Back at the inn, the sky was already bright with morning light.
She asked the young assistant for firewood and clean water, then made her way to the kitchen. There was already someone busy inside.
“Madam is up this early?” said a woman in her forties or fifties, dressed in a dark coarse cotton tunic with streaks of grey in her hair and a prominent mole beside her mouth. She was deftly stripping leaves from a head of cabbage, the leaves already looking wilted and yellowed.
“I was worried the kitchen would get crowded later, so I thought I’d come early to cook something for the child,” Lin Wu said, setting down her cloth sack and the newly purchased clay pot. “Auntie, you’re up early too.”
“Ah, we’re a small outfit—can’t compare to the big merchant houses with their several cooks,” the woman said, nodding toward her pot. “It’s just a handful of us regulars, folks who’ve been coming through for years. I know their tastes well, so I have to make something hearty to suit them.”
As she spoke, her gaze swept over the things in Lin Wu’s hands, and when she spotted the little shrimp and a few eggs, she broke into a warm, eager smile. “My, madam, you’ve prepared quite the spread.”
Lin Wu remained composed, rinsing the new clay pot and wooden bowls with clean water as she replied gently, “The child is still young, and yesterday was a hard day of travel. Her color’s off. Now that we’ve settled a little, I have to see to her health.”
She filled a wooden bowl with water, added a few dried mint leaves, and rinsed her and Lin Jing’s mouths.
Then she boiled a portion of the water, let it cool slightly, and poured it into two gourds. After that, she began cooking the porridge.
First, into the pot went washed rice and water, along with two clean eggs boiled together. Once the porridge came to a rolling boil, she added a pinch of salt, then the shelled, cleaned shrimp and finely shredded ginger. She covered the pot and let it simmer over a low flame.
After a while, she cracked an egg into a bowl, whisked it with chopsticks, and slowly drizzled the egg mixture into the bubbling porridge, forming a beautiful, delicate flower of egg ribbons. Finally, she sprinkled in a handful of chopped cabbage leaves and stirred gently with a wooden spoon. The thick porridge, mingled with egg, shrimp, and cabbage, gave off a tempting aroma.
The older woman stirred the thin, watery vegetable porridge in her own pot while stealing another glance over, smacking her lips. “Madam, that pot of yours is stuffed full of good things! Smells wonderful.”
Lin Wu kept stirring with the wooden ladle and looked up with a helpless little smile. “Auntie flatters me. We’re just the two of us, and with only one pot to use and firewood to spare, I thought I’d put the day’s meals all in one pot—easier and more practical.”
“And where are you headed from, madam?” the older woman asked, feeding another stick of wood under her thin porridge pot.
“We’re staying here for now, planning to head to Lingzhou to find family,” Lin Wu said, taking her wooden ladle, covering the pot, and carefully wrapping the still-hot clay pot in a mesh bag.
At the mention of “Lingzhou,” the older woman’s eyes lit up, and she slapped her thigh. “Oh! What a coincidence! Isn’t that a stroke of luck—our merchant caravan is headed to Lingzhou too! We’ve made that trip several times, know the road well! Have you picked which caravan to travel with yet?”
“Not yet,” Lin Wu said, rinsing out the wooden bowls and utensils with the last bit of water in the bucket before lifting the heavy clay pot. “I want to find someone steady and honest, even if it’s slow going. Auntie, the child is hungry, so we’ll head back to our room to eat.”
“Alright—go on then, take care now,” the woman said, waving a hand, though her eyes lingered on that fragrant clay pot.
Lin Wu had just stepped out of the kitchen when she saw the young assistant push through the curtain.
“Thank you, young man, for the firewood and water. It was just the right amount—much obliged,” she said politely.
“That’s me!” the assistant said, puffing out his chin with self-importance. “These eyes of mine—I never miss a thing!”
No sooner had he spoken than he caught sight of Auntie Pockmark adding wood to the stove, and his face darkened at once. “Hey! Auntie! How many times do I have to tell you—we run a small place, and firewood costs money! You keep using our big stove’s wood!”
“Oh, my, listen to you being such a miser!” she shot back, voice rising, brandishing the thin stick of wood in her hand. “I only used a few sticks! Our big pot of porridge just needed a little more heat. All I did was borrow a couple to get through the pinch…”
Amid the back-and-forth between the assistant and Auntie Pockmark, Lin Wu and Lin Jing slipped quietly back into their guest room.
Lin Wu set the clay pot carefully on the table, arranged their luggage, and then took a seat.
She ladled out two large bowls of porridge. The bowls were still steaming: in the golden rice porridge, tender green cabbage leaves, pink-and-white shrimp, and soft curls of egg intermingled, looking appetizing, the aroma curling up with the heat and tickling their noses.
Lin Wu blew on a spoonful and took a bite. The rice was cooked just right—smooth and silky. The sweetness of the grain, the freshness of the shrimp, and the fragrance of egg blended perfectly, with a whisper of ginger giving a subtle kick. A wave of warmth slid down her throat, driving off the chill of the autumn morning and soothing the weariness and tension of the past days.
“Delicious!” Lin Jing copied her, using her little wooden spoon to scoop up small mouthfuls of porridge, eating daintily. The warm, tasty food made her squint with satisfaction.
“Since we have some peace now, let’s eat well,” Lin Wu said softly. “Once we’re on the road, sleeping out in the open and going hungry and cold will likely be the norm. So we’ll build ourselves up while we can, store our strength and spirits.”
After the porridge, their stomachs were content. Lin Wu fished the two boiled eggs from the pot and handed one to each of them. Lin Jing followed her mother’s example, cracking the shell against the small table and peeling it carefully.
Lin Wu peeled her own egg while quietly taking inventory of their meager belongings.
They had only the clothes on their backs—they still needed to buy a change of clothes from the secondhand clothing store. They also had to pick up a piece of oilcloth, in case of heavy rain on the road, to use as a cover. Dried provisions could wait until they’d confirmed the caravan, so the food wouldn’t go stale sitting too long.
A thin quilt was also necessary. Fortunately, the nights weren’t cold yet—wearing extra layers would tide them over, otherwise a thick blanket would eat up half their pack space.
After finishing breakfast and washing the bowls and spoon, she picked up the coarse linen cloth she’d bought yesterday and began to sew a headscarf.
There would be dust and grit on the road, and a headscarf could protect both her head and face—and also, to some extent, mask her features.
Her needle kept moving as her mind raced. Most important now was still finding a well-established caravan led by an honorable man. That was the key to their safe arrival in Lingzhou.
With these thoughts circling, Lin Wu finished the headscarf, told Lin Jing where she was going, and slipped quietly out the door to head to the front counter and ask the innkeeper if there was any new word.
But before she even got close, she could hear Auntie Pockmark’s loud voice. The woman was leaning against the counter, talking to the innkeeper.
“Innkeeper, look at her—a young woman on her own, dragging a little girl who doesn’t know the world yet. She looks liable to worry you sick. The roads get dangerous, especially for womenfolk with no one to protect them—how much peril there is in that, well, with all my years traveling far and wide, I know only too well.” Auntie Pockmark wore an expression of deep concern, and though she spoke quietly, the inn being small, Lin Wu could hear fragments of it even from the hallway outside the door.
The innkeeper remained expressionless, keeping his head down as he fiddled with his abacus, offering no reply.
“That young lady doesn’t seem to know the value of a penny,” Auntie Pockmark shifted the subject. “Bright and early, she’s boiling up a whole pot of thick porridge, with eggs and fresh shrimp to boot—enough to make your head spin. It’s only because I’ve seen a thing or two in my day that I don’t covet her little spread. But on the road, a woman flaunting her wealth like that, without a shred of caution—isn’t she just asking for trouble?”
Lin Wu stopped mid-step, tucking herself behind a pillar, understanding at once that the words were aimed squarely at her.
“Come to think of it, it’s fate—our caravan happens to be heading to Lingzhou as well. If we could tag along and give those two mother and daughter a lift, it’d be a good deed to stack up before heaven,” Auntie Pockmark’s tone grew eager. “Only, I wonder if her background is clear... You, shopkeeper, have sharp eyes—surely you’ve got a sense of it already.”
