Nine must add some additional income.

Qin Jin didn’t give it much thought, simply assuming that Li Mei had indeed picked a few extra sweet potato leaves. This was quite common. His elder sister-in-law, Song Laidi, worried that Ye Miao was too shy to go to the old courtyard’s vegetable garden to pick vegetables, so she had taken the initiative to bring them vegetables twice in recent days.

Ye Miao breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to move the dining table out into the yard. When Qin Jin washed his hands and sat down, he saw a bowl of thick millet porridge simmered until creamy, with a few peanuts floating within. Nearby, a basket held deep green sweet potato leaf cornbread, accompanied by a small bowl of garlic sauce drizzled with fragrant sesame oil placed in the center. There was also a large bowl of stir-fried winter melon with chili peppers.

Still very simple, purely vegetarian.

He sat down at the table and invited Zhao Feng and Ye Miao to start eating. Reaching for a cornbread, he spooned some garlic sauce into it. Taking a bite, the spicy aroma of the garlic mingled with the chewy texture of the cornbread, light but exquisitely flavorful.

“Delicious,” he said sincerely, looking at Ye Miao with genuine praise.

Ye Miao was sipping porridge and, upon hearing the compliment, raised his bowl higher, hiding much of his face.

Qin Jin always praised him at meals. Before, it was just the two of them as a couple, so any compliment was welcome. Now, praising him in front of his father thrice today made him feel a bit embarrassed.

Zhao Feng, sitting nearby, said nothing but kept his head down eating the cornbread, though a smile flickered in his eyes.

Ye Miao only spoke well of Qin Jin in his presence. Before, Zhao Feng wasn’t sure if it was true, but after spending the whole day working with him, his heart finally settled.

After dinner, Zhao Feng returned to the neighboring courtyard, while Ye Miao squatted by the basket feeding the little chicks with leftover millet porridge.

Fifty chicks were kept in three large baskets, skillfully woven by old Qin. Upon hearing they had bought chicks, Wang Xiuqin had sent over several baskets.

Now, as Ye Miao sprinkled millet, the chicks chirped excitedly, clustering wherever the grains fell.

When finished, he carried the baskets indoors.

The chicks were still small enough to hold in one hand. Leaving them outside in the chicken coop was risky, as weasels might snatch them, so they had to be raised indoors for now.

Qin Jin returned with water and saw Ye Miao squatting, counting them one by one. “Didn’t you count them when feeding just now?” he asked.

Ye Miao felt a bit sheepish. Since Qin Jin bought the chicks earlier, he hadn't taken his eyes off them all afternoon and had counted them several times.

“Counting brings peace of mind,” he said.

Qin Jin smiled and decided that once the chicks grew a little, he’d buy more.

The next day, Ye Miao and Zhao Feng made sixteen jin of pea cakes. Qin Jin took fourteen jin with him, leaving two jin for Ye Miao to sell in the village.

Fourteen jin was no small amount. Qin Jin felt a bit anxious. Last time, selling ten jin meant starting before dawn and continuing until noon if luck wasn’t on their side.

Now with four more jin, he worried about leftovers and thus started a tasting event to attract buyers.

Thanks to the tasting, sales went quickly, and by noon they had sold out.

After closing the stall, Qin Jin went to the city to buy peas. The grain and sugar shops were on the main street. After finishing business, he bypassed the city and went to the vegetable market in the west.

The city’s vegetable market closed early, and only a few stalls remained open when he arrived.

He went straight to the pork stall. This wasn’t the butcher from the neighboring Lu family village. Seeing only a few pounds of lean meat and two meticulously cleaned large pork bones left, he hesitated briefly, then turned away.

The debt was not yet cleared; he couldn’t afford lavish meals.

As for the bare bones without meat, buying them would be useless; they wouldn’t nourish the body.

Back home, half a jin of pea cakes remained unsold by evening. Qin Jin added them to the family meal.

Of the sixteen jin made today, one and a half jin had been eaten or given as samples. Deducting this, they had earned one hundred wen in total.

If word got out, the whole village would envy them.

Earning one hundred wen a day meant three taels of silver a month.

That would allow them to eat meat every day!

Probably only the butcher from the neighboring village earned that much.

His cousin Qin Shuli worked as an accountant in the county town, earning only two taels and three qian a month. His aunt Zhu Erhong looked down on them all the time because of this.

But Qin Jin was not satisfied.

At this pace, afraid to eat or drink freely, it would take two months to clear the debt. And if it rained, they couldn’t open the stall that day.

Could he really survive on wild vegetable cornbread every day during this time?

He had never endured such hardship. Though his previous life wasn’t wealthy, food and drink were never a concern.

Now, he couldn’t even afford two pork bones. It was too miserable.

Besides, he wanted to nourish his little husband, who had not gained an ounce despite being held every night.

They needed more income.

Because they had to wake early to make pea cakes, their dinners were always early. Usually, after dinner, it was still bright outside. Tonight, after eating, Qin Jin said to Ye Miao, “Go ask our mother to lend some cotton cloth, at least seven or eight feet.”

“For what?” Ye Miao asked curiously.

“I’m planning to make a new kind of food. Keep it a secret for now; you’ll see tomorrow.” Seeing Ye Miao’s puzzled face, he didn’t explain further but went inside to take twenty wen from the money box. “I’m heading to Zhang’s tofu shop.”

Ye Miao blinked and agreed. After Qin Jin left, he quickly cleaned the kitchen and went to borrow cotton cloth from Wang Xiuqin next door.

Qin Jin had been single before and often ate at the old courtyard. Cloth was always provided by Wang Xiuqin; he never owned any himself.

Zhang Tofu’s full name was Zhang Qi. He lived in the east of the village. His family was well-off, with striking brick and tile houses.

During off-season, Zhang’s family sold tofu at the city gate; during busy season, only in the village. Their tofu had been sold for decades, known by several surrounding villages. If people didn’t want to go to the city, they came to him.

Moreover, Zhang Qi’s brother-in-law was a peddler who came daily to take away a board of tofu, so Zhang’s tofu never had trouble selling and was usually all gone by nightfall.

Qin Jin wasn’t there to buy tofu but to ask Zhang Qi to save some tofu pudding for him tomorrow.

He planned to make “qianzhang” from tofu pudding.

Like pea cakes, qianzhang could be carried in a bamboo basket to the city gate for sale—convenient and simple, with easy-to-obtain ingredients.

With his current finances, even a small food cart was out of reach.

Besides, the consumption level at the city gate was low, nowhere near the city. If he made refined foods, they wouldn’t sell well.

At Zhang’s, after explaining his purpose, Zhang Qi was somewhat surprised. Twenty wen worth of tofu pudding? That would need to be carried in a bucket.

Learning Qin Jin intended to make a new food from tofu pudding, Zhang Qi felt both excited and anxious: excited because he could sell more tofu pudding, anxious because tofu pudding was a step before tofu. Was Qin Jin planning to make tofu too?

Though curious, he didn’t ask but took the coins and told Qin Jin to come pick it up at the early hour of yin time (around 3–5 a.m.).

Making tofu was hard work, requiring an early start.

After returning home, Ye Miao had already borrowed the cotton cloth. Qin Jin washed up and went to bed.

Ye Miao had planned to take the initiative to build affection with Qin Jin that night. Though frequent intimacy might lead to pregnancy, it couldn’t all depend on their wedding night.

Could Qin Jin refuse him until the debt was paid off?

That was unacceptable.

So he planned to wiggle a lot in Qin Jin’s arms tonight, and if Qin Jin still didn’t respond, he would take the initiative to undo his clothes.

But plans can’t keep up with changes. Qin Jin mentioned making a new food, and Ye Miao’s thoughts immediately shifted there.

What new food could be made from tofu pudding?

Clutching this question, he soon fell asleep in Qin Jin’s arms.

At dawn, he woke on time and, with his father, made pea cakes. At yin time, he went inside to wake Qin Jin.

Qin Jin rose without washing, grabbed a wooden bucket, and headed to Zhang’s to get the tofu pudding.

The region produced many soybeans, so their price was lower than peas: three wen per jin. One jin of soybeans could make three jin of firm tofu or six jin of tofu pudding.

One jin of tofu pudding cost one wen, so Qin Jin’s twenty wen could buy twenty jin of tofu pudding.

After bringing it back, he found the usual bread basket used for buns and cornbread and began making qianzhang.

The method was simple: beat the tofu pudding into a thick batter, then line the basket with cotton cloth. Spoon a layer of tofu pudding thinly onto the cloth, then cover with another layer of cloth, and keep layering.

At the top, place a ceramic bowl filled with water to press out moisture. After half an hour, the qianzhang was ready.

The resulting qianzhang was thin with the cloth’s texture imprinted on it. Ye Miao immediately cut it into threads and tossed it with sesame oil, chili, minced garlic, and other seasonings as a cold dish.

After mixing, Qin Jin had him and Zhao Feng try it first.

The taste was excellent—no sign of tofu, a slight chewiness, and delicate texture.

“Jin Ge, you try some,” Ye Miao urged eagerly after swallowing a mouthful, his eyes full of admiration. “Did you learn this?”

“Yes,” Qin Jin nodded naturally, accepting his little husband’s praise with ease.

Ye Miao’s eyes sparkled; he felt proud. His husband was impressive.

Qin Jin picked up his chopsticks and tried a bite. The handmade qianzhang wasn’t as firm as machine-made ones and was somewhat thick, but the texture was equally good.

He was very satisfied. “Make some more to send to the old courtyard,” he told Ye Miao.

From twenty jin of tofu pudding, they made less than four and a half jin of qianzhang.

Half was for home, the rest to sell at the market.

After breakfast, Qin Jin slung the bamboo basket over his back, grabbed a stool, and set up his stall.

His qianzhang pieces were small—six pieces made a jin—and sold for one wen per piece, totaling one jin and six wen per jin.

This was much higher than tofu, which sold for two wen per jin.

But his qianzhang was unique, and his costs were higher because the tofu pudding was bought from Zhang’s, not homemade.

Even at this price, for four and a half jin, the total sale would be twenty-seven wen. Deducting the twenty wen cost, he earned seven wen.

Not much.

Moreover, the actual weight was less than four and a half jin, so he earned even less.

But the process was simple and convenient.

He would keep selling like this. If unsold, he would lower the price or try to promote it in city restaurants or taverns.

He preferred not to go to those places. Regardless of pea cakes or qianzhang, there was little technical skill involved. Professionals could easily replicate them.

He worried about competitors copying him, so he stayed outside the city selling at the market.

With various plans in mind, he soon arrived at the city gate.

He came early but didn’t set up near the gate. Instead, he chose his usual spot for the stall.