When Jiang Huaiyu stepped out of Desheng Restaurant, there was an extra contract pressed with fingerprints tucked into her sleeve—along with two hundred taels in banknotes.
Manager Li personally escorted her to the door. Lowering his voice, he spoke with careful seriousness,
"Miss Jiang, I hope you'll keep your word. The tofu recipe may only be sold to Desheng Restaurant and the other two establishments."
Jiang Huaiyu smiled faintly.
"I gave my word to your chief manager. I won't go back on it. This tender tofu recipe will belong only to the three of you. If any other restaurant sells it, and you find that it's connected to me or anyone around me, I'll return every tael."
"Very well. Safe travels."
Manager Li felt bitter inside. Still, remembering how even their usually steady and calculating chief manager had failed to gain the upper hand against this young woman, his frustration eased slightly.
If it had been any other commodity, Desheng Restaurant would never have tolerated two competitors sharing it.
But tofu was different.
Rather than letting Jiang Huaiyu sell the recipe to every tavern in the county, it was far better for the three largest restaurants to divide the market together. If customers wanted tofu, they would have no choice but to come to them.
What shocked them most was this—
what they had assumed would be an extremely complex process turned out to require only gypsum and soybeans.
Even the chief manager had been left speechless.
Two hundred taels for such a simple recipe—
they didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
After leaving Desheng Restaurant, Jiang Huaiyu went on to the other two major restaurants in the county.
She used the same wording with both managers, clearly stating that the tofu recipe would be sold exclusively to the three of them.
Her attitude was simple: buy it, or I leave.
The managers who had hoped to suppress the price were so angry their teeth itched, yet after careful consideration, they had no choice but to sign the contracts and respectfully hand over the banknotes.
Afterward, Jiang Huaiyu entered a shop selling brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. She bought paper and envelopes, borrowed the shop's brush and ink, and wrote three letters. After paying a few coins to the shop assistant, she asked him to deliver the letters to Desheng Restaurant and the other two establishments.
Only then did she begin strolling through the county.
When she passed Ruyi Restaurant and saw its manager hurrying toward the county office, the corners of her lips finally curved upward.
Her objective for this trip had been achieved.
Only then did Jiang Huaiyu truly relax.
She went to a cloth shop and bought several lengths of soft fabric for Tangbao, planning to try sewing clothes herself. If it didn't work, she would draw patterns from memory and hire an embroiderer.
After sampling a few snacks, Jiang Huaiyu rested at a teahouse directly across from the county office. She chose a seat with a clear view of people entering and leaving, deciding to taste the tea while she waited.
A porcelain teapot and three cups were brought over, along with some simple pastries. Jiang Huaiyu poured herself a cup—only to be hit by a bitterness so strong it numbed her tongue, without even the slightest aftertaste.
She lifted the lid and looked inside.
The pot was filled with various branches and leaves—cooling medicinal herbs.
In other words, it was herbal tea.
"Looks like I need to get real tea leaves going as soon as possible," Jiang Huaiyu muttered.
No beverages was one thing—she wasn't particularly fond of coffee or cola—but not even having basic tea was unacceptable.
The time from leaving the third restaurant to sitting in the teahouse hadn't been long. When Jiang Huaiyu shifted her gaze toward the county office again, she finally saw Wang Dazhuang being released—his face first confused, then faintly excited.
She paid the bill, rose gracefully, and walked downstairs, ignoring the lingering looks around her.
As she reached the roadside, Wang Dazhuang noticed her and jogged over.
"Miss Jiang—"
"Shh. Let's talk after we return to the village."
There were too many people here. Jiang Huaiyu cut him off and headed toward the city gate.
The donkey cart waiting to take them back stood outside the gate. Wang Dazhuang could only swallow his questions and follow in silence.
He had too much he wanted to ask—but the aura Jiang Huaiyu carried at that moment made him obey without question.
Just as they reached the gate, Jiang Huaiyu spotted Yan Er reclining among beauties at a window seat of Fucui Restaurant—one of the three restaurants now selling her tofu—watching the street below with wine in hand.
At first, Yan Er saw only Jiang Huaiyu. Assuming she had come to the county office with Zheng Xiaoyue to visit Wang Dazhuang, smugness flashed in his eyes. He raised his wine cup toward her in mock salute.
Jiang Huaiyu merely cast him a cold glance and walked on.
Yan Er hadn't even had time to laugh when he saw Wang Dazhuang—who should have been locked up—quietly following behind her toward the gate.
Clang.
The wine cup slipped from Yan Er's hand, crashing onto the table.
The women and his drinking companions rushed to ask what was wrong. Yan Er shoved them away, stood abruptly, and stared at the figures disappearing beyond the gate.
Even for him, pulling someone involved in a case out of custody would have been impossible.
Could Jiang Huaiyu be the magistrate's concubine?
But how could pillow talk work this fast?
Repeated failures ignited a savage fury within Yan Er—especially with the day approaching when he would be expelled from his family and forced to establish himself independently.
"Young Master Yan, this is our Fucui Restaurant's new dish," a waiter said ingratiatingly as he pushed open the carved wooden door. "You're one of our most valued patrons. The manager said any new delicacies must be brought to you first."
He stepped aside to let the dishes be served.
Yan Er's mood improved slightly at the flattery—until he saw the dish.
"What is this?"
"Oh! This is tofu—worth a fortune lately in the county. After much effort, our head chef finally perfected it. This dish is called Nine-Rank White Jade Soup, prepared especially for your appraisal."
The waiter's words were pure embellishment.
How could Yan Er not understand?
This wasn't Jiang Huaiyu's competence—it was Fucui Restaurant stealing the opportunity from him.
Rage flooded his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he kicked out viciously, sending the waiter—who had been waiting for a tip—staggering backward. The exquisite dish spilled across the floor.
Silken strands of tofu, cut like blossoming flowers, spread beautifully across the ground.
To Yan Er, it was blindingly offensive.
No one dared intervene, standing frozen at a distance.
What tantrums Yan Er threw afterward, or how he went to settle scores with the restaurant manager, Jiang Huaiyu never knew.
Sitting on the swaying donkey cart, she noticed Wang Dazhuang's face darkening as if he were about to burst.
"If you want to ask something, then ask," she said.
Wang Dazhuang froze, then after a moment of silence said,
"Miss Jiang is extremely clever. I have nothing to ask."
"Hah." Jiang Huaiyu laughed lightly. "You were framed and dragged into the county office today. I trust you understand it wasn't random."
"Yes! It must have been that Yan fellow, plotting over the tofu recipe!"
Wang Dazhuang nodded fiercely, then fell silent again.
He was an honest man—his life spent with his face to the soil, working like an ox. Agreeing to run a tofu business had already exhausted all the cunning he possessed.
Jiang Huaiyu's gaze darkened.
"I sold the tofu recipe."
"What?!" Wang Dazhuang panicked, thinking she had surrendered it to Yan Er. "Miss Jiang, you didn't need to do that for me!"
She waved him down.
"Don't worry. If I had to give it up, I wouldn't let Yan Er benefit. I sold the recipe to the three largest restaurants in the county—and even included several tofu dishes."
"That way, not only did I get the silver, but those three restaurants must also prove the tofu is legitimate. Everyone will know you and the tofu are innocent. The only guilty thing here is greed."
Wang Dazhuang sighed deeply, moved.
"But this way, you've lost a livelihood, Miss Jiang."
A few hundred taels might seem like a lot—but it couldn't compare to steady income over time.
Jiang Huaiyu remained confident and said no more.
"That doesn't matter now. What I'm about to tell you—you must remember."
Wang Dazhuang straightened, listening intently.
"The tofu we sold before was tender tofu. On the way here, I told your wife how to make firm tofu. After some time, you'll open a shop in the county specializing in that. But remember—before that, find respected elders in your clan. Don't offer the recipe. Instead, say you'll give thirty percent of profits to the clan elders for ancestral hall repairs and village roads."
Wang Dazhuang stared, stunned.
"This… how can that be allowed?"
His mind spun. He couldn't even articulate why—his face flushed red.
The scenery around them opened into wide fields. Jiang Huaiyu looked content.
"Dazhuang, some things may seem important to you, but to me they're trivial. Knowing you and your wife matters more to me than a tofu recipe. If I must give a reason—perhaps it's repayment for your wife giving me a quilt without hesitation that day."
She said no more. Wang Dazhuang swallowed the rest of his objections.
He understood gratitude—yet felt uneasy exchanging such a small kindness for such a great return.
Especially when Jiang Huaiyu herself was a widowed mother, yet helping them instead.
It felt… backward.
Seeing him still dazed, Jiang Huaiyu sighed.
"Remember—find elders with real authority. Never give up the recipe. If others covet it later, you won't stand alone."
The donkey cart slowly reached the village entrance. Jiang Huaiyu had deliberately lowered her voice, leaving the driver curious but clueless.
Before Wang Dazhuang could speak again, Jiang Huaiyu went straight to his house to pick up Tangbao and return home. Whatever emotional reunion followed was none of her concern.
She整理ed her small treasury—six hundred taels in banknotes stacked before her like silver bricks. Even she couldn't help smiling.
She would leave eventually.
Though Zheng Xiaoyue and her husband were kind, Xu Chunhua's absurdity and Yan Er's pettiness stirred a growing sense of danger.
She wanted a life of flowers, wine, and tilling the land—but for Tangbao's future, Jiang Huaiyu decided to settle in the capital.
The house in Wangjia Village would remain. Zheng Xiaoyue would keep it tidy. When Tangbao grew older, they could return for short stays.
She had made Yan Er choke on his own schemes.
Nothing was more infuriating than watching cooked ducks fly away.
But there was still Xu Chunhua—like rotten mud, disgusting and impossible to deal with.
Jiang Huaiyu let out a cold laugh.
No way out?
That remained to be seen.