Chapter 41.2

Two yuan wasn’t much, but Wen Xin thought about it—it wouldn’t require much effort. She would only need to prepare the ingredients, and Grandpa Wei could watch the fire. Unlike rice or flour, oil wasn’t something people consumed in large quantities every day, so she couldn’t rely on selling it frequently. A few occasional sales were fine, but not a daily hustle.

Coming to this era, she still had to earn tuition and living expenses for university. The thought made her want to cry. How many times had she already saved up for university? Would she ever actually finish her studies?

Two yuan per day meant sixty yuan a month. In seven months, she’d have over four hundred yuan. That wasn’t bad at all. Plus, there might be female customers at the restaurant—she could even sell them her imperial oil products. Business opportunities were where people gathered. She was new to this place, knew few people, and needed a steady customer base.

“No, Grandpa, tell the boss lady I’ll do it!” Wen Xin grinned sweetly at Grandpa Wei. Of course, she would! That Gu family’s boss lady was one of the first pioneers in private business ventures.

The way she was running things now was essentially the predecessor of small private restaurants. By next year, she’d likely be able to apply for a business license. The black market had already transitioned into an open free market. Private businesses would soon be legalized.

…

The next day, the weather was gloomy, with a fine drizzle veiling Longzhou. The entire city was shrouded in misty rain, creating a dreamlike, poetic atmosphere. The black-tiled, white-walled alleyways gleamed as the rainwashed the stone pavement back to its original deep blue-gray. The rain-drenched city carried an enchanting, ethereal beauty.

To Wen Xin, the city was breathtaking. As she followed Grandpa Wei into a three-story building and stepped into a simple yet elegant main hall, others found their first impression of her equally striking.

Holding an oil-paper umbrella, she followed Grandpa Wei through the narrow alley. As soon as they entered the house, Grandpa Wei stepped aside, and Gu Qingtong’s eyes lit up at the sight of her.

Her long, waterfall-like hair was pinned up, revealing a delicate face no larger than a palm. Her bright, expressive eyes shimmered with light, and a gentle smile played on her lips. Her lips were as red as ripe wild cherries in early summer, and her skin was so fair it seemed dusted with snow. She wore a fitted, vintage-style crossover blouse with a high-waisted long skirt. As she walked, her waist swayed ever so slightly—three parts natural habit, seven parts unconscious grace.

However, in Gu Qingtong’s eyes, despite the girl’s charm, there was no hint of vulgarity. Her poised posture revealed that she was still an unwed young lady, even if her movements carried a natural allure.

“This is my niece, Wei Xin. And this is Madam Gu, the boss lady of the Gu family restaurant. You can call her Sister Gu,” Grandpa Wei introduced.

Madam Gu? What an old-fashioned way to address someone. But in this era, there were all sorts of titles. Wen Xin had seen enough modern beauties that Gu Qingtong’s appearance didn’t particularly stun her. However, the woman’s unique aura did stand out.

Some things, like temperament, were intangible. But when faced with someone who truly possessed it, the difference was obvious. Gu Qingtong had a refined presence that set her apart.

If Wen Xin looked like she had stepped out of a modern fashion magazine, then Gu Qingtong seemed like she had walked straight out of an ancient beauty painting.

Wen Xin was easygoing and uninhibited, while Gu Qingtong was reserved and graceful.

Gu Qingtong found Wen Xin youthful and lively, while Wen Xin found Gu Qingtong pleasant to be around.

“Hello, Boss Lady,” Wen Xin greeted, extending her hand.

“Hello, Miss Wei.”

“… Just call me Wen Xin,” Wen Xin nearly facepalmed. “Miss” in this era sounded like a noble princess, but in modern times, it wasn’t exactly a flattering term. Nowadays, people called each other “sister.”

Gu Qingtong smiled faintly. “You may call me Qingtong.”

“Alright then, Qingtong-jie.”

Wen Xin found her time at the restaurant rather enjoyable. Grandpa Wei was always there to take care of her, and the Gu couple were neither overly chatty nor overly silent. The environment was peaceful, and when there were no customers, she could retreat to a quiet room to read. While the fish head soup simmered on the stove, she kept an eye on the fire and memorized her study material at the same time.

Gu Qingtong was someone who understood boundaries and propriety very well. She specifically set up a separate stove for Wen Xin, partitioning off a space so that no one would feel like they were prying into her cooking skills. Her mute husband was incredibly efficient—within half a day, he had built the stove using green bricks.

At first, Wen Xin would come, put the ingredients into the pot, light the fire, and then leave, with Grandpa Wei keeping an eye on it. But later, she got tired of making the trip back and forth and started carrying a book bag, just like a student.

She would read while tending to the soup, then go home with Grandpa Wei in the evening.

When the kitchen got busy, she’d lend a hand.

“Wen Xin…” Qingtong called her.

“Yes!” Wen Xin quickly scooped up a bowl of fish soup and brought it over.

Her setup had one stove with two pots. The fish soup pot wasn’t large—just an old-fashioned ceramic pot that had likely been used for years. Only these well-seasoned clay pots could bring out the best flavor in soups.

Since the other stove was idle, Wen Xin, being a diligent person, wouldn’t let it go to waste. She also had a natural knack for business—not that it took much thought, really. Modern restaurants often bundled additional items as part of their service.

So, she casually filled a pot with water, sprinkled in a little premium sea salt extracted from her system, and added a few drops of shrimp oil. She had quite a stock of specialty oils in her system—peanut oil, almond oil, sesame oil, walnut oil—over a dozen varieties. Yan Zeyang had given her a bag of hazelnuts once, and she hadn’t finished shelling them, so she extracted hazelnut oil instead.

A few drops of mixed oils, a handful of chopped scallions, and just like that, a simple clear soup was ready. She offered it for free—any guest who wanted a bowl could have one on the house.

To her surprise, the clear soup was a hit. It was gone in no time.

The people dining here weren’t ordinary folks—most common citizens dined at state-run restaurants. Gu Qingtong’s customers were mostly referrals—someone had a good experience, brought a friend, the friend liked it, and brought a colleague.

Her braised duck was truly exceptional, unavailable elsewhere. Private restaurants were rare, state-run eateries were mediocre at best, and Gu Qingtong thrived on reputation. Ordinary people couldn’t afford to eat here often, and she didn’t cater to them anyway. Her customers were professionals, well-paid government employees who occasionally treated themselves to a good meal with friends.

That day, four tables were occupied. Two rooms, each divided into two compartments, were completely full.

Wen Xin had already made three pots of clear soup.

At first, when the small-time municipal officials saw the clear broth served at their table, they thought it was just water used to rinse out the cooking pots. Their faces darkened.

Even if it was free, what was the meaning of this? A bowl of soup with a thin layer of oil, some floating scallions, and clear enough to see the bottom—wasn’t this just dishwater?

A few people refused to drink it. But then, one of them, already stuffed from the meal, took a sip just to wash it down.

And then—whoa!

He downed the whole bowl in one go and asked for more.

There was nothing in the soup, yet it was absurdly delicious. If you felt heavy from eating duck, a sip of this cleared away all the grease, making room for another round.

By the end of the meal, everyone was full, satisfied, and impressed.

Gu Qingtong came in, smiling, and handed Wen Xin ten yuan—six yuan for the three pots of fish soup, and the rest for the clear soup.

Being sharp-eyed, Gu Qingtong knew right away that the clear soup was no mere rinse water.

Wen Xin was in need of money, so she accepted it without hesitation. “Thanks, Qingtong-jie.”

Then, as if she’d just thought of something, she grinned and asked, “By the way, Qingtong-jie, what do you use for skincare? I have an amazing face oil. Try it out—if you like it, I’ll give you a special price.”

After using it for two days, Gu Qingtong handed her ten yuan and bought two boxes.

In just a few days, Wen Xin had made dozens of yuan.

The only downside? Most of the diners were men. Hardly any women.

If only she could get these men to buy some for their wives… But knowing them, they’d rather spend money on food than skincare.

Whenever Wen Xin had free time at the Gu household, she read. When she got tired, she’d help out—carrying dishes, handing out bowls.

She was warm, cheerful, and charming. Her presence was both pleasant and perceptive, making customers feel at ease.

And because of her, business flourished even more.

The previous day, an official from the industrial and commercial bureau had casually asked Gu Qingtong, “Comrade Qingtong, is this young lady, Xiao Wei, seeing anyone?”

Gu Qingtong smiled. “I wouldn’t know. Why do you ask, Director Liu?”

“I think she’s a good girl. I’d like to introduce her to someone.”

Just as she was about to reply, another table called for her attention, so she excused herself with a smile and left the room.

Ever since Wen Xin arrived, the restaurant’s business had soared.

Before, they’d serve two or three tables a day, five at most. Now, they had eight or nine daily.

Each table left behind twenty to thirty yuan, meaning the daily revenue was now over two to three hundred yuan.

After deducting costs and wages, the net profit was two hundred yuan.

In an era where the average monthly salary was fifty yuan, skilled workers earned seventy or eighty, and government employees made around a hundred, this was an extraordinary income.

Before Wen Xin arrived, the Gu family’s daily earnings were around sixty yuan. Now, they had tripled that.

“You’re like a little lucky star,” Gu Qingtong remarked.

Wen Xin, holding her ten-yuan daily wage, grinned. “If I’m a lucky star, then how about a raise, boss?”

“Still not enough?” Gu Qingtong teased. “Go ahead, ask around—who else earns ten yuan a day?”

Wen Xin sighed. She would’ve loved to ride this wave and make more money.

But she had no time. Every day, she had to study. Running a business like this wasn’t something that could be done overnight. Better to wait until she got into university.

The next morning was chilly.

Wen Xin wore a pink wool sweater knitted by Grandma Wei. The old lady worked fast—she had finished it in just a day. She had nimble hands, perfectly following Wen Xin’s requested design.

The sweater was loose and cozy, with a wide, round neckline. Paired with straight-cut blue trousers, Wen Xin looked soft, sweet, but not overly sugary.

That evening, she stopped by the Gu household to take some duck meat back to Grandma Wei for dinner, then returned to help out.

Sure enough, as soon as she entered the alleyway, she saw Grandpa Wei and the mute husband carrying trays of braised duck and marinated dishes, delivering them to the two occupied rooms.

Grandpa Wei’s legs had been feeling a bit off these past two days, so Wen Xin quickly took over, letting him rest. She picked up the platter of duck meat and carried it over to the other room. Just as she stepped out into the alleyway, she heard the sound of a car approaching from outside.

Who could be driving here? Cars were still a rare sight at this time. Even Gu Qingtong stepped out from the kitchen to take a look.

The customers who usually came here were all friends or acquaintances from government offices—minor officials with stable incomes who could afford to eat here. Most of them were familiar faces. But someone arriving by car? That was a first.

Through the bamboo curtain in the alley, Wen Xin saw someone stepping out of the vehicle.

It was a black, domestically made sedan, and two men emerged from it.

Both were dressed fashionably, but one of them stood out in particular—tall and strikingly handsome. Even from a distance, he exuded an air of sophistication that was rare in these times. His outfit was stylish, even by the standards of Wen Xin’s past life—an ash-gray woolen overcoat left unbuttoned, revealing a white sweater underneath, paired with black trousers and polished black military boots. When he stepped out from the passenger seat, his long legs hit the ground gracefully. As he slightly lowered his head and cast a sidelong glance in their direction before standing upright, the sheer elegance of his demeanor was almost surreal—especially in contrast to the plain and outdated fashion of the people around him.

The courtyard wasn’t large, so it only took a few steps for the two men to walk in. As they lifted the curtain and entered, one followed closely behind the other. The first man, tall and wearing glasses, led the way. The one behind him, with an open coat and a strikingly defined brow, carried a brooding expression as if he weren’t in the best of moods.

As he entered, his gaze swept across the room and landed on Wen Xin. She stood there, long hair coiled up, with a few soft strands falling against her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted in surprise, frozen in place as she stared at him.

Gu Qingtong didn’t recognize the man in the back, but she could tell he was far more distinguished than the one in front. She did, however, recognize the first man—he had been here once before. He was a minor section chief in the education bureau, but his father was someone of considerable influence.

“Gentlemen, welcome to my humble establishment. Please, this way,” Gu Qingtong greeted them warmly, maintaining a polite yet professional demeanor as she led them to a separate dining room.

As the two men passed by Wen Xin, the second man suddenly stopped right in front of her.