Chapter 238: Fish and Mutton Fresh

Her father was busy selling salt.

Her aunt, Madam Cui, came storming out of the house like a gust of wind, bringing a scale with her and shouting even louder than Yan Lao’er.

“Coarse salt, twelve wen per jin! Refined salt, thirty-five!
If you want some, hurry back and bring your jars or cloth bags.
Those water jars, crocks, and urns—you can’t take them home today. They’re just samples.
You’ll have to come back and haul them in two days. For now, place your orders with the Liang family lad.
Don’t dawdle—there aren’t many big jars!”

At her call, everyone rushed back home to fetch their salt jars and bags.

“No need to buy too much,” Yan Lao’er added quickly. “Start with a jin, or even just half a jin, a few liang will do. I’ll bring more next time.”

Seeing the crowd, he began to worry that the 120 jin of salt he had might not be enough.

He glanced over his shoulder—sure enough, Granny Rong was watching him with a faint smile, her eyes drifting often toward the salt sacks.

Li Xuemei went back inside and returned with a cloth bag, standing directly in front of Yan Lao’er and holding the bag open for him to fill.

Her daughter had been craving salted duck eggs for days. If they didn’t cure those wild duck eggs soon, they’d start to spoil.

Granny Rong darted over and helped fill the bag with coarse salt.

Satisfied, the two women left together.

With his wife gone, Yan Lao’er straightened his back a little, suddenly feeling more like a man.

He looked around—thankfully, most people had gone home to fetch containers. There were only a few still lingering.

Most people opted for the coarse salt; very few asked for the refined kind. They were used to living frugally—so long as it was salty, that was good enough.

The large jars were a huge hit.

For water use at home, they were still accustomed to hauling water and storing it in jars. Plus, having a full jar of water at the ready could save them if a fire broke out.

Every household had kangs—raised heated beds—essentially sleeping right by a fire. Having a big water jar nearby gave them peace of mind.

…

By the time Yan Yu returned, her father had already packed up his stall. The jars, crocks, and urns had all been hauled into the courtyard.

A group of children were expertly sorting herbs to be tallied at Physician Cui’s house.

Granny Rong had cleaned the wild duck eggs and set them out to dry.

She was boiling brine.

Yan Lao’er had just come back from the river, after scrubbing the jars and crocks inside and out.

Granny Rong fetched two crocks—just the right size for curing salted eggs.

Yan Yu let out a cheer, washed her hands, rolled up her sleeves, and joined in.

Father and daughter bent over the crocks together, gently placing duck eggs inside.

“Dad,” Yan Yu said, “did you see the two rams in the back yard? I’ve been eyeing them for days. I was just waiting for you to come home.”

Without hesitation, Yan Lao’er replied, “We’ll butcher one today. I’ll go fetch your Uncle Luo San in a bit. So, what do you want—hot pot or roast?”

Yan Yu swallowed hard. How was she supposed to choose? She wanted both.

“Hot pot!” she decided.

Yan Lao’er chuckled, leaning in to whisper, “I’ve been craving it too.”

Father and daughter grinned at each other like fools.

“We’ll start with one. When Old Yan comes back, we’ll do the other.”

They had the sheep situation neatly planned out.

“No, Dad, we can’t,” Yan Yu interrupted quickly. “We’ve got to keep one for breeding. Granny Rong is putting real effort into expanding home farming. Look at our chickens—besides laying their own eggs, we’re even giving them wild duck eggs to sit on. And those piglets you bought? They’re getting plump! Even the rabbits we’re raising in our plot—Granny Rong checks on them often, just waiting for them to start breeding.”

Yan Lao’er: …

“Good thing you haven’t suggested raising fish,” he muttered.

Yan Yu gave him a knowing look. “Dad, you’re amazing—we actually are! We want to keep the fish alive longer in water. That’s why I was in such a hurry to get the jars.”

Yan Lao’er said, “You can’t keep that many fish… Maybe we can ask Master Lu to plaster a pool for us—”

“I thought of that! But changing and draining the water is a hassle,” Yan Yu said, frowning. “We need flowing water to keep the fish alive. Dad, do you think my Uncle Qi Wu could build a waterwheel?”

“What are you talking about?” Yan Lao’er touched her forehead. No fever—so why was she spouting nonsense?

“We’ve been into the mountains several times now. The water source is a bit far. Bringing water down from the mountains would mean building a long aqueduct. It’d be easier to divert it from the river,” Yan Yu explained. Each time she went into the mountains, it wasn’t just for herbs—she’d always been thinking about how to bring water into the village.

“Your eldest uncle forbade touching the river. He’s afraid the water level will rise,” Yan Lao’er reminded her.

“We don’t need to dig. Just set up a waterwheel at the riverbank—it won’t affect anything,” Yan Yu argued. “Not only can it bring water over, it can power a mill.”

“A waterwheel turning the mill… then what are we supposed to do with our village donkey?” Yan Lao’er shook his head. The waterwheel wasn’t a bad idea—it just wasn’t a necessity right now.

“Dad, haven’t you noticed?” Yan Yu said. “Everything we do takes labor. But if we could bring water into the village, irrigation would be easier. We’d also save the time spent fetching water every day. All that saved time could be put toward something else.

Like charcoal burning, or mixing lime, or building houses…”

Then she dropped a bombshell.

“You… you’ve figured out the cement formula?” Yan Lao’er stared at his daughter, stunned.

Yan Yu lifted her chin with pride.

“I was going to stay low-key, but my brilliance just won’t let me! Hahaha!
Dad, the first batch of cement is done. Well, technically it’s more like earthen cement. I don’t know if the ratio is perfect, but I tested it—it’s waterproof and holds up well.
We’re not building air raid shelters, just plastering floors and walls—it’s more than enough.”

Yan Lao’er got excited.

“Good, good! That’s fantastic! Master Lu’s lime mortar is way too expensive. Watching him plaster walls made my heart ache.”

But that wasn’t all Yan Yu had to share.

“Oh, and the recycled paper’s almost ready too. I just fished the pulp bag out of the river earlier. The ink’s all washed out now.
The pulp’s still a bit dark, not that white, but for home use it doesn’t matter.”

I was thinking, if the weather’s clear tomorrow, I’ll haul that pulp bag out and fire up the wall kiln—we’ll make paper.”

Yan Yu was full of spirit and ambition.

If it worked, even if it didn’t bring true freedom of the pen, at the very least, it would guarantee freedom to… ahem… wipe.

Yan Lao’er’s face glowed with pride, as if basking in glory.

Just look at my daughter—how is she this capable?

“Do it. We have to do it. I’ll help you tomorrow,” Yan Lao’er declared, unable to sit still any longer. He sprang up and ran out, elated. “I’m off to find Luo San—we’re having mutton hot pot tonight!”

Granny Rong heard the name of the dish and came looking.

Yan Yu beamed at her. “Granny Rong, Uncle Luo San’s coming over soon to help us butcher a sheep. We’re having mutton hot pot tonight! Oh, and fish works in hot pot too, right? Let’s slice some fish into it—fish and mutton, get it? ‘Yu Yang Xian’! Ahahaha!”

Granny Rong laughed warmly.

She moved swiftly, getting everything ready.

First, she picked out a ram and tied it up in the front yard. Then she set out the basins.

Next, she went to boil water.

She also gathered the dried little fish and shrimp that had been sun-drying in the courtyard…

The moment Luo San heard there was a sheep to slaughter, he gave up on heading into the mountains. He grabbed his tools and followed Yan Lao’er back to the Yan household courtyard.

The two of them quickly set up a simple frame.

Luo San began sharpening his knife with a brisk swish swish swish…

(End of Chapter)