Chapter 6

After a full meal, Xie Tingyu felt quite content.

However, Ye Qingshui was feeling conflicted. She counted the meager “savings” in her hands and, facing the wealthy Xie Tingyu, she took out the Snow Cream he had bought during the day and placed it on his desk.

“I don’t have money to pay you back, so I’d better return this to you.”

It was as if Xie Tingyu was seeing someone this honest for the first time—hard to imagine she had once schemed to cling to him. Not long ago, she had eagerly seized every opportunity to visit him at the educated youth camp. If he so much as glanced her way, her face would turn bright red. And now she didn’t even want his things?

Her mindset sure had changed fast. But for some reason, Xie Tingyu found himself feeling complicated about it. Then again, he thought, why should he care what was on her mind?

Leaning back with his hands behind his head, he said nonchalantly, “Just take it if I give it to you.”

“The fried rice today was pretty good. From now on, consider this my meal expenses.”

Xie Tingyu had a picky palate. He’d tasted some of the best food in the capital’s famous restaurants, yet Ye Qingshui’s cooking had a unique flavor to it.

“Forget it,” she said, touching her own cheek. “I’ll buy it for myself once I’ve saved enough. You don’t have to be so nice to me.”

Ye Qingshui’s skin was easy to care for, inherited from her mother. In winter, just staying warm was enough to make her complexion fairer. She hardly needed fancy skincare products. Even in her past life, at thirty years old, people still said she looked like a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl—soft, fair, and delicate, like a beauty nurtured by serene mountains and rivers.

Right now, though, she looked haggard—probably because of all the hard labor under the summer sun.

Ye Qingshui lowered her head and looked at him lying on the floor bed. His messy black hair no longer had the neatness of the daytime, still slightly damp from washing. The cotton collar of his shirt was slightly open, reflecting the moonlight with a soft glow. His expression seemed somewhat displeased.

Even Ye Qingshui, who prided herself on her mature facade, couldn’t help but steal a few more glances. Xie Tingyu really was quite handsome, though he was no longer her type.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder—if she had been able to give birth to that child back then, he would have surely been good-looking, too.

That had happened after Xie Tingyu finished his college entrance exams—one reckless night of drunken passion. He probably didn’t even know about it. Even after all these years, Ye Qingshui couldn’t forget the little one who had been with her for three months. If only she had been more careful back then, he might have had the chance to see this world.

Xie Tingyu watched as she placed the Snow Cream down, not even sparing it an extra glance. He let out a light chuckle.

“And this is what you call being fair?”

“It’s just paying you back for the food. Why are you, a little girl, overthinking things?”

Seeing the faint daze and longing in the village girl’s eyes, Xie Tingyu felt at a loss for words.

Ye Qingshui nodded earnestly and patted her chest. “I’m not overthinking—I just don’t like the feeling of owing someone money.”

She didn’t want Xie Tingyu to keep looking at her with that strange expression, making her constantly feel on edge. She added, “Don’t worry, I really won’t cling to you anymore. Right now, I prefer men who are more masculine and manly.”

Xie Tingyu’s expression grew even more complicated.

Suddenly, Ye Qingshui remembered something and asked, “Your bicycle—can I borrow it when you’re not using it?”

A “bicycle” was known as a “foreign vehicle” here. In this era of underdeveloped transportation, it was a prized possession. As the only man in the entire village who owned one, every time Xie Tingyu rode his bicycle past the fields, he attracted envious gazes.

Ye Qingshui had already thought it through—if she wanted to start a business to make money, she’d have to travel back and forth to the county’s black market every week. Taking the public bus was out of the question—it would be too conspicuous. But if she walked all the way there each time, not only would it take too long, but she’d also have a hard time explaining herself if she ran into someone on the way. Plus, the freshness of her food would suffer.

Xie Tingyu responded with a simple “Mm” and didn’t probe further.

Ye Qingshui couldn’t help but squint her eyes in satisfaction.

—

That night, she went to bed early. When the time came, she quietly got up and took out the sun-dried beans from the jar. She steamed three kinds—red, yellow, and green. As they absorbed the steam, they swelled and split open slightly, turning plump and tender.

Then she started kneading the dough. The soft, white, and smooth dough was repeatedly slapped and stretched in her hands—eighty-one times in total. This process maximized the wheat’s elasticity and aroma.

The result was a dough with a delightfully chewy texture that became more fragrant with each bite.

She had practiced this skill for thirty years. In less than ten minutes, Ye Qingshui had finished kneading two pounds of dough.

With quick hands, she ground the steamed beans into powder along with their skins, then steamed them again. The two pounds of dough, now infused with steam, had grown to over three pounds. She tore one open for a taste—the sugar-infused dough was sweet and soft, with a rich bean fragrance. Each bun was hefty, even bigger than a man’s fist.

She carefully wrapped them in a clean white cloth and placed them in a basket. This piece of cotton cloth was originally meant for a new dress—back when the old Ye Qingshui had dreamed of wearing something pretty. But now, all she cared about was making money, so she had no hesitation using it to wrap buns.

She set aside a few buns for the family’s breakfast. Though the ingredients were simple, the craftsmanship made all the difference—the taste was undeniably delicious.

Treading lightly, Ye Qingshui got on Xie Tingyu’s bicycle. The morning dew dampened her cloth shoes. Clenching the household’s only flashlight between her teeth, she pedaled away, still slightly unsteady.

An hour later, she arrived at a hidden alley near the state-run restaurant, where the black market was located. As she passed the restaurant, the rich aroma of meat filled the air. With her keen sense of smell, she could even pick out the seasoning—a cheap five-spice powder. Ye Qingshui scoffed at it, but after so long without a proper meal, her stomach craved the taste of meat.

Ye Qingshui had never sold anything in the black market before. In her past life, when she was just a poor girl from the countryside, she had strictly followed the rules and laws, deeply despising such speculative and profiteering activities. Now that she was actually in the black market, she felt both nervous and thrilled.

She noticed that everyone walked lightly, and the black-market traders frequently glanced down the alley, keeping their goods arranged in a way that allowed for a quick escape at any moment. This tense and cautious atmosphere affected Ye Qingshui.

She placed her steamed buns on the rear seat of her bicycle, then thought for a moment and smeared some dirt on her face.

Her action made a nearby trader burst into laughter.

“Little sister, don’t worry. The authorities aren’t cracking down on this street right now.”

“What are you selling?” His gaze fell on the bundle she carried. Only after washing her hands clean with water from her flask did Ye Qingshui slowly unwrap the cloth covering the steamed buns.

The trader, who had initially been worried about competition, immediately relaxed. He grinned and said, “Little sister, see that place over there? That’s a state-run restaurant. No matter how fancy your buns are, can they be better than the meat buns from the state-run restaurant?”

He was selling home-produced eggs—quite a lot of them, actually, enough to fill an entire basket. It looked suspiciously like he was skimming off “socialist supplies.”

Ye Qingshui didn’t say anything. She took out a bun. It looked unremarkable, but its aroma was rich and enticing. However, the fragrance didn’t spread too far, and there weren’t many people in the alley buying things.

The young trader, probably bored after standing around all night with no one to talk to, kept rambling. He didn’t hold back in lecturing Ye Qingshui: “Your buns look nice, but so what? Do you think people here lack vegetarian buns? The state-run restaurant’s meat buns smell amazing, and even they don’t always sell out.”

Ye Qingshui glanced at the sky. It was getting late, and she couldn’t stay out too long.

Not far from here was a textile factory with many workers. Most people who hadn’t eaten breakfast would usually go to the state-run restaurant. Ye Qingshui thought for a moment, then wrapped a bun in paper, found a sharp-looking kid, and handed it to him, whispering a few instructions.

The child’s dark eyes sparkled, and he nodded eagerly.

Ye Qingshui reminded him, “Just focus on eating. Don’t say anything else.”

The young trader thought Ye Qingshui had been discouraged and was about to pack up and go home. She was giving away her buns for free? He scoffed, thinking that women just weren’t cut out for business—they were too soft-hearted, too embarrassed to put themselves out there. How could they possibly have the guts to make money in such a risky business?

“Buns are still food. Even if you take them home and eat them yourself, it’s better than just giving them away.”

Ye Qingshui sat down, closed her eyes, and rested, completely ignoring the chatter around her.

Meanwhile, outside, the entire street was in an uproar over that one bun.

Pedestrians rushing to work, intellectuals heading to the state-run restaurant, factory workers on their way to clock in, and housewives returning from the market all caught a whiff of the delicious aroma as they passed by the little boy. He ate his bun with exaggerated enjoyment, making a spectacle of every bite.

His every movement seemed intentionally slow. He delicately pinched the bun with his thin fingers and gently tore it open. After a brief pause, pale green bean paste oozed out, releasing a sweet and nutty fragrance that blended with the wheat aroma of the bun itself. He sniffed it for a long moment, basking in the envious stares of passersby, then took a slow, blissful bite, his eyes narrowing in sheer delight as if he were savoring the rarest delicacy.

People passing by could smell it, but they couldn’t taste it—jealousy gnawed at them.

When they asked him where he got the bun, he simply rolled his eyes and ignored them.

When they pressed him for answers, he moved to a different spot and resumed his slow, deliberate eating—this time, tearing into a red bean bun. Once again, he tore it open in slow motion…

The round, snow-white buns, illuminated by the soft morning light, looked like winter’s first snowfall. They were perfectly shaped, each pleat meticulously folded. These looked like something from the state-run restaurant’s display window. Customers who had just walked out of the restaurant looked down at the buns in their own hands and suddenly found them unappetizing.

Back in the alley, the young trader was still chatting with Ye Qingshui, trying to give her business advice.

He said, “If you want to sell your buns, just standing around won’t do. Let me teach you—”

“You have to put yourself out there…” He hadn’t even finished speaking when one, two, three, four, five people all showed up at Ye Qingshui’s stall.

“Oh, so this is where those buns are!”

“I was going crazy trying to find them. They smell amazing—I’ve never had anything this fragrant before.”

“Little sister, how much are you selling these buns for?”

The customers’ chatter drowned out the young trader’s words. Ye Qingshui’s face immediately lit up with a smile. She stood up and sweetly replied, “Five cents for four buns. You’ll need to pay with three taels of grain ration tickets. If you don’t have those, meat tickets will do—four buns for one tael of meat tickets.”

Her steamed buns were bigger and more filling than the ones from the state-run restaurant, and they even had a delicious bean filling. The bean paste was soft and moist, like molten lava, and its sweetness was just right. Plus, her price was nearly half of what the restaurant charged. Her three-jin batch of buns was still warm, and within half an hour, they were completely sold out. She was so busy she didn’t even have time to count her earnings.

After finishing her sales, Ye Qingshui turned to the young trader and said, “If you want to sell your eggs, just standing around won’t do. Let me teach you—”

The trader suddenly felt like he’d been slapped in the face.

Ye Qingshui smiled and said, “Just sell your eggs to me.”

Author’s Note:

Mini Scene:

Shuiya: I never told you to make it look that tempting!

Little boy: “…”

Completely confused.

During his dramatic eating performance in the cold wind, his mind kept repeating: So good, so good, SO GOOD!

Why wouldn’t she just let me eat it all in one bite? Tears of responsibility streamed down his face.

Sansukini: We have a foodie husband.

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