Chapter 128: Success, New Year Goods

Chapter 128 Success New Year's Treats

"I knew Eldest Brother would come up with something different. But what are rice noodles, málà tàng, and hot-and-sour noodles? How do you make them?" Aunt Bing asked.

Nan Jinping also gazed at Bing Wengu with sparkling eyes, his stomach growling at the thought of his cooking skills.

Bing Wengu gave him a fond smile. "Ever since we arrived in Ji County, I've been so busy that I haven’t had the chance to cook for you. Since we have time today, I’ll make some new dishes for you to try."

Nan Jinping nodded eagerly, while Aunt Bing watched the two of them, oblivious to everyone else, with a hint of envy.

In her youth, she had once dreamed of such a harmonious partnership—a couple working together in mutual affection. Yet now, her own marriage had ended in acrimony and estrangement.

But Aunt Bing didn’t resent her brother and his brother’s wife’s happiness. If possible, she would gladly trade any chance of love in her remaining years for them to stay as blissful as they were now, growing old together in affection. As for herself, she only wished to raise her three children safely. If they could make something of themselves, that would be even better.

Nan Jinping smiled, his eyes crinkling with joy.

Bing Wengu changed into homespun work clothes he used to wear at home before taking the imperial exams, making it easier to cook. Though he usually wore his official robes these days, he still had a few sets of everyday clothes—though they were made of fine fabric and unsuitable for manual labor.

"I’ll change too and help you," Nan Jinping offered. His clothes were woven from imperial silks bestowed by the current emperor.

"You don’t belong in the kitchen," Bing Wengu replied without hesitation, revealing his genuine thoughts.

Aunt Bing quickly interjected, "Eldest Brother is going to the trouble of teaching me. How could we ask you to help? I’ll assist instead."

Bing Wengu said, "If you don’t want to stay alone in your room, you can just sit and watch in the kitchen."

"Alright," Nan Jinping conceded.

Bing Wengu found their kitchen well-stocked with ingredients and seasonings.

First, he took a chicken and boiled it in a large clay pot, adding dried mushrooms and black fungus.

"You must add dried mushrooms. When cooked with chicken, they deepen the savoriness, creating a unique umami taste." Essentially, it was similar to the effect of seasoning powders like we use today, though such things didn’t exist in this era.

He then took another pot, tossed in pork bones, dried mushrooms, dried citrus peel, star anise, and other spices, and let it simmer.

Next, he instructed Aunt Bing to prepare thin rice noodles, cold noodles, tapioca noodles, and vermicelli.

By the time these staples were ready, the chicken broth was done. Bing Wengu used the chicken and pork bone broths as bases for the rice noodles.

"Rice noodles cooked in chicken broth make a ‘Three Delicacies’ version, while those in pork bone broth can be called ‘Bone Broth Rice Noodles,’" he explained as he worked.

"At home, you can add any vegetables you like. For selling, just include a small portion of common greens—like two cabbage leaves, homegrown bean sprouts, or shredded tofu skin. For flavor, you can offer spicy or original. For those who like heat, add some prickly ash."

"Málà tàng is made the same way, but with cold noodles and more vegetables. Besides the ones in rice noodles, you can add tofu skin, dried tofu, tofu puffs, and black fungus—all common ingredients. The key is sesame paste—it’s a must."

"As for hot-and-sour noodles, just use the bone broth and pick one or two vegetables. Skip the sesame paste, but add vinegar."

Ji County (a fictional northern setting with harsh winters) was in the north, where winters were severe and crops couldn’t grow, so ordinary households had no access to fresh vegetables. Most families stockpiled enough produce before winter, storing them in cellars.

Common vegetables included cabbage, bok choy, leaf mustard, and yellow chives. Cellars would be stacked with cabbages, and jars upon jars of pickled vegetables would line the shelves.

But this was the reality for common folk—the Bing household was different.

Bing Wengu had a glasshouse, so fresh vegetables were never in short supply. Thus, the málà tàng and rice noodles he prepared were filled with fresh greens rarely seen in winter.

As they talked, the food was ready. The aroma filled the air, making Nan Jinping and Aunt Bing salivate.

"Alright, try it," Bing Wengu said, handing the chopsticks to Nan Jinping.

Nan Jinping didn’t refuse and took the first bite, her eyes sparkling. "Bing Wengu, this is delicious! The rice noodles are perfectly chewy and bouncy. The cold noodles are flavorful too, and the cassava noodles are also tasty."

Nan Jinping couldn’t stop praising, showering compliments one after another. "Bing Wengu, you should eat too. Aunt Bing, you should also try."

In the end, all three of them finished everything, their bellies stuffed.

"Bing Dalang, if I can replicate even a third of your skill, I'll make a fortune," Aunt Bing said earnestly. "Truly, clever folks are good at anything. Back then, Bing Dalang had never stepped into the kitchen before, yet his first try was a hit."

Nan Jinping glanced at Bing Wengu. Of course, he knew that the first time Bing Wengu entered the kitchen was for him. Now, looking back on those times, the memories were tinged with golden warmth—exceptionally tender and heartwarming.

Bing Wengu explained a few more tips to Aunt Bing before taking Nan Jinping out to play.

Seven days later, Aunt Bing's clay pot rice noodle shop opened. The reason it happened so quickly was because Nan Jinping rented one of his own shops to Aunt Bing. Since she didn’t have extra money, Nan Jinping simply agreed she could pay later when she had it.

Word spread thanks to Lord Bing, and locals learned the noodle shop was opened by the County Magistrate’s elder sister, so they turned up in droves on opening day.

The first to arrive were the merchants Bing Wengu had recruited from other cities. These men had come to Ji County to set up factories. At first, things went well—with tax breaks and perks, they made a fortune.

Later, when Ji County suffered a drought, sales tanked, and they discussed shutting down the workshops and leaving.

It wasn’t that they were shady—it was simply unprofitable. Running such large workshops meant daily losses, and they still had to pay workers’ wages on time. They were bleeding cash.

Then, when Lin'an Prefecture also faced drought, their business there took a nosedive. Unable to hold on any longer, they planned to close shop. That was when Bing Wengu reappeared and talked with them. Considering he was an official, they felt obliged to give him some face and stayed. Unexpectedly, things took a wild turn.

Now, Ji County had become the place to be. Not only had many who fled returned, but new residents were also moving in.

Proprietor Zhou and his companions entered the noodle shop, where Aunt Bing greeted them with a smile. "What would you like, folks?"

Proprietor Zhou looked at the wooden menu plaques on the wall, carved with dish names.

"Only twelve coppers a bowl?" he exclaimed in surprise. "Why so cheap?"

Aunt Bing smiled. "They’re just humble fare."

Proprietor Zhou studied her with a complicated expression. "I thought it’d be more expensive, since it’s the Magistrate’s sister’s shop. But then again, businesses run by Lord Bing’s relatives have always been affordable. Of course, the colored glaze workshop doesn’t count—that’s not for folks like us."

Aunt Bing gave a nervous grin, unsure how to respond. Afraid of saying too much and causing trouble for Bing Wengu, she changed the subject. "What would you like to order?"

"There are three of us, so one of everything. Also, give us one of each fried skewer and three bowls of hot soy milk," Proprietor Zhou said.

"Alright," Aunt Bing replied, then added, "For the main dishes, you can add fish balls, quail eggs, or lamb rolls. Would you like some? The fish balls are homemade—three for five coppers. The lamb rolls are pricier, twenty coppers per serving."

"We’ll take everything."

Aunt Bing went to work, and as they waited, more customers streamed in—ordinary townsfolk and well-dressed merchants alike.

The small shop quickly filled up. Soon, even shared tables had no space left, so some opted for takeout.

Just then, Proprietor Zhou’s order was ready. It smelled amazing, and he eagerly took a bite, giving a thumbs-up.

"Truly delicious—a flavor I’ve never tried before," he praised. "As expected, anything made by Lord Bing’s family is extraordinary. Those green and red specialties—the Emperor himself hasn’t tasted those, yet they’re so good."

Praise boosted Aunt Bing’s confidence. "Actually, all these recipes were thought up by Bing Dalang."

Proprietor Zhou’s eyes widened. "Lord Bing is a jack-of-all-trades! How can someone be as outstanding as him?"

He couldn’t help adding, "Lord Bing is truly the best—no lie, the finest official I’ve met in all my years. Back when he invited us to Ji County to set up workshops, he promised no taxes, so we came. Now, even though Ji County has transformed and no longer needs us, he still honors that promise—not a single coin in taxes."

His friend chimed in with a sigh, "At first, we were suspicious and paranoid, even considering bribes. But we couldn’t even get past his front gate. To this day, it’s like he’s forgotten about us—never accepted a single gift."

"Not to exaggerate, there are no officials like this anymore. Other officials take taxes and bribes alike—if even a single penny is missing, they’ll find all sorts of excuses to make trouble for your business." The friend clamped his mouth shut, realizing he’d said too much.

A guest at the next table overheard and said with pride, "Exactly! Our Lord Bing is the finest official in the world. I categorize all officials into two types: Lord Bing, and everyone else."

Aunt Bing listened to the praises for Bing Wengu, smiling so wide her eyes disappeared.

Suddenly, she realized she had made the right choice in starting this business. Staying at home all day, she had no idea her eldest younger brother had grown into such a pillar of strength. Now, he wasn’t just their sheltering tree but also shielded all the people of Ji County from hardship.

By noon, Bing Wengu treated the whole yamen staff to lunch—at Aunt Bing’s rice noodle shop.

"Cong Lin, take them there and charge it to my account," Bing Wengu added after a moment’s thought. "There are also fifty people at my husband’s teahouse by the factory bookstore. I’m treating them too—have someone deliver the food, and I’ll cover the delivery fee."

"Yes, my lord," Cong Lin acknowledged.

Nan Jinping was at the bookstore at noon and announced, "Today is my Eldest Sister’s grand opening. I’m treating everyone to lunch—don’t leave…"

Just then, someone arrived carrying food boxes. "Master Nameless, Lord Bing sent us to deliver meals."

Seeing the portions, Nan Jinping knew it was enough for everyone and laughed.

These snacks, new to Ji County and genuinely delicious, quickly became popular. Eighty percent of those who tried them returned with their families for another visit. As a result, Aunt Bing’s shop was an instant hit and raking in money.

To ensure fresh ingredients, Aunt Bing used a whole chicken and a big set of bones each day. At first, the family was willing to eat them, but after having them day after day, they were sick of it.

So, Aunt Bing came up with a solution: selling the day’s chicken and bones half-off before closing.

A whole chicken, usually costing thirty to forty wen, she sold for just fifteen. The meaty bones went for five wen each. It was a steal, but at least it cut losses and avoided waste.

Soon, the year-end arrived. This New Year was special for the Bing family—with their rise in status and newfound wealth, making it uniquely meaningful.

The Bings took it seriously, preparing New Year goods well in advance.

Bing Wengu hadn’t forgotten his second sister back home. After mentioning it to Nan Jinping, extra provisions were set aside for her.

In the Shanghe Village, the old Bing residence was warm and cozy. Old Lady Feng sat cross-legged on the heated brick bed, watching her daughter-in-law, Bing ErNiang, sew clothes while keeping an eye on her grandchildren playing.

Old Lady Feng claimed she had come to visit her son and grandchildren, but really, it was for the comfortable warmth. Still, she was mindful—only visiting briefly, never staying over, perhaps fearing offending the Bings. After all, Bing Wengu, even as a commoner, had dared to arrange Aunt Bing’s divorce. Now that he held office, if the Fengs overstepped and Bing ErNiang wrote to complain, he might swiftly send someone to finalize the divorce and remarry her into a better family.

Truthfully, when they first married into the Bing family, no one expected them to rise so high. Back then, they’d hoped the Bings wouldn’t be a burden—how times have changed.

Her eyes tired from sewing, Bing ErNiang took a break to rest them and went out to tend to the firewood.

Just then, Feng Sanlang walked in. Watching her son, Old Lady Feng mused about his luck and asked, "By the way, are the Bings sending you both New Year’s goods this year?"

Feng Sanlang smiled. "ErNiang already made clothes for her parents and eldest brother and his husband. They were sent with a merchant convoy and should arrive before the New Year."

"I meant whether the Bings will send you any New Year goods." In the past, Old Lady Feng would’ve slapped Bing ErNiang silly for sending gifts to her family. But now, though it pained her, she bit her lip and let it slide.

"This isn’t trivial. Whether the gifts are big or small, they represent goodwill," Old Lady Feng said gravely. "They show how much the Bings value ErNiang as a married daughter—and how Bing Wengu regards his second sister."

"Shh, don’t let ErNiang hear."

Just then, someone called from outside, "Is this the home of Bing ErNiang, second sister of Ji County Magistrate Bing Wengu?"

Hearing the commotion, Bing ErNiang and everyone inside rushed out to find two oxcarts piled high with goods parked at the gate.

Bing ErNiang said, "That’s me."

The escort replied, "These are the New Year goods Magistrate Bing entrusted to our escort agency. There’s quite a lot—take a look and tally them up."

The caravan guard took out several shipping manifests and handed them to Bing Erniang.

Since Bing Erniang never learned to read from the Bing family, she had to ask a literate villager to read the manifests for her.

"This’ll take some time. Please come inside and warm yourselves," Bing Erniang offered hospitably.

"Much obliged, then."

Old Madam Feng followed them in to entertain the guests. The caravan guard said, "We also have letters from your family. Since you can’t read, we can read them for you."

"Thank you," Bing Erniang replied eagerly, wanting to know what the Bing family had written.

The caravan guard pulled out a thick stack of envelopes, leaving Bing Erniang gobsmacked.

"Why so many?"

The caravan guard replied calmly, "Not many at all. One from your parents, one from Lord Bing and Master Wuwei."

"Who’s Master Wuwei?"

"You don’t know? Master Wuwei is Lord Bing’s husband! His storybooks are a huge hit in Ji County. Even the Emperor praised them after hearing them in Ji County. The capital is full of Master Wuwei’s fans."

Old Madam Feng tsked secretly, wondering if Bing Wengu had divorced and remarried. Nan Jinping was just an illiterate young man, a nobody in the village back then—how could he suddenly write so well and become so renowned?

"Is Lord Bing’s husband surnamed Nan?"

"Yes, his name is Nan Jinping," the caravan guard answered matter-of-factly.

"Since when do you blurt out a man’s given name? Even if you know it, you shouldn’t say it so lightly!" Old Madam Feng scolded angrily.

Only then did the caravan guard realize they were no longer in Ji County, where people were still quite conservative.

He explained, "Ji County is different from here. Under Lord Bing’s governance, men, women, and androgynous folk are all equal. Everyone can study. In the county school, teachers can’t go around calling every woman ‘Li Erniang’—there’d be a dozen ‘Li Erniangs’ in one class. So, we call people by their names. There’s no such thing as ‘private names’ in Ji County. We don’t care about that."

Old Madam Feng and Bing Erniang were gobsmacked.

The caravan guard continued, "One letter from Bing Silang, one from Bing Wulang—basically, one from each family member. The last one is from the Nan family."

"What? There’s even a letter from the Nan family?" Old Madam Feng exclaimed, shocked.

The caravan guard said, "Of course. As for the New Year’s gifts, one cart’s from the Bing family, and the other’s from the Nan family."

"What? The Nan family sent a whole cart too?" Old Madam Feng felt like she was hearing a tall tale.

She couldn’t believe the Nan family would send New Year’s gifts to Bing Erniang, let alone that they were doing so well—a whole cart of goods, just like that!

The letters from the Bing family were all concerned with Bing Erniang’s health and financial situation—nothing more than urging her not to overwork herself and to take care. They also told her to live it up, never skimping on herself.

Finally, inside one envelope was a fifty-tael note—a supplement to her dowry from the Bing parents.

More dowry padding—really, just extra pocket money for their daughter. But by calling it a dowry, if Bing Erniang ever divorced, she could take it with her, keeping it out of the Fengs’ hands.

Old Madam Feng understood the reason but held her tongue. Fifty taels—that was a fortune!

Of course, Bing Erniang had no intention of hiding it from Old Madam Feng. Things were different now. With Bing Wengu’s status, even if Old Madam Feng knew Bing Erniang had money, she wouldn’t dare cross her.

And the more the Bing family gave, the more confidence Bing Erniang had—and the more Old Madam Feng toed the line.

Old Madam Feng’s eyes lit up greedily, already plotting how to butter Bing Erniang up.

Then there was Bing Wengu’s letter. It was brief and to the point, simply informing Bing Erniang that if she were mistreated, she should make a peep—he would send a yamen officer back to handle the divorce and then take her away.

This gave Bing Erniang even more confidence than the money from Miao Shi and Bing’s father. Tilting her chin up defiantly, she offered a sham apology, “You know how it is—my eldest brother cares too much about us sisters. Mother Feng, don’t take it to heart.”

“How could I?” Feng’s mother replied, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “I’m just happy your eldest brother dotes on you.”

Next came Bing Silang. This guy had zero social graces. After offering a few simple words of concern, he handed over a twenty-tael silver note.

Another silver note! Feng’s mother was stunned. What was going on with the Bing family? They all seemed to be rolling in cash, as if silver notes were falling from the sky.

“Fourth Brother too—why is he joining in? He’s not even married yet! He should be saving up for his own wedding!” Bing Erniang fretted.

The escort, however, chuckled. “Oh, Fourth Lord isn’t exactly hurting for marriage prospects. Besides, right now, he’s the one in the Bing family least short on money. He manages the colored glaze workshop, making a fortune every day. This little sum isn’t even enough for a single piece of colored glaze.”

“Colored—colored glaze workshop?” Feng’s mother stammered. “The kind that’s transparent, where even the smallest piece costs hundreds of strings of cash?”

“Exactly,” the escort confirmed. “They say the magistrate’s home and the yamen offices even have colored glaze windows—bright as day.”

“How much would that cost?”

“The magistrate isn’t short on money. Our magistrate…” The escort went on to recount Bing Wengu’s achievements, leaving the two women listening as if to a fairy tale, hardly believing their ears.

Finally, there was Aunt Bing’s letter. She greeted her younger sister and sent along a string of cash.

The escort explained, “Don’t think it’s too little. Your eldest sister just went into business before New Year’s. It’s only been three months—giving you a string is already generous.”

Aunt Bing mentioned in her letter that she had opened a shop and business was booming.

Suddenly, Bing Erniang burst into tears. Feng’s mother frantically dabbed at her tears, alarmed. “Don’t cry—you must miss them.”

“I do. It suddenly feels like we’re worlds apart,” Bing Erniang said. “Everyone in my family except me seems to have learned to read and write. Even my eldest sister writes beautifully and can go out to do what she loves. But me? I can’t read a single character, stuck with kitchen drudgery. If outsiders knew, wouldn’t they think I’m not part of the Bing family? Everyone else is literate—only I’m not.”

Feng’s mother, too scared to say a word, quickly urged the escort to read the letter from the Nan family.

The Nans, being a step removed, didn’t send money, but that wagonload of holiday treats was more than enough.

After the holiday goods incident, Feng’s mother’s attitude toward Bing Erniang completely changed. Before leaving, she made a point of telling Feng Sanlang about it.

“I noticed Erniang was in a funk, mentioning pots and pans. From now on, you handle all the housework—don’t let her lift a finger. If she ever feels wronged and calls it quits by writing to Bing Dalang, where would you find such a good wife again?”

Frightened, Feng Sanlang made sure Bing Erniang had as little to do with housework as possible from then on.

When Qian Shi and Bing Sanlang in the same village heard about it, it spoiled their whole New Year’s. The Bing family became the talk of the village, with many lamenting their missed chance to tie themselves to one of them.

The Bings had a lively New Year, with Nan Jinping opening their doors to children, handing out lucky money packets and sweets.

Spring arrived in the blink of an eye, and just as planting season approached, the hybrid experiment finally succeeded.

“Magistrate, we’ve done it!” Wu Niangzi exclaimed, jumping for joy.