Chapter Sixteen: Master Zhang Is a Good Man

Renovating the kitchen was a major undertaking!

When Chun Nuan mentioned it to her family, they all expressed their support—though it was only verbal. When it came to actual money or effort, no one was willing; they all relied on Chun Nuan and Chun Ning.

“Chun Ning, what are your thoughts?” Chun Nuan deliberately wanted to cultivate him. The Xiao family needed a leader, not someone who only followed orders.

“Sis, I’ve been thinking about this these past few days. We need to make a living and process medicinal herbs, so the kitchen will be used a lot…”

When things are done quietly, they attract less attention, especially since the Xiao family was currently in a precarious position. Better safe than sorry.

The prominent Xiao clan certainly did not want to see them survive peacefully.

Building the kitchen would make work much more convenient.

“We can’t build a house ourselves, but we can cut some bamboo to make a screen,” Chun Ning suggested. “I asked Xiao Gang, and the bamboo by the small stream behind the mountain belongs to Old Master Zhang’s family. Usually, they don’t mind if we cut one or two stalks, but if we take too many, that won’t be allowed. Maybe we could buy some from them?”

“Good idea. Let’s see how much it would cost,” Chun Nuan agreed.

What surprised Chun Nuan was Old Master Zhang’s reply: bamboo was worthless; the Xiao family could cut as much as they needed.

“There are still many kind people in the world,” little Chun An said with a sigh, making the whole family laugh.

“Old Master Zhang owns over thirty acres of land. Luo Xiao Gang’s family leases land from his ancestors and only pays fifty percent rent, which is ten percent less than the Xiao clan’s rate,” Chun Ning explained. “The Xiao clan charges sixty percent rent, and they even demand sixty percent from their tenants.”

“With such a ruthless attitude, who would lease land from them?” Madam Zhu whispered angrily. “In our Zhu family village, tenants pay forty percent rent; we only charge forty percent.”

“There are three major families in Changzhou, and the Xiao clan owns one of them,” Chun Ning shared what she had learned. “In Annan town, more than half the farmland and hills belong to the Xiao clan.”

Not everyone could lease land from the Zhang family. Who wouldn’t want to pay less rent?

But luck played a part.

Those fortunate enough to lease from the Zhang family would never give it up; those who couldn’t, out of necessity, had to lease from the Xiao family.

“The past two years, Changzhou has suffered droughts. Many families had poor harvests and were affected after paying rent and grain. So when food is scarce, many resort to digging wild vegetables to fill their stomachs.”

“If only we could lease land from the Zhang family. We don’t need much—just one acre would do.”

Madam Xu’s heart ached as she thought of the two estates she brought as dowry, totaling over sixty acres near the capital’s suburbs; the Xiao household also had an estate of over eighty acres.

The Xiao family was always kind-hearted, treating tenants and peasants with generosity, charging only forty percent rent.

Madams Xu, Huang, and Zhu all bowed their heads, wiping away tears.

They were all daughters of minor officials, each with substantial dowries, yet they never squandered them. Unexpectedly, everything was confiscated and ended up benefiting others.

“Sis, tomorrow let’s cut bamboo first to enclose the kitchen,” Chun Ning said, recalling how Old Master Zhang was coughing badly when they last saw him. “Later, we can go together and ask him if he might lease us an acre.”

“All right.”

Chun Nuan hesitated briefly, wondering why she had to go herself.

If Chun Ning insisted, there must be a reason.

Picking spring flowers and selling flower cakes was handled by Chun Ning and Luo Xiao Gang; Chun Nuan no longer had to go to the docks.

She took Chun Yan and Chun Shu to cut bamboo.

“Be careful, don’t cut your hand.”

Relying on the mountain was unreliable, and relying on people even more so. Chun Nuan wanted to find someone to help, but then she recalled the Xiao household was mostly women and children. Hiring a strong man would invite gossip, plus they'd have to provide meals and wages. Better to do as much as they could themselves and learn on the job.

“Sis, what’s this?” Chun Yan called out, spotting something sharp.

“It’s a bamboo shoot,” Chun Nuan replied, thinking how delicious it would be stir-fried with meat.

“What’s a bamboo shoot?”

“It’s the young shoot of a bamboo stalk.” She swallowed the words she wanted to say—that it was edible. The two sisters, along with Luo San Ya, had been foraging wild vegetables these days and had learned that anything edible was not to be missed.

Old Master Zhang agreed to let them cut bamboo but did not consent to harvesting bamboo shoots. Moreover, cutting bamboo shoots now would reduce the bamboo’s growth significantly. One must not be greedy.

“I know, I know,” Chun Shu quickly said. “San Ya said bamboo shoots are edible, but eating them makes your mouth water.”

“That’s right. It makes people feel uneasy inside, so we shouldn’t cut them.”

Chun Nuan lied with a guilty conscience. The restlessness came from a lack of fatty meat. If they could buy two pounds of pork to stir-fry with the shoots, they wouldn’t feel that way. The real worry was not eating them.

The three sisters chopped bamboo while little Chun An came running over.

“Sis, I want to help.”

“Xiao An, stand back a little.” She didn’t want him to cause more trouble than good.

“Sis, I can do it.”

“All right, if you can.” Chun Nuan handed him a bamboo stalk stripped of branches.

“Take it back.”

“Sis…” Chun Yan and Chun Shu widened their eyes. A single bamboo stalk was heavy; neither could drag it. How could six-year-old Chun An manage?

“It’s okay.” Children are children. Even if they can’t do it, they understand the effort.

Chun An hugged the bamboo, mustering all his strength but only managed to drag it a little.

“Sis, you’re so heavy!”

“I’m not heavy, less than seventy pounds,” Chun Nuan teased with a smile. “When you’re my age, you should weigh over a hundred pounds.”

“Less than seventy pounds? That’s not heavy at all.”

A male voice suddenly emerged from the bamboo grove, startling the four siblings.

“Master Zhao?”

Seeing who it was, Chun Nuan breathed a sigh of relief.

Was this the kind of conversation he should be involved in?

A little joke among siblings—why would he meddle?

“Miss Xiao, I brought some Pinellia for you to process.”

“All right, bring it on.”

Chun Nuan glanced at the large cloth sack of Pinellia that Qing Sheng carried, then looked at Zhao Minghua: What exactly is that much Pinellia?

“What kind of medicinal herbs do you need, Master Zhao?”

“The Herbal Hall currently needs cleaned Pinellia, ginger Pinellia, and French Pinellia.”

In truth, they didn’t need so much. It was her grandfather and eldest brother testing her processing skills by demanding more.

“What about the quantities?”

“Divide them evenly. Equal amounts of each type.”

“Good, got it.”

Chun Nuan held back for a while but finally asked, “May I ask, Master Zhao, how much is the processing fee for this Pinellia?”

Doing business naturally involved discussing money openly; only then could the trade endure.

“One tael of silver.”

This price was added by Zhao Minghua himself. Her grandfather and eldest brother only cared about the quality of the herbs, not the fee.

“All right, no problem,” Chun Nuan said, her heart stirred. She was sure to earn that one tael. “Please have this young man deliver the herbs to my home. I will arrange the processing. You can pick them up in half a month.”

“You can just call me Qing Sheng, Miss Xiao,” Qing Sheng said, knowing that the young master’s special permission allowed him to negotiate business with Miss Xiao, so he felt no pressure. “Miss Xiao, why are you cutting bamboo?”

“We plan to use the bamboo to fix up the kitchen.”

“Cutting bamboo to repair the kitchen?” Zhao Minghua winced, instinctively glancing at Chun Nuan’s hands. They must be blistered by now.

“I’ll help you,” he said, grabbing the machete from Chun Nuan and starting to chop bamboo.

“This…”

Men and women really were different. She took seven or eight chops to fell one stalk; he took only three.

“What are you just standing there for?” Zhao Minghua told Qing Sheng, “Carry the Pinellia to the Xiao household, then come back here to cut bamboo. Don’t go home until it’s finished.”

What?

Qing Sheng looked at the vast bamboo grove as if the sky had fallen! The young master said only to deliver the herbs—nothing about hard labor.

Could he ask for help? His father was a skilled basket weaver and expert bamboo cutter!