Yang Yufen sold raw sweet potatoes, and Little Zhang’s opening remark was clearly an attempt to negotiate the price.
“Then come back a bit later, after I’ve packed up my stall.”
Yang Yufen didn’t refuse, and Little Zhang’s eyes immediately lit up. Just then, another person squeezed in beside him.
“Miss, would you mind if I joined in? Don’t worry, I don’t set up shop around here either. I’ve been watching you for three days—your sweet potatoes are unique.”
Yang Yufen thought for a moment and nodded.
“Just the two of you, then. Any more, and I won’t have enough sweet potatoes. Selling them raw isn’t as profitable as roasted ones, and I could actually sell them all myself.”
At her words, the older and younger men exchanged a glance—they were now competitors.
“But think carefully before committing. If you really want to buy, I only accept cash, no credit.”
Yang Yufen spoke firmly.
“Of course, of course.”
The man who had called her “Miss,” Wang Dazhi, quickly agreed.
Little Zhang, however, fell silent. After a moment of hesitation, he turned and walked into the textile factory.
“Little Zhang, are you sure about this? Your family needs money right now. If you sell this job, it won’t be easy to find another one later.”
“I’ve made up my mind. Given my family’s situation, I have no other choice.”
Little Zhang’s face was drawn with worry, enough to make anyone’s heart ache. Soon, he called over someone else, and after mutual agreement, his temporary position at the factory was handed over.
A temporary worker earned twenty-eight yuan a month, over three hundred a year. The buyer paid him six hundred yuan upfront.
Little Zhang calculated how many sweet potatoes he could buy with that money. Besides the sweet potatoes, he’d need a roasting stove. A tricycle was out of reach, but a handcart was manageable.
Then there were his father’s unpaid hospital bills. If he didn’t pay soon, his father would be discharged.
The surgery fees had been covered, but recovery would take time. As the only son, the burden fell entirely on him.
When the textile factory shift ended, Yang Yufen’s roasted sweet potatoes sold out quickly. Little Zhang was too eager to wait—he crouched nearby, helping with the calculations.
He didn’t touch the money, but whenever someone handed over cash, he quickly figured out the change needed.
Yang Yufen glanced at him a couple of times but said nothing. Everyone had their struggles, and swallowing one’s pride wasn’t easy.
Half an hour earlier than usual, Yang Yufen sold out. She then led the two men toward the research institute.
Aunt Wang’s son had grown about four acres of honey sweet potatoes, yielding roughly four thousand pounds per acre. After distributing some, he still had around fifteen thousand pounds left.
Yang Yufen had been selling roasted sweet potatoes for a week now—a hundred pounds on the first day, then three hundred daily, all from just one spot.
Of course, people would eventually grow tired of them, and sales might drop. But she could always move to other locations.
By her estimate, she’d sell out just in time for the New Year.
“I can only spare ten thousand pounds. As you’ve seen, I sell over two hundred pounds a day. If I didn’t have to go home to cook for my daughter-in-law, I could ride my tricycle to schools or movie theaters and sell even more.”
The two men nodded. Ten thousand pounds sounded like a lot, but it wouldn’t last long—especially since they’d have to split it.
“You could also sell roasted chestnuts alongside them—just set up a pan on top of the stove.”
Yang Yufen’s suggestion made their eyes light up. Why hadn’t they thought of that?
“I’ll take—”
Wang Dazhi tried to speak first.
“Half each!”
Little Zhang cut in.
“Young man, why not yield to an old man like me? You probably don’t have enough money anyway. How about this—I’ll take six thousand pounds, leaving you with four. With the chestnuts, that should be enough.”
Wang Dazhi played the age card.
“Uncle Wang, my father’s around your age too. It’s hard for an old man to recover from a broken leg. Could you give me a break? I actually wanted six thousand pounds myself—I won’t have time for the chestnuts anyway.”
When it came to making a living, pride was the least of their concerns.
“Sort it out between yourselves. If you’re buying, meet me here tomorrow at eight in the morning. I still need to cook for my daughter-in-law.”
Yang Yufen turned to leave.
“Wait, Miss—we haven’t settled on the price yet.”
Wang Dazhi was the first to react. Buying in bulk meant they couldn’t pay the same as retail customers.
“Two cents less per pound.”
“Make it three.”
“Forget it, then. I’ll sell them myself.”
Yang Yufen mounted her tricycle, ready to go.
“Two cents, two cents! We’ll be here first thing tomorrow with the money.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll only get a thousand pounds. I’ll let you know when to collect the rest.”
Their eyes nearly sparked at the news—a thousand pounds wouldn’t even last two days.
But Yang Yufen didn’t care. She rode straight into the residential compound, where they couldn’t follow.
Back home, she was surprised to find Qin Nian there.
“You’re off work early today?”
Then she noticed Qin Nian’s pale complexion.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Just need to rest.”
Qin Nian waved her hand weakly.
Yang Yufen suddenly understood.
“Morning sickness? Does your stomach hurt? Let me get you some warm water. Go lie down.”
Qin Nian nodded. Her mentor’s wife had warned her, but she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. At lunch, the smell of fish in the cafeteria had set her off, and her teacher, seeing how poorly she looked, had sent her home.
Yang Yfen reheated the food in the pot, then made a fresh batch of rice porridge with a touch of brown sugar. She carried it to Qin Nian’s room.
“Nian, try to eat a little.”
Qin Nian’s stomach was still uneasy—she’d thrown up several times and hadn’t eaten since noon.
But with her mother-in-law’s kindness, she forced down a few spoonfuls. The mild porridge, sweetened slightly, didn’t immediately revolt her. But after a few more sips, her stomach protested again.
Yang Yufen, watching closely, quickly took the bowl away.
“Don’t push yourself. Pregnancy is like this—the little one decides how much you can eat, and not a bite more.”
She comforted Qin Nian, then brought a basin of warm water for her to freshen up. Gradually, some color returned to Qin Nian’s face.
“Sleep now. I’ll keep the porridge warm. Have some more when you feel better.”
Exhausted, Qin Nian nodded and drifted off.
Once sure she was asleep, Yang Yufen went to see Aunt Wang.
“I’ve sold all the honey sweet potatoes—only kept about two thousand pounds.”
“All of them?”
Aunt Wang was stunned. Selling two or three hundred pounds a day had already amazed her, but this was beyond belief.
“Two men saw how well they sold and asked to buy from me. I agreed. I’ll earn a little less, but Nian’s health comes first.”
