Chapter 2: Cooking smoke rises from homes beneath the willow shadows

Seeing her daughter’s puzzled look, Mi Feng Niang offered a brief explanation:
“This is the household contribution twenty wen every day, handed over punctually at the set evening hour. The Ye family does not support idlers.”

Dad grinned foolishly as he pulled a pouch from his bosom, saying,
“All for your mother to keep.”

“Today, selling small vegetables fetched ninety wen, that’s twenty wen,” declared Ye Jin as she tugged on the pouch’s strap. With a swift movement, she emptied it onto the table, adding, “I’m too lazy to count it, mother, you do it yourself.”

Yin Ge casually picked up the two cloth sacks by the door and said,
“Today, the neighbor who helped put out the fire brought two bags of golden-silk jujubes, roughly worth fifty wen. All of it is for the household.”

Little sister methodically counted out twenty wen from the pouch at her waist:
“When the doctor took me to see a healer, they gave me a foot-long piece which I sold, and the doctor rewarded me with a few errand fees.”

Jin Ge struggled to retrieve a handful of coins from his bosom, stating,
“This is twenty wen.”

Mi Feng Niang reached out, “Is there more?”

Reluctantly, Jin Ge fished out a few more handfuls from his bosom, his expression pained as he handed over a dozen copper coins.

“Is there more?” Mi Feng Niang asked without missing a beat.

Jin Ge, in exasperation, removed his shoes and poured out several copper coins from within.

Even as Mi Feng Niang’s hand remained extended, Jin Ge resorted to extracting the last few copper coins from his hairline, lamenting, “Mother! I’m grown up now, I need to save some private money for socializing! And besides, why don’t our brothers and sisters chip in more?”

“What are you saving for?!” Mi Feng Niang retorted, delivering a firm smack to her son’s head, “Don’t be like Zhao Xiao Qi next door who hides his copper coins in his butt crack!”

Ye Zhan thought silently, while Zhao Xiao Qi regretfully, seemed to be known only through such a method.

“Do not defy your mother,” Ye Dafu admonished his son. “Everyone must contribute 20 wen for meals and rent, but if you have extra money given to your frivolous friends, it’s better if your mother saves it for you.”
He squeezed his son’s sleeve and, as if by routine, produced a few coins.

“That’s it. Really, that’s it.” With his head in his hands, Jin Ge fled, exclaiming, “If I were to lie, I’d turn into seventy-two bitches, all fighting at the door for dung!”

Fifth sister muttered, “Why fight over dung? Shouldn’t it be with other dogs?”

Mi Feng Niang swiftly stuffed the money into a loquat (hebzi) pouch, tucking it against her flesh, “Zhan, you’re new, no need to contribute for now.”

The brothers and sisters had no objections.

Ye Zhan pondered for a moment and untied the silk ribbon from her waist, saying,
“This embroidery, made in the style of the imperial household, can be sold for several tens of wen, it counts as my daily wage.”

That very day, she understood why the whole family placed such importance on money. In Bianjing, everything cost money: even the firewood for cooking, the water for drinking, and yes, even emptying the latrine required payment!

The house the family rented was supposedly the cheapest in the city, yet it still cost three guan per month. Living in the capital was no easy feat, one had to quickly find a way to earn a living.

Ye Zhan also brought along some money. She placed her travel bag on the table and said, “This is my luggage. Mother, please keep it safe.”
The lotus maids, having been sold off by their families and thus distrustful, advised her to observe the family’s character before revealing her wealth. But Ye Zhan, seeing that the Ye family had spent all their fortune solely to find their daughter and not like those who disregard righteousness for personal gain, chose to trust them.

The bag landed on the table with a crisp metallic clink. When opened, it glittered with an almost otherworldly radiance.
Mi Feng Niang promptly secured it with a basket of needles and thread.
Ye Dafu got up and hurried to the door to peer around, while Ye Yin stepped out, pacing like a bear with his massive arms.
Even the youngest, Ye Li, knew to whisper a warning to Ye Zhan, “Shh”

Ye Jin explained to her younger sister, “The coal yard alley is in chaos, what if someone’s watching and steals everything from you?”
Ye Zhan was taken aback and then wholeheartedly agreed.

Though security in Bianjing was good, every era had its share of thieves. After her time travel, Ye Zhan had worked as a maid in a large household and had forgotten how perilous the outside world could be.
So, she tidied her belongings and recounted the origins of her wealth to her family:
The senior lotus maidservant, whom Ye Zhan served, was a kind soul. She had taken the opportunity to explain Ye Zhan’s background to the old lady of the mansion, who delighted in such heartwarming stories of family reunion and, with a few sighs, bestowed some gifts.
The attendant ladies, eager to join in, also contributed.

Thus, Ye Zhan received two bolts of fine cloth, a silver pouch set with a gold-horse stirrup ring, a silver ring with red inlaid stone, and two sets of old dresses from the ladies.
Several well-acquainted senior maids also gifted Ye Zhan a few items: several exquisitely embroidered handkerchiefs and two silk flowers.
In addition, there were her own clothes and the savings she had amassed over the years as a maid, a total of two taels of silver.
These two taels represented over a decade’s worth of earnings, tokens of favor, and festival bonuses, all saved and kept by the lotus maidservant who, far from embezzling, even added a few coins to round it out.

Mi Feng Niang quickly distributed the wealth, saying,
“Keep one tael of silver at home, the rest the rings, silk, and handkerchiefs, are your private property.”

A tael of silver might not mean much to a wealthy family, but for the poor, it was enough to last several days.

A person’s daily expenses for food and drink were about 20 wen, so 1,000 wen could support the family for seven or eight days, perhaps even longer outside of Bianjing.

“Whatever Zhan Er decides to do with her own money is her business. No one else is to cause trouble. Do you all agree?”

Naturally, the family agreed.

After stashing the money away in a chamber pot tucked into a corner, Mi Feng Niang instructed the children to prepare a welcome meal for Zhan Er.

Ye Dafu sent Ye Jin to the alleyway to buy a small portion of pork and fished out a piece of dried *”biwengcai” (fermented preserved vegetables) from the large vat at the door.

“Do you like pork stew with preserved vegetables?” Mi Feng Niang wanted to make a proper meal to welcome her daughter home. “I’ll also steam a “fengyu” (dried wind-dried fish) and buy some fresh crucian carp as a side dish.”

“Mother, please don’t waste the ingredients. Let Aunt Zhao from next door help with the cooking,” Jin Ge hurriedly stopped her while rubbing his still-aching head. “The crucian carp you made during Dragon Boat Festival was so fishy and covered in scales! I hadn’t eaten meat in half a year, and I still couldn’t bring myself to eat it!”

“How did I waste food?” Mi Feng Niang put her hands on her hips, frowning at her disobedient son. “Besides, hiring help would cost extra money!”

“I’ll do it,” Ye Zhan quickly stepped in. “I used to help out in the grand kitchen at the manor, I know my way around the stove.”

The family looked skeptical, but Ye Zhan didn’t explain further. Instead, she simply washed her hands and got to work.

She sliced the pork, carefully handling the mix of lean and fatty meat. A large chunk of pure fat was also included.

In modern times, customers would avoid buying fatty cuts, but in an era where oil was scarce, such a piece was a gift worth appreciating.

Ye Zhan carefully separated the snowy-white fat and cut the remaining meat into thin strips.

Since the family rarely had the chance to eat meat, not a single bit of it could be wasted.

Next, she soaked the dried “songmo” (pine mushrooms) she had brought back, these were a small gift from Lian Hua, who had asked the third miss of the manor for some dried goods from the kitchen before Ye Zhan left.

She placed the fatty pork in the pot and rendered it over low heat.

Bit by bit, the white fat melted into a light golden liquid, sizzling softly in the pan.

Tiny oil droplets occasionally burst open with a “pop,” releasing a rich, savory aroma into the air.

“It smells amazing!” Ye Li leaned in, practically drooling. “Fatty meat!”

Ye Zhan picked up a piece of crispy, golden-brown pork crackling with her chopsticks and handed it to her. “Try it.”

Ye Li’s eyes lit up!

She carefully placed the pork crackling in her mouth.

A crisp “crunch” followed as the well-fried crackling shattered between her teeth, releasing a burst of rich, meaty flavor.

She let out a satisfied sigh.

But she quickly resisted the urge to chew further, such a delicious treat couldn’t be devoured too quickly!

Instead, she let the crackling slowly dissolve in her mouth, savoring the deep, roasted flavor of the fat.

Since the pork they bought was limited, only a small amount of lard could be rendered.

Ye Zhan scooped out a bowl of freshly made lard.

The family was poor, so even a few pieces of pork crackling had to be saved for multiple meals, and the lard itself was stored for later use.

Floating in the oil were four or five golden-brown pieces of crispy cracklings. Half were saved for another time, while the other half was finely chopped into tiny bits.

Seeing how skilled her daughter was in the kitchen, Mi Feng Niang felt a mix of relief and sadness.

“How did a maidservant learn to cook? You must have suffered a lot.”

Ye Zhan quickly reassured her family. “It wasn’t that the Du family treated their servants harshly, I simply enjoy cooking, so I learned a bit while helping in the grand kitchen.”

She had already decided to attribute her cooking skills to her time at the Du manor, avoiding unnecessary explanations.

The finely chopped pork cracklings were tossed into a wok with “baicong” (Chinese cabbage) leaves.

The tender cabbage wilted quickly under the heat,

absorbing the rich umami flavor of the rendered fat and cracklings.

That alone made it a proper meat dish.

The remaining lean pork was sliced and added to the pot along with the “fengyu” (wind-dried fish) and the soaked pine mushrooms.

The “fengyu”, tough and shrunken from wind-drying, slowly softened and plumped up as it simmered.

There was only a little bit of fermented bean paste in the house. Ye Zhan dipped her chopsticks in it and added just a small amount to the stew.

Mi Feng Niang wanted to add more. “You rarely come home, we should make this meal special.”

“This paste is made from quality soybeans, it would be a shame to waste it.”

Ye Zhan smiled at her mother as she explained.

Judging from the scrape marks inside the jar, it was clear that the family had been reluctant to use the paste. She would rather eat less herself.

Meanwhile, Ye Jin had kneaded a batch of dough and was pressing small flatbreads along the side of the pot.

“Firewood is expensive. We might as well cook some buckwheat flatbreads while the stew is simmering.”

Ye Zhan nodded. In Bianjing, even firewood had to be bought, so it was best to use it efficiently.

She also added some vermicelli noodles and the leftover cabbage stems to the pot, all to soak up the rich flavors of the fish and pork belly.