"What a coincidence! What are you doing here?" Granny Sun stepped forward, then slapped her forehead. "Oh, oh! You're here to apply for the cook position at Jincheng Trading Company, aren't you?"
Her voice was loud and carried easily as she rattled on: "You've come to the right place! Jincheng Trading is one of the finest merchant caravans around. If you can get in with them, that'd be the best thing for you!"
Her booming voice caught the attention of Manager Zhang inside.
Manager Zhang strolled out, and the moment Granny Sun saw him, she greeted him with a smile: "Manager Zhang, busy as always? Did you find yourself someone with the right skills today?"
"Another round of thanks to you, Sister Sun," Manager Zhang said with a slight nod. "Thanks to your help, the cooks who tried out today all showed good skill."
"Congratulations, congratulations!" Granny Sun's eyes flicked toward Lin Wu, noting that she had stayed behind to speak with Manager Zhang. She gathered the gist of the situation and laughed. "So my sister's cooking has caught your eye, has it?"
"Mrs. Lin's skills are indeed solid, and she works quickly and neatly," Manager Zhang said.
"Well then, that's wonderful! Manager Zhang, you don't know the half of it. My sister here has had a truly hard life. A widow with a young daughter, she suffered no end of mistreatment at her in-laws' place before she gritted her teeth and left with her little girl. Just look at her hands and her bearing. You can tell at a glance she's an honest and hardworking sort. For her to land a position here is like a light at the end of the tunnel."
Hearing Granny Sun's words, Lin Wu felt a surge of joy. This speech couldn't have come at a better time. Truly, this was a light at the end of the tunnel.
Manager Zhang had originally planned to send someone to inquire into Mrs. Lin's background in detail. But seeing that the two were acquainted, he thought to himself that this saved him the trouble.
Granny Sun was the purchasing manager for Shunlai Carriage Company. After her husband passed, she had taken over part of the carriage business. She was known for being warm-hearted and forthright, with a solid reputation both inside and outside the trade. Her word could be trusted.
He had already made up his mind but continued: "Mrs. Lin's cooking is indeed rare, and her circumstances are truly pitiable. However, the caravan master will be accompanying us on this trip, so any new hires will need his approval. Still, with your fine skills and honest character, I doubt the master will have any objections."
"Oh, that's just wonderful! With a word from you, my sister here can sleep soundly tonight!" Granny Sun laughed, genuinely delighted for Lin Wu.
"Thank you for your trouble, Manager, and thank you for your kindness, Granny," Lin Wu said, her voice full of gratitude.
"Bah, enough with the thank-yous. Just wait for the news in peace," Granny Sun waved her hand dismissively, then glanced up at the sun sinking in the west. She peered toward the kitchen and called out loudly inside: "Hurry it up in there, it's getting late."
"Manager, the food is still warming on the stove," a young woman inside said, pointing at the steaming baskets.
"This is prepared to be sent to the caravan master," Manager Zhang explained. "Xiao Zhao has already gone back to fetch the food box and will return shortly."
"I see," Granny Sun nodded. "It is indeed time for the evening meal."
Manager Zhang also offered Lin Wu some reassurance: "Mrs. Lin, rest easy. I'll present the matter to the master as soon as possible. You won't be kept waiting long. It's getting late, so you should head back as well."
"Exactly," Granny Sun chimed in, "the child is alone back there, probably hungry and waiting for you anxiously."
"Thank you, Manager. Thank you, Granny, for your consideration." Lin Wu thanked them once more.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries with the two, she didn't linger and turned to leave.
Back at the room in the small inn, Lin Jing hurried over to greet her.
"It's a big caravan, and quite a few skilled cooks were lined up to try out," Lin Wu said cheerfully, taking the initiative to explain. "I expect the manager needs to compare them all, so he told me to come back and wait for news. But I could tell he approved of what I made—he even said he was taking it back for the caravan master to taste!"
She only shared the positive points.
Lin Jing listened carefully, nodding his little head from time to time. He had full confidence in Lin Wu's cooking.
"Today I made savory buns and sweet buns. For the sweet ones, I used chestnut kernels. They turned out quite nice. When we get the chance, we'll make some for ourselves to enjoy," Lin Wu added.
"Great!" Lin Jing responded immediately.
"It's getting late. I'll heat up some porridge in the kitchen, and we'll have our evening meal." With that, she stood up and picked up the clay pot.
Lin Jing scrambled to his feet too: "I want to come along as well. Can I?"
Lin Wu thought about how she'd left him alone in the room all day. The child was bound to feel a little uneasy. After this day's interactions, the innkeeper and staff seemed to run a proper establishment, and besides, all their valuables were hidden on their persons. It wouldn't hurt to bring him along for a quick trip and be right back.
"Alright," she said, reaching out a hand to take Lin Jing's little hand. "Then come along."
When they reached the kitchen, however, who should they run into but Auntie Pockmark—their unlucky encounter was unavoidable.
The old woman was sitting on a low stool, bent over, pulling firewood from beside the inn's large stove. The moment she saw Lin Wu come in, she stopped what she was doing, rolled her triangular eyes, and sneered: "Oh, look who we have here! What, come back looking all down and out? You didn't really think a big outfit like Jincheng Trading would take just any stray cat or dog, did you?"
She spat on the ground and raised her voice another notch: "I was kind enough to offer you both a ride, but you had to act all high and mighty and turn me down. Talk about biting the hand that feeds! Ungrateful wretch! I'd like to see which respectable caravan would take in a pair of no-good mother and child with unknown origins like you!"
As she spoke, her gaze swept over Lin Wu from head to toe. When her eyes lingered on Lin Wu's face, she paused slightly—that face, on closer look, was rather refined. She let out a derisive snort: "Look at you, skulking around like that. Don't tell me you were some rich man's secret mistress, and now his wife found out and threw you out with your little bastard in tow?"
At these filthy insults, Lin Jing's little brow furrowed. He pressed close to Lin Wu's leg, but his dark, deep-set eyes fixed hard on Auntie Pockmark.
Auntie Pockmark had been cursing with gusto, but when she caught sight of this tiny child nearby with those strangely unsettling eyes, an inexplicable shiver ran down her spine, and the rest of her words died in her throat. Her mouth stalled, but she refused to lose face, so she abruptly stood up and planted her hands on her hips.
Sensing Lin Jing's tension, Lin Wu lowered her head and gently patted his back. Then she took a deep breath. When she raised her head again, her eyes were already rimmed with red: "Auntie... why must you say such things to humiliate us? We are strangers to you, with no grudge or grievance between us. When I declined your offer, it was only because I didn't want to trouble you. I never imagined it would turn into such enmity."
Her voice trembled, as if she could hardly speak. She wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve before continuing: "My daughter and I have drifted here, struggling to get by with every step. Even in our hardship, we have never once begged for food or gotten in anyone's way... I truly don't know what I did wrong to earn such spite from you?"
“Auntie, what kind of talk is that?” the waiter at the inn, hearing the commotion from the kitchen, hurried in. He had already been keeping an eye on the pockmarked auntie, suspecting she might try to pocket some firewood, and now seeing her bully the quiet mother and child, his tone carried a note of displeasure. “Auntie, have a heart. If you keep raising your voice in the inn like this, you’ll disturb the other guests, and word will get back to the manager. That won’t look good for any of us. Besides, this lady is a guest in a private room, while you’re in the common quarters. If this turns into a row, the manager will certainly side with her.”
“What kind of talk? The lot of you—don’t be fooled by that sly fox! She’s always putting on that pitiful act, but behind your back she’s sharp-tongued and quick-witted!” The pockmarked auntie, recalling how Lin Wu had earlier fended her off with soft but unyielding words, felt her temper flare anew.
Lin Wu, hearing this, first turned to the waiter: “Thank you, young man, for standing up for us. I’m terribly sorry for disturbing the peace and adding to your troubles.”
Then she looked back at the pockmarked auntie, her tone even softer and more submissive than before: “Auntie, if I said something untoward this morning and unintentionally offended you, I beg you to be magnanimous and not hold it against a simple country woman like me. I’ve lived in the backwoods all my life—I’m not nearly as worldly as you, who’ve traveled far and wide. I’m clumsy with words and don’t know how to speak properly...”
Seeing her grovel so humbly, the pockmarked auntie’s wounded pride seemed to ease a little. She glanced again at Lin Wu’s pot of porridge and confirmed it was still the same batch from the morning—proof that they were truly destitute. Dragging along a burden like that, with nothing to squeeze out of them, tagging along would just be dead weight. She gave a snort, and finally backed off, dropping the matter.
Once the porridge was warmed through, Lin Wu had no desire to linger a moment longer. She picked up the clay pot and, together with Lin Jing, hurried back to their room.
Shutting the door, Lin Wu spooned the warm porridge into bowls while summarizing in a few words what the pockmarked auntie had said about wanting them to join the caravan.
Lin Jing, who had been holding himself taut the whole time, finally relaxed a fraction. He listened in silence, then muttered under his breath, with some resentment: “Pretty words, but I bet it’s our coins she’s after.”
Lin Jing was wise beyond his years. From the pockmarked auntie’s own breakfast—a bowl of wild-greens porridge so thin it was nearly see-through—and her pilfering of the inn’s firewood, he knew the caravan was in dire straits. Inviting others to join was likely a ploy to pool money or find someone to shoulder the costs.
From the desolate mountain wilds to this ramshackle inn bustling with all sorts of people, he had seen in these days how ordinary folk truly lived and knew it was a world utterly unlike the one he had known in the palace.
He understood that he could no longer behave as he once had, but he still didn’t know how to put on a mask the way Lin Wu did. All he could do was speak less, move less, and court no trouble, sticking close to Lin Wu at all times.
It also served as a warning to Lin Wu. Out here, people’s hearts were treacherous and hard to predict. They had to be even more careful, and could not afford to let slip even the smallest detail that might betray them.
“Don’t worry,” Lin Wu said softly, trying to reassure him. “These days, everyone’s too busy looking after themselves to go poking into other people’s business and making trouble for no reason. That auntie kept harping on us only because she figured a widow and an orphan looked easy to push around—she wanted to wring a few more coppers or a bite of dry rations out of our lean bundles to fill her own belly, that’s all.”
But even as she said this, a stone sat heavy in her heart. She had no idea how things had gone with the Jin Cheng workshop.
To be honest, Lin Wu wasn’t entirely confident in her own skills.
In both her past life and this one, she had never been a true master of any craft. She had seen, in the museums, those exquisite pieces of intangible cultural heritage—objects so finely wrought they seemed to defy human hands. In any age there were artisans who had honed their craft to perfection. Their tea cakes and pastries, with their refinement and artistry, were far beyond anything she, a self-taught dabbler, could produce.
Her only edge, perhaps, was that touch of novelty from across the ages.
And when it came to novel foods, the only things she could think of were modern baked goods—but that idea was snuffed out the moment it crossed her mind.
For one thing, although the sugar industry was thriving in this era and even ordinary folk could afford sweetness, what they generally used was low-grade molasses. Fine white sugar was still beyond the reach of most households.
Besides sugar, dairy products were another headache. Though city folk did drink cow’s and goat’s milk, and street stalls in the capital sold honeyed pastries, butter and cheese extracted from milk remained expensive delicacies. Yet these were staples that went into making pastries, and they were hardly ingredients a poor woman could easily come by or know how to handle.
Even if she somehow managed to make such treats, the raw materials alone would push the final price far out of reach for the common folk.
And what’s more, if these distinctive confections—so different from anything else around—started to spread, word would eventually reach the woman who held the palace in the palm of her hand. For someone who, like Lin Wu, was a traveler from another world, it would be like walking straight into a trap. If that woman decided she couldn’t abide her, crushing her would be no more trouble than stepping on an ant.
At this thought, Lin Wu let out a silent sigh. The road ahead was long, and they would need to tread even more carefully.
