Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Mutual Benefit
“Tomorrow I’ll go into town,” Tang Yi Chen said. “I’ll verify everything. We’ll talk after I come back.”

“All right.” Qin Hui Yin turned to Li Tao Hua. “Mother, let’s cook. Everyone’s hungry.”

Li Tao Hua nodded, but her feet moved reluctantly, as if the kitchen were a punishment. She followed Qin Hui Yin inside.

Once mother and daughter were in the kitchen, Li Tao Hua hovered by the doorway, ears practically tilted toward the main room. Qin Hui Yin scooped flour from the jar and couldn’t help a small, helpless smile.

Tang Yi Chen carried Tang Da Fu into the bedroom. When he came back out, Tang Lu Wu and Tang Yi Xiao were already gathering the broken pieces of the room the thugs had trashed. Tang Yi Chen joined them without a word.

Tang Yi Xiao kicked a splintered stool leg across the floor with a scowl. “Putting aside the 50 taels… they smashed our things and we just let them walk away. It feels like we got cheated twice.”

“They had more people, and they were all grown men,” Tang Yi Chen said, hands moving as he stacked broken boards. “If you anger them, you’re the ones who suffer. Sometimes stepping back isn’t cowardice. It’s self-preservation.”

Tang Lu Wu glanced up. “Sister Yin said the same thing.”

Tang Yi Chen paused, surprise flickering across his eyes before he smoothed it away. He looked at Tang Lu Wu—really looked—and saw no disgust, no stiffness when she spoke of Qin Hui Yin. Only a bright, honest admiration.

He hesitated, then asked, direct. “How have things been lately?”

“We’re fine,” Tang Lu Wu said quickly. “Elder Brother doesn’t need to worry. Auntie Li and Sister Yin pawned their clothes to buy medicine for Younger Brother.” She nudged Tang Yi Xiao. “Isn’t that right?”

Tang Yi Xiao’s mouth opened, closed. He didn’t know how to describe the way things had shifted—how at first Li Tao Hua and Qin Hui Yin had ordered them around, sharp and demanding, like the stepmothers in all the stories. And then, somewhere along the line, it had changed. Not perfect. Not gentle. But… not unbearable.

Tang Yi Chen’s eyes turned on him, cool as moonlight, as if they could see straight through his bones. Tang Yi Xiao swallowed, then nodded.

“Sister is right.” He kept his voice steady. “They treat us pretty well now. My medicine costs a lot, and they still bought it. Since we started doing business, we work together, eat together… we get along.”

“Good.” Tang Yi Chen’s shoulders loosened by a hair. The tightness in his face eased.

In truth, the first time his younger siblings brought him chilled jelly noodles, when he saw their worry had faded and their cheeks weren’t hollow with hunger, he’d guessed something had changed at home. It seemed like a change for the better, so he hadn’t rushed back. Hearing it confirmed now settled something in him.

In the kitchen, Li Tao Hua finally stopped eavesdropping long enough to mutter, “Look at him. He’s worried I’ll treat his younger siblings badly. Hmph. If he worries that much, why doesn’t he take them away? Stepmothers have had it hard since ancient times. Do you think I wanted to manage his family?”

Qin Hui Yin glanced at her mother’s scowling face and had the sudden thought that Li Tao Hua, for all her selfishness, was almost… endearing in her own sharp-edged way.

Maybe she was selfish—only caring about herself and her daughter. But people were selfish by nature. In this world, a widow who wasn’t selfish got eaten alive.

“Mother,” Qin Hui Yin said, sliding the flour jar toward her, “I’m worn out. Can you help me knead the dough?”

Li Tao Hua huffed, but she rolled up her sleeves, washed her hands, and took over with brisk, practiced strength.

While Li Tao Hua kneaded, Qin Hui Yin sliced meat—fatty pieces separated from lean, then the lean cut into thin, even slices. She salted them, cracked in an egg, and dusted them with pea flour until they turned glossy and tender.

After Li Tao Hua finished the dough, Qin Hui Yin covered it to rest. She mixed chopped mushrooms with scallions, garlic, ginger, soy sauce, and vinegar for the noodle seasoning. A chunk of pork intestines sat in the braised meat pot—saved on purpose for exactly this.

As she pulled noodles, Qin Hui Yin called, “Sister Lu Wu, pinch off some scallion leaves and bring them in.”

“Coming!” Tang Lu Wu set down the rotten wood she’d been stacking and jogged to the wall corner. She plucked thick scallion leaves and carried them inside, then washed and chopped them without waiting to be told, dividing them into six large bowls like she’d been doing it all her life.

Tang Yi Chen came in then to scoop water and wash his hands. He paused when he saw Qin Hui Yin and Tang Lu Wu moving around each other, their work smooth, their conversation easy. It was clear his younger siblings weren’t just tolerating Li Tao Hua and Qin Hui Yin—they were comfortable with them.

“The noodles are ready,” Qin Hui Yin called. “Eat.”

She glanced at the broken furniture and shrugged. “The tables and chairs are ruined, so we’ll make do. Find a spot and eat. Mother—this bowl is for Uncle Tang.”

Li Tao Hua carried the bowl into the bedroom and set it on the cabinet by the bed. She moved a low stool up onto the bed first, then placed the noodles in front of Tang Da Fu with exaggerated care.

“Yin Yin dished this up especially for you,” Li Tao Hua said, syrup-sweet. “Look—you even have more meat than the rest of us. Yin Yin feels sorry for you as her stepfather and wants you to recover soon. Once you can get out of bed, you must take good care of her. She lost her father young and has always longed for a dad. Song Yi was fine in every way except he was always fierce, and Yin Yin wasn’t close to him. The fact she cares about you like this means she treats you as a father. Don’t waste her kindness.”

Tang Da Fu’s eyes shone, and shame softened into something grateful. “Yin Yin is a good child. I’ll cherish her. I’ll treat her like my own daughter.”

“Not like your own daughter,” Li Tao Hua corrected briskly. “Closer than your own daughter.”

[Did he have any idea how he treated his real daughter, Tang Lu Wu? If Yin Yin could only be on equal footing with Tang Lu Wu, what good was he?]

Tang Da Fu nodded quickly. “Yes. Closer than my own daughter. I’ll treat her well.”

Li Tao Hua’s expression finally eased. Tang Da Fu’s spinelessness didn’t feel quite so infuriating when it could be used.

“Eat slowly,” she said. “I’ll come back for the bowl later.”

Tang Yi Chen hadn’t taken a bite yet, but the aroma alone tugged at him.

He wasn’t someone who chased rich flavors. The Tang family was poor; “good food” was a rumor other people lived on. While classmates from better families feasted, he gnawed on coarse-grain buns so dry they scraped his throat. He never thought of it as suffering. In his mind, food was fuel. As long as he could study, he could endure anything.

But the broth in front of him was clear and fragrant. When he lifted the bowl and took his first sip, warmth spread across his tongue—fresh, clean, carrying the mellow depth of the braise. It wasn’t heavy; it was bright, layered, alive.

He bit into the noodles next. Springy, chewy, firm in the best way, slick with seasoning. The sauce bloomed as he chewed.

The pork intestines were tender and savory, the sliced pork soft as if it melted. For a family like theirs, this much meat was something they only saw at New Year.

How could anyone say meat wasn’t good?

And whoever had built this bowl—broth, noodles, toppings—had done it with steady hands and an instinct for flavor.