Li Changyu and his brother listened, then smiled and nodded. "Then let’s go to Old Jindou’s for some mutton."

When Li Changyu saw Zhang Huai about to object again, he quickly said, "It’s a small shop in a residential area. They sell mutton braised with turnips—it’s delicious and not expensive. A pot of mutton stew will be more than enough for the three of us, and it only costs one hundred cents. I can’t have you visit and not treat you to a single meal."

Li Changfeng also smiled and nodded.

Since they were so insistent, Zhang Huai didn’t object any further.

But before they could leave, Chen Yu, the young master of Qinghui Restaurant, came looking for them. He said he had already arranged a banquet and wanted to treat Li Changyu and Zhang Huai to a meal.

He smiled at Zhang Huai and said, "I have to thank you for selling your products to my Chen Family first. An Old Mr. Fang from Huzhou will also be there tonight, so it’s a perfect chance to introduce you. I heard from Manager Mao that you’re here to scout out opportunities for your village, so knowing Old Mr. Fang will be to your benefit. He bought the entire batch of sausages today—he loves them!"

Zhang Huai and Li Changyu exchanged a delighted glance and went along with him.

In a spacious private room at Qinghui Restaurant, a group of people sat around a large table. Some were students from the Qinghui County School—classmates of Chen Yu and Li Changfeng. A few were merchants, and among them was the Old Mr. Fang he had mentioned.

Zhang Huai had assumed Old Mr. Fang would be elderly, but he turned out to be a scholarly man in his thirties. He looked less like a merchant and more like a learned man.

He gently asked Zhang Huai a few questions about the Qingshan sausages, and Zhang Huai answered cautiously. ’The recipe is a secret, after all.’

As he looked at the diverse group of people and the exquisite dishes on the table, his initial nervousness and unease slowly began to fade.

’In his eyes, these brightly colored dishes on their fine porcelain plates weren’t nearly as delicious as the food Juhua made, served in simple ceramic bowls.’

He remembered what Juhua had told him the night before he left. They had been at Qingmu’s house, going over the list of things he needed to buy.

She had said, "City folks are nothing special. They have their own troubles. Their businesses make more money, but that just means more problems. They don’t have to worry about food and clothing, but they definitely have other things to worry about."

"Everyone does different things, but the suffering is the same. They might even suffer more, because while they eat and dress well, some kinds of pain can’t be solved just by having a full belly and warm clothes."

He looked at the students at the table. They were discussing next year’s provincial examinations; some were ambitious and confident, some were restless and anxious, and others were filled with worry.

The merchants, meanwhile, were all smiles, fawning over Old Mr. Fang as if they had some favor to ask of him.

’Through the window, he could see the brightly lit street below. A string of lanterns hung by the restaurant’s entrance, but the people coming and going didn’t all wear contented smiles. To him, eating at a place like this should be one of life’s great pleasures, yet they didn’t seem happy at all. It was clear their meals were tasteless.’ 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

He was more convinced than ever that Juhua was right.

’But how could Juhua be so perceptive?’

’No matter how clever she was, she was still just a young woman who had never even left Qingnan Village.’

Thinking about how much she had changed, he recalled once asking Qingmu about it.

Qingmu had looked at him with a teasing grin and said, "Did you really think Juhua couldn’t read a single word? She reads better than I do! The whole reason I studied so desperately at the academy was so I could go home and teach her."

He had been stunned. ’So that was how she had changed. He had studied too—he’d even gone to a proper school, not just been tutored by Qingmu—and yet, he was no match for her.’

He stared into the night outside the window, thinking, ’Juhua created acorn jelly, sausages, and spicy cabbage, and she’s still coming up with other ideas. If I can’t even do a good job of selling them, how can I possibly be worthy of her?’

Just as he was lost in thought, Li Changyu’s voice suddenly broke through. "Huai Zi! Huai Zi!"

He quickly turned to him and asked in surprise, "What is it?"

Changyu nudged his elbow and whispered, "Old Mr. Fang is asking you a question. What were you thinking about? Don’t tell me you’re getting homesick?"

Zhang Huai looked up to find everyone at the table staring at him. Old Mr. Fang asked with a gentle smile, "Are you feeling comfortable, Younger Mr. Zhang? You seemed quite lost in thought a moment ago."

Zhang Huai smiled sheepishly. "I was just thinking about something. Did you have a question for me, Old Mr. Fang?"

Fang Jingyu looked at the simple country boy. He’d been a bit reserved at first, but had since regained his composure. Impressed, Fang Jingyu asked, "I’d like to ask you, Younger Mr. Zhang, why not open a workshop here in Qinghui County? Buying pigs, making the sausages, and arranging for transport and sales would all be much more convenient than in your... what was that place called again—"

He tapped his forehead with his long, slender fingers, looking slightly embarrassed.

Chen Yu, who was next to him, laughed. "Xiatang Market."

"—Right, much more convenient than in Xiatang Market. If you’re interested in the idea but worried about funds, you could partner with me. I can provide a portion of the capital, and you would just have to give me a share of the profits. I wouldn’t interfere with the management of the workshop."

Zhang Huai was astonished. He never expected this kind of question.

He turned to look at Li Changyu, who smiled. "I told Old Mr. Fang that we’re mainly making the sausages to sell our own pigs. He thinks we’re being too shortsighted."

A student in white brocade with a round head and large ears—Zhang Huai remembered Changyu saying his name was Wu Tianhao—put his chopsticks down on the table, wiped his mouth with a gray handkerchief, and said, "If that’s not being shortsighted, I don’t know what is. Never mind all the reasons Old Mr. Fang just mentioned. The simple fact that he is willing to partner with you is a gift from the heavens. Ask Chen Yu how many people are dying for a chance to work with him. He calls it a ’partnership’ to be nice, but really, isn’t he just trying to give you a hand? You think he actually cares about your measly share of the profits?"