Carrying a large bundle of firewood on his shoulder, Xiao Jingzhao stopped in his tracks when he heard the familiar cry of someone selling wool. He turned his head and saw a poorly dressed boy holding a bundle of wool, trying to sell it on the street. Passersby either ignored him or shooed him away impatiently.

Xiao Jingzhao recalled how Jiang Huai had asked the shopkeeper about this boy’s address a couple of days ago but hadn’t had time to follow up. Now that he’d come across the boy by chance, it seemed like a good idea to buy some.

Turning on his heel, Xiao Jingzhao walked toward the boy.

The boy, visibly dejected from his failed attempts to sell, perked up when he noticed someone approaching. Forcing a smile, he prepared to deliver his pitch again.

“I’ll take all the wool.”

“All… all of it?” The boy was so surprised that he stammered, instantly regretting it. If the customer wanted to buy everything, it was a blessing—why did he have to question it? What if the man changed his mind?

“Yes, all of it. How much?” Xiao Jingzhao’s tone was curt and efficient.

“Thirty wen per jin. I have six jin here. That’s… one hundred eighty wen,” the boy answered, watching nervously to see if Xiao Jingzhao would think it was too expensive.

Without hesitation, Xiao Jingzhao handed over the money.

The boy stared at the coins in his hand, palms damp with sweat. He had been trying to sell wool on the street for days. While he occasionally sold a little, buyers were usually picky, and it was hard to sell even two jin. Now, someone had bought six jin in one go—this was a big deal for him.

Noticing the bundle of firewood in Xiao Jingzhao’s hand, the boy offered hesitantly, “Sir, the wool is heavy. Let me deliver it to your residence.”

Xiao Jingzhao was about to refuse but paused, thinking of Jiang Huai. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. If Jiang Huai needed more wool in the future, having it delivered would be more convenient. Plus, Jiang Huai might have questions for the boy.

Delighted by the agreement, the boy quickly hugged the wool to his chest and followed Xiao Jingzhao as they navigated the twists and turns back to the house.

In the kitchen, Jiang Huai had just used the last bit of firewood to evaporate water and crystallize some fine salt. Though it wasn’t perfectly white, it was leagues better than the coarse, gray-black salt from earlier.

Hearing footsteps outside, Jiang Huai scraped the salt into a small jar and rushed out, eager to show off his accomplishment to Xiao Jingzhao.

“Guess what this is?” Jiang Huai’s face glowed with pride as he held up the jar, expecting to see Xiao Jingzhao’s astonished reaction. But his expression froze when he noticed the boy following behind Xiao Jingzhao.

Why had he brought a child back?

“Put the wool over there,” Xiao Jingzhao instructed, pointing to a spot by the wall.

The boy obediently placed the wool down. Though curious about the courtyard, he didn’t dare look around too much for fear of offending the customer.

“It’s you?” Jiang Huai exclaimed when he recognized the boy as the same one he’d seen selling wool before. Surprised, he stared at the boy.

The boy looked up at Jiang Huai, and after a moment, he too remembered the encounter.

“I saw him selling wool on the street and remembered you wanted some, so I bought it all,” Xiao Jingzhao explained.

The boy quickly realized that the younger-looking Jiang Huai was the real decision-maker in this household. Nervous, he recalled how the shopkeeper had badmouthed wool the last time. What if Jiang Huai didn’t want it after all?

Clutching the coins in his pocket tightly, the boy debated running away. His mother needed the money for medicine—there was no way he could return it. Since the wool was already sold, maybe he should just leave now.

However, before he could move, Jiang Huai gave Xiao Jingzhao a thumbs-up, the universal sign of approval.

Though Jiang Huai said nothing, Xiao Jingzhao understood the gesture’s meaning and turned his head slightly, his ears tinged red. He hadn’t bought the wool expecting praise.

“Kid, your house is near the big tree at the bend in the road to Wanzhou Village, right?” Jiang Huai asked, recalling the address the shopkeeper had mentioned. For caution’s sake, he wanted to confirm.

The boy’s steps faltered. If Jiang Huai knew where he lived, running away now would be pointless. They’d just track him down later, making things worse.

Noticing the boy’s hesitation, Jiang Huai repeated the question. The boy stiffly nodded, attributing his reaction to nervousness around strangers. Xiao Jingzhao, however, picked up on the boy’s unease and subtly moved closer to Jiang Huai, ready to intervene if needed.

“How much wool do you have left at home?” Jiang Huai asked. Seeing the boy’s dazed look, he added, “Do you have twenty or thirty jin?”

“Yes! We have more than that. Do you want it all?” The boy’s excitement surged as he realized Jiang Huai wasn’t asking to return the wool but to buy more.

“Not right now. I’m just asking. If I need more, I’ll buy it from you next time,” Jiang Huai replied with a smile.

Though momentarily disappointed, the boy quickly regained hope. At least Jiang Huai had shown interest, unlike other buyers who never came back after their first purchase.

After answering Jiang Huai’s questions, the boy left. It wasn’t until then that Jiang Huai remembered the salt he’d been so eager to show off earlier. Before he could say anything, Xiao Jingzhao asked, “What was it you wanted to show me?”

“Oh, right!” Jiang Huai quickly grabbed the jar again. “Guess what this is?”

Though not particularly curious, Xiao Jingzhao feigned interest and peered inside.

“Salt?” he guessed immediately. The contents were noticeably whiter than the coarse salt they had purchased earlier. “Did you buy this?”

Instead of answering, Jiang Huai urged him to taste it first.

Confused but cooperative, Xiao Jingzhao dipped a finger in. The salt was sharply salty, with only a faint trace of bitterness—a vast improvement over the coarse version.

“How is it?” Jiang Huai asked.

“Next time, let’s buy this kind of salt, even if it’s more expensive. We can try returning the other batch,” Xiao Jingzhao suggested. He didn’t think they’d actually be able to return it but said so to ease Jiang Huai’s concerns about waste.

“How much do you think this salt costs per jin?” Jiang Huai asked, a mischievous smile on his face.

“At least 200 wen,” Xiao Jingzhao estimated.

“Wrong. I didn’t buy it. This is refined from those gray salt blocks,” Jiang Huai said with a triumphant grin.

“What?!” Xiao Jingzhao’s rare look of shock appeared. He stared at the pristine white salt, then at the memory of the grimy blocks they’d started with. How could this be the same salt?

Jiang Huai pulled him into the kitchen and demonstrated the process: dissolving, filtering, evaporating, and crystallizing.

“And that’s it. There’s some loss in the process, but it’s still cheaper than buying high-quality salt,” Jiang Huai explained.

Watching the fine salt crystals form in the jar and comparing them to the remaining coarse blocks, Xiao Jingzhao muttered, “You can refine salt like this?”

“Yep, though it uses up a lot of firewood,” Jiang Huai said.

“Is this the money-making idea you mentioned earlier?” Xiao Jingzhao asked. He had assumed Jiang Huai’s plan revolved around wool, but compared to refining salt, wool didn’t seem as profitable.

Salt, especially fine salt, could fetch a high price in major cities, even selling for a tael of silver per jin among noble families in the capital. If they could enter this trade, they wouldn’t just cover the labor levy—they’d be set for life.

Jiang Huai was stunned by how quickly Xiao Jingzhao jumped to conclusions. Seriously? As a former military officer, shouldn’t Xiao Jingzhao be more cautious about the risks of dealing in illicit salt?

Afraid his frugality had pushed Xiao Jingzhao into considering illegal activities, Jiang Huai resolved to ease up on penny-pinching in the future.

Shaking his head, he said, “We can’t get into the salt trade. Without connections, protection, and trustworthy workers, it’s impossible. We’d just end up as scapegoats for the local officials.”

To Jiang Huai, this was a cautionary warning. But to Xiao Jingzhao, it sounded like Jiang Huai genuinely wanted to pursue the idea but lacked the resources.

“I understand,” Xiao Jingzhao replied, lowering his gaze.

Relieved that his warning seemed to work, Jiang Huai let out a breath. The last thing he wanted was to lead Xiao Jingzhao astray.

Despite talking past each other, both believed they had reached an understanding.

Meanwhile, Xiao Jingzhao hesitated about revealing the stuffed flatbreads he had bought. Before he could decide, Jiang Huai sniffed the air.

“Wait, what’s that smell on you?”

Realizing he couldn’t hide it, Xiao Jingzhao took out the flatbreads, still warm and golden on both sides. “I bought some sesame flatbreads in case you didn’t like the previous salt.”

He sounded nervous, worried Jiang Huai would think he’d wasted money. To his surprise, Jiang Huai didn’t mind. Instead, he felt the flatbreads and found they were still hot.

“Let’s eat together,” Jiang Huai said, sharing them with Xiao Jingzhao.

While eating, Jiang Huai decided to make something to complement the flatbreads. He cracked three eggs, whisked them with water, salt, and a dash of sesame oil, and steamed them in a clay pot using the residual heat from evaporating the saltwater.

Soon, the steamed egg custard was ready. Jiang Huai eagerly went to serve it but was beaten to it by Xiao Jingzhao, who quickly retrieved the dish himself.

However, the bowl had been steaming in boiling water and was scalding hot. Even a brief touch left Xiao Jingzhao’s fingers reddened.

“Quick, pinch your earlobe!” Jiang Huai exclaimed.

Confused but obedient, Xiao Jingzhao followed the advice. The coolness of his earlobe immediately soothed the burn.

As Jiang Huai fetched a bowl of water for him to soak his fingers, he scolded, “Don’t be so hasty next time! You’ll hurt yourself.”

“You were about to grab it just now,” Xiao Jingzhao pointed out.

“I… I was wrong, okay? Let’s both be more careful next time,” Jiang Huai admitted sheepishly, embarrassed by his own impatience.

“Now, let’s try this steamed egg custard,” Jiang Huai said, shifting the focus. Staring at the golden custard, he couldn’t help but salivate—it had been far too long since he’d had such a treat.

Dividing the custard into two bowls, Jiang Huai handed one to Xiao Jingzhao. “Taste it and see.”

Xiao Jingzhao wasn’t usually particular about food. Whether it was fine palace cuisine or the rough meals of exile, he didn’t care much. But seeing Jiang Huai’s anticipation, he took a bite.

The custard was silky smooth, perfectly seasoned, and free of any eggy aftertaste. He had never tasted anything quite like it, not even meat broths compared.

As he savored the custard, Xiao Jingzhao mused quietly to himself. The secret, he realized, was in the salt.