Before Chen Yu could answer, the other merchants quickly cut in with sycophantic smiles, saying they’d be so overjoyed to partner with Old Mr. Fang they’d wake up laughing in their sleep.

Zhang Huai simply smiled and watched them all clamor to praise Old Mr. Fang’s great wealth and influence, not saying a word.

Seeing his guileless smile, which held no trace of feeling honored or intimidated, Fang Jingyu couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. "Younger Mr. Zhang seems to have a different opinion?" he asked. "Care to share it?"

Everyone at the table fell silent, their eyes turning to him, waiting for his answer.

Zhang Huai looked up at Old Mr. Fang and asked with a smile, "Old Mr. Fang, do you find this sausage delicious? And this spicy cabbage?" He pointed a finger at the appetizers that had been served before the main meal.

At this question, Fang Jingyu laughed. "Of course I think it’s delicious. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have pressed Chen Yu to sell me these few hundred pounds of sausage—I plan on taking them back as gifts!"

Zhang Huai said, "To you, this sausage is a business deal. To us in Qingnan Village, it comes from pigs we painstakingly raised and then butchered. Our village will raise more pigs in the future, and not just pigs. We have many other good things in our village—like this cabbage—and we want to sell them all."

He smiled at Fang Jingyu and said, "We aren’t just trying to do business. Our pork can’t be compared to the pork from a place like Qinghui."

Fang Jingyu’s voice grew heavy. "What do you mean by that?"

Chen Yu answered for Zhang Huai, "The pork from their village is tender and succulent, better than other pork. It’s been tested."

As he spoke, he turned and clapped his hands. A Xiao Er wearing a blue tunic and a small cap entered at once.

Chen Yu gave him a few quiet instructions, and the man nodded and went out.

Zhang Huai then explained that they fed their pigs acorns.

When he finished, he turned back to Fang Jingyu. "Why should we open a workshop in Qinghui? No matter how much money we make here, we wouldn’t be selling our own products."

He gazed at Fang Jingyu with a smile and said, "Our primary goal is to sell our own things. The crops from our fields, the livestock from our homes, the various local products from the mountains, the fish from our ponds."

A peculiar light glinted in Fang Jingyu’s eyes. He smiled slightly. "Your idea is a good one, but that path is not easily walked."

Zhang Huai’s eyebrows shot up. "Old Mr. Fang is a worldly man who has surely been to many places, unlike me. In all my life, today is the first time I’ve ever left Xiatang Market to come to Qinghui County! Every farmer raises pigs, but have you ever seen sausage like this? This is our village’s Qingshan Sausage. Cabbage is grown everywhere, but have you ever seen spicy cabbage like this? This is our Qingshan Spicy Cabbage. Acorn trees grow in many places, but have you seen acorn tofu? Our village uses acorns to make tofu, and we call it Qingshan Tofu. Shanyu are common too, but have you ever eaten Hot and Sour Shanyu Noodles? Even if you have, the flavor definitely isn’t the same as ours—Changyu will be selling our village’s Hot and Sour Shanyu Noodles soon. In the future, there will also be Qingshan Duck, Qingshan Chicken, Qingshan Fish, Qingshan Bamboo Shoots, and oh, this Qingshan Chrysanthemum Tea—" He lifted the exquisite lidded bowl before him and blew on the liquid inside. "Mr. Chen, I’m about to say something, so please don’t be offended, but I think adding tea leaves to this chrysanthemum tea actually makes it less fragrant and sweet than a simple infusion of the flowers themselves."

He took a sip and thought with narrowed eyes, ’This doesn’t taste nearly as good as tea brewed just from chrysanthemum flowers.’

Li Changyu chimed in with a smile, "Adding tea leaves makes it less light and adds a certain mellow fragrance that some people really like. But I still prefer the light taste of chrysanthemum tea without the tea leaves."

Chen Yu said quickly, "We serve tea according to our customers’ preferences. The restaurant also has pure chrysanthemum tea without any added tea leaves."

As Fang Jingyu listened to their exchange, his expression grew increasingly solemn.

Just now, this young farmer had spoken with eloquent ease. As he described the things grown and raised in his village, his face was filled with pride and joy. It was as if he were describing a beautiful dream, a dream that was slowly becoming reality.

Everyone at the table was clearly captivated by Zhang Huai’s words; even the scholars were now listening with rapt attention. Only two of the merchants remained disdainful. ’Just a farmer selling some produce, and he’s bragging as if it’s some grand affair,’ they thought. But seeing Fang Jingyu’s solemn expression and the focused gazes of the scholars, they didn’t dare voice their scorn for the rustic young man.

Yes, Zhang Huai was the most rustic person at the table. He had neither the refined, scholarly air of the students, nor the worldly bearing of merchants like Fang Jingyu.