake sandwich came for those novel items. Otherwise, who would spend extra for eggs, tofu, or greens they could eat at home?
He added with a grin, “We haven’t been affected much.”
But Ye Li frowned.
Not much affected still meant affected.
Still, competition wasn’t entirely bad. It might draw attention away from both the Ye and Liu families. The Liu stall was thriving—earning several taels a month. For an unsupported little stall, that was conspicuous.
From that angle, competition was perhaps a blessing.
In the end, power mattered more than money.
He chatted a while longer, brought out the noodles he had saved for Ye Liang, and let Ye Wen fill his stomach. Ye Wen truly was hungry. Like Ye Liang, even passing through the county town with copper coins in his pocket, he would never spend a single one unnecessarily.
After Ye Wen finished eating and left, Ye Li finished cutting the skewers and began frying.
Jiang Liu returned midway with forty-six eggs. Soon after, Jiang Ji came home.
Ye Li asked Jiang Ji to grind the sun-dried wheat into flour—he wanted to fry some ma ye as a snack. Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya often returned long after noon and could only drink water in the kitchen. It was pitiful.
Before, he hadn’t thought of it. Now he had.
Jiang Ji had no objections. He carried the wheat to the mill room and ground it repeatedly until fine. After Ye Li saw Ye Wen off, Jiang Ji stopped.
He sifted out the bran. The remaining flour was faintly yellow, fine-textured, fragrant with wheat.
He carried it to the kitchen for Ye Li to knead and fry. Then he swept up the bran and took it to the backyard to feed the chickens.
When he returned, Ye Li had already kneaded the dough and was rolling it into sheets.
Fried ma ye required no skill—roll the dough, cut it, drop it into oil. Yet flour and oil together made it a luxury for ordinary farmers, reserved for festivals.
When Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya dragged firewood back, Ye Li had finished frying and was preparing preserved eggs.
“Mai, Ya-ge’er, I just fried ma ye. Wash your hands and eat.”
“Wow!” Jiang Ya cried, rushing in.
A whole basin full.
He grabbed one in each hand after washing—biting left, then right. Fresh from the oil, crisp and fragrant, he beamed as he trotted back out.
By the well, Ye Li and Jiang Ji were making preserved eggs.
Without edible alkali, Ye Li substituted wood ash.
First, he mixed ash with water. Then he added quicklime—about a jin.
The quicklime met water and began to boil. The two children stared in amazement and stepped back.
When it thickened into brown paste, they added the eggs.
Coated and slippery, the eggs were hard to grip. Ye Li had Jiang Ji weave a willow scoop to lift them out. Each egg was rolled in sawdust, then placed into a jar.
Forty-six eggs filled it to the brim. Jiang Ji sealed the mouth with mud.
Fifteen days later, they would be ready.
“So simple?” Jiang Ji asked, surprised.
“I couldn’t manage anything complicated,” Ye Li replied, gesturing for him to carry the jar to the mill room.
Jiang Ji swallowed his doubts and complied.
Stretching at the doorway, Ye Li said, “I’ve been busy long enough. I’m going to lie down. Jiang Ji, you handle dinner—just stir-fry some tofu.”
He still felt somewhat unwell. He’d been standing and frying for what felt like an eternity.
Jiang Mai and Jiang Ya thought he’d merely slept poorly.
Jiang Ji knew better.
As he stepped out of the mill room, he saw Ye Li supporting his lower back, shoulders slightly bent, walking slowly toward the house.
The sun set. Night fell.
After a simple supper and washing, the family retired.
Jiang Ji lay on the kang with eyes closed—but sleep did not come.
The image of Ye Li returning to the main hall that afternoon replayed again and again.
Was he truly that uncomfortable?
He turned over, facing away from the door.
Ye Li’s temperament had changed—but surely he wouldn’t feign illness…
After tossing for some time, Jiang Ji sighed and opened his eyes.
He put on his shoes and quietly left the east room.
The west room door was closed.
But faint light leaked through the crack.
Ye Li was still awake.
After a moment’s hesitation, Jiang Ji stepped forward, deliberately making his footsteps heavier.
Standing before the door, he called softly,
“Ye Li?”