But once the first wave of banquet guests finished eating—having tasted her braised meat during the meal—business exploded. Servants and maids lined up to buy some to take home. Fan Changyu could hardly keep up slicing and wrapping, so she handed the wrapping task to Xie Zheng.

His looks were striking, impossible to ignore. And with such a long queue outside the stall, passersby couldn’t help glancing over—soon, quite a few young ladies and married women joined the line just to buy braised meat.

Late-arriving guests, seeing the commotion from the main hall, inevitably asked, “Why are so many people buying braised meat?”

The attendants answered with a smile, “The guests from the first banquet tasted Fan Ji’s braised meat during their meal and found it delicious. They wanted to buy some to take home for their families to try.”

Hearing that, the guests immediately told their servants, “So many people are buying—it must be worth its name. Buy some for the old madam at home.”

Among them, a guest fond of calligraphy and painting entered the hall and noticed the bold characters Fan Ji Lu Rou on the hanging banners. “What fine handwriting!” he exclaimed. “Such good calligraphy wasted on a shop sign—it’s almost a pity!”

When he looked closer and saw that the oil-paper packages carried the same words, written in that same strong, flowing script, he sighed even more deeply. Instead of buying meat, he sent his servant to purchase just one of the wrappers.

Fan Changyu was momentarily dumbfounded by the request—but if they were willing to pay, why argue?

She realized that the tastes of the wealthy were different from ordinary folk. Taking the money, she cheerfully handed the servant several sheets of the oil paper.

The Song family had produced a juren—a scholar who had passed the provincial exam—and in Qingping County, they were now counted among the notable households. Madam Song herself was eager to mix with the wives of officials and the rich, as if trying to reclaim the glory she’d missed in her earlier years.

Naturally, she attended a banquet like this as well.

Seeing a crowd of servants lining up for braised meat, and many society ladies sending their own maids to buy some, she had planned to join in the excitement too.

But the moment her eyes fell upon the words Fan Ji Lu Rou written on the shop sign, her expression changed.

Looking closer and spotting Fan Changyu busy at the stall, her face fell completely.

“How could she be here…” she muttered.

The woman beside her, who was on familiar terms with her, asked curiously, “Madam Song, do you know that young lady?”

Madam Song let out a long sigh, her tone heavy with feigned compassion. “That poor girl has such a cursed fate—born under the star of solitude and calamity. Not long ago, she brought misfortune to her parents and then her uncle. I suppose the townsfolk shunned her, so she came to the county seeking a living.”

For merchants and officials alike, nothing was more taboo than such talk of inauspicious fates. The moment her words left her mouth, the faces around the table changed at once.

“This time of year, and the shopkeeper of Yixiang Tower lets anyone in?” one of the women said sharply, standing up from her seat in distaste.

Another, the wife of an official, immediately summoned the maid attending their table, her expression stern. “Call your shopkeeper here. Now.”

The maid dared not delay and hurried off to fetch Yu Qianqian.

Though young in appearance, Yu Qianqian was seasoned and shrewd when it came to handling matters like this. She approached with a warm smile. “Madam Qian, has something gone amiss? If there’s been any neglect in our service, allow me to offer my apologies.”

Yu Qianqian knew everyone of status in Qingping County and what business their families were in. Madam Qian’s arrogance at the table came precisely from the fact that her family owned a money house.

Madam Qian lifted her chin toward the crowd below, where people were still lining up at the Fan Ji Braised Meat stall. “We came here to attend a wedding banquet, and yet you’ve let that cursed star do business in your building. Isn’t that inviting misfortune upon us?”

Seeing the line of customers, Yu Qianqian immediately guessed Madam Qian must be talking about Fan Changyu—but she feigned ignorance. “A cursed star? Madam Qian, really—speaking such ominous things during the New Year isn’t very auspicious.”

Her tone, light and teasing, took the edge off the tension.

Madam Qian’s expression softened slightly. “You mean you don’t know? It’s said that the Fan girl has a solitary, ill-fated birth sign—killed her parents and her uncle in turn. You’d better not keep her here too long, or she might bring disaster upon you too!”

Yu Qianqian covered her mouth and let out a delicate gasp. “Oh heavens! Who told you such a thing?”

Madam Qian immediately pushed Madam Song forward. “Madam Song used to live in Lin’an Town—she knows all about that cursed girl.”

Yu Qianqian smiled lightly. “Ah, so it’s from Madam Song. I heard that Young Master Song and the Fan family’s eldest daughter were betrothed for years. After he passed the provincial exam, someone compared their birth charts and discovered the Fan girl had this ill-starred fate, so the engagement was broken. Fortunately, they ended it early—otherwise, the juren might have missed the chance to marry the county magistrate’s daughter!”

Everyone present was a seasoned socialite. At Yu Qianqian’s words, the women’s gazes toward Madam Song instantly shifted—subtle, sharp, and meaningful.

Madam Song’s face darkened. “You—!”

Yu Qianqian blinked innocently. “Oh, I don’t know much about fortune-telling myself. But the seer in the southern quarter said Madam Fan’s fate is actually one that prospers her husband. Her husband’s calligraphy is said to be excellent—why, just last night at the lantern festival, your son, Madam Song, was rendered speechless when her husband replied with a single line: ‘Northward geese fly south, and phoenixes descend upon the land.’ They say his literary talent is outstanding—perhaps at next year’s exams, he’ll win his wife a noble title.”

Someone at the table, unable to hold back, let out a snort of laughter.

Madam Song had no idea her son had been humiliated the night before, but she did remember how he had returned home silent and locked himself in the study. Now, faced with a table of women smirking behind their teacups, her face burned with shame. Without a word, she rose abruptly and left, dragging her maid behind her.

As soon as she was gone, one official’s wife let out a derisive chuckle, and soon the entire table of noblewomen followed suit, sneering openly.

“Truly, some people just can’t hold their heads up in proper company.”

“She broke off her son’s engagement and still has the gall to slander the girl.”

“Did you see that jade bracelet she was wearing? A fake, clearly! I’d rather wear nothing at all than flaunt a counterfeit. That juren’s mother really doesn’t know shame.”

When Yu Qianqian saw the conversation turning away from conflict, she smiled sweetly. “Ladies, please enjoy yourselves. It’s a busy day in the restaurant, so do forgive us if there’s any lapse in service.”

The noblewomen quickly became all politeness again. A few who had tasted the braised meat and found it delicious even sent their maids down to buy some to take home—turning the very gossip meant to ruin Fan Changyu into free advertisement.

Fan Changyu had no idea that Yu Qianqian had just defused an entire storm on her behalf.

When the braised meat finally sold out, she told Xie Zheng—who had not slept all night—to go back and rest first, while she herself went to help in Yixiang Tower’s kitchen.

It wasn’t until wei-shi (mid-afternoon) that the day’s grand banquet was finally concluded.

Fan Changyu cleared the coins and small silver pieces she’d earned from the counter drawer and, after counting carefully, found that she had made a total of over fifteen taels.

It was the first time she truly understood what windfall profits meant.

Though Yu Qianqian had said from the start that whatever she sold would be hers to keep, Fan Changyu couldn’t bring herself to treat it all as her own—after all, the stall belonged to Yixiang Tower, and so did the customers. So she went to find Yu Qianqian to offer her a share.

Yu Qianqian was amused when she heard the reason for her visit. “How much did you sell in total?” she asked.

“Fifteen taels and three hundred wen,” Fan Changyu answered honestly.

The figure surprised Yu Qianqian; she chuckled. “I heard even a few distinguished guests tipped your husband today. You two earned this with your own work—keep it for yourselves.”

But Fan Changyu insisted, “It’s only thanks to your pavilion that I could sell so much. The meat and spices came from you, and even the packaging method was your idea. If you don’t take a share, I’ll feel uneasy.”

Yu Qianqian tapped her lightly on the forehead. “You’re far too straightforward for business. Your meat sold well because the flavor is truly excellent—otherwise why was there no line at first, until the guests had tasted it and sent their servants back for more? I may have thought up the idea, but you and your husband made it real. He must have written a hundred wrappers today—if you’re feeling guilty, feel guilty for him.”

Her tone softened. “And your success benefits me too. Don’t treat me like an outsider. Let’s call this a favor kept for the future—who knows, someday I might need your help.”

Only then did Fan Changyu yield, though she still insisted on paying for the cost of the meat and spices.

Seeing her stubborn earnestness, Yu Qianqian had no choice but to agree.

After deducting the three taels of costs, the remaining twelve taels were exchanged for silver by the bookkeeper. Fan Changyu planned to split it evenly with Xie Zheng.

By then, the cooks and servants were finally sitting down to eat. Yu Qianqian said, “Sit and have a meal first. I’ll send someone to fetch your husband and Madam Fang.”

Fan Changyu guessed that Madam Fang must be the matron from the back alley who had looked after Changning. Remembering that her sister was still with her, she replied, “I’ll fetch my sister and call them on the way.”

Leaving through the back door of Yixiang Tower, she saw Xie Zheng still there—not resting, but standing at the mouth of the alley with his hands clasped behind his back, watching something in the distance.

She walked over and followed his gaze, seeing a troop of uniformed soldiers jogging away down the street. Judging by their attire, they were not county constables but men from the military garrison.

Her brow furrowed. “Are those grain-levy soldiers?”

Xie Zheng nodded, his expression cold.

Most townsfolk were merchants who bought their grain rather than grew it. Since the government couldn’t seize grain from them directly, they’d find other ways to squeeze money out of traders instead.

Fan Changyu had already heard rumors of peasants being beaten to death in Taizhou during the levies, and anxiety knotted in her chest.

She said quietly, “They say the governor of Jizhou is a just and upright man—let’s hope he’s not like those in Taizhou, driving the people to their graves over grain taxes.”

“We’ll see what Jizhou’s officials do,” Xie Zheng replied.

If Zhao Xun and the men behind him had any sense, they should have already reported Wei Xuan’s grain-levy mission in Jizhou to He Jingyuan by now.

When he turned back, he noticed Fan Changyu’s coat pocket bulging and frowned slightly. “What’s that?”

Fan Changyu took out the twelve taels of silver and several strings of copper coins, split them neatly in half, and handed one portion to Xie Zheng. “Yours.”

A single tael might look insignificant, but together, the twelve gleamed like a small pile of treasure.

Seeing her draw out the money with the air of a country tycoon, Xie Zheng’s eyelid twitched faintly. 

“You keep it.”

“That won’t do,” Fan Changyu said. “Half each. You wrote hundreds of those wrappers.”

After a pause, he replied, “If I hold it, I’ll only lose it. You keep it for me.”

Remembering the time he had lost money at the roadside inn, Fan Changyu couldn’t really argue. She tucked the silver back into her pocket, stuffing it until it bulged again.

When the two returned to fetch Changning, they hadn’t yet entered the room when they heard two children chatting inside.

“My sister’s amazing—she can eat three bowls of rice in one sitting!” That was Changning’s voice.

“My mother’s even more amazing—she can eat two whole soy-braised pig elbows and a bowl of spicy soup!” the little boy shot back, clearly unwilling to lose.

“My sister’s bowl is as big as a soup pot!” From the sound of it, she was even gesturing with her hands.

“Then … then I guess your sister’s the better one,” the boy admitted reluctantly.

Outside the door, Fan Changyu: “…”

A bowl as big as a soup pot—that was her father’s, not hers!