Chapter 12: Sweet Fermented Rice Dumpling Soup

The bowl was just an ordinary coarse pottery one, but inside it held an irresistibly inviting sweet soup.

The slightly thick, semi-translucent rice wine broth carried the unique light sweetness and faint aroma of fermentation.

A few round, glistening white dumplings floated obediently within, appearing especially delicate and charming.

Scattered on top were a few specks of golden osmanthus petals, adding an elegant touch of floral fragrance.

That scent quietly slipped into the nostrils, softening even the heart.

Pu Jiaojiao also lifted her own bowl. The warm ceramic warmed her palms just right.

She scooped up a dumpling with a small porcelain spoon, along with a bit of the soup, and gently brought it to her mouth.

The warm sweet broth slipped across her tongue first—just the right amount of sweetness, laced with the freshness of osmanthus and the mellow fragrance of rice wine—instantly awakening her taste buds.

Then her teeth met the soft dumpling. The slightly chewy yet tender texture was delightful, making her eyes narrow with pleasure.

The dumplings themselves didn’t have much flavor, but they had soaked up the rich essence of the broth. As she chewed, the sweet liquid burst forth again, blending perfectly with the subtle fragrance of glutinous rice.

Warmth slid down her throat, soothing her entire stomach and washing away much of the fatigue from her early morning bustle.

She had to admit—Qiao Sanniang’s culinary skills were truly top-notch. If she opened a shop, it would definitely be packed with customers.

Qiao Sanniang personally fed the sweet soup to Jing Xiaohua but didn’t let her have too much—just half a bowl.

After eating, she patted the little girl’s round tummy and laughed, “One look and I can tell you’re eating well. That’s good. When you climb the mountain later, you’ll get tired and hungry. Eating a little more now means you’ll last longer.”

The whole sweet dumpling detour didn’t delay them much at all, and soon the three of them were on the mule cart.

Pu Shunyi had even laid out a soft cushion so they wouldn’t get sore sitting down.

“Keep an eye on your sister and the kids,” Qiao Sanniang reminded, and only when Pu Shunyi responded did she let them go.

Her son was generally reliable. With him accompanying them, Qiao Sanniang wasn’t too worried.

Besides, with two kids in tow, they likely wouldn’t venture deep into the mountains—probably just a short stroll along the mid-slope.

With the mule cart, a journey that would’ve taken over an hour on foot was done in just half an hour.

Niutou Mountain, being the only climbable mountain near the county town, attracted quite a few visitors.

There was even a teahouse specifically built for hikers—offering tea for rest, and for just three copper coins, you could have your livestock watched over too. As a result, the teahouse was always rather lively.

Pu Shunyi told Pu Jiaojiao and the children to get off the cart first, then unloaded the two baskets. “You wait here,” he instructed, “I’ll go park the cart.”

“Don’t wander off. Wait for me to come back, okay?” he said—like scolding a child—even including Pu Jiaojiao in his warning.

It made her wonder if the original “Pu Jiaojiao” had been unreliable or careless. Why else would Pu Shunyi be this worried?

But when she searched her memories, she realized it wasn’t that bad. The girl had simply been spoiled growing up—willful, yes, but not outright troublemaking.

Her face flushed. “Got it. I won’t wander.”

They stood by the roadside. Today, maybe because of the fine weather, there were quite a few people out and about for a leisurely day.

In Da Jing Dynasty society, customs were relatively open. As long as an unmarried girl was accompanied by family or her betrothed, she could go out for walks and relaxation.

Right now, the mountain path was starting to bustle with activity.

Not far away, a few well-decorated carriages had pulled to a stop, and from them stepped a group of finely dressed young men and women. Behind them trailed a crowd of maids and servants. Judging by the entourage, they were also here for a mountain outing—quite the impressive procession.

The group of young nobles, large in number and lively in spirit, chatted and laughed as they made their way up the mountain path.

Pu Jiaojiao and her group happened to be standing at the roadside—right in the path of these people heading uphill.

Little Jing Xiaohua was crouched down by the path, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she carefully poked a brightly blooming wildflower with her tiny finger.

Suddenly, someone in a rush brushed past her—too quickly to see who it was. Their hurried steps kicked up a gust of wind.

“Ah!”

Jing Xiaohua’s small body was already unsteady in that crouched position. Startled by the sudden motion beside her, she let out a cry and tumbled forward, landing hard on the dusty road.

She froze for a moment, her little hands pressed into the dirt. The fall had been harsh, and soon a stinging pain flared in her palms.

At first, she only sniffled. But in a blink, “Waaah!”—large teardrops rolled down her cheeks.

Pu Jiaojiao had been watching the nearby teahouse, curious whether they sold anything besides tea. When she heard the sudden wail, her heart leapt—she dropped everything and ran.

In just a few strides, she was at Jing Xiaohua’s side, scooping the crying girl into her arms.

She opened the child’s small palm—her tender skin had been scraped raw, the flesh torn, and bright red blood welled up, mixing with the dirt. It looked both filthy and pitiful.

Nearby, Jing Hongyi had been watching over the baskets. His face turned pale at the sight, and he immediately rushed over.

Seeing the injury, his face darkened further.

Pu Jiaojiao, quick on her feet, grabbed his sleeve.

“Quick, hold Xiaohua!” she urged sharply.

Jing Hongyi caught on instantly, gently supporting the child’s swaying body.

“Let me take a look,” Pu Jiaojiao said soothingly, cradling the small hand.

She swiftly opened a bamboo canister and poured out some clear water, carefully washing away the dirt and blood.

As the grime was rinsed off, the wound came into clearer view.

“It’s not too bad, just a surface scrape,” Pu Jiaojiao breathed a quiet sigh of relief—but she stayed cautious all the same.

She looked around for any nearby herbs, but found nothing.

Left with no other option, she took out a handkerchief she had brought and gently wrapped Jing Xiaohua’s little hand.

At that moment, Pu Shunyi came running over, panting. He had just parked the cart and immediately sensed something was wrong.

“What happened? Is she hurt badly?” he asked anxiously, glancing around.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Wait, the teahouse should have medicine!”

Without another word, he dashed toward the teahouse.

Moments later, he returned with a small bundle of herbal medicine.

“Luckily, they keep basic supplies for emergencies like this,” he said, handing it over.

Pu Jiaojiao accepted the medicine and skillfully applied it, re-bandaging the wound with practiced care.

As she worked, she comforted the girl: “Don’t worry. You’ll be all better very soon.”

Jing Hongyi, still frowning, muttered with frustration, “That group ran so fast, I couldn’t even see who knocked Xiaohua over. I should’ve stopped them and asked.”

After finishing the treatment, Pu Jiaojiao gently asked, “Xiaohua, do you want to go home and rest first? We can come back another day.”

To her surprise, Jing Xiaohua shook her head firmly. “No need, I don’t hurt anymore. We came all this way—I still want to climb the mountain!”