Chapter 39 Steamed Buns Out of the Pot

Yan Lao’er deliberately brought a few eggs with him, in case the old lady changed her mind about the trade. They could then be used to swap for bowls from other villagers, like stockpiling in advance.

“Aiya, you young man, you’re too honest! You’ll lose money doing business this way!”

The old lady poured him some water with the new bowl she just exchanged.

“Drink up, young man, quench your thirst.”

Yan Lao’er: “Auntie…”

“Don’t worry, just drink. It’s not like your sip will make a difference.”

When Yan Lao’er was about to leave, the old lady insisted on stuffing one egg back into his basket, keeping only one for herself. She even walked him all the way to the village entrance, waving as he left.

…

When Yan Lao’er returned, he became the center of attention in the village.

Everyone wanted to know: Did their items get traded? What did they get in return?

The villagers crowded around. Yan Lao’er spread out all the items he had brought back.

Those who got their original items back were a bit disappointed—why hadn’t theirs been chosen?

Those whose items were traded were overjoyed.

One of them was Madam Cui. Her family’s bowl was newly bought. Though it was just coarse porcelain, it had a few painted flowers on it, and someone picked it!

She received a big bundle of fresh greens and smiled so hard her mouth couldn’t close.

Her eyes sparkled. Carrying the vegetables, she told everyone she ran into how great her shopping instincts were, how lucky she was.

She praised Yan Lao’er too, saying she always knew he was capable, that people who had seen the world were different. Did you know? Yan Lao’er even knew how to trim livestock hooves, blah blah blah…

Another was the Hu family’s youngest daughter. The insoles she had sewn—Yan Lao’er kept two pairs and gave her two eggs in exchange. The little girl happily ran home to show her parents.

“This was just the first time, so we didn’t know what people might want. Being able to trade for anything at all is great. Next time we come across another village, everyone will have a chance,” Yan Lao’er told the crowd.

The villagers gradually dispersed, but the event left a mark on everyone’s hearts. During their afternoon journey, people still chatted about it from time to time.

Sanbao led everyone along the newly planned route.

As always, Yan Lao’er was driving the cart. There was no way around it—he couldn’t tell his eldest brother that he wasn’t needed for navigation, that as long as they had an ox, they were fine.

The small paths weren’t as easy as official roads, but with everyone taking turns, it wasn’t too tiring.

Occasionally, they ran into people along the way who would catch up and ask where they were going, what they were doing.

Everyone answered honestly: “We can’t survive anymore, so we’re fleeing the famine.”

Those people reacted like they’d seen a ghost.

Looking at the exaggerated ox cart at the front, the mule cart, donkey cart, handcarts behind it, all piled with sacks that probably contained grain—these folks still needed to flee?

But when they heard that the village’s old well couldn’t draw a single drop of water anymore, they understood.

The quick-thinking ones immediately ran back to their villages. The slower ones, after this group walked off into the distance, still hurried home.

“Uncle, is it really okay for us to say this?” Yan Xiangheng asked quietly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Yan Lao’er, seeing his eldest nephew crawl over, gestured for them to swap places.

Gotta train the kid through practice.

“These people see us leaving and will want to leave too, right?” Yan Xiangheng didn’t know the term ‘herd mentality,’ but based on what he saw, that’s what he’d do.

“It’s fine. They won’t catch up to us.” Yan Lao’er was very confident. This was Sanbao’s carefully plotted route, taking shortcuts—they would definitely stay ahead.

“Uncle, that’s not what I’m worried about.” Yan Xiangheng took the reins, sat up straight, and practiced driving seriously. “I mean, they didn’t want to leave originally. But after seeing us, now they want to go…”

Yan Lao’er felt tired.

Why does Eldest Nephew always ask me these questions?

I’m illiterate, okay!

Why don’t you go ask your dad!

“You mean it’s all our fault for leading them?” Yan Lao’er asked. “Let me ask you this—if the weather had been good, with rain on time and good harvests, and we said we were fleeing the famine, how would they see us? They’d think our whole village was crazy.

And besides, would they not leave without us? What’s forcing everyone to abandon their homes isn’t us—it’s this damn, unlivable disaster.”

Yan Yu’s little ears perked up, listening to her father, then silently added in her heart: And also that useless government office still collecting taxes like usual.

In a drought this severe, shouldn’t they be reporting for tax relief?

As local officials, with people about to die of thirst and hunger, what were they even doing?

She sneaked a glance at her eldest uncle, hoping that when he held high office in the future, he’d ruthlessly deal with these incompetent officials.

So the common people could have easier days.

Yan Huaiwen sensed her gaze and looked up at her.

“Where are you in your recitation?”

Yan Yu: Busted.

“I… I’ve memorized it all.” Between hiding her lack of progress and ending the conversation quickly, she chose the latter.

“Recite,” Yan Huaiwen said.

Hearing his daughter’s stumbling recitation, Yan Lao’er broke out in cold sweat.

Luckily, Old Yan’s target wasn’t him.

A sudden sense of urgency surged in him—he really needed to start learning to read and write. What if one day Old Yan asked him to write something? How would he dodge that? Say his hand didn’t listen to him?

When they stopped for the night, Yan Lao’er showed off his expert steamed bun-making skills.

Each dough ball looked like it had been measured with a ruler, all uniform.

One pound of flour, seven buns. No more, no less.

While waiting for the buns to finish steaming, Madam Cui cheerfully brought over a big bowl of vegetable soup.

Not much veggies, not much soup.

But at a time like this, who would complain? Fresh greens were the most prized dish right now.

Madam Cui said, “Adding a dish for Brother Yan. Running around at noon, it’s too exhausting. We’ll trouble you a lot in the future, so thank you in advance.”

Yan Lao’er didn’t make a fuss about declining. Besides, given their gender difference, too much back-and-forth would be awkward.

Just as the buns were done steaming, the steam cleared, and one by one, the plump, fluffy, hot buns came out.

The smell of freshly steamed bread made everyone gulp.

Yan Lao’er poured the vegetable soup into his bowl and picked out a big steamed bun, placing it into Madam Cui’s empty bowl.

With a smile, he said, “Sister Cui, take it back and try my cooking, see if it’s any good.”

Yan Lao’er gladly accepted her dish. If she had fussed about it, it would’ve looked bad.

So Madam Cui happily agreed and carried the big bun home.

When Physician Cui saw his wife return with food in hand, he wasn’t pleased.

“We gave veggies to thank him for his help. Why are you bringing food back?”

“Everyone was watching. How could I refuse? Wouldn’t that make him lose face?

Brother Yan is kind. He never expected to gain anything from this. Since he gave me a bun, I had to accept it. Let everyone see—Brother Yan isn’t like the rumors say. He’s just like his scholar brother. Both are good men.”

Madam Cui felt she’d done the right thing. Villagers sending food was a show of closeness.

But it couldn’t always be one family giving to another. There had to be give and take to build true bonds.

Look at Brother Yan—so understanding. He accepted generously, and in return, handed her a steamed bun. It warmed people’s hearts.

(End of Chapter)