After Cheng Zhong left, Xiangbei looked at the oil he had been stirring clockwise for about half an hour. It had now turned into a slightly yellowish, opaque, and viscous state. Changing his hand movements, he gently traced the figure-eight pattern, seeing clear traces, indicating that the saponification was mostly complete. Although it was softer than soap made with caustic soda due to limited conditions, it could be considered a success. He then used some chicken fat residue to wipe several small bamboo bowls, quickly poured the soap solution into them, neatly arranged them in a bamboo basket, covered them with straw and rice straw for insulation. Afterward, he sat down, still giving a sulking look to Cheng Mo sitting across from him, and spoke in a friendly tone, "Young Master Cheng, have you made up your mind? Are you really going to sign such a contract with me?"
Cheng Mo did not answer his question but instead brought up something he had been curious about, "So, even if you've made this soap, can it also treat dermatitis?"
"More or less. After it sits quietly for about a day, it should be ready to use. If you let it sit for three to five days, it will become harder and less prone to deformation. The treatment for dermatitis is due to the sulfur I added. If you use different things like floral water, essential oils, or medicinal herbs, you can achieve other effects. Using vegetable oil in the future will make the soap much more appealing than this chicken fat." Xiangbei patiently explained the soap-making process, hoping to calm the young master down. Given Cheng Zhong's recent behavior, it was evident that the business of Fu Hai Lou was substantial. It might not be a good idea for the impulsive young master to sign a contract hastily. Although Xiangbei wanted to create a new world for his future life, he didn't want to bring trouble to the family of Miss Tong.
"Is this the method your family taught you? Do all the mountain farmers make soap like this?" Cheng Mo was curious about the kind of family Xiangbei came from, as it seemed to have taught her a variety of skills.
"Ah? Oh, yes. My grandfather is the most famous medicine man in the whole mountain. He taught me everything." Xiangbei was startled by this unexpected question. Aside from some recipes and herbs, she hadn't shown anything too extraordinary. She quickly calmed herself, changed the topic, and said, "So, are you really sure about signing that contract with me? Shouldn't you ask your parents or other adults for advice?"
"I am an adult. Who dares to oppose my decisions? You don't need to worry about these things. You just need to confirm if you dare to sign it or not. Hmph!" The young master, seemingly triggered again, spoke with anger on his face and then turned to look at the water without saying another word. It wasn't until Cheng Zhong came over to arrange the paper and pens that he lifted his clothes and sat down, quickly writing a two-page contract before handing it over to Xiangbei in a neat handwriting.
Did it have to be so rushed? Xiangbei stared blankly at the contract, subconsciously looking at the paper. Immediately, he was stunned by the vigorous calligraphy, which combined strength with grace. As the saying goes, "The handwriting reflects the person." This handwriting didn't match the eccentric and immature appearance of the current young master. For the first time seeing characters from this world, Xiangbei felt fortunate that at least she wasn't illiterate. The characters seemed to be from the Tang or Song Dynasty period, but she couldn't be sure about the exact era. To be on the safe side, even though she was curious, she decided to endure it for now.
The contract stipulated that two recipes per month had to be well-received and praised by customers, and daily, over ten percent of customers had to accept the new products. This seemed reasonable. The half-year bonus clause, with confidence, counted on not receiving a single penny if less than twelve recipes were completed. This was too self-assured. In the vast Middle Kingdom, where a variety of flavors were abundant, there were numerous food bloggers who shot three seasons and countless derivatives of a single show about the delicacies. The clause about the Tong family's hunted animals, mountain treasures, and ingredients being prioritized for purchase by the restaurant was a kind of benefit. The term "Tai Chi" popped up - what on earth did that mean? What did Tai Chi have to do with selling recipes? Was it edible or drinkable? And buying out, buying it out to make stewed pig's trotters?
"What does this Tai Chi mean? What's the connection between selling recipes and Tai Chi? Is it something to eat or drink? Buying out, is it for making stewed pig's trotters?" Xiangbei exploded with anger, glancing at Cheng Mo who was calmly leaning against the ship's rail, elegantly extending his long legs.
"You!" Cheng Mo sat up in a hurry, a face full of indignation. He only said the word "you" and didn't know how to continue. This was truly a rude and cunning little girl. The hard-earned calmness crumbled once again for Cheng Mo.