Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Verification
Tang Yi Chen paused mid-turn at the mill and looked up, calm as ever. “Do you have any water?”

Qin Hui Yin’s eyes flicked to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. She pulled a handkerchief from her sash and passed it to him. “Yes. I’ll pour some.”

By the time she returned with a bowl, he’d already wiped the sweat away.

Tang Yi Chen took the water and drank it down in a few gulps.

Qin Hui Yin took the empty bowl. Before she could set it aside, he spoke again, voice flat. “If the matter of 50 taels still isn’t settled this time, you can still leave.”

“We’re not leaving.” Qin Hui Yin didn’t hesitate. “If we can’t find evidence, then we’ll work and earn it.”

Tang Yi Chen’s gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat. Then he turned back to the millstone.

He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. The motion bared forearms corded with strength; as he leaned in, the veins stood out with each push, the heavy stone yielding a fraction at a time.

He didn’t say yes. He didn’t need to. The silence was acceptance.

Qin Hui Yin moved to his side, tipped the soaked peas into the mouth of the mill, and watched them vanish beneath the turning stone. A pale stream of pea juice began to trickle out, slow and steady.

Normally she stopped after thirty jin. Today she had an extra pair of hands—and, more importantly, an extra set of shoulders that didn’t complain—so she ground 60 jin in one go.

They still hadn’t finished what they’d made before. She didn’t need more. She just wanted to be ready. In a house that could be knocked over by one bad day, “ready” was the closest thing to safety.

That night, she cooked as if she were trying to warm the whole courtyard.

Mushroom soup simmered with thin slices of meat. A plate of braised pork shone dark and glossy. Wild chives went into eggs, fragrant the moment they hit the pan. And, for once, there was white rice—real white rice—piled high in every bowl.

Tang Yi Chen lifted Tang Da Fu from the bed and carried him to the table, setting him in the seat of honor. Li Tao Hua sat to Tang Da Fu’s right. Qin Hui Yin took the next seat, then Tang Lu Wu, Tang Yi Xiao, and finally Tang Yi Chen, who sat nearest Tang Da Fu and faced Qin Hui Yin across the table.

The Tang family had almost never eaten like this—everyone present, shoulder to shoulder. Even when Tang Da Fu and Li Tao Hua had first married, Tang Yi Chen had left for the city at dawn and kept his distance from the table.

Tang Da Fu looked around at them now, his throat working. “Eat,” he said, trying for authority and landing somewhere near pleading. “Don’t be shy.”

The table fell into a brief, stunned silence.

In their own home?

Tang Da Fu’s ears reddened. He cleared his throat and stared down at his rice as if it could save him.

Too much had happened lately. As the elder, he’d failed to shelter the young ones. Worse—he’d made children worry about him. It sat like a stone in his chest.

Across from him, Tang Lu Wu kept her head lowered, picking at her rice as if it were the only thing she knew how to look at.

When Qin Hui Yin noticed she wasn’t reaching for the dishes, she picked up a piece of chive egg and placed it in Tang Lu Wu’s bowl.

In this house, Tang Lu Wu was always the one left at the edge. Even when Tang Yi Chen was home, weighed down by everything he had to hold up, he still missed the small needs that slipped through the cracks.

Tang Lu Wu looked up, startled. Then she smiled, shy and careful. “Thank you, Yin Yin.”

The smile hit Qin Hui Yin like a warm hand to the heart.

To everyone else, she was a year younger than Tang Lu Wu. But the person living behind her eyes had already lived far longer. Whenever she saw a soft, earnest girl like Tang Lu Wu, she couldn’t help it—her instincts turned protective, like Tang Lu Wu was already her little sister.

“You’re too thin,” Qin Hui Yin said, and her tone softened in spite of herself. “Eat more. The braised pork turned out especially fragrant today. Try some.”

She added a slice, then another, until Tang Lu Wu’s bowl looked less like a child’s and more like it belonged to someone who was allowed to take up space.

Tang Da Fu watched them, his expression easing, a flicker of joy breaking through his fatigue. He turned to Li Tao Hua. “Wife, look. The two girls are like real sisters.”

Li Tao Hua didn’t even glance up.

The next morning, the entire Tang household climbed onto Third Master Tang’s ox cart and rode into the city.

Tang Yi Chen helped them set up the stall. He answered a few questions, steadied the bowls, kept an eye on the crowd. When the sky lightened and the street began to truly wake, he finally stepped away.

He had something important to do today.

Li Tao Hua followed his retreating back with her eyes until he disappeared into the bustle. Then she leaned toward Qin Hui Yin. “Chen Zhong Yi has money and connections. That bookish kid won’t get taken advantage of, will he?”

Qin Hui Yin’s lips curved. “Mother, so you do care about the Tang family after all.”

Li Tao Hua clicked her tongue as if the words irritated her. “Didn’t you say you wanted to live well with the Tang family? I’ve run myself ragged for years. I’m tired too. If you like these people, then I want a peaceful, settled life as well.”

“Tang Yi Chen is clever,” Qin Hui Yin said. “He won’t let himself get cheated. Let’s do what we’re supposed to do and stop borrowing trouble.”

Business was clearly worse than yesterday. Customers still came, but the rush had thinned, like a tide that had already peaked.

Only now did Li Tao Hua fully believe Qin Hui Yin’s warning: there would be fewer and fewer customers as the novelty faded.

Even so, with everyone working together—calling, serving, collecting coins—they sold out all 200 portions of chilled jelly noodles. Only the braised meat remained, and because it cost more, people hesitated. They loved it, but they couldn’t eat it every day no matter how delicious it was. It moved slowly, stubborn as a mule.

Qin Hui Yin cupped her hands around her mouth. “New item today—Immortal’s Feet! One bite and you’ll want more. Buy five wen of braised meat and try a piece for free!”

A few heads snapped up at once.

“Immortal’s what?”

Qin Hui Yin lifted the tray she had prepared and made a slow circle in front of the curious faces. “This,” she said, letting the light catch the glossy red-braised pig’s trotters.

She could have thrown them into the same stock as the meat. But everyone had been eating braised meat for days, and even the best flavor dulled if you served it too often. Today she red-braised the trotters separately, richer and more fragrant, and trimmed them to show off what people wanted most: the tender middle, without the hooves.

Chopped into small pieces and simmered until soft enough to fall from the bone, they were the kind of dish that made a person feel extravagant even if they only bought one bite.

And humans, whether ancient or modern, loved a gimmick.

“It smells incredible!”

“Five wen of meat!” someone shouted. “I want Immortal’s Feet!”

“Me too!”

Li Tao Hua took coins until her palms warmed. She didn’t have time to smooth her hair; she barely had time to breathe. Watching food disappear from the trays, her whole face lit up despite herself.

When the last bowl was handed off and the last coin clinked into their pouch, Li Tao Hua exhaled. “We’re sold out, but Tang Yi Chen still hasn’t come back. Should we wait?”

“Let’s wait,” Qin Hui Yin said. “Perfect timing. We can check the grocery shop for new seasonings.”

On the way, they passed the Government Office and nearly walked straight into a wall of bodies.

People packed the entrance, pressing forward in a restless, noisy mass.

Qin Hui Yin craned her neck. “Sir, what’s going on?”

A man near the edge answered without looking away from the posted notice. “The Government Office put up word. They’re repairing the dam works. Every household has to provide one able-bodied laborer. If you don’t send one, you pay two taels.”

“Two taels?” Li Tao Hua’s voice sharpened.

Another man muttered, bitterness threading his words. “This place is either drought or flood every year. If the dam holds water, it’ll help the crops. It’s for the people, for the land… but why doesn’t the court fund it? Why make commoners give labor and silver?”

“If we send a person, we don’t pay,” someone else argued. “And the notice says it isn’t unpaid labor. 300 wen a month.”

“300 wen isn’t much.”

“It isn’t,” the man agreed, “but they provide food and lodging. What you earn goes into your pocket. Your family still eats.”

The Tang family’s mood tightened like a rope being pulled.

They had only one able-bodied laborer: Tang Yi Chen. Tang Da Fu couldn’t even stand long, and Third Master Tang was old and lived alone. Tang Yi Chen was the only one who could go.

But Tang Yi Chen had an imperial examination to prepare for. Dam work wasn’t a day or two. If he went, he could forget about studying.

Qin Hui Yin’s gaze swept the crowd, and she spotted Tang Yi Chen’s head above the shoulders—still, sharp-eyed, as if he were already measuring the situation rather than being swallowed by it.

She tugged Li Tao Hua’s sleeve and pointed. Together, they squeezed forward until they reached him.

They were breathless by the time they made it to his side.

“We already packed up,” Qin Hui Yin said. “How did it go?”

Tang Yi Chen’s eyes met hers. “I have a lead.”

“And?”

“We can go back today.”