"You, a little girl, dare to claim you can grind better tasting tofu than me?"
"If Aunt Wen doesn't believe me, why not give it a try?" Zhuang Qingning laughed aloud: "Why not let me grind a batch of tofu for Aunt Wen to taste? If the tofu I grind tastes good, you'll let me rent this tofu factory. If it doesn't taste good, then we'll drop the matter, how does that sound?"
At her words, Mrs. Wen burst into laughter.
Her eyes slightly narrowed, her laugh exaggerated, she displayed none of the kindness expected of the elderly. Instead, there was a sense of harshness that was unnerving.
"Competing in this gamble with a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl, that's interesting." Mrs. Wen smirked: "My tofu hot pot hasn't been used for a long time, so starting it up again isn't unacceptable."
"But let's be clear upfront, if you can't make tofu that tastes better than mine, it's not as simple as just not renting the tofu factory. You'll have to leave my tofu factory, one step at a time, on your knees. Do you think that's acceptable?"
"Agreed." Zhuang Qingning replied immediately, without hesitation.
"You're refreshingly decisive, unlike those who dilly-dally." Mrs. Wen took a sip from her bowl of porridge: "Then, sooner is better than later, you say you can grind better tasting tofu, I am eager to taste it."
"There are ready beans in the tofu factory. Clean up the grinding mill and let's start." Mrs. Wen instructed.
"Agreed." Zhuang Qingning complied and left with Zhuang Qingsui for the tofu factory.
Despite being called a tofu factory, it was merely two large rooms in Mrs. Wen's house used for grinding tofu. Everything necessary was inside, but since it hadn't been used for a while, it was covered in a thick layer of dust.
The sack of beans was leaning against the wall. Zhuang Qingsui untied the rope securing the sack and grabbed a handful of beans to examine in the dim light of the room.
They were fine, well-preserved. There were no signs of mold, spoilage, or insect infestation.
She took the winnowing basket hanging nearby, used a small broom to sweep off the dust, and poured in a small sack of beans.
"Qingsui, sort the beans first. Discard the blackened and rotten ones in this little basket at the side. I'll clean this water tank used for soaking beans."
The water tank hadn't been used for a long time, was covered in a thick layer of dirt, and needed thorough cleaning. Otherwise, the beans soaked in it might easily spoil.
Zhuang Qingsui agreed and sat down on a small stool to meticulously sort the beans.
The light in the room wasn't good enough, and she thought about going out to the courtyard to sort the beans. But remembering the state of Mrs. Wen's courtyard, she dismissed the idea and went back inside with the winnowing basket.
But the light inside was really bad, and Zhuang Qingsui was worried that she might not clean the beans thoroughly. If the tofu turned out bad, she wouldn't be able to win over Mrs. Wen and rent the tofu factory...
After pondering it for a while, Zhuang Qingsui finally decided to place the winnowing basket near the edge of the doorway and started sorting the beans carefully.
Meanwhile, Zhuang Qingning placed the cleaned water tank properly, and tidied up all the tools needed for making tofu, including the large stove for cooking soy milk and the stone mill for grinding...
Meanwhile, Zhuang Ruman's family was having their meal.
Cornmeal pancakes, cornmeal paste, served with pickles.
"Mother, you put too much cornmeal in these pancakes, it's choking. My throat has been hurting recently, eating this irritates it more. Can you make me some white flour pancakes instead?" complained Zhuang Qinghe with a pout.
"Mother, my throat is also uncomfortable." Zhuang Yuanzhong echoed besiders her.
"If everyone eats white flour, who will eat the cornmeal?" Zhuang Ruman replied discontently: "Our farmland is limited, so we have only a small harvest. If we all eat white flour, how are we supposed to manage?"
"Why can big brother enjoy white steamed buns every meal at the academy? Every time he comes home, he gets meat and scrambled eggs from mom. We can't even have white flour pancakes?" Zhuang Qinghe muttered discontentedly.
"Can you compare yourselves with your elder brother? Yuanren is studying in town, using his brain a lot. How can he study if he doesn't get to eat well?"
Zhuang Ruman continued: "How can he pass the exams, make a name for himself, and bring glory to our family if he doesn't have the strength to study?"
"Even if he makes a name for himself, he's the one doing it. What does it have to do with us? Why should we suffer just to support him? That's not how it should be!"
"You, girl, why are you becoming more and more disrespectful with your words?" Mrs. Song intervened: "If your elder brother achieves success, doesn't that mean our family achieves success? Once your brother passes his starter exams, our family would have a scholar. Won't that make your marital matters easier to settle?"
"Furthermore, if your elder brother really becomes a talented scholar or a juren, or even an official, you would then be a rich man's daughter. You can then have endless delicacies to eat, clothes to wear, and when it comes to choosing a spouse, you could choose from well-off and distinguished families..."
Zhuang Ruman shot a sideways glance.
Mrs. Song was generally dim-witted, but she was unusually astute in this matter. She demonstrated a rare spark of intelligence.
A light bulb lit up in Zhuang Qinghe's head.
That was true. In the future, she would be a rich man's daughter, so Brother Wencheng would definitely only have eyes for her and no one else.
"Alright, I'll listen to my parents..." Zhuang Qinghe continued with her meal, her face full of smiles.
Like mother, like daughter!
Zhuang Yuanzhong smirked and lowered his head to drink his cornmeal paste.
After breakfast, complying with Zhuang Ruman's request from last night, Mrs. Song picked out about ten eggs from a basket.
One egg, two eggs, three eggs, four eggs, five eggs...
Mrs. Song placed them in a small bamboo basket and handed them to Zhuang Ruman: "Here, make it an auspicious number, sixteen eggs."
"What do we need so many for? Ten is enough." Zhuang Ruman took out a few eggs and covered the basket with a cloth: "Just stay home and wait for my message. Remember everything I said, understood?"
"Yes, don't worry, head of the family." Mrs. Song had a wide grin on her face.
But in reality, she had so many wrinkles on her face that none of her gentleness could be seen when she smiled.
She's unbearable to look at!
Zhuang Ruman swallowed the rest of the words he was about to deliver, holding the basket, he hurried out of the door.
He arrived at the village chief's house. The chief, Zhuang Jingye, was sipping tea in the courtyard. On seeing Zhuang Ruman enter, he spat out the tea leaves he had been chewing for awhile onto the ground.
It took him a full day to come around, which meant that the neighbors hadn't revealed anything.
This Zhuang Ruman, allowing his wife to abuse his niece, it was simply intolerable to families that have daughters. That they weren't helping to hide Qingning was already a favor, let alone helping to find her. That was impossible.
And he had been threatened by a little girl, pushing him, the respected village chief, into cleaning up this potential mess.
Zhuang Jingye was annoyed and shot Zhuang Ruman an unfriendly glare.
Zhuang Ruman initially arrived with a big smile on his face, but he was taken aback when he was met with an unfriendly glare, which instantly dampened his spirit.