"This is good. Different from the noodles sold in town. I think it'll sell. We'll keep growing next year."
"Definitely planting it," the family said. "When I went to buy noodles, I also saw several outsiders. One of them looked kinda familiar. Later I thought hard—turns out I'd seen him before when I sold vegetables in town. He bought twenty jin at once."
"Huh? That much? He's from town—how'd he know the factory was selling noodles?"
"The man lives far, sure, but he's got good connections! Word is he'd been keeping an eye on that sweet potato factory, curious what they were making! The day Steward Zhou started selling, he showed up and bought a jin to take home."
And naturally, he came back.
When selling the sweet potato noodles, Zhou Ger taught everyone how to cook them. The townsfolk had better means and were more generous with ingredients. Once that sour-spicy noodle dish was made, there wasn't enough to go around in the house. That man even got chased out by his old mother with a broom—"Unfilial son, you ate three big bowls yourself and only gave me half a bowl!"
The man protested: "Mother, you said you had no appetite." Usually she couldn't even finish half a bowl of porridge. Who knew that this time half a bowl wouldn't be enough? She went to the kitchen, saw the pot was empty, and took it out on him.
"Still talking back! Who knew this spicy noodle stuff would be so good—sour and spicy, just to my taste. Where'd you buy it? Go get more."
The man scrambled off to buy more.
In just a few days, more than half of the freshly made noodles from the factory had sold. They didn’t even have to take them out of town!
So what was there to worry about? Not selling? Impossible.
The sweet potato noodles sold so well that Zhou Ger and Liu Xiaowen were stunned. Aunt Liu checked the storeroom and saw barely anything left. She wasn’t surprised — the noodles were delicious, so it made sense they sold out so fast.
The pig farm built west of the village was doing well too. The pigs all looked to be over a hundred jin now. The villagers had gone to see them and said they grew fast.
And no wonder!
The villagers fed their pigs grass cut from the fields—how much meat could that even put on? But the pigs on the farm ate sweet potato dregs every day. They were plump and fat, with big heads and big ears. There were twenty-seven grown pigs, plus more than a dozen piglets—quite the sight. Every time the villagers came to look, they burned with envy. If only those pigs were theirs, they’d be rich.
At first, Aunt Liu hadn’t known what to do. When she first arrived in Anhe Village, she kept wondering: if they were making sweet potato noodles, what would happen to all the dregs?
Back when she used to make them, she’d mix the dregs with cornflour and a bit of sugar, then pan-fry them for the kids. Whenever Guaizai went out, people would stuff things into his hands, and he couldn’t just take without giving something back. So Aunt Liu made a big batch for him to bring and share with his little friends. Fried in oil and sweetened with sugar, the village kids loved them.
Uncle Liu even made two little baskets, hung them with cloth straps around Gungun and Dandan's necks, and filled them with sweet potato cakes. The two little ones were so happy they couldn’t stop eating — their mouths never stopped. Aunt Liu and Uncle Liu spoiled them too, stashing all the best treats and sneaking them to the twins instead of saving any for Liuliu.
But even so, they couldn't finish everything. In the end, half a basketful went sour and was left over.
She'd been thrifty her whole life and simply couldn't bear to see food wasted like that. Later, when she learned they'd built a pig farm, she finally stopped fretting. She said to Uncle Liu: "That youngFang really has a good head on his shoulders. He's thought of everything."
Uncle Liu had been in high spirits lately. Villagers were used to village life. Back when he was working in Yuanzhou, besides the Lin Xiaoxia family, he didn’t have anyone to talk to. He felt off and kept wanting to go back to the village — but if he went back, there’d be no money to earn. Life couldn’t have it both ways.
But now it was perfect. He helped Zhou Ger run the factory, got a steady wage, and got to stay in the village. After meals, he could stroll around the village. The villagers knew he had some connection to Fang Zichen and treated him warmly, with no hint of exclusion. They'd chat with him about field work, and Uncle Liu listened with pure delight. Lately, wherever he went, he was humming a tune. Zhou Ger and Liu Xiaowen could see he was content with his current life.
Aunt Liu was happy too.
Back in Yuanzhou, Zhou Ger and Liu Xiaowen could tell Uncle and Aunt Liu hadn't enjoyed that life—especially after Zhao Ger's family left. The house felt so empty. Every time they were about to return to the village, Uncle and Aunt Liu would get so excited they couldn't sleep, calling everyone up before dawn, saying they should leave early so they could spend more time at home.
They didn't have many relatives in Xiaohe Village either, yet they kept going back for holidays and festivals—simply because they felt more at ease there.
Now Uncle Liu said: "Not clever? Haven't you heard what the villagers say—he can blow up mountains! I went over to Fangxing Village the day before yesterday to have a look. Good heavens, that Young Fang really something! When he first came to help us bring in the corn, carrying one sack on each shoulder all the way home—I knew right then, he was no ordinary fellow."
Aunt Liu laughed: "This trip wasn't wasted. Did you see how our grandson did the accounts today?"
"I saw, I saw."
Liuliu’s arithmetic had improved a lot lately. The other day, when he was keeping the books at the sweet potato noodle factory, he didn’t even touch an abacus—just blinked, and the numbers came right out.
He hadn't had that skill before.
Back then Liuliu was still small and couldn't absorb things as quickly as Guaizai. When Fang Zichen taught him, the focus was on recognizing big characters; arithmetic was just single- and double-digit addition and subtraction. Now he'd even been taught the multiplication table. One jin for thirty copper coins—so for twenty jin, he just multiplied and had the answer in a flash. No abacus needed.
That was sharper than any shopkeeper Uncle Liu had seen before. Back when he'd delivered vegetables to Zuixiao Restaurant, Shopkeeper Yang had worked there for decades and still needed an abacus. Thinking of that, Uncle Liu said: "Last time we went back to the village, Xiaowen and I stopped by Zuixiao Restaurant."
Aunt Liu asked: "Did you buy anything?"
At Zuixiao Restaurant, whether it was Yang Mingyi or the staff below, they'd always been more than kind to the Liu family.
Uncle Liu said, "I did, of course I'd know about that! It wouldn't look right to show up empty-handed. And as it happened, I ran into Yi Ger while I was there."
"Has the boy grown much?" Aunt Liu asked, a touch wistfully. "That time he came to Zhao Ger's place for New Year, Zhao Ger brought him over to our house for a meal. I remember looking at him and thinking—he really does take after young Fang!"
Uncle Liu looked at her in confusion, unable to hide his surprise. "Take after young Fang? That can't be right! I didn't see any resemblance at all! If anything, Guaizai looks more and more like him—and I can't figure out why."
"That's not what I meant. I just think Yi Ger is so strikingly handsome it's almost hard to look at him," Aunt Liu said, a little exasperated. She was, after all, a village woman without much learning, so she couldn't quite put it into words. But plainly put, Yang Mingyi's features were sharp and bold, making people hesitate to meet his gaze directly.
Back then, Fang Zichen had thought the same—Yang Mingyi was good-looking but didn't talk much, with long, narrow phoenix eyes. To anyone who didn’t know him, he seemed distant and unapproachable, like the very picture of a cold, untouchable gentleman. Ordinary people naturally wouldn’t dare stare too long.
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