Chapter 12

Evening.

Xie Tingyu leaned against the desk, casually fiddling with his radio. It had seen better days—long disrepaired, the sound was no longer what it used to be, often mixed with static. The occasional crackling of electricity from the speaker could be quite irritating. But Xie Tingyu was actually in a pretty good mood.

After dinner, he had seen that there were still four crabs left in the bucket. That meant he could enjoy the taste of crab again tomorrow.

Back when he was forced to move out of the educated youth dormitory and into the Ye household, his mood had been far from pleasant.

But now, he had gotten used to it. Though Ye Qingshui’s room wasn’t big, it was decently spacious. Each of them occupied half, and there was still plenty of room to spare. The little girl was usually quiet and didn’t make a fuss; the food in the Ye household was also much better than the oil-less fare in the educated youth cafeteria. And this “wife” in name only no longer seemed to cling to him.

So, all in all, Xie Tingyu was feeling pretty good.

When he saw Ye Qingshui come in with a basin of water to wash her feet, he glanced at her. The slender girl bent over with her head lowered, splashing her feet. She still wore that mask, the thin strings hooked over her delicate ears. Since tying up her thick bangs, she looked much cleaner and neater.

Xie Tingyu frowned. “Still wearing that mask? Are you addicted to it or something?”

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Ye Qingshui carefully climbed out of bed and took her fishing net down to the pond to catch crabs.

This time she was lucky—she caught a fat loach. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to take it home to eat or use it as bait for the crabs.

Her mouth watered as she stared at it.

“Once I start making money, I’ll eat all I want.”

After half an hour of fishing, she lifted the net—heavier than last time, nice and weighty.

She thought to herself: once she earned money from selling the buns today, she’d definitely go to the market and buy some pig trotters.

Pig trotters were only twenty cents a pound and didn’t require a meat coupon. Though not as good as pure meat, they were affordable, high in protein, and full of nutrients. Great for soups or stews, good for replenishing blood and strengthening the body. She was already seventeen but still hadn’t gotten her period—clearly a sign of severe malnutrition. She badly needed a nutritional boost.

Images of steaming hot pig trotter soup filled her mind, and her mouth started watering again. Life was so poor—everything was lacking. She had so many things she wanted to buy. Ye Qingshui let out a poor person’s sigh.

When she returned to the woodshed carrying the crabs, she noticed a half-pound chunk of meat soaking in the water jar they usually used. In the dim moonlight, the fat gleamed white and glossy—truly a beautiful sight.

She thought back—Xie Tingyu hadn’t had time to buy meat today, and Grandma and Mom never bought meat to eat. So it must have been left by Shen Weimin.

“At least he’s got a bit of a conscience.”

Though his mouth was foul, at least he knew he was freeloading and brought something to the table.

Ye Qingshui hadn’t planned on making soup dumplings because she couldn’t afford pork, and without pork, soup dumplings just wouldn’t taste right. But now that she had some, not making them would be a waste.

She took the meat, sharpened her knife, and separated the skin from the meat.

After cleaning the two crabs and boiling them to make broth, she chopped the pork skin and added it to the broth. Once everything melted down and cooled, it turned into a crab-meat aspic. The key to delicious soup dumplings was in the soup inside.

In less than an hour, she had two full baskets of soup dumplings ready. She rolled up the straw mats from the baskets into a clean cloth to carry them. Because soup dumplings were full of broth, if the skins tore, the dumplings were ruined. Once she made sure everything was secure, she got on her bike and headed to town.

When Ye Qingshui arrived at the black market, she saw the same little boy from last time standing by her stall, head hanging low, looking like he’d been waiting a long time.

He looked up and saw her, and in that moment, his eyes sparkled like they were filled with stars.

He said, “Big sister, I’ll help you sell your buns. Could… could I have something to eat in return?”

They had only been apart for two days, but he looked even more pitiful now. His eyes were wide and hungry, his lips pale, looking like he was about to faint from malnutrition.

Seeing this, Ye Qingshui couldn’t help but feel a surge of compassion.

She had never been blessed with children in her life — perhaps it was Heaven’s punishment for not taking care of her own child. The child who never even got the chance to open their eyes and see the world had become a permanent regret in her heart. Having carried that guilt for so long, Ye Qingshui couldn’t help but go soft whenever she saw a child.

“How do you plan to help me sell buns?” she asked.

The little boy blinked and answered crisply, “My name is Zhou Ke — Zhou as in ‘complete’, and Ke as in ‘to abide by’. My father gave me this name hoping I would grow up to be someone who keeps promises and honors his word.”

“I’ll help you sell buns, and I’ll definitely sell them all. If you give me two buns like last time, is that okay?”

Ye Qingshui had made a lot of buns this time — she had plenty of flour in reserve, and the soup filling was generous. This bag of buns weighed a full five jin (about 2.5 kg).

She said, “Alright, I’ll give you two buns.”

The little boy carefully took the two buns and ran off with them hugged to his chest. The buns were steaming hot, freshly made. Their delicate skins tore a little, and the juice seeped out, scalding his thin chest with sharp stings. But the joy in his eyes was impossible to hide.

“Slow down, I’m not in a hurry — did you burn yourself?” Ye Qingshui called after him.

He didn’t even pause — just dashed away like a whirlwind.

A young scalper who often sold eggs nearby sighed and said lazily, “You gave him the buns? Meat buns thrown to a dog — gone for good. His grandpa, who he relies on, got sick and they’ve run out of food. He’s been hanging around here waiting for you several times now… Hey, the smell today, those are meat buns, right? That’s serious stuff, comrade.”

Ye Qingshui adjusted her bundle and replied indifferently, “It’s nothing. Just two buns.”

Then she settled in, patiently waiting for her first customer.

She didn’t have to wait long. One, two, three… customers started arriving one after another. They greeted her warmly:

“How much for the buns?”

They weren’t particularly well-dressed — certainly not as neatly as the previous customers who had bought the vegetarian buns — but they were all friendly.

“Ten cents for four buns, because they’re meat-filled,” she said.

Then she added, “You can pay with one city-issued meat ticket and two city-issued grain tickets. Other ration tickets work too — I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

One “shabby-looking” customer frowned. “That’s expensive… really expensive. Can you make it cheaper?”

Turns out, they were all neighbors from Zhou Ke’s street. Seeing the poor boy’s grandfather fall ill and knowing how pitiful his situation was, they came because Zhou Ke begged them. But none of them were well-off either…

Still, once the first customer took a bite of the bun, the complaints vanished.

The moment he bit into it, he let out a surprised “Wow!” and accidentally splashed hot soup all over someone next to him. He hadn’t expected the bun to hold so much broth — and piping hot, too.

The firm, unleavened dough gave the bun skin a chewy bite. Picking one up felt like lifting a little pot-bellied Maitreya Buddha. You had to grip it just right and eat fast — otherwise, the weight of the juicy filling would tear the delicate skin. The crab roe inside was rich and oily, both sweet and savory. The soup was mild but incredibly fresh, and the lean meat was juicy and full of flavor. Four buns for ten cents? Totally worth it.

It was like eating an expensive dim sum from a state-run restaurant. Once this group finished, they couldn’t get enough and quickly paid for another round.

Soon, a batch of repeat customers from last time arrived, chattering away:

“Miss, why didn’t we see you yesterday? Do you come out every day?”

Ye Qingshui was too busy to look up. Out of caution, she replied to her customers with a subtle tone:

“Can’t say for sure. Don’t wait on me too eagerly, and don’t hope too hard that I’ll show up. The more you hope, the more reluctant I am to come sell buns.”

What was with that smug, slightly narcissistic tone?

The returning customers, happily munching on their soup buns, nearly choked — a gulp of hot broth stuck in their throats. This woman was just plain cheeky! Most vendors would be desperate to attract regulars — meanwhile, she came and went as she pleased, and didn’t even care about making money?

But of course, she had truly hooked their appetites. Once they tasted her buns, they kept craving them. Infuriating, really.

Ye Qingshui’s soup buns were quickly snatched up. Her palms were sweating from the tension — this batch had sold for twice the price of the last one, but the cost hadn’t gone up nearly as much. Aside from that half-jin of pork, the crab meat, crab roe, and crab broth were essentially free.

The crisp bills and ration tickets in her pocket gave her a sense of security. She packed up her things and, feeling smug, headed toward the shops.

She swapped her white face mask for a black one, and put on a straw hat. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run into Zhang Yuanchao again by some stroke of bad luck.

Lining up at the market, she successfully bought some pig trotters. Most people of this era thought trotters weren’t worth it — expensive, little meat, not as cost-effective as buying straight pork.

Ye Qingshui saved one soup bun to fill her belly. As she was biking past a used bookstore, she couldn’t resist stopping and going in. She shamelessly browsed for a while, thoroughly enjoying the books, and eventually picked out a math book to buy.

But she had forgotten the saying: joy often brings disaster.

Just as she looked up, she saw Xie Tingyu’s clean, handsome face. The soft morning light fell on him, stretching his tall shadow across the ground. Who knew how long he’d been standing there — he simply stood in silence, staring at her. With the backlight shadowing his face, it was impossible to tell if he was angry or amused.

His voice, rough and low with the huskiness of early morning, resonated like a deep chime — rich, deep, and pleasing to the ear.

He said calmly, “Why are you sneaking off to the county in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”

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