Chapter 31: Never Look Down on Others

A crowd had gathered around the small stall, drawing curious glances from the nearby food vendors.

If they remembered correctly, it was just a noodle soup stall. Why had it become so popular?

Su Yi’an had brought a substantial amount of noodles that day. By the time the crowd thinned, only three bowls remained.

“Let’s stop here. Time to pack up and head home.” It was still early, and Su Yi’an wanted to buy some cotton before returning.

She had once considered renting a shop, but after asking around, she learned that a shop with a courtyard would cost thirteen taels a year, and even a simple storefront would be seven.

Her savings weren’t enough.

As they prepared to close up, Old Wang, a regular from their riverside stall, hurried over, panting.

“Oh my, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” he gasped, pressing seven copper coins into Su Yi’an’s hand. “Why aren’t you selling by the river anymore? If someone hadn’t told me you were here, I wouldn’t have known you’d moved!”

The price of meat noodles had risen to eight coins. He Ningwen glanced at the seven coins, unsure whether to mention the change.

“There’s not much space over there,” Su Yi’an said, pointing to the stone table behind her before He Ningwen could speak. “Here, customers can sit and eat.”

Old Wang, now catching his breath, asked eagerly, “Do you still have the sausage noodle soup?”

He had come specifically for that. Other stalls might add meat slices, but none compared to the flavor of Su Yi’an’s homemade sausage. One taste had left a lasting impression.

“You’re in luck,” Su Yi’an smiled. “Only three portions left.” She relit the stove and added water to the pot.

Old Wang took a seat at the stone table, chatting with the owner of the neighboring wonton stall as he waited.

Seeing the noodles weren’t gone yet, the wonton stall owner came over. “Two bowls, please,” he said.

With just three portions left, Su Yi’an cooked them all.

“Looks like you’re about to close,” Old Wang remarked, feeling he might be delaying them. He gestured at his bowl. “How about I return these dishes tomorrow? I’ll be back anyway.”

The coarse bowls and bamboo chopsticks were cheap, worth only a few coins.

Su Yi’an did want to leave early—there was something she wanted to buy.

“Miss Su, if you’ve got things to take care of, go ahead. I’ll keep my stall open for a while longer. Leave the dishes with me—we’ll return them tomorrow,” offered the wonton stall owner.

Seeing this, Su Yi’an served each of the  men a bowl of noodle soup, apologizing, “I’m really sorry, something urgent came up at home today.”

The two men waved off her concern. It was no trouble.

After the brief flurry of activity, Su Yi’an packed everything neatly into her bamboo basket.

“We’ll head back now. See you tomorrow.”

Only after they left did the wonton stall owner begin eating his bowl of noodles.

The noodles themselves weren’t anything special, but the bone broth and meat slices made each bite rich and satisfying.

“No wonder their stall is more popular. This meat is far better than the dry slices most stalls use. Eight wen isn’t too much,” the wonton stall owner muttered between spoonfuls.

Old Wang, halfway through his own bowl, froze. “What did you say? How much are these noodles?”

“Eight wen,” the man replied. “That’s the standard price on this street.”

Remembering the seven wen he’d handed over, Old Wang flushed with embarrassment. He made a mental note to pay the difference tomorrow.

Leaving the street, Su Yi’an led them straight to the cloth shop.

At this time of year, cotton prices had doubled from earlier in the season. Still, people bought it—nobody wanted to face the cold without extra layers.

“Shopkeeper, we need six pounds of cotton,” Su Yi’an said. Each family member would get a pound—just enough to add warmth to bedding or clothing.

At one hundred copper coins per pound, six pounds came to six qian of silver.

The shopkeeper sized them up, assuming they didn’t know about the price hike. “Today, cotton is one qian per pound,” he said, clicking his abacus beads.

Seeing his condescending attitude, Su Yi’an gave up on buying any cloth from him. It was a large shop, there were other clerks.

“Little sister, which of these two bolts of cloth do you think looks better?” she asked, picking up a pale green and an indigo blue bolt. Both were cotton and far better than the coarse fabric they wore.

He Ningwen tugged at her sleeve, shaking her head. “Sister Su, this cloth is too expensive!”

It didn’t matter who it was for—it was simply too costly.

“Sister-in-law is about to give birth,” Su Yi’an said pointedly. “A baby can’t be born without new clothes.” One bolt was more than enough for a newborn, with plenty left over for the children.

He Ningwen nodded and pointed at the azure bolt. “Clerk, how much for this one?”

The clerk glanced at them, sneered inwardly, and continued with his calculations. Just some villagers pretending they can afford this.

The other clerks exchanged looks but didn’t approach. They preferred tending to townspeople, who actually spent money.

“Miss, asking about the azure cotton?” The shopkeeper emerged from behind the counter. “That bolt just arrived yesterday. Five qian of silver. We have the only one in town.”

“Please wrap it up. And six pounds of cotton too,” Su Yi’an said, handing over her purse. “Can we get a small discount?”

The total came to one tael and one qian. Instead of lowering the price, the shopkeeper threw in three chi of coarse cloth as a bonus. The items were wrapped in extra fabric, worth nearly a hundred wen.

Su Yi’an didn’t press further. She placed the bundle in her bamboo basket and left.

As for the snobbish clerks who had looked down on them—they couldn’t help but regret it.

The more they sold, the more they earned. Had the transaction gone through them, they could’ve made fifty coins easily.

On the way back, they passed vendors selling cabbage and radish seeds. Seeds weren’t expensive, so Su Yi’an bought a packet.

They missed the oxcart ride home, but with their pockets full from a successful day, even carrying heavy loads didn’t tire them.

At home, Mother He was cooking, waiting for the trio to return before stir-frying the vegetables.

Earlier, they had dug up winter bamboo shoots in the mountains. Mother He sliced pork to stir-fry with them.

He Xingchen helped peel the shoots.

“Grandma, why is it so small?” he asked, frowning as a forearm-length shoot shrank to palm-size.

Mother He laughed, rinsing it under the tap. “That’s how winter bamboo shoots are. They look big, but after peeling, there’s not much left.”

Relieved, Xingchen picked up another bamboo shoot to peel.

Suddenly, the gate creaked open. Still holding a bamboo shoot, Xingchen dashed outside.

“Auntie, look!” he ran past He Yunhuai toward Su Yi’an.

“Grandma and I went to the mountain today and dug up so many winter bamboo shoots!” He held them up proudly. “I was the one who found them!”

Su Yi’an patted his head. “Wow, that’s amazing, Xingchen! You’re even finding bamboo shoots now!”

Xingchen beamed with pride. He couldn’t wait to dig more tomorrow.

Mother He, hearing they were back, quickly got to work. Soon, a fragrant plate of stir-fried pork with bamboo shoots was on the table.

They had mostly been eating dried wild vegetables—this fresh dish was a rare treat.

“I’ll go to the village market tomorrow and see if anyone’s selling Chinese cabbage,” Mother He said, setting down the rice bowls.

Most farm families grew cabbage in winter. It was also sold in town, but at a higher price.

“Mother,” Wan Xu said hesitantly, lips pressed in embarrassment, “maybe we should buy it in town instead.”

The villagers ostracized them and barely spoke to them. Would they even sell to them?

Mother He likely understood what she meant, but avoiding the issue forever wasn’t an option. Wan Xu was near her due date. They’d need a midwife. If relations with the village stayed strained, who would come when the time came?

“We should try everything,” Mother He said, gesturing at the baskets on the floor. “It’s such a hassle bringing things back from town. Just look how much Yi’an carries every day.”

The cotton and cloth were still inside. Su Yi’an had planned to unpack after dinner, but at Mother He’s comment, she opened the baskets right away.

The six pounds of cotton, wrapped in coarse cloth, made a massive bundle—almost too big to carry.

“Why so much cotton?” Mother He and Wanxu stared in surprise.

“That’s not all!” He Ningwen glanced at Su Yi’an, and upon getting a nod, pulled the cotton cloth from her basket. “Sister Su also bought cotton fabric.”

The table was set, so they left the unpacking until after the meal.

Mother He had wanted to ask how the recipe sale had gone, but Su Yi’an hadn’t brought it up. She hadn’t dared ask, fearing it hadn’t gone well.

But now, seeing the full baskets, she knew they’d done well.

After dinner, He Yunhuai cleared the dishes and took them to the kitchen.

With the table empty, Su Yi’an laid out the cloth and cotton.

“The recipe wasn’t expensive,” she explained. “We sold it to five places, one tael each. No one has exclusive rights, so there shouldn’t be any issues.”

“It’s getting colder, so I bought extra cotton. Mother, I’ll need your help sewing another layer into our winter clothes,” she added. She wasn’t good with needlework and had no time with the market stall.

Mother He stroked the soft cotton, her heart full. “Of course, I’m happy to.”

“This is for Eldest Sister-in-Law,” Su Yi’an said, handing Wanxu the blue fabric. Afraid she’d refuse, she quickly added, “We don’t know if it’s a boy or girl, so I chose a neutral color. Even our unborn child deserves new clothes for the New Year.”

Wanxu’s hands trembled as she held the fabric. Her eyes reddened, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

She had been working on embroidery for weeks, saving it instead of selling, hoping to earn enough to ask Su Yi’an to bring back a small piece of cloth.

What mother didn’t want to prepare something new for her baby?

In the inner room, He Songyuan, still bedridden, heard her soft sobs. Not knowing what had happened, he cursed his helplessness.

Luckily, Wanxu soon entered. Once she explained, He Songyuan stiffened, then pulled her into his arms.

Unable to get out of bed, he could only earn money by copying books. From now on, I’ll copy every day. I have to earn more, he vowed silently.