Chapter 29: Seller’s Survival Guide

Chef Li sighed but remained undeterred. With two days left, he would continue his research. Now that he understood how sausage casings were made, the remaining steps couldn’t be too difficult.

“Go back and think it over carefully. See if you missed anything,” Chef Li instructed the junior apprentice, telling him to take the remaining pig intestines back. As a seasoned chef, he wouldn’t personally handle the cleaning.

The junior apprentice felt a flicker of disappointment. His master hadn’t said much else—and he’d hurt himself during this errand. He nodded in agreement, but as he lifted the bucket, he deliberately turned his palm upward to reveal the bloody gash.

As expected, Chef Li noticed immediately. He frowned and asked, “How did you cut your hand?”

A chef’s hands were his lifeline. Though still an apprentice, this young man would eventually become a head chef himself.

“The family was afraid someone would see, so they sharpened the fence posts. I accidentally scraped my hand on the bamboo,” the apprentice explained with a cheerful grin. “It’s nothing, Master. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Doesn’t hurt my ass,” Chef Li snapped, pulling an ounce of silver from his waist pouch and tossing it to the apprentice. “Stay home and heal properly before returning.”

He didn’t ask the apprentice to take the bucket of pig intestines back for cleaning.

Su Yi’an only mentioned the break-in the next morning during breakfast.

“This…” Madam He’s heart skipped a beat. If not for the noise she’d heard the day before, she never would’ve known someone had been following her.

And after all the damage to the courtyard fence, someone still dared to come.

“I think this recipe is too risky to keep,” Su Yi’an said after a pause. “Now that people are trying to steal it instead of paying, they’ll undercut our business if they manage to replicate it.”

She’d spent the entire night agonizing over it, and finally concluded—they couldn’t afford to keep the recipe exclusive.

She couldn’t protect it, and neither could the He family. Holding onto it would only draw more trouble.

The room fell into a conflicted silence. The sausage recipe belonged to Su Yi’an, and no one knew how to advise her.

“Auntie, I’ll do whatever you decide,” He Xingchen said from his wooden stool, his small face upturned.

“We’ll all follow your lead,” Madam He added.

Su Yi’an didn’t rush to decide. She planned to visit several eateries in town that day to gauge interest. If the offer was right, she’d sell the recipe.

She wasn’t expecting much money—just peace of mind.

“Alright, I’ll go ask around in town today. I’ll take all the sausages with me,” Su Yi’an said.

Though they lingered at the breakfast table, the oxcart to town hadn’t left yet, and the three of them boarded it once more.

The villagers sharing the cart glanced at them, especially at the heavily laden bamboo baskets. They wondered what Su Yi’an was carrying, but no one dared to ask. No one wanted to seem overly curious about the He family’s affairs.

Since no one asked, Su Yi’an offered no explanation. She pretended not to notice the stares and chatted with He Ningwen.

She’d noticed earlier that He Ningwen wasn’t her usual cheerful self.

“Let’s take a look around town when we get there,” Su Yi’an whispered, leaning slightly to shield He Ningwen from the biting wind.

“But we still need to sell…” He Ningwen quickly covered her mouth, stopping herself mid-sentence.

Aunt Yu, sitting opposite, perked up her ears but only caught the word “sell” before the conversation trailed off.

Her curiosity grew. Once Su Yi’an and the others disembarked, Aunt Yu didn’t rush to shop. Instead, she quietly followed them, eager to learn what they did in town.

The noodle stall was set up in the same spot as yesterday. Vendors had an unspoken rule: once you claimed a spot, it was yours. No one dared steal another’s place.

Su Yi’an instructed the two siblings to set up while she rolled out the dough. She couldn’t neglect the stall’s business just because she had other errands—so she worked quickly.

“Sister Su, should we steam or boil these sausages?” He Ningwen held six links of sausage, unsure what to do.

“Steam them,” Su Yi’an replied, pointing to the bamboo steamer she brought. “We’ll keep simmering the bone broth underneath.”

He Ningwen obediently placed the bones into the pot and added firewood.

Su Yi’an finished cutting the noodles and called He Yunhuai over to teach him how to cook them.

“Watch for the water to boil three times—that means they’re done. If you’re unsure, pick up a strand with chopsticks. If it breaks easily, it’s cooked through.” She guided him step by step, unaware he wasn’t paying close attention.

“Each time, I’ll portion it out for you: one spoonful of meat sauce and five slices of sausage,” she added, looking him in the eye. “Got it?”

He Yunhuai paused, then nodded. “Yes.”

Still unconvinced, Su Yi’an watched him prepare a bowl herself before feeling reassured.

Before leaving, she sliced two more plates of sausage—one for the stall and one for her basket.

“Sister Su, should I stay and help?” He Ningwen asked, watching her brother’s stiff movements. She feared they wouldn’t sell any more noodles once they left.

“You need to trust your second brother. He can handle it,” Su Yi’an said, her praise making He Yunhuai feel awkward.

When he looked up again, they were gone.

Around the corner, Aunt Yu stared at the noodle stall, wide-eyed. She never imagined they’d come to Huai’an Town to set up a business.

Huai’an Town was small. Apart from the bustling Bright Moon Restaurant, the rest were modest eateries. Su Yi’an quickly learned which ones did the best business—and aimed for them.

“Sister Su, are you really going to sell it?” He Ningwen had been quiet, reluctant. She understood how much effort went into the recipe. Selling it just because of a few troublemakers felt wrong.

“It’s just one recipe. I have plenty more,” Su Yi’an said, tugging gently at her small bun.

He Ningwen didn’t press further, only hoping the recipe would fetch a good price.

Huai’an Town had seven thriving eateries. Three clustered on the same street; the rest were scattered. Su Yi’an first visited the three closest ones. Though it was still early, the shops were open.

“If you’re here for a meal, you’ll have to wait,” a young waiter said. “It’s still early.”

Su Yi’an wasn’t there to eat. She found a table, set down her basket, and asked, “Is the shopkeeper here?”

“Well…” The waiter hesitated. “Do you have business with him?”

Su Yi’an nodded.

Reluctantly, the waiter fetched the shopkeeper from the back courtyard.

The shopkeeper arrived, displeasure on his face. Why would someone come so early without ordering food? Are they here to beg?

“Shopkeeper, does your establishment still purchase food? I have a recipe I’d like to—” she began, but he cut her off before she could remove the sausages.

“No, no, we’re not buying. Go try another place,” he said, waving her off.

Su Yi’an didn’t argue. She gave the kind clerk an apologetic glance before leaving.

As soon as she was out of earshot, the shopkeeper snapped, “Next time, just send people like that away. They look like scammers.”

Su Yi’an crossed the street to another eatery. This time, she explained her purpose first.

“Please wait here. I’ll fetch the shopkeeper.”

This clerk seems just as kind-hearted as the last one, Su Yi’an thought.

“You dragged me away from breakfast. Let’s see what this ‘food’ is.” The shopkeeper approached, still chewing noodles.

Su Yi’an took out the sausages. “Shopkeeper, please try one.”

Without hesitation, he picked up a slice and popped it into his mouth.

“Fragrant,” he said, reaching for another.

“How does the young lady intend to sell this?” he asked seriously.

“This is called sausage. I’m selling the recipe, but it won’t be exclusive.”

“So you’ll sell it to every restaurant?” He frowned. If everyone had it, what was the point?

Su Yi’an shook her head. “I can’t force anyone to buy. I’m simply offering it now.”

He understood. She’d sell to whoever asked—but he had the first chance.

“One tael of silver,” Su Yi’an said.

“Agreed!” He clapped and smiled. One tael wasn’t much. His restaurant earned twenty a month.

She handed him the plate and recited the recipe. She couldn’t write in the local script, and asking He Yunhuai would only complicate things.

“Are you sure the casing is pig intestine?” he asked. He had tried them before—they only tasted good after heavy seasoning.

“Buy the intestines early,” Su Yi’an advised. “Once more people start, they’ll be hard to find.” She told him where her stall had been, too.

“Of course, of course. I’ll send someone today,” the shopkeeper said. “But drying them means summer isn’t suitable?”

“Autumn and winter are best. They spoil easily in summer, like cured pork.”

The shopkeeper readily paid the silver and asked if she had sold the recipe to any other eateries. Su Yi’an answered truthfully. When he learned that the shop across the street hadn’t bought it, his smile widened.

With one tael of silver in hand, He Ningwen was dazed. “That’s… it?”

“Not yet. There are five more to ask.”

The neighboring eatery also declined, showing no interest in the recipe.

However, the remaining four small food stalls, scattered across a few alleys, all purchased the recipe for one tael of silver each.

Whether these vendors would resell the recipe was no longer Su Yi’an’s concern.

With five taels in her purse, He Ningwen still looked stunned. “If we’d known we could sell that many, we should’ve charged more!”

“If we’d raised the price, no one would have bought them,” Su Yi’an replied, securing the silver. She took He Ningwen’s hand and started walking back