Chapter 7

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

After preparing the two ingredients, she laid them out on the cutting board.

On the left was red bean date paste, on the right was skinned green bean paste, one red and one yellow, the red deep in color, the yellow light.

She intended to make fu cakes with them.

Fu cakes were also called Hongfu Qitian cakes.

But whether "fu" or "Hongfu Qitian," it was merely for good luck; in truth it was just a red bean date paste green bean cake with a "fu" character in the middle.

The pastry's ingredients were simple and the method not difficult, but the water-grinding work was mentally taxing, and it required careful attention to ingredient ratios and the speed of handling.

Because bean paste scattered easily when moved, lard and maltose were needed to help it hold shape, but too much sugar and oil made it greasy, while too little made them ineffective.

And if the movements were slow, the warmth of the palms would half-melt the lard and maltose, making it even harder to shape.

Fortunately Song Miao often made this and was very skilled, her movements orderly—even so, by the time she had assembled the various strip and sheet-shaped ingredients in order, more than half an hour had passed.

Once everything was ready, she mixed the roasted glutinous rice flour with a bit of cheese she had just bought, kneaded it evenly, and rolled it into an extremely thin sheet to wrap the outermost layer.

Thus all the ingredients were assembled into a square strip one inch long and wide.

She did not use a knife, but took a very fine hemp rope, tightened it around the strip of cake to cut it evenly into finger-thick slices, carefully packed them into an oil-paper-lined food box, then simply tidied up the various things and carried the food box out.

Just as she was locking the door, Song Miao heard knocking from not far behind; looking back, she saw someone standing at the bookshop door across the way.

That person knocked for a moment, and someone inside the bookshop asked through the door, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Sun Er."

As the person outside finished speaking, with a "squeak," the door quietly opened a crack, and the man calling himself Sun Er slipped through the gap.

Soon, the door slammed shut with a "bang."

When the door opened, faint noise and shouting from inside the house could be heard.

Song Miao frowned, still paid no attention, locked the door, and walked out.

She asked people along the way, and after walking for a while she turned into the alley where the village head's house was, found the house with a "Sun" lantern hanging above, and gently knocked on the door.

The Sun family's gate was not deep, and soon someone inside answered the door, calling, "Who is it? The door isn't locked, just come in!"

But Song Miao did not enter; she answered through the door, "My surname is Song, I am the daughter of the Song Family Eatery in Suanzao Alley. I've come today to see Village Head Sun, but I cannot enter the door—please trouble someone to come out."

Soon a middle-aged woman came out from inside.

The woman had a round face and large features, giving the impression that she was straightforward.

When she opened the door and saw Song Miao, she was first startled, then smiled, saying, "So it's Young Lady Song. Today the constable's rounds had business to relay, and they took my old Sun away early this morning. I don't know when he'll be back. Why not come in and sit and wait?"

Song Miao shook her head, pointed to the white mourning cloth on her left arm, and said, "Auntie, you're too kind. I am in mourning, so I cannot go in."

As she spoke, she handed over the food box in her hand, saying, "Lately I've received much care from Village Head Sun, and I have nothing suitable to thank him with. I made some snacks in my spare time—just ordinary food, not much to speak of, but still a gesture of goodwill. Please have your family eat a little."

The woman took the food box, and the smile on her face became much more sincere. She also stepped aside to let her in, saying, "You're so young, why are you so formal? We don't stand on ceremony. It's freezing cold, and your face is red from the cold. Come in and sit, have a cup of tea before you go."

These days there was a saying: if a family had a death, relatives should not visit other people's homes within a month, to avoid bad luck.

Song Miao had already made up her mind and simply declined firmly.

This time she had come to see Village Head Sun about other matters. Seeing he was not home, she did not linger, exchanged a few polite words, and took her leave.

On the way home, Song Miao deliberately took a detour, intending to buy a copy of "Wei Xingtong," but after asking several bookshops, none had a copy in stock.

Instead, a shop assistant said, "The Xingtong book is rarely bought outside these days. The Court has revised it, and new copies will be distributed in due course. If you have time, why not check near the Court of Judicial Review and the Surveillance Department? The bookshops in that area might have copies for sale."

Seeing she was dressed plainly in simple cloth, the assistant kindly added, "If you're not in a hurry, give me a deposit of one or two hundred wen, and I can help bring a set back from outside. But these books are all official publications, priced very high—generally starting at two strings."

Upon hearing the price, Song Miao silently groaned in her heart.

All her worldly possessions amounted to only a few strings of cash, and she still needed to buy ingredients for her business. If she spent it all on books, she feared she couldn't even set up her stall. So she dared not say anything more about ordering, thanked him, and honestly walked out.

At this moment, the one groaning was not Song Miao alone.

The Sun Family Residence.

Song Miao had just left with her front foot when Village Head Sun entered with his back foot.

He hadn't even had time to drink a sip of water before he said to his wife, "Go tell Second Brother's Wife to keep a close watch on him. He can't keep running outside all day. Dutou Li specifically warned me today, saying that during the last search and inspection, he saw Second Brother hiding under a table in the gambling den. If it weren't for my old face still carrying some weight, they would have arrested him on the spot."

The smile on Sun's wife's face vanished at once. She frowned and said, "I'm just a sister-in-law; how can I go bossing my brother-in-law around? Besides, Second Brother is always like that, never home. Second Brother's Wife is left to manage the old and the young—what more can be said?"

"Even if she manages him, will Second Brother listen?"

She paused, then said, "Let me say something disrespectful: Second Brother is what he is today because Uncle and Aunt spoiled him. You're the same. He causes trouble outside, and you wipe his butt every day. It would be better to have the authorities lock him up for three or five years, let him suffer a bit—maybe then he'd mend his ways..."

Village Head Sun grew impatient, waved his hand, and said, "If Uncle and Aunt hadn't raised me since I was small, I'd have starved to death long ago. Where would I be today? If Second Brother really went to jail and something happened to him, how could I face them? If you can't speak properly, don't speak at all!"

Sun's wife, stung by the rebuke, flared up and said, "His parents don't care for him, and you expect his wife to manage him? Did his wife give birth to him or raise him? If you want to say something, say it yourself—I won't say it!"

Village Head Sun knew his wife was right, but he was troubled in his heart, so he could only lower his head and sigh. After a long while, he took two sheets of paper from his pocket, handed them over, and said, "Look at this!"

Sun's wife took them and asked, "You know I can't read—what is this?"

Village Head Sun said testily, "What is it? It's Second Brother's IOU! Adding up to eight hundred and ninety strings! He's really made something of himself! Such a large sum of money—even selling him wouldn't pay it back!"