Chapter 4: An Idea for Making Money

At dusk, Song Dalang returned.

He was covered in dust and looked exhausted; it was obvious at a glance that he had found nothing.

“It’s not that there’s no work. They just want long-term contracts, nothing short-term,” Song Dalang said weakly as he took the cloth Mei-shi handed him and wiped his face.

Song Daya had sharp ears. Overhearing him, she ran over and hugged her father. “Dad, why don’t you make bamboo dragonflies^[1] to sell?”

Earlier on, Song Dalang had made those simple little playthings and sold them in town. He had earned a few copper coins and bought Song Daya a stick of candied hawthorn, which she had never forgotten.

“Those aren’t hard to make. Too many people jumped on the bandwagon, so they don’t sell well anymore,” Song Dalang said.

Song Daya understood the moment she thought about it.

There was no intellectual property back in these times; as soon as anything novel appeared, imitators would pop up within days.

“Then what about something else?” Song Daya’s eyes darted with an idea as she handed her little lunchbox to her father. “Let’s make little lunchboxes!”

“Why make those? Who would want one?” Song Dalang hadn’t caught on yet.

Song Daya climbed onto her father’s lap, sat up properly, and asked with utmost seriousness, “Dad, there’s a school in town, right? And everybody needs to eat, right?”

Song Dalang was a bit bewildered by his daughter’s questions. “Well, yes, but…”

But what did that have to do with lunchboxes?

“See, that’s just it!” Song Daya’s eyes lit up. “Dad, you know our village doesn’t have a school. If anyone wants to study, they have to go to neighboring Xiaojiacun!”

Song Daya switched into overbearing CEO… assistant mode and began brainwashing her father.

Oh, no, rather, she began helping her father open his mind to a whole new world.

“Round trip, that’s got to be over ten li, right?” Song Daya counted on her fingers. “That’s a walk of…”

Song Dalang answered offhandedly, “About a shichen^[2] or so.”

Children walked slowly and liked to play along the way; even hurrying, that was about how long it took.

“Well isn’t that strange? You’re just a little child who has never even stepped outside the front gate. How do you know all this?” asked Mei-shi, who had been listening as she set the table.

“Ergouzi^[3] told me!” Song Daya replied.

That day, Ergouzi had come to Song Daya’s door to show off a fat green caterpillar he had caught, originally intending to scare Song Daya into tears to get back at her for getting him into trouble a year and a half ago.

In the end, Song Daya showed off the candied hawthorn her father had bought her, making Ergouzi cry from pure craving instead.

“You still have the nerve to bring that up? Ergouzi went home demanding his dad buy him some, causing a huge fuss in their house!” Mei-shi glared at Song Daya.

“He ought to thank me!” Song Daya wasn’t the least bit afraid of her mother. “Just look at how smoothly he talks now!”

Ergouzi’s father no longer came over to Song Dalang’s place, but Ergouzi visited often, bringing Song Daya all kinds of news from inside and outside the village.

“Ergouzi said when his older brother goes to school, he just brings a flatbread and gnaws on it for a few hurried bites. It broke Ergouzi’s heart just hearing about it.”

In reality, Ergouzi was just jealous that his brother got to eat flatbread.

“From what Ergouzi told me, his brother’s routine seems a lot like Dad going out to do manual labor. It sounds pretty exhausting.”

Song Dalang, after all, had never managed kitchen matters, so he still didn’t understand what Song Daya was getting at.

Mei-shi, on the other hand, caught on a bit. “Do you mean we could use a little box like yours to pack food and bring it along?”

“Yes, exactly! Ah, you really are my mom!” Song Daya gave her mother a thumbs-up, pushing the doors to this new world open even further. “Dad, Mom, look at this lunchbox-“

The couple looked over together.

“It can hold rice, dishes, flatbread, and even porridge or soup!” Song Daya demonstrated for her parents. “As long as you don’t turn it upside down, it won’t leak at all! Put the lid on, and it even keeps the heat in!”

Though it couldn’t compare to thermal lunchboxes in modern times, this was the ancient era!

“What’s more, Dad, you could make smaller chopsticks and a spoon that can fit inside the box…”

As Song Daya gestured and explained, the couple’s eyes went round. Together, they gasped, “This…”

Moso bamboo was ridiculously easy to grow. Plant a few stalks in front of or behind the house, and by the next year, you’d have a whole grove.

Materials were readily available, and as for experience, Song Dalang already had it, so that wasn’t an issue either.

Then…

“Will anyone buy it?” Mei-shi asked worriedly.

“Mom, just tell me: if there was something like this and Ergouzi’s mother found out, wouldn’t she get one for his older brother?”

She would!

She absolutely would!

Given how desperately Ergouzi’s mother hoped her son would become a dragon^[4], even if she had to chew it out with her own teeth, she would gnaw one out for her boy!

Now Mei-shi finally grasped who the target customers were. She said, “Looks like these lunchboxes ought to be sold to the womenfolk.”

Only the women at home, young and old, would fret over whether their husbands and sons got hot food to eat when they were out.

“And another thing, Dad, Mom, think about it: once they eat, won’t they need water to drink?” Song Daya guided them along patiently.

Song Daya knew that waterskins in ancient times were usually cured from the bladders of pigs, cattle, or sheep, and wrapped in a layer of rawhide on the outside to prevent punctures.

But those things were expensive, and ordinary folk couldn’t afford them. Regular people were lucky just to have a gourd.

In any case, her father didn’t have a waterskin; whenever he went out, he just slung a gourd from his waist.

“They will!” Mei-shi had caught on completely. “Not only will they, but we can’t make it shaped like the meal-boxes either. It has to be narrower and taller so it’s easy to hold! It can hold water, tea, broth, any kind of liquid!”

That was so much better than a narrow-necked gourd!

“Wait…” Song Dalang finally had something to say. “People outside are already using bamboo tubes to hold water!”

“Does every household have one?” Mei-shi asked.

“Well, no,” Song Dalang answered.

Some inns in the county town did fill bamboo tubes with water and hang them outside to sell.

But not many people bought them.

Mainly because poor households couldn’t spare those few Wen^[5], while those who could afford it looked down on a bit of plain water.

“What does that matter?” Song Daya scraped up the last grain of rice from her bowl and set it upside down over the bamboo tube. “Dad, if you make the lid like a smaller bowl, and leave an opening along the rim for drinking, wouldn’t that make it different from everyone else’s?”

Mei-shi followed her daughter’s line of thought. “A bowl is good. You can eat from it, drink from it, and it won’t break if dropped…”

Thinking about it that way, this idea Da’ya had come up with really was a great one.

That night, lying in bed, Mei-shi still couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. She asked her husband, “Dalang, tell me, how is Da’ya’s head so clever?”

Song Daya was not asleep yet and chimed in, “That’s called being a genius. Born this way!”

“Flatter yourself, why don’t you!” Mei-shi scolded in a hushed voice. “Go to sleep already!”

*

Song Dalang was both exhausted and excited that night. The next morning, he got up while it was still dark before dawn.

“Why are you up so early?” Mei-shi asked blearily.

“I’ve been mulling over this meal-box business. Sooner is better than later,” Song Dalang said as he put on his clothes. “It’s not hard to make. As long as they sell well, people will copy them the very next day, and then they’ll be hard to sell.”

Mei-shi understood that they had to seize the advantage early. Once they started making money, never mind outsiders, plenty of folks in their own village would grow red-eyed with envy.

“Waiting until daybreak to cut bamboo will draw too much attention. I’ll help you. Let’s go cut some right now.”

Mei-shi gave up on sleeping, too. She got up, carried her sleeping daughter into Old Mother Wu’s room, told Old Mother Wu to make breakfast, and headed out into the dark to cut bamboo.

Song Daya had been too excited the night before and stayed up late, so when she woke up the next morning, the sun was already shining on her backside. Opening her eyes, she found herself lying in her grandmother’s bed.

Well now, her parents had dumped her last night!

Could they have been up to something not fit for children last night?

Oh no, this wouldn’t do. She had to go see!