Chapter 6: Shopping at Changmen Gate

The clay pot simmered fiercely over the mud stove, the shrimp heads inside slowly frying to a crispy golden brown, their glossy shrimp oil sizzling and mingling with the aroma of minced garlic, wafting irresistibly into the air.

Wei Jinyun was quick-handed; she ladled a scoop of freshly boiled water with a splash into the pot. The broth turned a milky white as it bubbled together with the shrimp she had just added.

She grabbed a handful of noodles, sprinkled them in, and stirred twice with her bamboo chopsticks. Then she cracked a few eggs—golden yolks resting gently atop the soup, gradually firming around the edges with tender whites.

After letting the shrimp cook through, and the broth bubble one last time, she plucked a handful of freshly washed crown daisies from the bamboo basket. The emerald leaves softened instantly in the hot soup.

“What a fragrant aroma,” Wei Fuling said, dragging a chair beside the mud stove. She already held her bowl in hand, eyes fixed on the bubbling pot as if she wished to be part of it. “Is it ready yet? Is it ready yet?”

Wei Fuqu, standing nearby, removed her handkerchief and wiped her hands clean, exclaiming repeatedly. She was the newly adopted kitchen cat, acting as if she’d never tasted soup noodles before.

The two aunts who had just finished sweeping the shop followed the enticing scent into the courtyard.

The round-faced aunt smacked her lips. “What’s cooking here? The smell’s enough to steal one’s soul.”

The other aunt smiled, washing her hands. “No kidding, just smelling this tells you it’s fresh as can be. No wonder it lured in this little kitchen cat.”

Wei Jinyun smiled in reply and, with her hands, scooped the noodles into porcelain bowls. The eggs trembling atop the soup were handed to her younger sisters.

Wei Fuling blew on her bowl fiercely, then poked the wobbly egg with her chopsticks and stirred it into the noodles before taking a bite. She always liked to let the half-cooked egg yolk flow into the soup and eat them together.

Wei Fuqu took a piece slowly, but after tasting it, her brow furrowed slightly.

The silky noodles slid smoothly into her mouth, soft yet with a slight chewiness, each strand soaked with the rich broth.

Breaking open the egg nestled at the bottom, the yolk mingled with the soup, its dense egg aroma enveloped by the shrimp’s fresh flavor, warm and flowing down the throat.

The crown daisies were perfectly blanched—crisp and tender with a subtle sweetness, crunching softly as she chewed.

“Pretty tasty,” she murmured, head bowed.

“Fuqu always sounds so awkward when she talks,” Wei Fuling teased, wiping the sweat from her flushed face. “If you want to compliment big sister, just say it properly... The soup noodles sister made might as well be a divine delicacy, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Just say that.”

“Only you know how to say things like that.”

The sisters teased each other back and forth, making everyone around burst into laughter.

The two aunts had been cleaning for a long time, and it was rare for the household to invite them to eat together. Usually, they were served separately and sat aside to eat.

Today, chatting with Wei Jinyun and casually teasing the two little girls—identical in appearance but very different in personality—made the work much more enjoyable.

The two younger sisters kept their heads down, eating the noodles, their cheeks flushed from the hot soup.

Taking advantage of the lull in conversation, Wei Jinyun smiled and asked, “By the way, aunts, where in Pingjiang Prefecture can one buy pots, bowls, pans, sewing needles, and fabrics at the best prices? We just settled here and don’t even have a bed yet. It’s about time to add some household items.”

The round-faced aunt slurped her noodles noisily and replied, “If you ask me, don’t go to the shops near Tianqing Temple or Shantang Street—they’ll rip you off. Go out to the grass market outside the city; it’s guaranteed cheaper. Take the Louhe market, for instance—villagers nearby bring items they no longer need to sell. Bamboo baskets and pottery bowls are priced fairly, unlike shops in the city that always tack on extra fees.”

The other aunt chimed in, “Exactly. The grass market near Changmen is even better. There’s all sorts of fabrics, hemp thread, iron pots... even thimbles for sewing. Most vendors are small-time sellers; ask around and haggle a bit, and they’ll sell. I bought a new clay pot there just the other day, two wen cheaper than in the city. It’s great for stewing, no leaks or burnt bottoms at all.”

Wei Jinyun nodded repeatedly, then inquired, “When’s the best time to go to the grass market?”

“Early morning,” both aunts answered in unison. “They open before dawn, and it’s busiest before the sun’s up. The goods are freshest then. If you go late, all the good stuff’s gone! Wei young lady’s a tough bargainer; you’ll definitely get the best goods for the best price.”

The round-faced aunt finished her noodles and even drank two bowls of soup.

The broth, made from shrimp heads, was so fresh it made the tongue tremble, and the refreshing crown daisies made it far from greasy—just bright, clear freshness rivaling any soup noodle shop outside.

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Chewing her noodles, Wei Fuling mumbled, “If I get a new bowl, big sister must make soup noodles for me every day.”

Wang Qiulan, seeing her round belly, quickly grabbed her hand as she reached for more noodles. “If you keep eating, you won’t sleep tonight.”

Encouraged by Wei Fuqu, the little one was determined to keep eating today. If not watched closely, she might get indigestion.

After the warm soup noodles, the aunts felt their stomachs warm and their hands even more eager. They swept the shop inside and out again, nearly wiping the mold from the walls spotless.

This cleaning method was even more effective than some modern detergents, Wei Jinyun thought, but when she asked for the recipe, the aunts just laughed and said it was a secret only they knew. If she really wanted it, they’d make a special batch for her.

After working another hour, Wei Jinyun paid them wages, and the cleaning was finally done. Yet, looking at the empty shop, the four generations of the family couldn’t help but feel a mix of amusement and helplessness.

The moldy cabinets were unusable, the few benches they salvaged creaked ominously and might collapse under someone’s weight at any moment.

Their luggage was light, and the cotton quilts they brought were spread out. Without beds, they pushed the benches together and laid the quilts on top to make a makeshift bed.

This patchwork bed was hard and uncomfortable; when Wei Jinyun turned over, the wooden benches wobbled. Wang Qiulan fanned the two sisters with a palm leaf fan, humming a lullaby.

When she was little, her grandparents used to lull her the same way.

Perhaps most children in Jiangsu and Zhejiang grew up like this, unchanged through the ages.

She still had about fifteen strings of cash and planned to visit the grass market early to make wise purchases.

At night, raindrops began to fall again. The small window in the house was left open to air out the long-uninhabited home.

She had already placed a wooden basin to catch water leaking inside, preventing it from spreading.

Rain dripped into the basin with a “drip drop” sound. Wei Jinyun calculated expenses in her mind, but exhaustion soon overcame her, and she fell asleep.

Thus passed their first night in Pingjiang Prefecture.

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At the first light of dawn, Wei Jinyun rose early. Her sisters and grandmother were still asleep, so she carefully tucked them in.

New surroundings were bound to be uncomfortable, and none of them were used to sleeping on wooden benches. She had heard their restless movements throughout the night.

Today, she had to buy a proper bed. Her grandmother was too old for such rough treatment to her back and waist.

Wei Jinyun carried a newly purchased wooden basin outside and used some leftover water to wash her face.

Chewing on a toothbrush, she examined the well. Days of rain had filled it to the brim; she could almost touch the water with her hand.

Though the top layer was clear, decades of disuse meant the bottom was likely choked with silt. She would need to hire someone to descend, clear debris, and seal the cracks in the well’s walls. Only after repeatedly drawing and discarding murky water could it be used again.

She spat out the herbal water and lightly knocked her head—another labor fee to pay.

After tidying up, Wei Jinyun gently pushed open the main door.

Their gate also needed repairs; the inner lock had aged. She had to tiptoe when leaving, or the door would creak loudly, waking her two sisters without needing a rooster at home.

The Li family’s cooked food shop was already open. The brick-and-mud stove inside was roasting poultry, filling the air with a mouthwatering aroma.

As Wei Jinyun stepped out, Brother Meng, finding the house too warm, sat on a small chair by the doorway, eating porridge.

He enjoyed his morning meal thoroughly—plain rice porridge adorned with pickled young ginger, salted cucumber strips, and glossy roasted goose skin—no shortcuts there.

He chewed happily and, seeing Wei Jinyun, grinned widely and greeted her, “Good morning, sister.”

To the left, the door curtain of the stationery shop was lifted, and out stepped a refined young man tidying his collar.

He wore his hair meticulously tied, dressed in a moon-white robe embroidered with ink bamboo at the collar and sleeves, a delicate jade pendant hanging at his waist.

Zhang Renbai had planned to buy books but glanced up to see the shop beside him, which had been closed, now quietly opening, and a girl in blue attire slipping out.

Morning light caught the side of her temple as she cautiously stooped, carrying a basket on her back, as if sneaking away after some mischief.

Her movements were oddly endearing.

Zhang Renbai watched a moment longer. After she greeted Brother Meng of the Li cooked food shop and turned away, their eyes met. She nodded with a smile.

His ears flushed a faint red, the color creeping down his cheeks. Flustered, he quickly lowered his head and passed by.

“Is Brother Renbai so warm?”

Brother Meng took a few more bites of porridge, noticing the blush on Zhang Renbai’s face, and handed him the palm fan. “Here, fan yourself, Brother Renbai.”

Wei Jinyun barely noticed the young man; his scholarly appearance suggested he was a student. After finishing her errands and tidying the shop, she planned to handle neighborhood relations.

The grass market near Changmen was even livelier than when she arrived yesterday.

Early morning was the busiest time for breakfast stalls. Steam rose from bamboo steamers filled with cakes and shumai, iron pans sizzled as vendors sprinkled sesame seeds and scallions on pan-fried buns, and soymilk sellers shouted, “Two wen a bowl!”

Wei Jinyun ordered a basket of meat shumai and a bowl of sweet soy milk, sitting by the river like most others to eat.

The stalls were packed with barely any space for tables or chairs; customers squatted or sat wherever they could find a spot.

The freshly made meat shumai had skins as thin as cicada wings, pleated into blossoming shapes. The translucent steamed dough revealed the filling inside, plump and slightly jiggling when lifted.

A bite released the savory juices, intermingled with crunchy bamboo shoots—fresh and not greasy.

Wei Jinyun ate quickly, finishing the entire basket, then drank the sweet hot soy milk in one go.

Delightful—that was the flavor she craved!

After shopping, she packed some breakfast for her grandmother and sisters to take home.

A few steps further brought her to various stalls. Rolling up her sleeves, she knew she needed strength after eating well to start bargaining.

“No, no, miss, you’re too young and your bargaining’s too harsh. This cast-iron pan doesn’t stick when frying fish and won’t burn meat. Sold to you for three hundred wen—I’m already losing money!”

“Two hundred twenty wen and I’ll take it. If not, I’ll check the ironware shop down the street. Looks busier than yours.”

“Two hundred eighty wen!”

“Two hundred forty wen and I want a spatula with it.”

“Two hundred fifty wen.”

“I’m leaving then.”

“Alright, alright! Got a savvy buyer! I’m selling at a loss! Can’t pick a spatula that’s too big!”

Lu Lan came early on duty and rarely ate at home. He usually bought breakfast from the grass market near Changmen.

Having just bought some crabapple cakes from Granny Cen, he heard a vendor shouting hoarsely, “Alright, alright...”

Several people gathered, their voices sharp and intense. He thought something serious had happened.

Before he could approach, a voice even louder than the vendor’s shouted, “Deal!”

The figure in the crowd was a slender form dressed in green, whose loud voice was striking—louder than someone catching a thief.

He thought she looked somewhat familiar.