Ch 9: Guide to Feeding a Villainous Husband

Business Booming

The man eventually bought a large portion of grilled cold noodles with an egg added, along with a portion of iron plate tofu, totaling twenty-two wen.

Before leaving, he even asked Yu Jiuque for two extra bamboo skewers, perhaps intending to share with others.

After sending off the first customer, there was still a large portion of grilled cold noodles left for sampling, so Qin Xia shared two pieces with You Ge’er, the seller of fried sugar cakes.

You Ge’er was quite surprised and delighted to get a free taste, especially since he had overheard how expensive it was.

“Look at this, I feel bad taking it.”

After exchanging polite words, he carefully took it and ate it while it was still hot.

As he marveled at how delicious it was, customers began to gradually gather at Qin Xia’s food stall.

Among them were a few who had bought iron plate tofu at the temple fair, but most were first-time customers.

Some were drawn by the new food stall, while others were simply attracted by the enticing aroma.

Facing first-time customers required a bit more effort to explain the offerings.

Qin Xia was busy making two types of snacks simultaneously, keeping track of each person’s different preferences, which was quite a challenge.

As a result, most of the explaining and money handling was taken care of by Yu Jiuque.

“Iron plate tofu, five wen per portion, five pieces in total. Grilled cold noodles are six wen for a small portion, twelve wen for a large one.”

“Scallions, cilantro, and red onions are unlimited. If you like them, feel free to add more; if not, you can skip them.”

“Chili sauce? Sorry, we don’t sell it separately.”

“That’ll be twelve wen; here’s your food. Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Yes, you can sample it. Please wait a moment, and I’ll pick a piece for you to try.”

…

Although the business wasn’t overwhelmingly busy, the two of them barely had a moment to rest.

After an hour of steady work, they had sold around twenty portions of iron plate tofu and ten portions of grilled cold noodles, finally getting a chance to catch their breath.

Seeing Qin Xia sweating by the stove in the cold weather, Yu Jiuque quickly took out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead and then poured him some hot tea.

The cart had two small stools stored inside, which they took out and set on the ground to sit and relax their legs.

The fried sugar cake seller, You Ge’er, also had a good round of business earlier, making about a hundred wen, with seven or eight of those customers coming from Qin Xia’s stall. While waiting, they had looked around and casually bought one or two sugar cakes to take with them.

Mutual exchanges like this are just part of human interactions.

You Ge’er placed a sugar cake into an oiled paper bag, called out to Yu Jiuque, and handed it over.

“Here, take it and eat.”

The couple thanked him together, and You Ge’er smiled broadly, scooting his stool closer to chat with Yu Jiuque, the two of them sitting together like close friends.

Once the sugar cake had cooled enough to eat, Yu Jiuque turned around and tugged at Qin Xia’s sleeve.

“You eat first.”

Qin Xia tried to refuse but eventually had to take a small bite.

“I ate a lot for breakfast, so I’m still full. You can have it.”

In truth, after smelling the oil and smoke all morning, he had little appetite for something so sweet and greasy.

But it was clear that Yu Jiuque liked it very much, eating with shiny, oily lips, making them look softer than usual.

Qin Xia’s thoughts wandered for a moment before he quietly averted his gaze.

After finishing the breakfast rush, the previously empty stall beside the Qin family’s food cart finally had someone arrive.

The person began unloading small pickling jars from a basket, clearly running a stall selling pickled side dishes.

A row of ten jars, each with a red paper label indicating its contents: radishes, mustard greens, cucumbers, ginger, mountain peppers, and Chinese broccoli, among others.

While most households could pickle these items themselves, some people simply couldn’t make them taste as good as those sold in the market, which kept the business steady for stalls like this.

The two exchanged nods, a simple acknowledgment of each other.

When Qin Xia had initially chosen to rent a stall here, he had considered this aspect. The sugar cake stall on his left was also selling breakfast items, but sweet ones, while the pickled goods on his right had no overlap with the food he was selling.

With these three stalls together, there would be no competition for customers, and potential disputes over territory or business could be avoided.

As noon approached, it became evident that more people were out shopping for food.

Some were out walking, mostly looking for a noodle stall or wonton stand to sit down and eat. Others, carrying baskets for grocery shopping, would pick up some ready-made food to add to their meals at home.

Pingyuan Prefecture, where Qinan County was located, was not as prosperous as the rice-producing regions of the south. During years of famine, the locals had even resorted to eating tree bark, but those were stories of the distant past.

In the past decade, the weather had been favorable, and the granaries were well-stocked. People in the city had become more willing to spend money on food, unlike in the original protagonist’s childhood when there were far fewer restaurants and eateries in town.

“Little boss, give me a portion of iron plate tofu, but no chili or scallions—the kids won’t eat it.”

“How much are these grilled noodles? Six wen? That’s too expensive. I can get a bowl of plain noodles for five wen, and your portion isn’t that big.”

“I want two portions of tofu. Can you add an extra piece?”

Unlike the early morning crowd of workers buying food, this time of day brought housewives and homemakers who were generally more frugal. After all, they had to manage their household expenses carefully, so they would inspect the tofu for larger pieces and haggle over the price before paying.

As a result, Qin Xia and Yu Jiuque had to spend more effort in conversation, but fortunately, many people asked for samples and ended up buying, so it wasn’t a wasted effort.

At the busiest times, Qin Xia felt like his iron plate was almost sparking from the constant use. Whenever two people were waiting together, they would often suggest to Qin Xia, “Boss, your stove isn’t enough; you need to add another one.”

Qin Xia could only smile wryly—if only it were that simple.

When the jade dice were pawned, they fetched twelve taels of silver. Buying the cart at a bargain price cost three and a half taels, which he thought would be the biggest expense. But later, buying the iron plate alone cost four taels.

After accounting for other expenditures, only a little over one tael of the twelve remained.

The production of ironware was strictly regulated by the government, and the number of blacksmith shops in the entire county could be counted on one hand. Qin Xia initially wanted to buy another iron pot to experiment with other snacks, but when he found out it would cost five taels, he decisively postponed that idea.

Now he understood why an iron pot could be passed down as a family heirloom in these times.

Better to wait until he had more money.

**

Lined with various shops, Liu Bao Street had an old and established pastry shop called “Ganyuan Zhai,” which was quite well-known in the county.

The shopkeeper, Xing Yiming, was a plump man with a broad heart. He had no other hobbies besides his passion for exploring the world of food.

He prided himself on being a “gourmand,” having tried every known dish within Qinan County.

On this particular day, it was nearly noon by the time he arrived at the shop. As he sat behind the counter going over the morning’s accounts, he found himself growing restless.

Xing Yiming called over a young apprentice and asked, “Has the street filled with vendors selling fresh food? There’s a particularly fragrant smell in the air.”

The young apprentice, whose nose was only attuned to the sweet scent of their own pastries, didn’t understand what his boss was asking about.

It wasn’t until he noticed Xing Yiming eyeing the oil-paper-wrapped boxes carried by passersby that the apprentice realized.

“Master, it seems there’s a new stall at the end of the street selling tofu. They call it iron plate tofu. This morning, some of the customers buying pastries mentioned it.”

Iron plate tofu?

This was the first time Xing Yiming had heard of such a dish, and his curiosity was immediately piqued.

He promptly set the account book aside. “You keep an eye on things here; I’ll go take a look.”

The apprentice, well accustomed to Xing Yiming’s ways, merely nodded and watched as his boss walked off. Then he picked up a cloth to wipe down the counter and soon busied himself with serving the new customers.

Xing Yiming followed the scent down the street until his attention was drawn to a small food stall surrounded by several people.

He moved closer and sniffed the air, his eyes lighting up.

Yes, this was definitely the source of the aroma!

“What are you selling here? Give me a portion of each.”

Yu Jiuque had just finished putting away the money from the previous customer when he heard this. He looked up with a smile and listed the prices for iron plate tofu and grilled cold noodles.

“Would you like a small or large portion of the grilled cold noodles? And would you like to add an egg?”

Xing Yiming, true to his gourmand nature, didn’t even know what grilled cold noodles were, but he was already sold on the enticing smell. Without hesitation, he said, “A large portion, with all the extras.”

“No problem, that’ll be twenty-two wen. There are three customers ahead of you, so please wait a moment. There’s a stool here if you’d like to sit.”

Xing Yiming waved off the offer to sit. It wouldn’t be long, and he had been sitting in the shop all morning. He welcomed the chance to stretch his legs and watch the food being made.

After collecting the money, Yu Jiuque noticed another portion of iron plate tofu ready to be served. He skillfully prepared the paper box, filled it, and added scallions, cilantro, and chili.

Xing Yiming observed for a while and quickly understood that the so-called iron plate tofu was simply pan-fried tofu.

This method of cooking is actually quite common in home cooking—pan-frying tofu and adding sauce. However, while there are vendors selling fried stinky tofu or marinated tofu in the streets, no one has ever thought of pan-frying tofu and adding sauce to create a unique dish with a catchy name.

What intrigued him even more was the grilled cold noodles that followed.

Qin Xia prepared two portions in quick succession, his movements fluid and effortless, so much so that Xing Yiming couldn’t help but feel impressed.

When it was his turn, Xing Yiming moved to the front and struck up a conversation with Qin Xia.

“Where does this street food come from? I’ve never seen it before. Did you come up with it yourself?”

Qin Xia immediately recognized that Xing Yiming was likely a shopkeeper of some standing, dressed in fine silk with a jade ring on his finger.

Such a person visiting a street food stall seemed a bit out of place.

“My grandmother was a cook, and she often experimented with different dishes at home. I’ve made some modifications to her recipes to make a living.”

(T/N: I previously wrote it was MC’s mother who was a cook but I was wrong. It’s his grandmother. Apologies)

Since the original owner’s grandmother had passed away, Qin Xia could conveniently attribute the idea to her.

“I see,” Xing Yiming nodded, believing the story.

Since the previous dynasty, the role of a female cook had become increasingly popular. Unlike male cooks who typically worked in restaurants, female cooks were often employed by wealthy families. A skilled cook could command a high price, so having such expertise wasn’t surprising.

Soon, the iron plate tofu was ready. Xing Yiming took a bite while continuing to watch Qin Xia prepare the grilled cold noodles.

The tofu, eaten while hot, was fragrant on the outside, crisp in the middle, and tender on the inside. Although Xing Yiming hadn’t originally asked for chili, he noticed the chili powder and requested Yu Jiuque to sprinkle half a spoonful on his tofu to try.

“You’ve added quite a few spices to this chili powder, haven’t you? If you were to drizzle some hot oil on it, I bet even shoe soles would taste good!”

Hearing this, Qin Xia realized that this shopkeeper was indeed someone who not only appreciated food but also understood it well.

“You’re quite the connoisseur,” Qin Xia complimented.

Xing Yiming laughed heartily, “Not as skilled as you.”

With that, he eagerly turned his attention back to the grilled cold noodles, clearly excited to try them.