Chapter 17: Flexing Muscles

Qin Jin was a bit surprised.

In truth, he didn’t blame the He family—it was his own lack of foresight to begin with. Even if the He family had played dumb and pretended not to know, he wouldn’t have had much to say against them.

But he hadn’t expected the He family to proactively deliver ten carts.

Each small cart sold for one hundred wen; ten carts came to one thousand wen. Although that was the retail price and not the He family’s cost, the carts were solidly built with quality materials and craftsmanship, so the materials and labor alone were easily worth several dozen wen per cart.

Given the low manual production rate, the small market size in Dongyang County, and the fact that the carts were not easily damaged, even if the He family made a profit, it wouldn’t be much.

To willingly send over ten carts like this—they truly were a generous and upright family.

He thanked them warmly, gave each of the children a piece of pea cake, and politely declined He Hu’s offer to deliver the carts to Wuligou village. After He Hu left, he waved over the bun stall owner.

This boss’s surname was Liu. He had a big build, a wide waist, and a face full of rough lines, but was actually a very friendly man. Boss Liu’s youngest son, Liu Xiaojin, was only ten years old, but already came out with his father every day to help at the stall. He was skilled at rolling dough and making buns.

Qin Jin hoped Liu Xiaojin could make a trip to Wuligou village to call his three older brothers over.

He couldn’t push all ten carts back by himself, so he wanted Qin Bing and the other two to come and help. It was nearly noon now—whether or not they’d already returned from the fields, they should be close.

Boss Liu was a bit puzzled at first. Hadn’t He Hu just offered to deliver the carts to Wuligou Village?

Qin Jin smiled and said, “Brother Liu, I plan to divide these ten carts among my three elder brothers. Since they’re their own carts, they should push them home themselves. Things aren’t too busy right now, so just let Xiaojin run the errand—I’ll give him five wen as a delivery fee.”

Boss Liu, hearing this, secretly admired Qin Jin’s generosity. Each cart was worth a hundred wen. He said, “No need to pay him. Just give him a piece of pea cake and he’ll be happy to go. I’ll send him right away.”

“Thanks, Brother Liu. Let Xiaojin come over—I’ll tell him exactly where our home is,” Qin Jin said gratefully.

Once Liu Xiaojin came over, Qin Jin gave him a piece of pea cake weighing about two wen and told him the location of the Qin family home. With the cake in hand, Xiaojin ran off cheerfully.

Right now, there was no business at the bun stall. Rather than sitting around staring at his father, Liu Xiaojin figured it was better to nibble on pea cake and run the errand.

Qin Jin waited for quite a while—until all the pea cakes were sold out—before Liu Xiaojin finally arrived, bringing along Qin Bing, Qin Wen, and Qin Li.

Also with them were Qin Bing’s two sons: Qin Fang and Qin Yuan.

The three had already heard the situation from Liu Xiaojin, and when they saw the brand-new carts, each of their faces lit up with joy—they couldn’t get enough of them.

Qin Fang was thirteen, and Qin Yuan eleven, but all the Qin family men were tall. In this time, due to poor nutrition, any man over 170 cm was considered tall, and heights around 160 cm were the norm. But every one of the Qin men was over 180 cm.

Qin Yuan still had a bit of childishness in his features, but Qin Fang was only a head shorter than Qin Jin and already looked like an adult.

A group of tall men standing around the carts, laughing and chatting—even in their plain clothing—drew quite a few curious glances.

After they had their fill of excitement, Qin Jin placed his basket onto one of the carts and called everyone to head back to the village.

The whole family pushed the carts together, lively and bustling as they walked home.

At the village entrance, Qin Wen and Qin Li parted ways with Qin Jin and Qin Bing. Their homes weren’t in the same direction as the old courtyard.

Qin Jin and the father-son trio of Qin Bing pushed the carts toward their home. When they reached the old courtyard, Qin Bing told Qin Fang and Qin Yuan to take the carts home, while he grabbed Qin Jin by the sleeve.

“Xiao Jin, maybe you should still take the money for the carts. Two hundred wen isn’t a small sum.”

This eldest brother of his truly cared. The carts cost a hundred wen each, and both Qin Wen and Qin Li got two carts apiece. Since their parents lived with him, Qin Bing even received an extra one—three in total.

His little brother was generous, and as the eldest brother, he didn’t feel right taking them for free. The carts were too valuable.

“Big brother, back then I ate and drank from your table, and you never asked me for food money,” Qin Jin said, shaking his head.

“That’s different. It was our own grain—how could we let you go hungry?”

“How’s it different? These carts were earned by your little brother. Don’t tell me I shouldn’t share a couple with you?”

Qin Bing was amused by that. “I can’t outtalk you anymore.”

“Because I speak reason,” Qin Jin grinned. “Big brother, even if you’re not hungry, I am. I’m going home to eat Miao-ge’s cooking.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

Qin Bing watched him go, thought for a moment, and then headed home himself.

Sigh. His little brother had really grown up.

When Qin Jin stepped into the house, he caught a glimpse of Qin Bing entering the old courtyard too, and he finally felt at ease.

Although he wasn’t the original Qin Jin, after crossing over, Qin Bing, Qin Wen, and Qin Li had all treated him sincerely. A few small carts weren’t much—he was more than willing to give them away.

Besides, he had reason to rely on these three as well.

He ran a food business, and most of his customers were farmers from the countryside. Their money was limited. If they spent it at his stall, it meant less for others.

His small business was booming, attracting lots of customers every day. The other long-term stall owners might not say anything on the surface, but who knew what they were thinking inside?

Just in case, today he had declined He Hu’s offer and specifically asked Liu Xiaojin to fetch Qin Bing and the others to the city gate.

In times like these, people at the bottom couldn’t compete through status—they could only rely on numbers. A group with more fists was more intimidating.

Not only were the Qin men numerous, but they were all tall and imposing. Even if other stall owners had some bad ideas, nine times out of ten they’d back off after seeing the Qin men.

That’s why he purposely had Qin Bing and the others come today—to flex their strength a little.

In a family, everything was give-and-take. Nothing could ever be split perfectly down the middle.

Thinking of this, he looked up and saw Ye Miao peeking out from the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Come help me out—our home won’t be short on carts anymore.”

Ye Miao had been holding a bowl, dishing out food from the pot, when he heard the rumble of cart wheels and came to the kitchen door. Qin Jin had given the cart to his dad, but his dad had already returned from the fields earlier.

Seeing three carts all of a sudden, Ye Miao widened his eyes and quickly asked what was going on.

After hearing the explanation, he stroked his chin and frowned in thought. “Brother Jin, how much money can the He family be making off this?”

They were being so generous—they must be making a decent profit, right?

But this was Qin Jin’s idea…

Qin Jin chuckled at his expression and walked over to poke his forehead. “Stop overthinking. They gave us eleven for free—we’re not losing much.”

“But it’s still a loss,” Ye Miao mumbled as he took the cart from Qin Jin.

“Taking a loss is a blessing,” Qin Jin said.

Ye Miao clearly didn’t agree. His lips were about to pout, but when he saw Qin Jin looking at him, he coughed lightly and smiled instead. “Brother Jin is right.”

“Lunch is ready—steamed noodles with string beans, plus stir-fried tofu skin. Go wash your hands. I’ll call dad over—he’s next door.”

With that, he ran off next door.

He’d been wrong.

Qin Jin had said it was his own lack of consideration and not the He family’s fault. If he kept blaming the He family now, wouldn’t that be the same as blaming Qin Jin?

Absolutely not.

His Brother Jin wasn’t wrong at all—coming up with such a useful cart was amazing!

When Ye Miao and Zhao Feng returned, Qin Jin had already served the food and placed it on the table.

Ye Miao smiled to himself. In the village, other men shoved all kitchen work onto their husbands or womenfolk, as if doing kitchen chores made them less manly.

But his Brother Jin never avoided these things.

Truly a good husband.

Feeling cheerful, he washed his hands and happily sat at the table.

There was a new dish today: spinach stir-fried with tofu skin.

Yesterday, when Qin Jin went to Zhang Qi’s house to buy tofu curd, he’d specially bought some soy milk. He had taught Ye Miao to make tofu skin—or you could call it yuba.

It was a slow process. With a low flame under the pot, you waited for a film to form on the soy milk’s surface, then carefully lifted it off and hung it to dry. Then you waited again for a new film to form.

Qin Jin had once thought of selling yuba, but in this era where everything was done by hand, it took too long and was too slow to be worth the effort—so he soon gave up on the idea.

He only planned to make some whenever they felt like eating it, by buying soy milk.

Ye Miao and Zhao Feng were both eating yuba for the first time. The soft yet chewy texture amazed them—it was incredible that soy milk could be turned into such a delicious dish.

Ye Miao looked at Qin Jin with admiration all over his face. “Brother Jin, why don’t we buy a small stone mill? That way, whenever we want to eat it, we can just grind some soy milk and make it ourselves.”

“Alright,” Qin Jin nodded.

Having a stone mill would indeed be much more convenient. Besides grinding soy milk, it could also be used to grind rice milk to make rice-based foods.

After lunch, clouds drifted into the once blue sky. The sun was soon covered, the clouds thickened, and the sky grew dark and gloomy.

Looking up at the sky, Qin Jin frowned. Rain was naturally a good thing, but if it rained, he wouldn’t be able to set up his stall.

After hesitating for a while, he went to the Zhang family.

Worried that it would rain tomorrow, he decided to buy only 100 wen worth of tofu curd for the next day.

As expected, by evening it began to rain. It poured heavily. In the middle of the night, the heavy rain turned into a drizzle. Qin Jin and Zhao Feng braved the rain to bring the tofu curd back home.

Today, not only had they made fewer sheets of tofu, but they also made less pea cake—only four jin.

After dawn, it was still raining, light and steady. Qin Jin held an umbrella and carried his basket on his back to set up his stall at the city gate.

There were far fewer stalls at the city gate—about seventy to eighty percent less than usual—and a lot fewer customers. He sold slowly until noon, and still had some tofu sheets and pea cake left. So he simply packed up and went home under his umbrella.

Just after he got home, the drizzle stopped.

Staring at the overcast sky for a few seconds, he made a silent resolution: once he had earned enough money, he would definitely buy a small shop in the city.

It hurt—he had lost over a hundred wen for nothing today!

He sat at the dining table, just about to pick up his chopsticks, when suddenly Zhu Erhong’s voice came from the doorway: “Xiao Jin, you home?”

He put down his chopsticks and came out of the kitchen. Zhu Erhong had already entered the courtyard, with Qin An trailing behind her.

Qin An’s head was lowered, and he didn’t say a word.

Qin Jin smiled, “Auntie, done with your work at home?”

“There was rain, so there’s no need to water the crops. An-ge has some free time now. Xiao Jin, does what you said before still count?” Zhu Erhong’s eyes locked onto Qin Jin, but the corners of her eyes darted all around the courtyard.

This courtyard had been around for ten years. The base of the kitchen wall had already been worn down by wind and rain, becoming bumpy and pitted.

Compared to the big house her family had, this was far inferior.

But of all things, Qin Jin’s brain had suddenly become clever—not only had he come up with food products, but also those little pushcarts! Word had it that the Qin brothers pushed quite a few home yesterday, and each one cost 100 wen!

She had been a little hesitant at first, but now she immediately brought An-ge over.

She wanted to see just how Qin Jin was making his fortune!