Chapter 52: The Silken Thread of Opportunity
The breeze that morning was cool, tugging gently at the hems of clothes hung out to dry. Su Yanyue was sipping a light osmanthus tea when a familiar figure came hurrying toward her courtyard—a wiry man with a large woven pack slung across his back.
"Miss Su! Good morning!" It was Uncle Pang, a traveling vendor who often visited from the neighboring Baihe Village.
Yanyue set her cup down. "Uncle Pang! You're early today."
"Couldn't wait to bring you news," he said, setting the basket down with a dramatic sigh. "The embroidery house in Baihe caught fire two days ago. Nothing serious—thank the heavens no one was hurt—but all their threads and fabrics were ruined. They're sending buyers to Qinghe Town next week, and prices are soaring."
Yanyue frowned slightly. "So they'll have to close for a while?"
"Temporarily. But the real twist—guess who's been asked to help make snacks for the local repair crew?"
Yanyue raised an eyebrow. "Not you."
Uncle Pang chuckled. "No, no. The widow who runs the noodle stall next to the temple. She's overwhelmed. Said she'd pay good coin if someone could help prep daily meals for the seamstresses and carpenters."
Su Rui, who had wandered over carrying a sleepy Su Zhi on his back, looked up. "Are we going to cook for strangers now?"
Yanyue looked thoughtful. A neighboring village with high demand, workers in need of food, and already-familiar vendors? It wasn't just a sudden business opportunity—it was a testing ground.
"How long do you think the repairs will take?" she asked Uncle Pang.
"Two weeks, maybe three."
"That's just enough time," she murmured.
Within an hour, her courtyard became a bustle of discussion. She gathered ingredients, drew up a basic meal plan using readily available vegetables and dried mushrooms, and let the triplets "help"—which mostly involved taste testing the broths.
"Too bland," Su Lin said of the first try.
"Add ginger," said Su Rui.
Su Zhi simply nodded wisely and slurped more soup.
Yu Shiming, hearing the commotion, wandered over and listened silently. When she asked his opinion, he said only, "If you're going to do this, deliver on time. Villagers gossip more when they're hungry."
"I'll keep that in mind," Yanyue replied with a smirk.
The next morning, she made the first delivery herself.
Armed with stacked bamboo boxes filled with hot millet porridge, sesame buns, and a mushroom-chicken stew, she arrived at Baihe's small market just as the sun rose. Several workers already bustled around the charred remnants of the embroidery house.
A middle-aged seamstress wiped her hands on her apron as she spotted her. "You must be Su Yanyue?"
"I am."
"Then thank the gods. Widow Kang said your food would keep us going."
The woman tasted a spoonful, then another. Her eyes widened.
"This is better than temple food," she declared.
By midday, half the crew had asked where to buy more.
Back in her village, Su Lin and Su Rui were already planning the "Delivery Schedule Chart" while Su Zhi ran around with a scroll claiming to be the "Official Flavor Inspector."
When Yanyue returned with empty boxes and a pouch of silver coins, she looked at Yu Shiming, who was trimming tea plants by the garden.
"They liked it."
"I'm not surprised."
She smiled quietly to herself. Business was no longer just surviving—it was stretching outward, step by careful step. With every order, every bun, she was building something solid—stronger even than she realized.
And the phoenix's wings were only beginning to unfold.