Chapter 29

Chapter 29: Delicious Crab-Shell Cakes

The day after Gu Yan arrived at the Ping Jiang estate, early in the morning, the prefect of Ping Jiang Prefecture and a crowd of officials waited at the main gate beyond the bridge, hoping to be summoned.

Gu Yan called them in and questioned them in detail about governance and the people’s livelihood. At noon he treated the officials to a meal. In the afternoon, accompanied by the men responsible for each office, he began his inspection with the great prison of Ping Jiang Prefecture, then moved through the prefecture’s affairs piece by piece.

From Ping Jiang City he went on to the counties under Ping Jiang Prefecture, and then made an official trip to Lin Hai Town. By the time he completed the circuit, more than ten days had passed. When he returned to the Ping Jiang estate and heard Wang Gui report that the young licentiate’s family had already settled in Ping Jiang City, Gu Yan ate breakfast, dressed like an ordinary rich young man, brought Shi Gun, Wang Gui, and the rest, and strolled toward the prefecture school as if he had nowhere in the world he needed to be.

—

The courtyard house the Li family siblings rented was on Cai Lian Alley. Step out of Cai Lian Alley and you reached a quiet little street that ran close beside the academy—so close it might as well have been named for it. People simply called it Academy Street.

Li Yin Zhu clutched Little Nan’s hand and stood at the mouth of Cai Lian Alley, slowly looking left and right, then right and left, and letting out a sigh of pure satisfaction.

“Little Nan, look! It’s so lively and so pretty! The street is so clean—big blue stone slabs everywhere! So many shops! And look at that banner—so long! It’s like silk!”

“This street doesn’t even count as lively,” Little Nan said, tugging her forward. “Last time I came with Eldest Sister, the street outside the side gate of the prefecture school was the lively one. Three or four times wider than this. Two-story buildings on both sides, and some three or four stories high. All shops, restaurants, book stalls. I think it’s that way.”

Li Yin Zhu let herself be dragged along, twisting her head to stare at everything. “This doesn’t count as lively? How lively does it have to be? Little Nan, look—shops everywhere. What do they sell?”

“That’s a mounting shop. That’s a copy shop. That one repairs rare books.” Little Nan didn’t even slow down. “All businesses we can’t do.”

“Mounting? Like pasting shoe patterns? City people even have a whole shop for that?” Li Yin Zhu squinted at the signs, then huffed. “And you just said we can’t do any of it. Little Nan—what are you plotting?”

Little Nan hooked Li Yin Zhu’s arm and pulled her along. “If we move to the city, of course we have to do business. We can’t live on weaving alone. This street—”

She burst out onto a wide, bustling avenue and threw her arms out as if she’d discovered the sea. “This street!”

Li Yin Zhu stopped dead, staring at the river of carts and people.

On the journey here, Little Nan had stayed curled up in the carriage to avoid attention. Li Yin Zhu had stayed with her—cooped up in the carriage, then cooped up in the inn, then cooped up in the rented house. This was Li Yin Zhu’s first real look at Ping Jiang City’s bustle since they arrived nearly half a month ago.

“Little Nan,” she whispered, gripping Little Nan’s arm, “I’m a little scared. I’m getting dizzy.”

“Third Sister, loosen up! You’re bruising me.” Little Nan patted her hand. “Let’s stand here for a bit. When you’re not dizzy anymore, we’ll keep walking.”

“We’ll walk,” Li Yin Zhu insisted, loosening her grip only to grab Little Nan’s other arm. “Even dizzy, I can still walk.”

The street was wider than the threshing ground back in Little Li Village, and every inch of it was paved with blue stone.

How many copper coins did that cost?

And those carriages—so pretty. Prettier than anything on New Year prints.

That man was dressed in silk from head to toe.

That one too. And that one. And that—

Why were there so many people wearing silk on this street?

Little Nan dragged Li Yin Zhu forward while scanning the shopfronts. Every few steps she stopped, studied a sign, then moved on, turning calculations over in her head.

Their capital was small, and they couldn’t afford big risks. They needed something with a low buy-in, thin profits, and limited losses.

This street was far too grand for that.

She’d made a mistake. If she wanted something small and steady, she shouldn’t have come charging straight into the busiest, flashiest place. She should have looked in side streets and quiet alleys.

Little Nan tapped her forehead.

She still hadn’t shaken off the glitter of Lu Jia Zui. The moment she thought about “business,” her feet carried her toward the brightest lights.

And the brightest lights, of course, belonged to the biggest businesses.

Her frustration was cut short by a rich, irresistible smell.

Ten steps ahead was a tiny storefront, barely three feet wide. A glossy, spotless counter jutted out, and on it sat rows of crab-shell cakes, fresh from the oven.

A brisk, cheerful clerk held bamboo tongs and called out the price, snatching up cakes one after another and dropping them into paper bags. “Here you go,” he said at the end, handing them over with both hands.

More than ten people stood in line.

“What is that?” Li Yin Zhu sniffed hard, swallowed, and said with reverence, “It smells amazing.”

“Crab-shell cakes,” Little Nan said hoarsely, mouth watering. “They’re supposed to be delicious.”

“You’ve eaten them?” Li Yin Zhu licked her lips, trying not to look desperate. “Did Eldest Sister buy you some last time? They must be expensive. How many copper coins?”

“I’ve never eaten them,” Little Nan admitted, tipping her chin toward the hanging banner. “I read about them.”

Ten copper coins each.

Little Nan sighed. “Third Sister… how many copper coins do you have?”

“Listen to you.” Li Yin Zhu scoffed. “Our copper coins were counted by Eldest Sister, then counted again by Second Sister, then hidden away. I’ve never even touched them. Unless you have some? Eldest Sister gave you some?”

“If you haven’t touched them, I definitely haven’t,” Little Nan said, shoulders drooping.

Ten copper coins for one cake. Even if Eldest Sister were here, she wouldn’t buy it.

“Then let’s learn,” Li Yin Zhu said briskly, grabbing Little Nan by the arm and hauling her closer. “We’ll watch how they make them. Once we’ve learned, we’ll go home and make them ourselves.”

They squeezed to the side of the counter where they could see inside. Li Yin Zhu rested both hands on Little Nan’s shoulders and craned her neck from behind her, eyes glued to the work.

Inside, a long table ran along the wall. Two or three clerks slapped and kneaded springy dough, shaping cake rounds at speed, coating them with sesame, and carrying tray after tray into the oven.

Gu Yan stood in the doorway of the shop beside the cake stall, fanning himself slowly. He narrowed his eyes at Little Nan—who looked ready to drool—and his brows drew together.

Lu Xiu loved tea, especially that year’s spring tea, and never cared much for snacks. She always took a bite or two and stopped. Gu Yan had never seen Lu Xiu crave food like this.

Li Yin Zhu and Little Nan stayed pressed together, craning their necks to watch the cakes being made. Gu Yan watched Little Nan for a long moment, let out a faint hum, and stepped forward.