Chapter 9 Tofu Success

Chapter 9: The Tofu Is Made

Meng Wan said, sounding wronged, "Second Uncle's wife, you're so short. Xiao Mei and I weren't bending down or looking down, so it's not our fault we didn't notice you."

Short as a stump—if he wanted to hit someone, he'd have to jump up!

Zhang Xiaoyu's eyes seemed to spit fire. "You calling me short?"

Meng Wan put on an innocent face. "Did I say that? Xiao Mei, did you hear me call her a short stump?"

Xiao Mei stammered in support, "No... I didn't hear anything."

Zhang Xiaoyu was furious. Unable to win the argument with Meng Wan, he started spewing foul language: "You're just flaunting that sharp tongue. So disrespectful to your elders, huh? And you're a boy of ten-plus, old enough to be married. Living under the same roof with a cousin, all shady and improper. With that fox face, who knows if you've already charmed Song Dalang."

Back then, reputation was more important than life itself. Even though in farming families, the rules between men and women weren't as strict, Zhang Xiaoyu's words could ruin someone's reputation. In a rich household in the capital, it could even get someone killed.

Xiao Mei went pale. She didn't dare get any more involved and quietly tiptoed away.

Meng Wan didn't yet grasp how serious this was, but he knew these words couldn't be heard by just anyone. "Second Uncle's wife, you..."

"Wan Ge'er!"

Chang Jinhua had survived her husband's early death and raised her son on her own. Seeing her own mother today had saddened her, but it was just a brief sadness that passed quickly.

When she saw Meng Wan wasn't home, she went out to find him, only to catch Zhang Xiaoyu's tirade. Afraid Meng Wan would get the worst of a messy argument, Chang Jinhua quickly called him over.

Rushing forward to put herself between Meng Wan and Zhang Xiaoyu, Chang Jinhua's face went cold and stern. "You know you're supposed to be an elder. We're from the same family line. Have you no shame, badmouthing a younger family member like this? If these words get out, I'll have Wan Ge'er bash his head in on your doorstep, then drag you into the river with me to drown!"

Zhang Xiaoyu had no ground to stand on and was already scared of Chang Jinhua. Seeing her cold face was like seeing the Grim Reaper. He didn't want to back down but didn't dare talk back. He muttered, "He started it by making fun of me. Besides, there's nobody else around. I cussed him out, and he had it coming."

Chang Jinhua sneered and grabbed his arm. "In that case, let's go to your in-laws and sort this out. Let's see if your husband doesn't beat you black and blue, you foul-mouthed brat!"

"I'm not going! I didn't say anything! Let me go!"

Seeing Chang Jinhua was really going to drag him to his in-laws, Zhang Xiaoyu freaked out. He'd been married for years without kids and was already looked down on at home. If he got into a fight that reached his in-laws, his husband would really hang him up and beat him, no joke.

Chang Jinhua was stronger and taller than Zhang Xiaoyu. She actually dragged him a couple of steps, scaring him half to death. "Good sister-in-law, I was wrong. I've got a big mouth. I'm a jerk. Don't hold it against me. Wan Ge'er, quickly persuade your mother-in-law—ah, no, persuade your aunt!"

Meng Wan couldn't tell if Chang Jinhua was just scaring Zhang Xiaoyu or being serious. His reputation was important, but Zhang Xiaoyu's family and Song Tingzhou's family were cousins from the same clan. He had heard Chang Jinhua say that Zhang Xiaoyu's husband, Song Youcai, and Song Tingzhou's father were cousins who grew up in the same courtyard. But Song Youcai was a notorious lazy man in the village, spending his days drinking and carousing. He only married Zhang Xiaoyu, a poor boy whose family was about to sell him, when he was over thirty. Though a boy, it was better than no wife at all.

Song Youcai, though a scoundrel, usually respected his sister-in-law. Chang Jinhua lived by the principle of "don't trouble me, and I won't trouble you" in the village, rarely interacting with others to avoid gossip as a widow. If she really went to fight with her cousin's family over him, wouldn't that make them a laughingstock?

Meng Wan's mind turned quickly. He grabbed Chang Jinhua's arm. "Aunt, forget it. I doubt he'll dare to slander me again. Let him off this time."

Chang Jinhua's expression indeed softened. It seemed her fierce words were just a front, and she had been hesitating.

"Good sister-in-law, that brother of yours has gone drinking again, and I still have work in the fields. Have pity on me and let me go." Seeing someone else pushing grain toward them, Zhang Xiaoyu grew anxious and begged for mercy.

Meng Wan tugged at Chang Jinhua's arm, and she let him go.

Zhang Xiaoyu pushed his cart and fled in a panic. Meng Wan threatened him in a low but firm voice, "Second Uncle's wife, if you spread rumors about me in the village, I have plenty of time to sit at the village entrance and make up stories too. Unlike you with your big family, including two young unmarried sisters-in-law. If their reputation suffers because of you, I'm sure your husband's family will have a word with you."

Zhang Xiaoyu didn't dare provoke him again and scurried away. When Meng Wan turned around, he found Xiao Mei had long disappeared. He couldn't help but smile bitterly.

"Come on, let's go home first. You need to stay out of trouble. Your Second Uncle's wife is all talk and easily scared. But you don't know some fierce wives—they'd kill you in a few moves."

Meng Wan agreed verbally, thinking Chang Jinhua's talk of killing was just an exaggeration. Little did he know that soon, a real death would occur in Sanquan Village.

---

That afternoon, Meng Wan went home and told Chang Jinhua about using the threshing ground to grind beans the next morning.

"To make tofu, you need to grind soybeans. I know that. I'll grind them tomorrow morning, and you prepare your things at home." It was only a few pounds of beans, not a heavy task. But the art of making tofu was a family secret. She was afraid that if she were present, Meng Wan would feel uncomfortable. According to custom, a slave's life and death were in the master's hands. A small tofu recipe was nothing—even ten or a hundred recipes, if the master wanted them, the slave had to hand them over without reservation.

But the Song family hadn't bought Meng Wan to be a servant. They wanted him to marry their son as a husband. That was a different treatment. Though Meng Wan had no family, the Songs wanted to give him the respect he deserved. The family recipe must not be shown to others.

Meng Wan didn't know Chang Jinhua's thoughts. He had no intention of hiding anything. If his experiment succeeded, he would definitely work with Chang Jinhua.

That night, he was sleeping soundly in his small room when he was woken by suppressed cries of pain. Meng Wan's eyes snapped open—again.

At first, he thought it was the couple next door being intimate and felt a bit embarrassed. Later, he realized it didn't sound right, but he was too shy to listen closely. It wasn't until Xiao Mei told him during the day that he understood.

It was domestic violence.

The hitter was silent, and the victim endured quietly.

This was different from the domestic violence Meng Wan had vaguely known about. It seemed both were used to this pattern.

Meng Wan felt a chill in his heart. Since transmigrating into this era as a boy, he hadn't looked in a mirror for months. He had vaguely seen his current appearance in the Song family's old, blurry copper mirror and the clear water basin.

How to describe it—it was very similar to his previous life's appearance, but softer and more delicate. The biggest change, besides being younger, was his physical strength. An adult man's strength was usually overwhelming compared to a woman's, but Meng Wan's current strength was even less than Chang Jinhua's, who worked year-round.

Accompanied by the tormenting and heart-wrenching sounds, Meng Wan thought too much and didn't sleep well that night. He had many chaotic dreams, most of which he forgot upon waking. The one he remembered vividly was holding a monster with a baby's body and an adult's head, looking just like Song Tingzhou. The monster kept calling him "Mom" and asking for milk.

Meng Wan was jolted awake by the nightmare. The house was empty. Chang Jinhua had gotten up early to grind beans. Meng Wan still wasn't used to rising at cockcrow. Fortunately, Chang Jinhua didn't force him. After washing up, he skipped breakfast and went to check the salt brine he had dissolved.

On the top shelf of the cabinet was a bowl of water from dissolved pale yellow salt brine crystals. Meng Wan had carefully warned Chang Jinhua that this stuff was poisonous and must be hidden where no one could accidentally eat it. He didn't know where she had put it, but he didn't see it in plain sight.

Seeing the brine was ready, Meng Wan went to the yard to fetch firewood. Just then, Chang Jinhua returned with a wooden bucket.

"Aunt, you're back just in time. Help me find a large piece of linen." Linen felt similar to gauze and would work well as a cloth bag for making tofu.

Chang Jinhua agreed and went to find the cloth. Meng Wan cleaned the pot to filter the soybean residue. Today, they used three pounds of beans. When Chang Jinhua brought the cloth, Meng Wan asked her to help filter the residue together.

Chang Jinhua was surprised. She laughed. "You want me to help? Aren't you afraid I'll steal your secret?"

Meng Wan was genuinely puzzled. "What's there to steal? Even if you don't want to learn, I'd still teach you. It's too tiring to do it alone."

Chang Jinhua scolded him playfully, "I always said the Tian family married a lazy daughter-in-law. Who knew mine is even lazier, ordering me around!"

Though she said this, Chang Jinhua was deeply moved. She could see Meng Wan wasn't reluctant at all—he truly didn't mean to hide anything from her.

Hearing her words, Meng Wan recalled last night's bizarre dream and fell silent, working quietly.

For the first trial, they used few beans, producing only half a bucket of soybean milk. After filtering, he poured it into the pot and took out his fire striker.

"Wan Ge'er, what's this? How do I use it?" Chang Jinhua pointed at the leftover soybean residue.

Meng Wan lit the fire and added a handful of kindling to the stove. "Throw that in the yard corner to dry. When the cabbages and radishes grow bigger, grind it up and use it as fertilizer."

Chang Jinhua beamed. "It has that use? I'll try it in a few days."

Though Meng Wan said it was his first attempt, Chang Jinhua saw he had a method for adding water and filtering, as if he were very confident. She relaxed accordingly.

Meng Wan gradually brought the soybean milk to a boil and stopped adding firewood. The rich aroma of beans filled the house. Chang Jinhua hurried in. "Wan Ge'er, is it done?"

Meng Wan found a pair of chopsticks and two large bowls. Using the chopsticks, he lifted a layer of milky white tofu skin from the edge of the pot, placed it in a bowl, and scooped half a ladle of soybean milk into it.

"Auntie, try some of this tofu skin. It's better for you than eggs."

Chang Jinhua waved it off, "Just drink it yourself. Why save any for me?"

Meng Wan waited for the next layer of tofu skin to set. He said, "Anyway, we're not working today. If you don't eat, we won't finish this half-pot. I'll have more later."

Only then did Chang Jinhua pick up the bowl, gently blew on it twice, and took a sip. She said, surprised, "This... this is so rich and tasty, even better than tofu!"

Meng Wan peeled off another layer of tofu skin and ladled out a bowl of soy milk. The bowl was burning hot, and his skin was more sensitive than Chang Jinhua's, so he couldn't hold it like she did. Instead, he set the bowl on the edge of the stove and crouched down to take a small sip.

Oh my god, it was so good. A spoonful of sugar would make it perfect, but sugar was too expensive, locked up in Chang Jinhua's cabinet.

The two of them drank without looking up. Meng Wan peeled off a third sheet of tofu skin and hung it to dry on the newly tied hemp rope. "This one's for cousin. If we really get into the tofu business later, we can save more for him. This stuff is nourishing and good for health."

Chang Jinhua's face relaxed. Wan Geer was considerate; that put her mind at ease.

Soy milk was easy to make, but pressing tofu was the hard part. Meng Wan picked up the brine and carefully drizzled it along the edge of the pot, stirring with a big ladle in his right hand. When he saw the soy milk in the pot start to set, he stopped stirring.

He added a small handful of kindling, covered the pot, and let it sit for about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea. Then he lifted the lid.

"Auntie, the tofu is done."

"That's all?" Chang Jinhua leaned in to look, seeing the soy milk in the pot had set into a jelly-like form, with a rich bean aroma.

"How come everyone else's tofu comes in firm blocks, but ours is so soft and tender?"

Meng Wan grabbed a big deep bowl from the cupboard and scooped a full ladle of tofu into it. "This is firm tofu. It needs to be pressed to form blocks, but I prefer it this way. Let's keep a ladleful."

Chang Jinhua laughed. "Today you're the chef. Whatever you say goes."

Meng Wan smiled too. Making firm tofu was already half the battle.

"Auntie, could you bring in the hemp cloth I have drying outside? I'll need your help next."

"Alright, I'll go get it."

Meng Wan scooped the remaining tofu from the pot into the washed and dried hemp cloth, placing it in a slightly shallow rice basin.

Yesterday, he had found a smooth round stone by the river, scrubbed it clean, and scalded it twice with boiling water. Now he pressed the stone onto the hemp-wrapped tofu bundle.

"We'll wait a bit, then remove the cloth, and it'll be tofu blocks."

There was an unmistakable joy in Meng Wan's voice. Even he was pleasantly surprised to succeed on the first try.

"Auntie, I'll go fish out a pickled vegetable from the jar to use as a topping."

"Go ahead, go ahead." Chang Jinhua watched the tofu in the basin without blinking. At this point, even if Meng Wan asked for sugar, she'd probably open the cabinet for him.

Meng Wan fished out a pickled radish from the jar. It was one pickled in early spring this year, a staple everyone ate with coarse rice porridge when there were no autumn vegetables.

When Song Tingzhou wasn't home, he and Chang Jinhua ate the same way, though she would occasionally boil him an egg or make fine rice porridge.

Meng Wan had no room for complaints. Chang Jinhua treated him almost like her own child. There were plenty of folks in the village who ate plain rice porridge every day, and it was still better than life with the slave trader.

He wasn't ungrateful. When Chang Jinhua wanted to boil him a hard-boiled egg, he would crack it, add water, and make egg custard so they could both have some.

Meng Wan handled the kitchen knife skillfully, cutting the pickled radish in half, taking only one piece, washing it clean, and dicing it finely. The pot was free and scrubbed clean. Chang Jinhua, still guarding the kitchen, casually added some kindling for him.

Meng Wan smeared a tiny bit of lard on the bottom of the pot, added diced scallions and pickled radish, stir-fried until fragrant, then added a small spoonful of water. The radish was salty enough, so he didn't add salt. When the liquid had nearly evaporated, he scooped it into a bowl.

Given the current conditions, the topping was just a makeshift affair. But when he had time later, he could call Xiao Mei to go up the mountain and pick some mushrooms and fungi—those would make a truly fragrant topping!