Chapter 8: Small River Market

Chapter 8: Small River Market

The old persimmon tree’s fruit went untouched, only pecked at by birds.

Because eating too many persimmons gives you internal heat and easily forms gastric persimmon stones in the stomach, leading to stomach pain and vomiting, and there had even been cases where children died from eating too many.

Therefore, farming families forbade their children from secretly eating persimmons, scared they’d go overboard on sweets without restraint and fall ill.

However, persimmons don’t store well either. To preserve them, the only option was to dry them into dried persimmons.

This required picking them before they ripened, peeling each one, stringing them up, and air-drying for a month. That period coincided with the late rice harvest season—what farmer had time for that? As long as there was no famine, nobody thought of making dried persimmons.

But for Lin Su, none of this was a problem. His Ability Water could counteract some of the side effects, and with processing, it could even transform into a medicinal remedy.

Lin Su had Fu Yun climb the tree and pick a few persimmons for him. He peeled one and took a bite. The flesh was soft and sweet, and the part around the black seeds was crisp. He swallowed the flesh and spat out the seeds, letting out a comfortable sigh.

This natural, unprocessed fruit had an intense, rich flavor.

Fu Yun tilted his head, watching him eat with relish. Swallowing his saliva, he also took one, bit a small hole, and sucked out the flesh, his mouth moving like a little squirrel eating nuts.

Lin Su ate a dozen in one go before finally satisfying his craving.

He calculated the nearest market day—it turned out to be tomorrow, exactly the semi-monthly Small River Market held at the village’s river bend dock. It was a trading market for nearby villages, with no fewer people than the town market.

At home, they only had one clay pot and four bowls. Making persimmon jam would occupy the clay pot, and they’d still need it to cook dinner, so he could only make the jam right before leaving tomorrow.

His superpower could currently produce at most one bowl of high-concentration sugar water. For a full pot of jam, he might need two bowls worth. He’d save up one bowl tonight, and squeeze out a bit more tomorrow morning.

Thinking this, Lin Su suddenly felt a bit strange.

He felt like he was describing himself as a dairy cow—before, a wave of his hand could pour buckets of rain, but now he had to conserve every drop. The thought was kind of depressing.

He made a face, then turned to order the Little Fool to pick more persimmons: “Fu Yun, go pick some more persimmons.”

“Brother, we can’t eat any more.” Fu Yun thought he still wanted to eat, glancing at the pile of discarded stems buried in the mud. He instinctively felt that eating more would make them sick.

“We’re not eating them. We’ll pick them to sell. Tomorrow, I’m taking you to make some money.”

-

The next day, at the break of dawn.

Lin Su quickly cooked a pot of egg-drop lard-bits porridge, roused the lazy Xiao Zhuzai from bed, fed him, then tucked him back into the straw nest to sleep.

The kid was energetic, but he was still only an eighteen-year-old youth, needing his beauty sleep. If not for the fear that the porridge would get cold and smell off, Lin Su wouldn’t have bothered waking him.

He carefully cleaned the pot, using hot water and plant ash to scrub away every trace of grease. Making jam couldn’t have any oil residue, or it would spoil.

Rinsing with clean water, Lin Su peeled the persimmons, mashed them in the clay pot, and stirred in the sugar water he had saved overnight.

Calling it “sugar water” was an understatement—more like thick syrup—the sugar concentration was so high that it was thick as white linden honey.

Next, he needed to simmer it over low heat to remove excess moisture. The less water, the longer the jam would keep. Finally, he added a few drops of his Ability Vinegar, which both prevented spoilage and enhanced the fruit’s aroma and gloss.

By the time the sky brightened, the persimmon jam was done—so thick it clung to the spoon without falling.

Considering that farming families might not finish it quickly, Lin Su tried to boil off as much water as possible, ensuring it would last longer without spoiling.

But as a result, only half a pot remained after cooking down—a bit scant.

Xiao Zhuzai in the straw nest caught the sweet aroma of the jam and immediately ended his laziness, scrambling out of bed and sidling up to Lin Su. In the dim light, his phoenix eyes lit up.

Lin Su rinsed the stirring spoon in water and held it to his mouth. Fu Yun opened wide and took a big bite of the spoon, the thin coat of jam melting in his mouth—rich and incredibly sweet.

Fu Yun licked the spoon clean, still wanting more, staring at Lin Su with longing.

Lin Su gently pinched his chin and pried the spoon from his mouth: “You greedy cat, just a taste is fine. This is for selling. I’ll make you a bowl tonight.”

Fu Yun nodded, looking obedient and good.

Lin Su had him wash up, then clutched the clay jar tightly, leading him to the river bend dock.

Their stuff was light, so even with Lin Su’s broken leg delaying him, the half mile took only fifteen minutes.

The river bend dock was the same place where Lin Su had taken the boat yesterday. Calling it a dock was being generous—it was merely a few stone steps laid into the water, just three or four steps before they met the river.

This river was a tributary of the Linjiang River, its water crystal clear, about two zhang wide (roughly 6.6 meters).

Many stalls lined both sides of the river: some selling vegetables, wild fruits, mountain goods, and medicinal herbs; others selling tables, chairs, bamboo baskets, brooms, and straw sandals; and even peddlers from town or county selling hairpins, coarse cloth, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, etc., making money off the price difference…

All kinds of goods, too numerous to list.

Lin Su watched with fresh curiosity, walked Fu Yun from one end to the other, discovering that the market stretched nearly half a li (about 200 meters).

And that was just one side. The other side of the river required a raft to cross. There were about a dozen bamboo rafts in the river, also bearing goods for sale. If someone wanted to cross, they just gave a small token, usually a handful of vegetables or beans.

Clearly, the Small River Market was bustling.

After wandering a bit, Lin Su understood: the market was a spontaneous gathering of ten or so nearby villages, centered at the intersection of their lands. Everyone walked about three to five li (approx. 1.5–2.5 km) to get there, no boat needed, no fare required. So entire families of ten or so came together, swelling the crowd to several hundred—naturally bustling.

Country folk weren’t picky; they squatted or sat on the ground, spreading their goods out. Lin Su’s mouth watered at the sight of a brightly feathered pheasant.

That wild chicken looked tender and delicious—if cooked with goji berries and dangshen, the soup would be sweet and fragrant. But being penniless, he could only look. Better to just set up his stall and make some money.

Lin Su found a spot at the tail end, sat down on the ground, lifted the lid of his clay pot, and started calling out.

“Persimmon jam—sweet, fragrant persimmon jam, brewed with wild honey—nourishing and tasty!”

Lin Su had long planned to use wild honey as a cover for his magic sugar. Fortunately, his predecessor had also gone up the mountain before.

He yelled twice, then got impatient. He talked Fu Yun into yelling for him, leaning against a tree to take a nap.

“Persimmon jam—so sweet! I could eat three bowls myself!”

“Or even four! Aunty, want some?”

Fu Yun’s clear, sweet voice spoke like a kid’s, and Lin Su couldn’t help but smile.

Soon, someone noticed them.

“Su Xiaozi, Yun Geer?” Xu Shi, carrying a basket, looked at them in surprise. “Are you two setting up a stall?”

Everyone in the village knew how lazy Su Xiaozi was. For him to willingly come out and do legitimate business—that was rarer than the sun rising in the west.