Chapter 5

Monkey’s full name was Zhang Yuanchao.

Ever since Zhang Yuanchao found out that Ye Qingshui was the one who schemed against Brother Yu, he no longer wanted anything to do with her.

Back when he was still young and reckless, he had relied on his father’s position as the head of the supply and marketing cooperative to gather a gang of troublemaking friends. He had already planned that if the Ye family’s daughter turned out to be truly vile, he could easily play some tricks behind the scenes to make her life difficult. Now, however, he was just frustrated—while all the brothers were ready to stand in solidarity against Ye Qingshui, Xie Tingyu himself didn’t seem to care at all.

And yet… he even asked him to help her secure a spot in line?

Zhang Yuanchao felt unsettled.

With a threatening tone, he said to Ye Qingshui, “Hurry up and get a divorce already!”

“You and Brother Yu aren’t a good match. Not just you—even if you counted all the city girls, I doubt many would be worthy of him.”

Zhang Yuanchao had a relative working in the city’s Revolutionary Committee. When Xie Tingyu first arrived in the countryside, he had been driven there in a private car, his luggage carried by a soldier with a strong, broad frame and a military-green uniform. Zhang Yuanchao had nearly died of envy when he saw that. His relative had even hinted to him, “He’s from the capital—looks like the child of a high-ranking official. If he comes to your area, look after him properly.”

But instead of looking after him, Xie Tingyu ended up being taken by some countryside girl. Monkey felt like he had lost face.

Ye Qingshui didn’t respond to Monkey’s words, but they did stir up some memories. In her previous life, Xie Tingyu had taken her to visit his home in the capital once. That place was truly grand—guards stationed every five steps, sentries posted every ten. After that visit, her feelings of inferiority deepened, and when Xie Tingyu later proposed a divorce, she didn’t even dare to argue. The most humiliating and humbling period of her past life was undoubtedly the year she spent clinging to Xie Tingyu.

Thinking back now, she couldn’t help but feel a little aggrieved for her past self.

Before Monkey could continue his threats, Xie Tingyu interrupted him.

“You sure talk a lot.”

Then, he turned to the shop assistant. “Do you have toothpaste? I’ll take two tubes.”

The shop assistant quickly retrieved the items and gave him the price. “One industrial coupon, eight cents.”

Xie Tingyu glanced at Ye Qingshui’s sunburnt and chapped cheeks, which were red like apples with visible capillaries beneath the skin. It looked rough. He thought of his own sister’s fair, delicate complexion—she never hesitated to spend money on skincare. So, he asked the shop assistant for a box of Snow Cream as well.

Snow Cream was considered a luxury item—non-essential, with low consumption. A single box cost one yuan and fifty cents. Hardly any girls in the village could afford to use it.

When this expensive gift landed in Ye Qingshui’s hands, Shen Weimin let out another cold snort, and Monkey looked at Xie Tingyu with suspicion.

Xie Tingyu simply said, “Let’s go.”

With a casual flick of his sleeve, he left without looking back, disappearing into the crowd along with Shen Weimin.

Ye Qingshui looked down at the items in her hands and thought: “Xie Tingyu probably just repaid the one yuan I gave him earlier. The extra must be his way of showing off his wealth—he really is a proud man.” She had originally planned to buy Snow Cream herself, but right now, it wasn’t a necessity.

She wasn’t someone who liked taking advantage of others.

After buying the baking powder, Ye Qingshui decided to check out the county’s black market. The so-called black market was just a hidden place where people secretly engaged in trade. The 1970s still operated under a planned economy—grain and other essential goods were controlled by the state, and since demand exceeded supply, black markets naturally emerged.

As soon as she entered with a bag of grain, someone targeted her.

“Hey, young lady, are you selling that grain?”

Ye Qingshui shook her head. Selling raw flour wasn’t worth much—she planned to turn it into pastries before selling it, which would be far more profitable.

After wandering around, she noticed that no one in the black market was selling hot, ready-to-eat food.

Still, she gained quite a bit from the visit, managing to find some cooking spices. As she walked out of the alley and looked up, she realized that the state-owned restaurant was just a short distance away at the street corner.

Staring at the restaurant, she murmured, “That’s how it is.”

No wonder the food trade in the black market was almost nonexistent—fragrant smells were wafting from the restaurant down the street. The scent alone made her stomach, long deprived of rich food, tighten with hunger.

Clutching the money in her pocket, she boldly stepped into the state-owned restaurant to take a look.

The menu was written on a chalkboard:

• Large bowl of plain soup noodles: 1.5 cents + 3 taels grain coupons
• Large bowl of meat soup noodles: 30 cents + half a catty of grain coupons
• Four meat buns: 10 cents + half a catty of grain coupons

There were quite a few options, but Ye Qingshui was unwilling to spend money eating here.

Through the glass window, she watched the chef at work. Out of habit from her years in the kitchen, she immediately noticed the flaws—unevenly sliced meat, inconsistent heat when stir-frying, rice noodles sometimes undercooked, sometimes overcooked. The seasonings used were nothing more than oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar—far simpler than the intricate, refined culinary techniques of later generations.

With decades of kitchen experience, Ye Qingshui only needed one glance at the restaurant’s dishes to feel confident.

The restaurant’s staff noticed the young girl staring intently at the chef’s every move, her eyes unblinking, filled with admiration. Then, looking at her patched-up, ragged clothes, they immediately assumed she was too poor to afford a meal. Annoyed, one of them waved her away with disdain.

“If you’re not eating, don’t stand around disturbing the customers!”

Ye Qingshui was pushed out of the restaurant, but she didn’t mind their disdain at all. Hugging her bag of flour happily, she made her way back to the countryside.

When Ye Qingshui returned home, she carefully stored the flour away.

At the same time, she was surprised to find that the household’s rice jar was now half full—about ten jin of rice. Reaching in, she scooped up a handful of plump, glossy grains of white rice, exuding a faint, fragrant aroma.

“As expected from someone from the capital—he’s really generous.”

Ye Qingshui knew right away that this high-quality rice had to be from Xie Tingyu. The Ye family would never have been willing to eat such fine rice—it was something they didn’t even dare to dream of. Her mother often exchanged premium rice for lower-grade varieties to stretch their food supply, but those were coarse and bitter to eat. In contrast, the rice Xie Tingyu had bought, known as Daohuaxiang ¹ “Rice Flower Fragrance” , had a rich luster and a soft, fragrant taste.

“Sinful hedonism,” Ye Qingshui thought sarcastically.

That evening, she used this rice to make fried rice.

Fried rice, in her opinion, was the ultimate test of a chef’s basic skills. The grains had to be evenly stir-fried, achieving a glossy sheen without being too greasy, with just the right balance between softness and firmness—too much heat would make it scorched, too little would make it sticky. The key was in the eggs: the best fried rice should coat every three or four grains with a delicate layer of egg.

Too little egg coverage meant it had been over-stirred. Too much meant it hadn’t been stir-fried thoroughly enough. Back when she had trained under a master, she had suffered plenty over perfecting egg fried rice.

That night, Ye Qingshui used Daohuaxiang rice, pork lard, and fresh peas to make a fragrant green pea fried rice with eggs.

Although Mother Ye wanted to scold her daughter for using too much oil and wasting precious grain—after all, sweet potato porridge was the more economical choice—she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. The moment she saw the golden fried rice and smelled its rich, mouthwatering aroma, her stomach clenched with hunger, making her vision go faint. She thought to herself: This is all thanks to our son-in-law—it has nothing to do with Shui’er.

After all, she had seen him carrying a whole sack of rice home with her own eyes!

Grandmother Ye let out a soft sigh but quickly dug into the green pea rice. Each bite was fragrant and slightly sweet—the sweetness came from the peas, and the rich aroma from the rice.

Meanwhile, Xie Tingyu ate slowly and methodically. Though his expression remained neutral, the slight upward curve of his eyes betrayed his satisfaction.

This rice… was worth buying.

Sansukini: Aiya! Uncle Roger approves Shui-ya’s egg fried rice.

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