Twenty taels of patterned silver were enough to buy an entire house with a small courtyard.
For ordinary folk, however—people like Zheng Xiaoyue's husband, Wang Dazhuang—working themselves to the bone for a whole year wouldn't even earn ten taels. Whatever money came in with the left hand flowed right back out with the right.
"Sister Zheng," Jiang Huaiyu asked softly, leaning closer, "do you know where I might borrow a stone mill? Buying one would be fine too—preferably one that's for sale."
Zheng Xiaoyue looked at her in confusion. After a moment's thought, she replied, "If you're talking about a stone mill, we have one at home. It's just sitting idle. Are you planning to grind the beans into flour? If that's the case, Huaiyu, you might as well steam them and eat them whole. Once they're ground into flour, they don't taste very good."
Though truth be told, they didn't taste particularly good either way.
Jiang Huaiyu smiled. "I once saw a recipe in an old book. It can turn these beans into something truly delicious—and it won't bloat your stomach either. The ways to eat it are endless."
"That sounds incredible!" Zheng Xiaoyue exclaimed, then hesitated. "But it must be difficult, right? You'd have to add special ingredients? Otherwise, how could plain beans turn into something delicious?"
"Then let's do this," Jiang Huaiyu said calmly. "Tomorrow, could you and Brother Wang help me wash the stone mill clean? I'll bring the beans over and show you myself."
Zheng Xiaoyue's eyes widened. "Show us? That won't do! If it really turns out delicious, that's your skill. What if we watch and end up stealing your secret?"
"Actually, I have another idea," Jiang Huaiyu said gently, signaling for her to calm down. "But it'll make more sense once you and Brother Wang see the finished product tomorrow."
Zheng Xiaoyue could only suppress her curiosity, though her heart churned like a stormy sea.
She'd always known Jiang Huaiyu's background couldn't be simple, but she hadn't thought too deeply about it. She just found her likable and wanted to be closer to her.
Yet now, hearing her claim she could turn ordinary beans into a delicacy—it sounded almost like turning stone into gold. Zheng Xiaoyue found it hard to believe, but seeing Jiang Huaiyu's confident, radiant smile, she swallowed her doubts.
Behind them on the donkey cart, Xu Chunhua frowned, itching to lean forward and catch every word.
Xu Chunhua had always loved taking advantage of others. Seeing Jiang Huaiyu and Zheng Xiaoyue whispering, she felt uneasy, as though she were missing out on something important.
"I need to figure out what these two women are plotting," she muttered.
Her eyes darted around. Ignoring her daughter, whose eyes were red from crying, she glanced at her dull-looking eldest son and snapped, "Later, when you carry the beans off the cart, if you spill even one, you're not eating dinner tonight!"
After a long, bumpy ride, they finally made it home. With Zheng Xiaoyue's help, Jiang Huaiyu brought the chicks and the beans back.
She quickly prepared some thin porridge for Tangbao. The little one, who had been so hungry his eyes brimmed with tears, immediately broke into a smile, squinting happily as he ate—adorable beyond measure.
Once Tangbao's meal was settled, Jiang Huaiyu didn't rush to cook for herself. Instead, she fetched several buckets of well water, thoroughly washed the beans, and soaked them in a large jar.
Only after everything was prepared did she make a simple meal, wash up, and go to bed early.
Life in ancient times demanded a strict routine. Once night fell, you couldn't see your hand in front of your face, and there was no entertainment to speak of. Jiang Huaiyu softly hummed a nursery rhyme, coaxing Tangbao to sleep.
At dawn, with roosters crowing faintly in the distance, Jiang Huaiyu rubbed her sleepy eyes and began a new day.
She used a willow twig dipped in coarse salt to clean her teeth, splashed her face with cold well water, and instantly felt awake. After scattering crushed soybeans into the chicken pen—where the chicks eagerly clustered together—she set Tangbao's porridge to simmer over a low flame.
Full of energy, Jiang Huaiyu knocked on Zheng Xiaoyue's door.
"Auntie, you're here!" said Xianghe, Zheng Xiaoyue's seven-year-old daughter, far more sensible than Jiang Huaiyu had expected. "I'll go help you take care of little Runjing now!"
"You're such a good girl," Jiang Huaiyu said warmly, bending down to meet her gaze. "There are candied beans on the table inside. Eat some if you get tired weaving cords. If there are leftovers, bring them over later."
Xianghe had never seen someone so beautiful before. Her face flushed red as she nodded vigorously, clutching her basket of colorful threads and pushing open the half-closed courtyard gate.
Entering Wang Dazhuang's yard, Jiang Huaiyu saw the couple already waiting. A stone mill sat in the corner, still dripping with water—washed spotlessly clean.
"Huaiyu, does this mill work?" Zheng Xiaoyue asked eagerly, pulling her over. "I didn't sleep all night—I just couldn't figure out how beans could possibly turn into something delicious!"
Others might have taken that as probing, but Jiang Huaiyu understood both this world and Zheng Xiaoyue's nature. She genuinely couldn't imagine how soybeans could become a delicacy.
Jiang Huaiyu laughed lightly. "First, I'll need to trouble Brother Wang to help me carry the soybeans over."
Wang Dazhuang was a typical rural man—quiet, hardworking, and sturdy. He nodded, his dark face expressionless, and followed them to carry back two buckets of soybeans that had soaked overnight.
The water in Wang Village was exceptionally sweet—a pleasant surprise for Jiang Huaiyu. Making tofu required only a few ingredients, but their quality mattered greatly.
To make tofu that was tender and white, the beans had to be good—and the water pure and sweet.
"Next, we grind all these beans," Jiang Huaiyu said with a smile.
Zheng Xiaoyue nodded and decisively put her husband to work, then pulled Jiang Huaiyu into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
"If you ask me," she said, "men need to be kept in line. Don't treat them too well—just order them around when there's work to be done! I used to be so soft-spoken, and now everyone calls me a tigress from Hedong!"
Jiang Huaiyu washed sweet potatoes and taro, placing them on a bamboo rack set over a large pot. Above, the vegetables steamed; below, porridge simmered.
Amid the crackling firewood, the dull rumble of the stone mill echoed from outside.
She smiled. "They say beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. Outsiders may call you a tigress, Sister Zheng—but in Brother Wang's eyes, you're the most beautiful tigress of all."
"Nonsense!" Zheng Xiaoyue shot her a look, though her smile betrayed her.
Soon, the porridge bubbled thickly, fragrant with sweet potato and taro. They plated the vegetables, ladled out the porridge, and finely chopped some pickled vegetables.
A simple breakfast was ready.
Outside, Wang Dazhuang had already ground an entire bucket of beans. Jiang Huaiyu called him in to eat, then carried some food back for Xianghe—and fed Tangbao as well, coaxing him as usual to call her "Mama." The little one only responded with soft "ah-ah" sounds.
She gently pinched his chubby cheek and collected Xianghe's empty bowl.
Both buckets of beans were ground, yielding two and a half buckets of milky soy liquid.
Following Jiang Huaiyu's instructions, Wang Dazhuang carried the soy milk into the kitchen and poured it into a pot over a strong fire.
As it cooked, Jiang Huaiyu stirred continuously to prevent sticking. Once it boiled, she quickly had Zheng Xiaoyue reduce the fire.
Together, the three lifted the heavy pot with damp cloths and poured the boiling soy milk into a large basin lined with white cloth—a cloth they'd bought for two copper coins.
The soy milk streamed through the cloth. Jiang Huaiyu and Zheng Xiaoyue gathered the corners, twisted them tight, and squeezed. The liquid flowed faster, leaving only the pulp behind.
The freshly boiled soy milk carried a rich, mellow aroma. Despite the heat making them sweat, Zheng Xiaoyue found herself starting to believe in the promised delicacy.
What followed felt like watching street magic.
Jiang Huaiyu poured gypsum water into the filtered soy milk, stirred, and let it rest.
Scooping with a halved gourd ladle, she lifted out soft, silky tofu.
Moments ago, it had been liquid. Now it had凝固ed into something smooth and white like lamb fat.
Zheng Xiaoyue nearly choked on her own saliva. This was too incredible.
Outside the wall, peeking through a dog hole, Xu Chunhua curled her lips. "I thought it'd be something special. It's just a pile of white mush—disgusting."
Yet she didn't move, eyes glued to the scene beneath the crooked tree.
Worried they wouldn't grasp tofu's value, Jiang Huaiyu prepared chilled tofu, pan-fried tofu, and a clear tofu soup, letting them taste each one.
"Well?" she asked. "What do you think?"
"It's excellent!" Zheng Xiaoyue answered without hesitation.
"If you saw tofu at the market," Jiang Huaiyu pressed, "one copper coin per piece—would you buy it?"
Zheng Xiaoyue hesitated. Pork cost twenty coins per jin and could feed a family for days. One coin for a piece of tofu barely made a meal.
After careful thought, she decided. "For a treat—maybe a few times a month—I would."
Jiang Huaiyu finally smiled in earnest.
Since arriving in this world, she'd been anxious every day about survival. Without the patience forged from her former life's arts—and without little Tangbao as her anchor—she might have collapsed long ago.