The young Taoist picked up the bowl of water in front of him and drank it down in gulps. He then shifted to a more comfortable position, sitting cross-legged, and raised his hand to touch his nose.
“I, Sun Cai, am only twenty this year. My parents passed away when I was six, and I followed my master to the Taoist temple to survive. I chanted scriptures and performed rituals until I was eighteen. My master achieved great spiritual progress and ascended, and the incense offerings disappeared. The land was also taken by those bald monks. I could only roll up my belongings and return home. Luckily, the clan left me a small piece of land to live on. But farming doesn’t work, and with the continuous natural disasters and high land taxes, I don’t have any other skills. I learned to make tofu when I was with my master and some brothers. We survived by making tofu, so I started doing that again. But unexpectedly, the poor can’t afford it, and the rich are picky. I can’t sell it.”
Sun Cai sighed and shook his head.
His big head wobbled slowly, and the people in the hall couldn’t help but worry that it might suddenly fall off.
“If you say I’m not talented, I may not have many skills, but…” Sun Cai suddenly sat up straight, looking at Cheng Jiao-niang with excitement. “From making tea, fetching water, chopping firewood, feeding horses, to making beds, folding blankets, sewing clothes, and cooking, I can do all of it. I’ve been in the Taoist temple for more than ten years. I don’t dare claim much, but when it comes to serving people, I’m absolutely a master. Miss, with your discerning eye, to buy a person like me as a companion is truly the best choice. The price is reasonable, and the value is there…”
The people in the hall couldn’t bear to listen, covering their faces.
“Just look at yourself, talking about value…” Xu Bangchui glared and shouted.
Sun Cai looked up at him.
“Well, at least it’s better than your look,” he muttered, then looked back at Cheng Jiao-niang.
“I don’t need you as a companion,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “I want to buy your skills.”
Sun Cai paused for a moment, then turned to look at his basket of tofu.
“You want to make tofu?” he asked in surprise, realizing what she meant.
“Yes,” Cheng Jiao-niang nodded. “I will buy you. In the future, this tofu will no longer be called Sun’s tofu, but Cheng’s. Do you understand?”
Everyone understood.
“Then, how much are you planning to offer?” Sun Cai straightened up, his eyes darting around as he asked.
Since it wasn’t about buying him as a servant, but rather buying his skills, it was time to bargain properly.
“This tofu of mine, the whole of the capital has only the unique skills passed down by my master…” Sun Cai continued.
“Then you can just keep your unique skills and see if they’ll fill your belly,” the old manager grunted, reaching up to slap his head. “I said you’re fat, and you really do act like it.”
“Uncle Wu, it’s business, isn’t it? Why can’t people haggle a bit?” Sun Cai muttered, covering his head.
Cheng Jiao-niang stood up.
“The price can be discussed, but first, go bring all the things you need to make tofu,” she said, then turned to Xu Maoxiu. “Brother, tidy up the back courtyard and give him a tofu workshop.”
Xu Maoxiu nodded in agreement.
“We’ll get it ready. Sister, you can come tomorrow,” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang bade farewell to everyone and left.
As they watched the carriage disappear into the rain, everyone turned back.
“Why aren’t you going to pack up your things?” Xu Bangchui glanced at Sun Cai, who had also come to see them off, and shouted, “Why are you acting like you know her! She doesn’t need you to send her off!”
Sun Cai pursed his lips, put on his raincoat and hat, and lifted his bundle.
“You all go help him move his things,” said Fan Jianglin.
The several men responded and went to the back courtyard to push a cart, heading off to help.
“What’s going on? Not running the tavern anymore, and now switching to making tofu?” Li Dashao slipped out from the back and asked the old manager with a worried expression.
“Don’t worry, they’ve even sent you a master chef. How could we stop running the tavern?” the old manager shook his head and said. “When Druken Phoenix Pavilion first started, people even said it wasn’t going to be a tavern, but a soy sauce factory. It’s about seeing the bigger picture. Don’t just judge things by their appearance.”
Li Dashao pouted.
Druken Phoenix Pavilion, Drunken Phoenix Pavilion, again.
“Manager Wu, do you think Tai Ping Residence can become as successful as Druken Phoenix Pavilion was back then?” he asked.
The old manager stroked his beard.
“Druken Phoenix Pavilion is Druken Phoenix Pavilion, and Tai Ping Residence is Tai Ping Residence. How can they be compared?” he squinted and said. “Go and get to work. If you don’t learn properly from them, and they even can’t be bothered to comment on your dishes, whether it’s Druken Phoenix Pavilion or Tai Ping Residence, you’ll be fired.”
When Cheng Jiao-niang stepped into the house, Zhou Liu-lang had already been waiting for quite a while.
The hall was simply furnished, with no gold or jade, only elegant wooden fabric. Like everyone’s rooms, a curtain separated the sleeping area from the hall, with a folding screen in the middle. A mat covered the floor, and on it stood a table with a thick scroll of books.
The Great Zhou Prosperity Chronicles.
Zhou Liu-lang leaned over to take a look. There was nothing unusual—just a common, vulgar reading material from the market, not the kind of scriptures or books other young ladies of noble families would typically read.
In the corner of the room was an incense burner, with fine sandalwood incense burning. Together with the soft sound of the rain outside, the fragrance filled the room, creating a peaceful and pleasant atmosphere.
The maids in Cheng Jiao-niang’s courtyard, like the others in the house, were properly assigned. The maids quietly knelt in the corridor, and no one dared enter the room. Compared to the courtyards of other sisters, this one was much quieter, just like Cheng Jiao-niang herself.
Zhou Liu-lang let out a sigh. Hearing the noise by the door, he saw the lady enter, holding an umbrella.
The maids in the corridor stood up to receive the umbrella from the hand of the maid.
Cheng Jiao-niang took off her wooden clogs and stepped into the room, seemingly not noticing Zhou Liu-lang, who was sitting there.
“My mistress is about to wash up, Sixth Young Master. Why don’t you go sit with one of the other sisters?” the maid said.
Although the umbrella shielded her, Cheng Jiao-niang’s hair and shoulders were still wet from the rain, the moisture sticking to her skin.
As the maid spoke, she reached out to untie Cheng Jiao-niang’s outer robe.
How shameless—there are still people here!
Zhou Liu-lang stiffened his face and quickly looked away, standing up.
“I’ve made up my mind,” he said. “Don’t worry. As for those schemes, I, Zhou Fu, always do what I say.”
The maid looked at him, puzzled, and Cheng Jiao-niang also turned her gaze toward him.
But Zhou Liu-lang didn’t say anything else and stepped out with a few heavy strides.
“What did he say?” the maid asked in confusion, looking at Cheng Jiao-niang.
“I’m not him, so I don’t know,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
The maid giggled.
“Miss, let’s go wash up,” she said, smiling.
“What did you say?”
In Madam Zhou’s room, looking at Zhou Liu-lang kneeling in front of her, Madam Zhou nearly spat out the medicine she had just taken, staring at him in disbelief.
Zhou Liu-lang’s expression was serious, his body tense.
“I’m sixteen now, and aren’t you discussing a marriage for me?” he said. “I want to get married.”
Madam Zhou coughed twice again, and the maid beside her suppressed a laugh, gently patting her back.
“Madam, Sixth Young Master is indeed not a child anymore,” the maid whispered with a smile.
In those days, boys and girls could marry once they were around fourteen or fifteen, and by eighteen or nineteen, it was already considered late. Of course, many still married later. Scholars pursued the imperial examinations, and military officials sought titles—no career, no family.
Madam Zhou looked at her son. As a woman and a mother, she would never simply believe that he just wanted to get married.
“Liu-lang, which family’s girl have you taken a liking to?” she suddenly asked.
Sure enough, as soon as she spoke, she caught a hint of embarrassment and shyness on her son’s face.
“I…” Zhou Liu-lang hesitated for a moment. Matters of love and marriage were things that young men usually disdained to discuss, but at this moment, he had no choice but to say it. “I want to marry my cousin.”
As soon as these words were spoken, Madam Zhou and the maid were both stunned, feeling as if they hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Who?” Madam Zhou leaned forward and asked again.
“I want to marry Cheng Jiao-niang,” Zhou Li-ulang said through gritted teeth, eyes wide with determination.
Madam Zhou’s face was filled with shock as she stared at her son.
“Oh heavens, this is outrageous!” she suddenly shouted, clutching her chest and falling back. “Get out, now!”
“Madam!”
The maid cried out in alarm, and the room instantly descended into chaos.
