Chapter 10 Selling Tofu

Chapter 10 Selling Tofu

"Aunty, I haven't had breakfast yet. How about you join me for a bite?" Meng Wan called out to Chang Jinhua after finishing the sauce.

Chang Jinhua teased him, "I already had my porridge this morning. Who eats two breakfasts around here?"

Meng Wan pulled her to sit down. "Oh, come on now. Is anyone going to sneak into our house just to see what we're eating? This tofu has to be eaten hot. Come on, try it."

Ever since Meng Wan came to live with her, Chang Jinhua had really gotten a taste of what it's like raising a boy, though her boy had a strong will and seemed to be running the show more and more.

Meng Wan wore her down, and Chang Jinhua sat down, and they split the bowl of old tofu Meng Wan had set aside, eating it with the sauce.

It was really good—even smoother and more tender than the block tofu, though not as easy to preserve. Without a fridge, it wouldn't keep overnight, and it wasn't as easy as block tofu to toss into other dishes. If they ever got the money to open a restaurant, it could make a fine dish on its own.

After scraping the bowl clean, the tofu under the stone had set too.

Meng Wan removed the stone and lifted the linen cloth. Except for a few rough edges, it looked exactly like the tofu blocks sold at the market.

"It's done, Aunty!"

Chang Jinhua was all smiles. Out of three catties of soybeans, they had drunk two bowls of soy milk and eaten a large bowl of tofu, already used up a good chunk. Now, cut to the size sold at the market, they could still cut eight palm-sized blocks of tofu.

Meng Wan did the math: three catties of soybeans could yield about sixteen tofu blocks. One batch could handle six catties of soybeans, making thirty-two blocks.

At the market, tofu sold for two coppers per block, so thirty-two blocks would get them sixty-four coppers. Take out the cost of six catties of soybeans at eighteen coppers, they'd be left with forty-six coppers.

Firewood was free since they gathered it themselves, and the brine cost next to nothing. If they could sell one board of tofu a day, it'd be like having a grown man working the docks, without having to show their faces. Folks from nearby villages would naturally come buy once they heard—perfect for Chang Jinhua and Meng Wan right now.

To get a business going, they needed to make a name for themselves. Otherwise, who'd know Sanquan Village had tofu? "Aunty, let's make two trays of tofu for the next market and sell 'em. We'll let the villagers know Sanquan Village has tofu now."

At the Hongmiao Village market, two tofu stalls had already drawn a crowd. The one run by the woman from last time and her mother-in-law was out, though the man was weirdly not there.

Food stalls were all bunched together. The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law shot Meng Wan a dirty look, but he just smiled back.

"Aunty, you're early today. How come Uncle didn't come?"

The old woman was still confused, but her daughter-in-law's face changed. She shrank back, watching her daughter-in-law's face, not daring to say a word.

At the market, plenty of young men and women had their faces covered, but few were as striking as Meng Wan—you could tell he was good-looking just from his eyes. The tofu stall woman forced a smile and said, "Oh, it's you, young man. My husband's been feeling a bit under the weather lately, so he's resting up at home. Are you... setting up a tofu stall as well?"

Truth was, the couple had argued after last time, and her husband was hiding at home, too embarrassed to show his face after she clawed him up. She held the tofu recipe close, and no one in the family—from her in-laws to her brothers- and sisters-in-law—dared to cross her.

Meng Wan went along with it. "Yeah, my brother at home is a scholar, and his brushes, ink, and paper ain't cheap. My aunt and I want to earn a bit more to help cover expenses."

His words struck the tofu stall woman like a thunderbolt. In these times, just getting enough to eat was a feat—who had spare cash to support a child's schooling? Had she misjudged him?

She let out a dry laugh. "You're quite the virtuous lad. I didn't know you could make tofu too." Her eyes darted to Chang Jinhua's movements.

Chang Jinhua pulled two trays of tofu from the wooden cart and set them out. Meng Wan helped her lift them. Each tray held thirty-two blocks, and they had made two trays in total. To catch the market, they had started work after midnight and pushed the cart early. Half-uncovering the linen cloth, the tofu blocks were neatly arranged, a creamy ivory color with a slight yellow tint.

Meng Wan raised an eyebrow as the tofu stall woman leaned in. "I learned it from my family when I was young, Aunty. Don't worry—the market's busy, and with winter vegetables scarce, there'll be plenty of buyers for tofu. My aunt and I will only bring two trays to sell. Besides, you live west of Hongmiao Village, right? We're from the east side. We won't get in each other's way, so it won't affect your business."

His reasoning was sound, and he had helped her recover her lost money last time. The tofu stall woman's expression softened, and her smile grew more genuine.

"Oh, what are you saying, young man? You helped me out last time, and the whole village saw it. If I got jealous over you selling tofu, what kind of person would I be?"

Meng Wan smiled but said nothing. What kind of person? He thought, remembering her earlier glare.

It was still early, and the market wasn't crowded yet. The tofu stall woman struck up a conversation with Chang Jinhua. "Sister, you're a bit older than me, right? My husband's family name is Zhou, and this is my mother-in-law."

Chang Jinhua, a woman of few words, chatted with her intermittently.

As the crowd grew, just as Meng Wan had predicted, people had little left in their pantries, and the cooler weather made tofu easier to store. Many bought three to five blocks at a time—either for guests or because they lived far away and wanted to stock up for a couple of days.

With each sale, Meng Wan told customers, "We're from Sanquan Village, selling tofu. We live at the third house by the village entrance and make tofu every day." Soon, nearby villages knew that Sanquan Village now had tofu for sale, so they didn't have to wait for market day or go to town.

The day after the market was when Song Tingzhou was due back. As he walked along the village path, he spotted a few outsiders. Closer to home, he saw over a dozen people gathered outside his yard, with more villagers chatting under a nearby willow tree.

"Widow Song is sharp as ever. No wonder she brought her nephew from so far away—turns out his family has skills."

"What did you all say before? Called her foolish for feeding an extra mouth, said a nephew's still an outsider. Look how that turned out!"

"Was it just me? Didn't you all say it too? Who started the rumor that Widow Song brought her nephew to be her daughter-in-law?"

The loudmouth's words died in his throat as he spotted Song Tingzhou behind him, falling silent.

Not only was Song Tingzhou the only student candidate in Sanquan Village, respected even by the village head, but his towering height and cold expression, just like Chang Jinhua's, made him intimidating.

"Tingzhou's back," the group said, their smiles fake as could be.

Song Tingzhou nodded stiffly. "Second Grandpa, Third Uncle, Sixth Aunt."

A burly man emerged from the crowd, about as tall as Song Tingzhou, with dirty sleeves. He strode over and draped an arm over Song Tingzhou's shoulder. "My big nephew's back? Heard your mom and cousin are selling tofu at home? Let your second uncle come take a look."

This was Song Tingzhou's uncle, Song Youcai. His face showed no flush, but his breath reeked of alcohol.

Song Tingzhou stepped forward, casually shaking off the arm. "Come on in, then, Second Uncle."

At the entrance to the Song family yard, someone had placed a waist-high stone, smooth on top. Chang Jinhua had set the wooden tofu tray on it, covered with a clean linen cloth. She held a wooden spatula, skillfully serving tofu.

"Third Aunt, here's yours."

"Brother Tian, yours."

"Cui'er, you didn't bring a bowl? I'll have Wan Geer get you one."

Chang Jinhua called into the house, "Wan Geer, bring out a bowl."

A clear voice answered, "Coming!"

Soon, Meng Wan came out with a bowl and handed it to Chang Jinhua. He was about to go back inside when he looked up and saw Song Tingzhou approaching.

"Aunty, Cousin is back."

Chang Jinhua didn't look up from her work. "Da Lang, go inside and wash up. Wan Geer saved some tofu for you. Eat if you're hungry."

Song Tingzhou's eyes were full of mixed emotions. Since his father died, his mother had never been so enthusiastic about anything. She was always cautious and kept to herself, growing quieter over time. He was quiet too—sometimes, the two of them exchanged fewer words in a day than he could count on both hands.

If Meng Wan had described Chang Jinhua's earlier state, he'd have said, "Isn't that depression!"

Song Tingzhou entered the house and set down his book basket. "Did you make the tofu and come up with the idea to sell it?"

Meng Wan was soaking soybeans for the next morning, picking out shriveled skins before grinding. Sitting on a small wooden stool, he replied, "I saw someone do it before and gave it a try. Didn't expect it to work out. Since Aunty and I don't have much else to do at home, I figured we could start a little business and help you out a bit."

Song Tingzhou paused as he pulled his dirty clothes from the basket, then said in a low voice, "Thank you."

"Aunty's been so good to me—it's the least I can do. No need for thanks." Meng Wan lowered his head to pick out the bad beans, a small smile tugging at his lips.

That's exactly what I want—your gratitude. Good kid, don't forget to repay me when you make it big in the future.

By afternoon, the crowd had thinned out. Chang Jinhua came in with an empty tray, set it down, and hurriedly scooped a ladle of water from the vat to drink.

"Why haven't you two eaten yet? Da Lang, aren't you tired after walking all the way back?" Putting down the ladle, Chang Jinhua asked, looking at the food on the table.

"Not tired. Wan Ge warmed a bowl of soy milk for me—it was really good." The soy milk had a rich, creamy aroma that was bold, smooth, and fragrant, making even meat taste less appealing.

Chang Jinhua's brows relaxed. "It is very good. Now Wan Ge and I get up early every day to have a cup of soy milk. He says it's nourishing. Oh, and I saved you some tofu skin. Wan Ge said you can soak it in water and drink it—it's good for your health and easy to store. Let me go find it."

Song Tingzhou had only just returned, and Chang Jinhua was already listing things to pack for him the next morning, her motherly love pouring out.

Meng Wan stopped her. "Auntie, aren't you tired as well? Sit down and rest. Let's eat first. We can talk about everything after the meal."

The dishes were still steaming, as Meng Wan had just taken them out of the pot when she came in.

As usual, there was a meat dish—spareribs this time, stewed in a small pot, along with a pot of firm tofu and a bowl of pickled vegetable sauce.

Chang Jinhua poked at the spareribs with her chopsticks. "Wan Ge said he likes these, so I didn't buy pork belly yesterday. He cooked the meat today. Let's all try his cooking."

Song Tingzhou first scooped two spoonfuls of firm tofu to eat. He was a quiet guy, and this time he didn't even lift his head while eating.

Chang Jinhua chatted idly with Meng Wan. "Just now, Da Lang's second uncle came by and took a piece of tofu on credit. That money's gone for good."

Meng Wan asked, "Is that the uncle from Second Aunt's side?"

Chang Jinhua picked up a piece of sparerib and nibbled it carefully, savoring the flavor. She put down the bone and nodded. "The tallest one is him. Tingzhou's father was also tall. It's because those two brothers ate so much as kids that their grandparents eventually divided the family."

Song Tingzhou's father was Song Youmin, and his uncle was Song Youcai. Their fathers were brothers from the same parents. Back then, everyone lived in the same courtyard—too many people, too many arguments, plus two growing boys with big appetites. The elders' disputes piled up until they finally divided the household.

After that, Song Youcai started working as a laborer in town. But the two brothers always had a good relationship. Even after Song Youmin passed away, Song Youcai still looked after his widowed sister-in-law—though only when someone deliberately bullied the widow and her son. He would step in then, but he couldn't offer financial help, since he was broke himself.

After eating, Song Tingzhou fetched water to soak his dirty clothes, then picked up a bucket to go out. Every time he came home, he would fill the water vat. He couldn't cook or do laundry, but unlike most scholars, he didn't avoid household chores.

Chang Jinhua sat on the steps washing his clothes, while Meng Wan cleaned up the dishes.

In the village of a hundred homes, children played, women did laundry by the clear river, surrounded by green hills and clear waters. Song Tingzhou came back with a carrying pole, pouring the bucket's water into the vat.

Suddenly, he asked, "Are we grinding beans tomorrow morning?"

"Even if we are, it's none of your business. Go read your books." Every morning, Song Tingzhou's first task was to read, a habit he'd formed.

Song Tingzhou said nothing. The next morning, when Chang Jinhua got up, the kitchen floor already held the freshly ground raw soy milk.

She was both touched and annoyed. "Showing off, are you? Might as well make all the tofu for us before you leave!"

Song Tingzhou quoted from his books to tease his mother: "A gentleman stays out of the kitchen."

Meng Wan also woke early that day. He threw on his clothes and came out, laughing at the remark. Song Tingzhou was quite amusing—that saying actually meant a gentleman should stay away from killing, but he used it to fool his mother.

Meng Wan used the raw soy milk to make tofu, while Chang Jinhua baked flatbread in a small pan.

Song Tingzhou drank his soy milk, took the bread, and set off.

At home, only Meng Wan and Chang Jinhua remained. By now, everyone in the surrounding villages knew their family sold tofu.

Meng Wan didn't make too much—just one board of thirty-six pieces a day. They usually sold out, and sometimes latecomers couldn't get any. Making more would be greedy, and wasting it was bad. Giving it away for free to villagers would only make them expect it daily.

Meng Wan explained all this to Chang Jinhua, and she agreed. Their lives had become much more comfortable than before, and they didn't dare ask for more.