Chapter 36: The Matchmaker Visits

“This morning the hens laid a full twelve eggs. Unbelievable—I’ve lived all these years and never once seen a hen lay two eggs in a day. But all six hens did it! If they keep this up, will we ever have to worry about silver again?

The only thing is, the eggs aren’t all the same size. One was especially tiny—probably didn’t get enough to eat. Later I’ll call your brothers to dig up some worms in the hills, give the hens more meat to eat.

Come on now, wash up. I cracked four eggs to make sprout-and-egg soup. Everyone gets a big bowl, with a heaping spoon of lard added in. Guaranteed delicious.”

Zhang Jinlan was still marveling.

So much so that she was generous for once—using up four whole eggs in one meal.

A rare luxury to improve the family’s diet.

“Got it…”

But eggs did nothing to cheer Jiang Fubao.

She listlessly went to wash her face and brush her teeth.

Then she carried her breakfast out into the courtyard to eat.

The bowl was small, made of wood.

Inside was sprout vegetable, boiled several times to chase out the bitterness. With lard and egg to mellow the taste, the harshness was greatly reduced.

Her appetite slowly came back.

Halfway through her meal—

An old woman with the look of a matchmaker entered the courtyard, leading three females.

Why call her a matchmaker?

Because of the big, obvious mole on her cheek—the classic “matchmaker’s mole”—visible from ten paces away.

The three behind her: one elderly woman, a matron in her thirties, and a younger girl.

Judging by their resemblance, they were likely from the same family.

And that young girl—she was no doubt the “future sister-in-law” being brought to meet Fubao’s eldest cousin.

Fubao studied her carefully.

The “future sister-in-law” had decent looks. Her skin was darkened by the sun, but her features weren’t bad. And compared to the Jiang family, she was clearly better dressed.

Her clothes were plain hemp, yet spotlessly neat, without a single patch.

So new they looked freshly made.

“Jinlan-sis, you home? I was passing by and thought I’d stop in for a cup of water,” the matchmaker called as soon as she stepped through the Jiang family’s gate.

“Coming, coming.”

From the back garden came Zhang Jinlan’s voice.

She was watering the kitchen patch.

“Well well, Sister Zhou, you’re here! Hurry inside and sit—”

But as soon as she caught sight of the three women behind the matchmaker, her eyes flicked straight to the young girl.

A quick appraisal, then a satisfied nod.

Thin, yes—but pleasant enough in looks, and would pair well with her eldest grandson.

“That’s right. I was just passing, mouth parched, thought I’d stop in for a sip. I hope it’s no bother?”

Among farm folk, match-making wasn’t as stiff or guarded as in the towns.

Usually, the matchmaker led the man’s side to the woman’s home. The young folk chatted; the elders discreetly probed family backgrounds. If conversation flowed and both sides approved, the marriage was all but set.

But they never admitted outright it was a matchmaking visit.

If the match fell through, the girl’s reputation might be harmed.

So the matchmaker always made up excuses—pretending they were simply paying a visit.

Fubao chuckled inwardly.

This Zhou Matchmaker was amusing.

Her excuse was paper-thin.

A woman from Zhoujia Village—how would she just happen to “pass by” Jiangjia Village?

It was practically a signboard on her forehead: Yes, I’m a matchmaker.

“What’s this about bothering? Come in, sit. Eldest daughter-in-law, run to the fields and fetch Tongjin.”

Zhang Jinlan called toward the kitchen.

This was her first time experiencing the girl’s family visiting their home for a look.

A bit puzzled, but she didn’t ask questions.

She hurriedly sent her eldest daughter-in-law to fetch her grandson from the fields.

The matchmaker had come unannounced—she hadn’t prepared at all.

Fubao sat with her bowl, perched on a little stool, watching closely as her grandmother exchanged greetings.

Her soup was going cold.

“Oh my, is this your granddaughter? What a beauty! White and chubby, and those big eyes—born so well! When she grows up, your doorstep will be worn down by suitors. Remember to come find me then! I’ll guarantee her the best husband. What’s her name, by the way?”

As Zhang Jinlan ushered the women toward the main hall, the matchmaker’s gaze snagged on Fubao.

Delighted, she hurried over, scooped the little girl up, and cooed over her endlessly.

There were plenty of girls in the villages, true.

But one born with such obvious “good fortune” looks? Rare indeed.

“Matchmaker-Grandma, my name’s Fubao,” Fubao piped up before her grandmother could answer.

“Well aren’t you clever! Fubao, Fubao—a blessed treasure indeed. A fine name! And how old is our little Fubao this year?”

The matchmaker warmed to her even more at her lack of shyness.

“Three!”

Fubao stuck up three stubby fingers, round and pink like little radishes.

Adorable.

The matchmaker almost wanted to carry her home and raise her herself.

But remembering today’s purpose, she reluctantly set Fubao down, praised her again, and led the three women inside with Zhang Jinlan.

“Jinlan-sis, this here is Madam Zhou Chen, a close acquaintance of mine. She has two sons. This girl, Yuanyuan, is her eldest’s daughter—raised with every care since birth. I watched Yuanyuan grow up: gentle, obedient, sensible. Nothing to complain of.

Yesterday when I mentioned your family to Madam Zhou, she immediately thought she should meet your Tongjin.

Since the villages are near, why not? Just treat it as dropping by to visit. Isn’t that so, Madam Zhou?

And this is Jinlan-sis, whom I told you of yesterday. Yuanyuan, come greet your Aunt Zhang.”

The matchmaker’s nature was bold and straightforward.

No chit-chat, no circling around—straight to introductions.

“Hello, Aunt Zhang.”

Zhou Yuanyuan stepped forward obediently, her voice soft.

Her temperament looked easy enough.

“Good, good, what a fine girl! And how old are you this year?”

Matchmaking always came with “checking the household register.”

Fubao, lugging her stool into the hall, arrived just in time to see.

Her eldest cousin’s blind date—of course she wanted to observe.

“Fifteen,” Yuanyuan replied quietly.

“Mhm, same age as my Tongjin. Just wait a moment—he went to the fields early. His mother’s fetching him now.

Second daughter-in-law, pour a few cups of hot water. There’s still a bit of malt sugar in the cupboard—cut it into four pieces and put them in the cups.”

Zhang Jinlan instructed, then lowered her voice as she stepped outside the hall to call to Sun Pingmei.

Fubao, sitting nearby, heard it clearly.

Tea leaves were too costly for farming households.

Serving sugar water was already the highest form of hospitality.

But the Jiang family was dirt poor.

So poor they could hardly keep the pot filled—who would buy sugar?

Only because she remembered there was a small leftover piece of malt sugar did Zhang Jinlan decide to cut it into four.

So at least the guests would have something sweet.