Chapter 10: The Admirer

The apartment Lin Xuexia was set to rent was on the second floor. There were two units on that level, east and west; her room was on the west side, while Gao Chunyan occupied the east. Both were small, roughly forty-square-meter layouts consisting of two rooms and a living area.

The layout was identical for the second and third floors, while the ground floor was used for storefronts.

After paying the first month's rent, Chen Miaorong handed her the keys to the main entrance and the apartment door. Lin Xuexia carried the keys upstairs, unlocked the door, and moved her belongings inside.

The lighting in the room was mediocre. Upon entering, one was greeted by an incredibly narrow dining area, which functioned as the living room. It was tiny, about five square meters, just large enough to fit a single large round table.

It was fashionable at the time to design houses with small living rooms and large bedrooms. The two bedrooms varied in size, and the kitchen and bathroom were clustered together in a corner.

Lin Xuexia placed her belongings in the master bedroom. The rental was completely empty, devoid of furniture—no bed, no table. Chen Miaorong preferred renting to families, usually those with elders and children, who would bring their own furniture and had no need for landlord-provided items.

Lacking a bed, Lin Xuexia scavenged a few wooden planks, arranged them on the floor, laid down her straw mat, used old clothes as a pillow, and spread out her quilt. It would have to suffice for the night.

Lin Xuexia sat on her "bed" for a moment, looking at the cramped, empty bedroom. She found a bitter sense of humor in the thought that, for a city resident in this day and age, living in such a "large" space all by herself was the height of luxury.

Many families of seven or eight were crammed into twenty or thirty-square-meter, one-bedroom apartments. Others lived in ten-square-meter rooms with a bathroom but no kitchen, forced to cook in the one-square-meter washroom, placing their pots and pans right next to the toilet.

After a quick cleaning to clear the dust and arranging her things, her neighbor Gao Chunyan, who had skipped the afternoon market, called Lin Xuexia over for a simple home-cooked meal: stir-fried pork cracklings with chili, a tomato and egg scramble, and a side of boiled pumpkin.

Gao Chunyan loved these smashed chilies with pork cracklings; they were perfect with rice.

"Xuexia, come, eat, have plenty," Gao Chunyan urged warmly. When she first arrived, she hadn't been used to the locals, who disliked spicy food. She, however, felt miserable if she didn't have chili with every meal.

Back then, she had tried to promote her spicy dishes to the neighbors, but few paid her any mind, leaving her feeling quite lonely. Seeing Lin Xuexia now, she eagerly encouraged her to eat more.

"Thank you, Auntie, I'll serve myself." The smashed chilies were salty, spicy, and appetizing, and the cracklings were crispy and fragrant—a perfect accompaniment to rice. After a few bites, Lin Xuexia began to share her situation.

"Oh... I see." Upon learning what had happened at the electronics factory, Gao Chunyan sighed. "As long as nothing serious happened, that's fine. You want to start a small business? You can give it a try, just be careful not to waste your money. If you really run out, you can always go back to working in a factory."

Over the years, Gao Chunyan had seen many people dive into business in hopes of striking it rich. While many dreamed of wealth, only a tiny fraction truly succeeded. Most made money only to lose it again; few were able to hold onto their earnings.

"Aunt Chunyan, I'd like to sell some things next to your stall. I can pay you five yuan a day for the space."

"Huh?" Gao Chunyan shook her head vigorously. "You young people, you're too impulsive. Why would you need to pay five yuan? You really don't value money. How about this: try it for a month or so, and we'll see if you can actually make a profit."

"If you can't make money, you'd be better off just finding work in a factory."

Lin Xuexia nodded with a smile. "Alright."

After lunch at Gao Chunyan’s, Lin Xuexia took a half-hour nap before heading out to shop for supplies. With her current meager circumstances and the rent paid, she only had ninety yuan left. She couldn't afford a large-scale business, so she decided to set up a small table next to Gao Chunyan’s stall to sell plain congee and cold side dishes.

She spent three yuan on a second-hand stove and bought ten catties of coal from Gao Chunyan. Coal was usually sold by the hundred-catty unit for thirty-eight yuan, so ten catties cost three yuan and eighty cents—enough to last a while.

Because she was short on cash, she bought everything second-hand; Lin Xuexia felt no need for new items. She also found a boiler factory and bought a large pot for four yuan to boil her congee.

After hauling the pot back, she visited a pharmacy clinic and privately bought a dozen medicine-packaging bowls from a female pharmacist at a very low price. Medications like donkey-hide gelatin blood-nourishing granules often came in yellow, patterned bowls with lids. Once the medicine was removed, the containers—which varied in size—were perfect for serving food, and many medical staff used them for lunch.

Lin Xuexia planned to use these bowls, lined with a plastic food bag, to serve her cold dishes.

Once that was settled, she went to the vegetable market. Cabbage, lotus root, potatoes, radishes, bok choy, kelp... vegetables were cheap, costing only pennies per catty, and she dragged a whole sack back.

Next, she bought seasonings like rice vinegar, soy sauce, salt, rock sugar, dried chilies, garlic, and Sichuan peppercorns. This cost her about twenty yuan, leaving sixty-seven in her small treasury.

Back home, she boiled water, blanched the vegetables, drained them, and seasoned them with salt and various spices, while also simmering a vinegar-based brine on the stove.

She poured the cooled vinegar brine over the vegetables and let them marinate overnight, resulting in a sour, fragrant, and appetizing dish.

...

Lin Xuexia prepared several varieties of cold dishes: some sweet, some sour and spicy, some salty, and some salty-sour. In the end, she filled over a dozen large bags.

She had bought eight catties of clams to stir-fry for dinner; she cooked two catties and kept the remaining six in a basin to purge the sand. She gave half a catty each to Gao Chunyan and her landlady, Chen Miaorong, in exchange for the use of their refrigerators to store her bags of cold dishes, promising to give them more the next day.

Additionally, she managed to borrow fridge space from another household to ensure all her dishes were properly chilled.

Early the next morning, she joined Gao Chunyan to set up the stall. They loaded everything onto a tricycle, taking turns pedaling, and arrived at Gao Chunyan’s rice noodle stall before dawn.

They set up the shed by driving wooden stakes into concrete blocks, stretching a red-and-blue striped tarp over them to form a makeshift tent, and arranging the folding tables and chairs. They were ready for business just as the sky began to lighten.

Gao Chunyan sold rice noodles, which she bought fresh every morning. After setting up, she left Lin Xuexia to watch the stall while she pedaled the tricycle to the nearby agricultural market to fetch the day's fresh supply.

The street was bustling with many stalls. Gao Chunyan’s spot was neither at the beginning nor the end—an average location, but still hard to come by. This was why she was willing to pay the stall fee; the foot traffic was consistent.

Next to them were a fruit stand and a steamed bun shop, along with various corners occupied by vendors selling clothes, shoes, and inexpensive bags.

"Boss, one bowl of rice noodles." Gao Chunyan’s first customer arrived. She sold both soup noodles and dry-tossed noodles. While the taste was unremarkable, the price was cheap, attracting shopkeepers and passersby.

Gao Chunyan wasn't particularly ambitious and had no interest in refining her recipe. A simple bowl of noodles, no complex seasonings, low cost, low price—it was practical.

Lin Xuexia unfolded a long table and displayed her cold dishes. Ten large bowls were filled with appetizing sides meant to accompany the congee.

Her dishes looked fresh and vibrant: yellow cabbage, white radish cubes, crunchy lotus root slices, dark kelp strips... many were garnished with red chilies. One sniff was enough to make anyone salivate.

Gao Chunyan’s style was more Hunan-influenced, and many of her regulars were accustomed to spice. In this area, it was rare to find relatively tasty, spicy food.

Someone finally asked, "How much for the congee and side dishes?"

Lin Xuexia replied, "Five mao for a bowl of plain congee, and you can add any of the dozen side dishes for free."

The man hesitated. Five mao wasn't expensive, but it wasn't exactly cheap for plain congee. However... he could add any of the dozen side dishes!

Although they were all vegetarian, the variety was impressive, and they looked quite appetizing.

Most shops only offered one type of incredibly salty pickled vegetable with their congee; nothing had this much variety.

"I'll have a bowl to try."

Lin Xuexia picked up a stainless steel bowl, lined it with two plastic bags, and scooped a portion of congee. The cost of the congee was at most two or three cents.

She handed him a small condiment dish—also lined with a bag. It was small, so no matter how much he piled on, he couldn't take that much—half a catty at most.

With vegetables costing only a few cents to a couple of mao per catty, the cost of the sides was negligible.

She could net at least three or four mao per bowl. It was also very convenient; Lin Xuexia only had to collect money and scoop congee. Customers served themselves the sides, and since they were inexpensive vegetables, she didn't mind how much they took.

A middle-aged man with a receding hairline bought a bowl and, feeling bold, piled his small dish high with a bit of everything. He squeezed the bag, wishing he could fit more, but Lin Xuexia said nothing.

The variety of her cold dishes was a novelty for people at the time.

"This is delicious! This is too good!" The dishes were sour, crisp, and refreshing, and paired with the hot congee, they were incredible.

The man praised the food while feeling a twinge of regret, realizing his favorites—the sour-spicy radish cubes and cabbage—were the cheapest items. Getting his money's worth was impossible.

After the first sale, a steady stream of people came for congee. Many were fellow stall owners; spending five mao on breakfast wasn't a big deal, and they were all curious to try something new.

"Little sister, you have a real talent! These cold dishes are delicious!"

Lin Xuexia smiled as she served the congee. The work was effortless, and Gao Chunyan watched with envy.

Gao Chunyan had to blanch noodles bowl by bowl, ladle soup, and add toppings, while Lin Xuexia just scooped congee and took money. It was so easy.

Lin Xuexia sold out of her side dishes quickly, moving a hundred bowls and making about thirty yuan.

With half a month’s rent earned, she was delighted. Once sold out, she chatted with Gao Chunyan, occasionally selling a few more bowls during the lunch and evening rushes.

Seeing her success on the first day, Gao Chunyan was happy for her. "Xuexia, you have the skill for this."

"But don't get too happy yet, this is only the first day." Gao Chunyan shared her business wisdom: "Most stalls, especially food stalls, get a lot of people trying things out for the first two or three days. Whether a place can survive depends on whether you get regulars later on."

"Making it taste good isn't the most important thing. People don't have much money; being cheap is what matters most." Gao Chunyan said this with a straight face, wondering if Lin Xuexia’s congee and sides were actually too expensive. Yet, everyone who ate them said they were good and promised to return.

"Mhm." Lin Xuexia smiled at her. Gao Chunyan liked her; having someone to talk to while working the stall was a joy.

At noon, Lin Xuexia borrowed the tricycle to go buy more seasonings and start a sauce base.

When she returned in the afternoon, she brought the clams she had bought the day before and began testing a clam-and-vermicelli dish on her stove. "Aunt Chunyan, I'm cooking some vermicelli. Let's try it later and see if it's any good."

Gao Chunyan agreed. "Sure."

Lin Xuexia began cooking the clam vermicelli at the roadside. A rich, fragrant, garlicky aroma wafted through the air, and passersby couldn't help but ask what she was cooking. "Clam vermicelli," she replied.

"How much for a bowl?"

Lin Xuexia hadn't intended to sell it, but since people were asking, she answered, "Two yuan and five mao a bowl."

The person stopped. Clams weren't expensive, and the rice noodles nearby were only a little over a yuan.

Lin Xuexia didn't care about their reaction; the aroma had hooked her, too. She wouldn't have bothered cooking it if she hadn't planned to eat it herself.

Once ready, she and Gao Chunyan happily shared a bowl. "Aunt Chunyan, have some more."

Gao Chunyan said, "It smells so good. You used so much garlic; it's wonderful!"

Lin Xuexia took a few bites; the vermicelli was exceptionally fresh and delicious. She was satisfied. As they ate, the scent was so alluring that a passerby finally couldn't resist.

"Boss, give me a bowl of what you're eating."

Hearing a sale, Lin Xuexia didn't refuse and began cooking a bowl. Once she started, there was no stopping; customers came one after another.

Lin Xuexia was hunched over, cooking vermicelli, when another person spoke up: "I want a bowl of vermicelli."

"I'm out of clams—" Lin Xuexia looked up instinctively, and her eyes immediately met a familiar gaze.