Chapter Fourteen: You Get Lost Too

Several people glanced toward the disappointed crowd nearby who hadn’t managed to buy any shumai.

With a beaming smile, Li Pinghua rubbed her hands together and spoke to Liang Yunqing, who was just about to count the money.

“Yunqing, just as you said, these shumai are selling incredibly well. They’re all gone already, and it hasn’t even been that long.”

Liang Yunqing looked up after counting the coins in her arms.

“We’ll need to prepare more tomorrow. They sold out before the end of the workday.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll make more tonight,” Li Pinghua responded eagerly, already gathering the money. She began tidying the wooden table, while Madam Chu helped arrange the stall.

Liang Yunqing held the 582 wen in her hand thoughtfully. Although the cost of setting up the stall was about 260 wen, leaving a pure profit of 322 wen, it was still hard-earned money—long hours from dawn to dusk.

Yet, the system-assigned task was still far off—the target was 15 taels... Liang Yunqing ruffled her dry, yellowing hair and let out a wail.

Her sudden outcry startled the busy group. Li Pinghua anxiously checked if she had made a mistake.

A Yan and Xiao Hong quickly stepped aside, while Madam Chu looked puzzled.

“Qing’er, what’s wrong?” Madam Chu approached hesitantly and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Nothing, Mother, nothing. Let’s pack up and go,” Liang Yunqing withdrew her emotions. She stood and flipped off the vast sky above, silently cursing.

Damn it all, in the modern world, working oneself to the bone to build a business was one thing, but in this book world, she still had to find ways to make money.

Just get lost, all of you!

[Host, don’t be too anxious. Think about whether opening a box might give you more motivation.]

If the 007 system hadn’t mentioned it, it would have been fine. But now, it only made Liang Yunqing lose her composure further. She retorted coldly in her mind:

You get lost too.

[Wuwuwu...]

When packing up, there was much less to carry, and lifting the table was easier. In no time, the three had loaded everything onto the cart.

“Uncle Ma, thank you for your hard work,” Liang Yunqing said, reserving two shumai and handing them to Uncle Ma, who was preparing to drive the cart.

“I’ve already taken your money; I can’t take your food too,” Uncle Ma refused with a wave. Though tempted by the shumai, he felt it improper to accept food after payment.

“I saved these especially for you, Uncle Ma. Please take them. It’s just that our business…”

Liang Yunqing didn’t continue. She knew Uncle Ma was kind-hearted.

“Don’t worry, I understand. I won’t tell anyone,” Uncle Ma relented and pocketed the shumai.

By the time they staggered back to the village, it was afternoon. The harsh midday sun shone brightly, and the farmhands were resting at home.

Taking advantage of the quiet, the three carried the table back home.

Liang Zhiyan had just finished changing his shoulder cloth. The bruised spot from the chair was healing somewhat. Liang Mingxue was still chopping wood and called out as he saw them.

“Yunqing, wife, how did the sales go?”

His shout roused Grandmother Wang, who had been preparing for her afternoon nap. Without even putting on her outer garment, she opened the door and stepped out, her face tense as she looked toward Liang Yunqing.

“How was it? Did you sell well? Why are you back so early? Isn’t it just quitting time?”

Liang Yunqing tossed the money pouch onto the small wooden table in the courtyard.

With a clatter, the tension among the group instantly eased. Wang eagerly scooped up the pouch and began counting, murmuring with delight.

“Wonderful, so much money, so much money.”

Liang Zhiyan rushed over, stroking the pouch with greed in his eyes.

Once they’d calmed down, Liang Yunqing spoke.

“This money is enough to repay your principal and interest. If you’re willing to continue investing in this business, you can leave the money here. If not, that’s fine too—I can pay you daily wages at 25 wen a day.”

Her words silenced the once-cheerful group.

Liang Mingxue was unaffected—he didn’t have a single coin. But Grandmother Wang hesitated.

Though she saw the business’s potential, what if everyone grew tired of eating it? This was her life’s savings.

After some thought, she steeled herself and spoke.

“I’ll take back my money. From now on, I’ll just take wages.”

Seeing his mother retrieve her money, Liang Zhiyan instinctively opened his mouth to say he would do the same—but before he could finish, Li Pinghua punched his mouth shut.

“Yunqing, Second Aunt is willing to work with you. We’ll reinvest this time.”

Liang Yunqing raised an eyebrow. She had thought Li Pinghua, so money-obsessed, wouldn’t risk more investment and would prefer daily wages.

But Li Pinghua’s decisive choice to reinvest revealed she had some business acumen.

“Very well, then Grandmother, take 200 wen from the pot. But from now on, your wage will be 20 wen a day.”

Wang had wanted to ask why her wage was reduced to 20 wen but, considering her age, remained silent.

She counted out the 200 wen and tucked it into her pocket.

With the money settled, the group busied themselves again. This time, Li Pinghua worked even harder, with Madam Chu constantly rinsing rice and cutting meat.

Grandmother Wang helped by adding water and firewood, occasionally glancing toward Liang Yunqing, who was grinding toasted Sichuan peppercorns.

Feeling the gaze, Liang Yunqing calmly continued her work, never expecting much help from her grandmother.

The daily wage of 20 wen was merely a price for household peace—when everyone earned something, they would pull together.

It wasn’t that she feared any trouble from Wang; Liang Yunqing simply didn’t want to waste time managing people.

She handed the pepper powder to Li Pinghua, who was stir-frying pork, and then checked on Madam Chu’s steamed coarse rice.

In the yard, Liang Youyong chopped wood vigorously and helped reinforce the wooden stall table with Liang Mingxue. A daily wage of 25 wen was a fortune for a young teenager.

His eyes shone with enthusiasm, and even the grudging looks he had once given Liang Yunqing had disappeared.

They worked until sunset, finishing 300 shumai, all brushed with a thin layer of oil and neatly arranged on the table. Liang Yunqing stretched her aching back and arms.

Doing business was truly hard-earned money. Why did the heroines in novels make it look so effortless?

When it was her turn, she was nearly exhausted beyond recognition.

She wasn’t the only one worn out. People lay sprawled haphazardly in the yard and kitchen. Even Grandmother Wang leaned against the doorframe, her usual proud and noble manner gone.

“Just eat a little and rest,” Liang Yunqing said, supporting her back and dragging her tired legs to the stove, where she had made steamed corn buns from leftover flour mixed with coarse meal.

They tasted much better than the wild vegetable buns, and with some leftover meat sauce, the group ate until they were half full.

Back in her room, Liang Yunqing had planned to consider her next steps, but as soon as she touched the bed, she fell fast asleep.

After tidying the floor, Madam Chu entered, gently placing a tattered thin quilt over her.

Morning came.

Liang Yunqing was roused only after Madam Chu called her three or four times. Sitting on the bed, she muttered gloomily:

“Now I finally understand why chickens always crow so loudly when they wake up.”