The rain strands drifted nonstop, pattering down in fine, soft sounds that never swelled into a heavy downpour.
A cool breeze drifted through the room, and after sitting indoors for a long while, a faint chill seeped into one's bones.
The early winter in Huzhou was not yet bleak. The vines climbing over the courtyard wall, though slightly withered, seemed to regain a touch of vitality after being doused by the fine rain.
As the sound of rain gradually faded, the stick-pulling game indoors drew to a close. Tigerhead, who had lost round after round, finally gave up for the time being on his wish to redeem his pride — perhaps there were too many past losses to make up for, or maybe it was because Little Zheng, who had been sent off to fetch his most treasured belongings, had returned, so he could show them off to Lin Jing.
Little Zheng stepped in carrying a small basket, inside which bright, colorful little toys were piled in a charming jumble. Tiny silver spears and knives, little drums, spinning toy figures, small top toys, and more dazzled the eye, and the most eye-catching of all were the several Moluo figures that were barely as tall as a palm. These were the most popular toys among the city's children nowadays, molded from clay or wood, with vividly carved eyebrows, eyes, beards and hair, dressed in tiny silk clothes, some holding small lotus flowers, others clutching small lotus leaves.
It was clear that for thousands of years, children's interests had stayed remarkably consistent, all fated to be captivated by these little human-shaped dolls.
Moluo figures were not exactly rare — ordinary children could own one or two — but the finely crafted ones cost a pretty penny. A pair of exquisite Moluo figures could even sell for several strings of cash, enough to pay for the pushcart Lin Wu had pondered over again and again.
At the moment, Lin Wu could not afford either the Moluo figures or the pushcart at all. She was still worrying over what small business she could start to make a living.
The rain stopped gradually, leaving only the intermittent drip of water falling from the eave corners. The sky did not clear up, though; lead-gray clouds hung heavy and low over the horizon.
Little Zheng glanced at the sky and reminded Tigerhead again, "Young Master, it's getting late. It's time to go back for your afternoon nap."
Tigerhead was just pressing a Moluo figure into Lin Jing's hand. "I'm not sleepy, and my Moluo dolls aren't sleepy either. It's their first time meeting Jing, so they have to stay here and play for a while, get to know the place, or they'll get lost next time."
"Brother Zheng brought them here. It's Brother Zheng who should remember the way," Lin Jing said, putting the Moluo figure back into the small basket.
Tigerhead was left speechless by the reply. He blinked his big eyes, then simply flopped down onto the daybed, splaying his limbs and humming under his breath, looking every inch the little rascal throwing a tantrum to get his way.
Lin Jing tilted his little head and looked at Tigerhead, seeming a little confused by this way of negotiating. Then he turned his gaze toward Lin Wu.
"Alright, we've all been busy for half the day, you must be tired," Lin Wu said with a smile, smoothing over the moment. "Why don't we have some pastries first to line our stomachs and rest a bit?"
As she spoke, she turned to fetch the pastries Tigerhead had brought with him, and poured several cups of hot water. The few of them had a simple snack, which served as a light lunch to tide them over.
Seeing that the rain had stopped and it was still early in the day, and that Tigerhead showed no sign of heading back, Lin Wu figured Little Zheng could keep an eye on the house for a while, and the two children had each other for company. She asked Little Zheng to help watch over the place, then stepped out of the door again.
By midday, the morning market had long dispersed. The city's markets were split into three shifts: the morning market, the daytime market, and the night market.
The morning market started at the fifth watch, when the sky was still dark. Farmers and vendors carried fresh fruits, seasonal vegetables, meat and poultry, and aquatic goods through the streets, calling out their wares. When the sun rose high and the morning market wound down, the liveliness shifted to the main street, the domain of established shops. Storefronts stood next to storefronts, restaurants nestled close to teahouses, all open from dawn till dark, with an endless stream of people coming and going. Of course, there were also peddlers with baskets and carrying poles calling out their goods along the street.
When the sky turned fully dark, the night market took over. Lanterns lit up, the noise of voices rose and swelled, and the hustle went on until dawn. This was how the city lived its day, nonstop from morning to night.
Lin Wu was now on that main street. Compared to the chaotic morning market, the eateries and shops here were neater, but they were just as dazzling. The pastry shops alone were enough to make one's eyes boggle.
Different kinds of cake and pancake shops lined up one after another. She watched carefully, since sooner or later she might have to compete with them for business, and found that most of these shops fell into two categories. The first type mainly sold fried and pan-fried pastries, along with steamed buns and sugar-filled pies. Their goods were exquisitely made, served in boxes or shallow plates, looking clean and presentable.
The other type specialized in sesame seed cakes. Their assembly line work was even more orderly. Three to five people gathered around a long wooden table, some rolling out dough, some cutting the dough into portions, some pinching decorative edges onto the portions, and others manning the ovens to do the baking. Some large shops had as many as fifty ovens just for making sesame seed cakes.
Standing outside the shop, she could smell the rich, sweet aroma of baking pastries. Probably because they made such a large volume, the prices were very affordable. Naturally, when output was high, the average cost per item dropped accordingly.
Lin Wu watched silently, her heart filled with uncertainty. If she wanted to carve out a spot in this already mature trade and compete with these long-established shops, she would either have to sell for a lower price, make pastries that tasted better, or come up with some new trick no one else had.
But things were too rushed right now, and she did not know the market well. She breathed out a sigh. She would give it a try first — you had to take the first step on any road.
But that first step quickly emptied her purse. She went to the ironmonger's shop and gritted her teeth to buy a large iron wok, which cost 800 copper coins — a price equal to half the cost of that pushcart she had been thinking about. Comparing the two, she suddenly felt the pushcart did not seem so expensive after all. But a wok was different. No matter what business she ran later, or even just for cooking at home, she could not do without it. This was money she could not skimp on.
Then she bought all sorts of other supplies piece by piece: a bamboo steamer, bamboo sieves, ceramic plates, and more. Next she stopped at the grain shop to buy white flour and sugar, and when a peddler carrying a pole of vegetables walked past calling out his wares, she bought a large bunch of spinach and some dried dates. Compared to the iron and wooden tools, the price of food ingredients felt much more approachable. Wheat was cheaper than rice these days, and a dou of milled white wheat flour cost no more than seventy-three copper coins.
All in all, she had bought a pile of things, but fortunately the ironmonger, seeing how much she had purchased, offered to have someone deliver the goods for her. Lin Wu then rode back to the small courtyard along with the cart.
Lin Jing and Tigerhead heard the noise and ran out of the house together, circling around her.
"I'll carry this!" Tigerhead grabbed a steamer that was a little too big for him, staggering unsteadily toward the house. Luckily the steamer was light, so everyone let him do as he pleased.
Lin Jing first glanced at Tigerhead's wobbly path, then obediently took the spinach and dried dates from Lin Wu, holding them in his hands.
"A Wu, you bought so many things, there's hardly any space left to put them!" Tigerhead finally leaned the steamer against the wall, then ran back to the courtyard gate, shouting, "Are we going to make so many delicious things tonight?"
Lin Jing looked at the steamer, then turned to Lin Wu too. "Are we going to make pastries to sell?"
Lin Wu nodded. "A Jing guessed half right. This time we're not making pastries. We're going to try making cakes."
"Cakes? What kind of cakes?" Tigerhead immediately followed behind Lin Wu as she bustled in and out of the room, chattering nonstop. "I've eaten honey cake, bee sugar cake, Double Ninth cake, glutinous rice cake, wheat cake..."
Tigerhead's string of pastry names successfully made Lin Wu feel the pressure of competing against so many established sellers.
"And cherry rice cake," Lin Jing said as he stood on tiptoe to place the spinach and dried dates on the kitchen stove.
Tigerhead immediately waved his little hand. "Right right right, and there's the delicious cherry rice cake! Sis, are you going to make cherry rice cake?"
Lin Wu smiled. "Not cherry rice cake. I'm planning to make something new and different. If Tigerhead comes to find us at the market tomorrow, you'll get to see it."
"Is that the west side morning market?" Tigerhead asked right away.
"That's the one."
While the sky was still light, Lin Wu started sorting and washing all the new kitchen things she had just brought home. That heavy iron wok needed to be seasoned, and the bamboo steamer and sieves had to be scrubbed clean to dry.
Lin Jing and Tigerhead also got their own tasks. They sat side by side on small stools, their heads leaning close together as they scrubbed spinach and dried jujubes.
Before they knew it, smoke and the scent of home-cooked meals drifted from every house down the alley.
Little Zheng had to urge Tigerhead to head home.
Tigerhead was pulled toward the door, craning his neck to look back again and again as he shouted, "Sis, it's a promise! You have to save the new cake for me tomorrow! I'll bring lots and lots of money, and call tons of people to come buy it too!"
Lin Jing watched the carriage's shadow disappear, then followed Lin Wu back into the yard, sticking close behind her with a confident look on his face. "Even if Tigerhead doesn't bring anyone, we can still sell everything."
When night fell, Lin Wu finally got the drowsy little A Jing to bed, his little head nodding off every few seconds. Then she turned right back to the kitchen.
The night chill was creeping in, but the flickering flames in the stove hearth wrapped the whole kitchen in warmth.
The dried jujubes she had soaked in the pot earlier were now soft and fully cooked. Lin Wu stirred them with a spoon, fished them out, and drained them on a bamboo sieve. Once they were cool enough to touch, she cut each one open with scissors and picked out the pits.
Jujubes were common and cheap these days. Jujube cakes and jujube rings were sold on every street, and steamed jujubes were a super popular cheap snack, seven for just one copper coin. As she peeled the jujubes, she got a little craving herself, took a bite, and found they were really sweet.
She put the pitted jujube meat in a stone mortar and pounded it into a paste. Then she rubbed the paste through a bamboo sieve with a wooden spoon to sift out the jujube skins, so the paste would be extra smooth. After that, she simmered it on the stove to cook off the extra moisture. The jujube paste grew darker in color, and soon turned into thick, rich jujube jam.
When the jujube jam was done, the water in the earthen pot had come to a rolling boil. Lin Wu tossed the spinach into the boiling water for a quick blanch, then fished it out and plunged it into a bowl of cold water she had set aside earlier. This sudden shock of cold locked in the spinach's bright green color, keeping it from turning dark and dull. Next, she mashed the spinach in the stone mortar the same way she did the jujubes, then wrapped the mash in a cloth and squeezed out all the green juice.
By the time she finished all that work, the night was already deep. All was quiet around her, save for the chirping of crickets rising and falling, drifting near and far.
Lin Wu put the jar of jujube jam on the cool spot by the stove and covered it tight. The jam had so much sugar in it, and the weather was cool now, so it should keep well for a day or two. The jar of green spinach juice she set in a small bucket, tied a rope to it, and slowly lowered it down the well to keep it fresh.
After she tidied everything up, she rubbed her sore shoulders and neck, blew out the kitchen lamp, and tiptoed back to her room to rest.
The next day, the faint sound of the fifth watch dawn bell rang out, and Lin Wu woke up. The early morning air was bitingly cold, so she pulled her padded jacket tight, quickly washed up, and headed straight to the kitchen.
She could already hear the faint hum of noise coming from far outside the gate. The morning market was waking up.
She filled the big iron wok to the brim with water, squatted down, and started a fire. As the flames caught, the chill in the room slowly began to fade away.
She mixed wheat flour, the green spinach juice, eggs, sourdough starter, and sugar all together in a big clay basin, stirring slowly until she got a smooth, even green batter. Then she took three clean deep clay plates, brushed a thin layer of oil on the inside of each, poured the batter into the plates in a thin, even layer, and set them side by side by the stove to rise in the residual warmth.
The rising process took time, and the water in the wok wasn't boiling yet. She didn't idle around, though. She mixed up another whole basin of batter the same way and set it aside for later.
She had just set down the clay basin when she turned around and saw the fire in the hearth had died down. She squatted right back down, poked the embers with the fire stick, and added a couple more sticks of firewood.
When she figured the time was right, she lifted the wok lid. The water was boiling, and a cloud of hot steam puffed right into her face. The three plates of batter had finished rising perfectly too. She carefully set the clay plates in the bamboo steamer and put the lid on. The steamer was small, so it could only fit three plates at a time.
She kept a close eye on the time. As soon as the top layer of the batter was slightly set, she quickly lifted the steamer lid, scooped up the boiled jujube jam, and spread a thin, even layer over each of the partially steamed cake bases. By then, the second basin of reserved batter had finished rising too. She worked fast to pour that batter into the three clay plates over the jujube jam, making a second layer, then put the steamer lid back on to keep steaming.
The big clay basin that was now empty didn't get a rest. She started mixing a third batch of batter, her wrist starting to ache a little.
Finally, the first batch of cakes was done. She lifted the steamer lid, and as the white steam cleared, she saw bright green steamed cakes sitting in the plates, fluffy and full, smelling softly sweet.
Using a thick cloth, she lifted the scalding hot clay plates out and set them aside to cool.
Next, she cleaned the steamer lining, topped up the water in the wok, and started the fire again. While the second batch steamed, she quickly cooked a small pot of congee, chopped up a handful of spinach to toss in, and cracked an egg to stir into egg drops.
Just then, Lin Jing came shuffling in, rubbing his sleepy eyes, following the light from the kitchen to stand in the doorway and peek inside.
"Did I wake you up, A Jing?" Lin Wu asked in a soft voice, not pausing her wooden spoon for a second.
Lin Jing shook his head, still half-asleep, and wandered over.
Lin Wu took his hand and led him to the small square stool by the stove, sitting him down. "Sit here and warm up first."
After sitting next to the warm stove hearth for a while, Lin Jing seemed to wake up a little more. His eyes followed Lin Wu as she moved around, then drifted to the dancing flames in the hearth. He reached out his little hand, picked up a stick of firewood, and fed it into the fire.
"I'll help A Wu watch the fire."
"That's a huge help," Lin Wu said, turning to bump his arm gently with hers. Her hands were covered in flour, so she couldn't ruffle his little head like she usually did.
When the second batch of steamed cakes was done and taken out, she took the cakes that had cooled down to warm, gently popped them out of the clay plates onto the chopping board, and cut them carefully with a knife, counting as she went. Three plates per steamer batch, eight pieces per plate, so two batches made forty-eight pieces total.
She had been rushing around nonstop all morning, her back aching, and she only had forty-eight pieces to show for it. She only had one iron wok, and she could only steam one batch at a time. She had to stay right by the stove the whole time, watching the fire, adding wood, making sure the water never ran dry, and keeping her hands busy the whole time. There was no room for any mistakes.
She stood up straight, punched her lower back gently to soothe the soreness, and looked at the neat stack of bright green steamed cakes in the bamboo basket. They looked just right, and they smelled sweet and delicious, but the output was way too low. If she really wanted to make a living selling these, she would have to figure out a way to streamline the whole process.
Sorry for the late update today [poor thing]
