Chapter 16: Snow Fungus and Pear Soup

 

Madam Wei’s casual comment was like a spark, igniting a new realization in Xu Shuyue. She’d been thinking too narrowly.

Skin nourishment, lung relief, improved digestion… No matter how many health benefits she could tout, at the end of the day, it was just a sweet dessert. Ordinary villagers might find it intriguing but wouldn’t part with their hard-earned coins for something so indulgent.

The real market wasn’t here.

It was in the towns, the counties, and among the wealthy—those with coin to spare and a desire to flaunt their sophistication.

Realizing this, Xu Shuyue’s eyes brightened, and her voice was firm when she declared, “Mother, I’ve figured it out. The problem isn’t that the soup is priced too high—it’s that I’ve been pricing it too low!”

“Too low?”

Madam Wei was stunned, convinced her ears had betrayed her. She turned to Qi Ansheng, who looked equally baffled.

Both stared at Xu Shuyue, concern etched into their faces.

Qi Ansheng furrowed his brows. “Shuyue, if you need money, just say so. We might not be the richest family in the village, but we’re not destitute either. There’s no need to push yourself so hard to make ends meet.”

Madam Wei nodded vigorously. “Exactly, child. You’ve only been here a month, yet you’re already running around nonstop—making sweets, drying fruits, working yourself to the bone. Your father and I are not the type of people to squeeze you for every coin. Take it easy!”

Madam Wei’s voice softened, thick with worry. “You don’t need to carry all this on your own.”

The couple’s words left Xu Shuyue momentarily speechless. She wasn’t expecting this level of care and misunderstanding.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she quickly shook her head. “Father, Mother, it’s not like that. I don’t feel burdened or forced. I enjoy finding ways to earn money!”

Xu Shuyue froze for a moment at those words, then quickly waved her hand, her face flushing red. Her voice softened as she said, “Father, Mother, I’m not tired at all. I just truly enjoy making money.”

Madam Wei chuckled. “Who doesn’t like making money?”

Who wouldn’t love having enough silver at home to spend freely, never worrying about not being able to pay for the next month’s tuition, not fretting over unsold fruits keeping them awake at night, being able to eat chicken, duck, or fish whenever they wanted, and wearing fine silk and satin whenever they desired?

But while it was easy to dream, making it a reality was a different matter entirely.

When Qi Ansheng was younger, he too had dreams of venturing out and making a name for himself. Yet all he got was failure and disappointment. In the end, he had no choice but to accept his lot in life.

Later, he and Madam Wei decided to focus on managing their small orchard. Making a few taels of silver each year was enough to keep them going. Over the past half-month, however, Xu Shuyue had been boiling maltose syrup, making dried fruits, and crafting candied pears. She’d earned what would usually take them half a year to make. Qi Ansheng already felt deeply content.

“People find happiness in being content,” he said with a steady gaze, his voice carrying a weight of experience. His eyes seemed to pierce through Xu Shuyue’s cheerful facade, as if sensing the restless ambition she was hiding beneath her smile.

Xu Shuyue looked at the deep wrinkles carved into his weathered face. The smile in her eyes rippled like water. “It’s not that I’m not content,” she murmured. “I just want to live a little more comfortably.”

She tilted her head and asked, “Father, don’t you want to live a better life too?”

Memories belonging to the original “Xu Shuyue” surfaced in her mind, unbidden. The freezing winters that cracked her hands and feet, the constant hunger gnawing at her belly, the beatings that left her body aching—every recollection filled her with dread.

The modern Xu Shuyue was resolute: she would never allow herself to fall back into such a miserable and humiliating existence.

Qi Ansheng fell silent, his lips pressed into a tight line. Madam Wei gave a bitter smile. “Who wouldn’t want to live a good life?”

Yes, if given the choice, who would willingly struggle in the mire of hardship just to survive?

After a heartfelt conversation the night before, the house had fallen into a peaceful silence, broken only by the occasional crackling of the fire and the warm glow it cast.

The next morning, Xu Shuyue woke up early, as promised, to make snow fungus and pear soup for Madam Wei to try. She assumed Madam Wei and Qi Ansheng wouldn’t bother helping, but to her surprise, smoke was already rising from the kitchen chimney when she stepped outside.

Qi Ansheng was chopping wood out front. Without turning, he said, “Your mother said she’ll head to the county in a few days to bring Qingfeng some food. She told me to remind you to make that soup soon—we’ll take some to sell in the county.”

This unexpected support caught Xu Shuyue off guard. She’d thought the two elders would discourage her from pursuing this idea after their talk. Instead, they’d surprised her by fully supporting her endeavor.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, she nodded enthusiastically, practically running into the kitchen. Madam Wei saw her and greeted her with a warm smile. “Awake?”

Xu Shuyue’s bright eyes glimmered with joy as she nodded and replied, “Yes, Mother. Let me help you!”

Snow fungus and pear soup was simple to prepare, and since it was just a sweet soup, Madam Wei, who was busy making porridge, quickly stepped aside to let Xu Shuyue take over.

The snow fungus, which had soaked overnight, was no longer the dry and shriveled version it once was. Instead, it had absorbed water, becoming plump and soft, its texture resembling the hem of a delicate skirt.

Madam Wei marveled, “It was just a tiny handful yesterday, and now it’s so much!”

While pouring water into the pot, Xu Shuyue explained, “Isn’t it just like wood ear mushrooms? Dried, they’re tiny, but once soaked, they expand a lot.”

Madam Wei nodded in agreement. “True.”

With that, her surprise faded into understanding.

Once the water boiled, Xu Shuyue added the chopped snow fungus to the pot, followed by diced pears, maltose syrup, and a little osmanthus honey.

The osmanthus honey had been an unexpected find. Madam Wei had discovered it in a dusty corner of the cellar while tidying up. She explained that it was a “treasure” Qi Siming had brought back years ago after knocking down a beehive near an orchard.

When she handed it to Xu Shuyue, she mused, “Fate is truly strange. This honey’s been sitting here for four or five years, and no one remembered it existed. But the moment you joined our family, it appeared.”

Xu Shuyue had chuckled at the time, teasing, “Perhaps my husband, knowing he has a new wife, guided you to give me this welcome gift.”

With Qi Siming’s burial complete and his seven-day memorial approaching, Madam Wei’s initial sorrow had softened with time. She had laughed then, joking, “Well, you’d better prepare a return gift for him when his seven days come.”

Xu Shuyue had promised with a smile.

Now, as she stirred the soup, the memory of their banter brought a small smile to her lips. But just as the smile formed, a cold breeze snuck through the cracks in the window frame, making her sneeze.

Madam Wei frowned and scolded, “Go sit by the fire. It’s just stirring the pot—I’ll take over.”

Muttering to herself, she added, “Your father and I bought some cotton yesterday. There’s still a bit of fabric left at home. I think I’ll set everything aside for the next few days and get started on sewing you a proper winter jacket.”

Hearing this, Xu Shuyue quietly abandoned her plans to visit the county for now. Madam Wei and Qi Ansheng had already made so many compromises to support her. There was no need to make unnecessary trouble over small matters.

Besides, Qi Siming’s seven-day memorial was near.

Sitting by the hearth, Xu Shuyue’s face was illuminated by the warm, flickering light of the fire. Shadows and light played across her delicate features, lending her an air of quiet mystery.

That tranquility was broken by Madam Wei’s cheerful exclamation, “It’s ready!”

Snapping back to the present, Xu Shuyue quickly stood and leaned over the pot. Stirring it with a spoon, she felt the thick, viscous texture and let out a sigh of relief. “It’s done.”

Madam Wei was delighted. Having watched the entire process, she found it surprisingly simple. That the soup had turned out so well on the first try only added to her joy.

“This wasn’t hard to make at all,” Madam Wei said happily.

Xu Shuyue sincerely praised, “It’s because of your skill in the kitchen, Mother. Many people can’t make it this thick and smooth.”

Madam Wei smiled, not questioning who those “many people” might be. “Really?”

Xu Shuyue nodded, her expression earnest.

The two scooped out the snow fungus and pear soup, brought the noodles and stir-fried cabbage to the table, and Madam Wei called out for Qi Ansheng to come and eat.

Qi Ansheng washed his hands and, unable to resist the sweet aroma in the air, quickly headed to the table. As soon as he sat down, his hand reached for the golden, fragrant snow fungus and pear soup.

Madam Wei teased him, “Look at you, acting like you’ve never eaten anything good before.”

Qi Ansheng shot her a sidelong glance, giving her a look as if to say, “You’re one to talk.” Yet, Madam Wei herself was already holding a spoonful of the soup, ready to take a bite. When their eyes met, the unspoken agreement was clear: let’s skip the pretense and just dig in.

The moment the soup touched her tongue, Madam Wei was captivated by its taste. The snow fungus was soft yet slightly chewy with a pleasant elasticity, and the soup was thick and silky without feeling overly heavy. The bite of snow pear brought a refreshing sweetness that lingered on the palate, while the warm soup soothed her throat on its way down.

Madam Wei finally understood Xu Shuyue’s earlier description of the dessert as “cleansing and soothing for the throat.” Amazed, she exclaimed, “I’ll admit it—if I’d known it tasted this good, I might actually spend 58 coins on a bowl.”

Xu Shuyue grinned secretly. Fifty-eight coins was the price she’d set yesterday. But today? She was thinking of selling it for 158 coins a bowl instead.

If Madam Wei found out, she’d probably be shocked all over again.

The snow fungus and pear dessert received unanimous praise from both Madam Wei and Qi Ansheng, who rated it even higher than the candied fruit they had made earlier.

When drying the first batch of fruit, Xu Shuyue noticed that dried pears didn’t taste as good as dried apples, so she primarily used apples for subsequent batches. Afterward, making candied pears had also used up a portion of their supply, leaving only a few pears remaining.

With the snow fungus nearly depleted, it seemed the pears harvested this year would finally be used up—a good thing in her eyes.

After mentally tallying up the stock, Xu Shuyue joined Madam Wei and Qi Ansheng in carrying incense sticks and paper offerings to the eastern mountain to pay respects at Qi Siming’s tomb.

Unknowingly, her late husband’s seventh-day memorial had arrived.

As they climbed the mountain, Xu Shuyue followed closely behind Madam Wei. She glanced down at the overflowing gold ingots they carried and couldn’t help but yawn.

The past few days had been so hectic that she hadn’t had much time to think about Qi Siming. The gold ingots had all been folded late at night under Madam Wei’s supervision, with Xu Shuyue putting more effort into them than when she had folded offerings for her own parents.

The thought made her teeth itch with irritation—she felt like biting something, perhaps a certain “dead ghost” who was already buried yet still managed to trouble her.

The eastern mountain was as cold and eerie as always. They hurried past other tombs until they reached Qi Siming’s grave.

At a glance, Xu Shuyue noticed the remnants of burnt offerings and incense still faintly smoldering at the grave. Startled, she exclaimed, “Someone’s already been here?”

Madam Wei frowned and turned to Qi Ansheng. “Was it Second Uncle?”

Qi Ansheng shook his head. “What would a senior like him be doing, secretly burning offerings for Siming without telling us? That doesn’t make any sense.”

His tone was skeptical. The idea of their elder visiting the grave of a younger family member in secret seemed odd, if not outright suspicious.

“Could it have been Eldest Brother Liang and Second Brother Liang?”

“It’s unlikely those two would even remember that today is Siming’s seventh-day memorial,” Qi Ansheng said, dismissing the possibility. “Those boys are too carefree for that.”

If it wasn’t Second Uncle or Eldest Brother Liang and Second Brother Liang, Madam Wei couldn’t think of anyone else who might come to pay respects to their eldest son.

“Who could it have been?” she muttered, perplexed.

Snow Fungus and Pear Soup:-