Chapter Forty-Two: The Sweetwater Beauty

The four of them rested for a while before getting up to enjoy a hearty meal—each with a bowl of bean soup noodles. The springy alkaline noodles were topped with a savory mixture of pork belly and sweet sauce, steeped in a broth made from pork bones, and finished with a spoonful of mashed beans—a dish fit for an emperor.

They crouched under the eaves, slurping their noodles. Su Youcai sighed between mouthfuls, “If I could eat like this every meal, I wouldn’t mind living ten years less.”

“Hmph, keep dreaming. This is only possible because we can write it off as an expense,” the eldest uncle said contentedly, taking a sip of the broth. “Five copper coins a bowl—no way I’d pay for it myself.”

“That means our sweet drinks aren’t cheap either,” Father clicked his tongue. “Five coins get you a big bowl of beans, meat, and noodles. No wonder no one buys the golden kumquat nectar.”

“Why don’t we just sell only the sweet honey drink tomorrow?” the eldest uncle suggested.

“No need. Tomorrow, the sales of golden kumquat nectar should pick up. Wealthy folks will come to try something new after hearing about it. Buying the same sweet drink as the poor—how would they show off their status?” Su Lu shook his head with a smile. “Once people are used to paying five coins a tube, if they go back to buying the three-coin one, they’d be admitting they’re strapped for cash. During the New Year, who wants to lose face? Anyone with a bit of pride will grit their teeth and step up to the pricier option.”

“Where do you get all these crafty ideas?” the eldest uncle marveled.

“It’s not cunning—it’s the way of the sages,” Su Lu replied, grinning. “‘The Master said, when you see someone virtuous, strive to match them; when you see someone unworthy, examine yourself.’”

“Is that really what Confucius meant?” Uncle looked at Su Youcai, feeling lost as soon as the discussion left the familiar texts.

“Don’t listen to his nonsense,” Su Youcai laughed. “The sage said ‘strive to match the virtuous,’ not ‘strive to match the wealthy.’”

“You’re right, Father,” Su Lu said with a smile.

“But I think ‘strive to match the wealthy’ rings truer. All I ever see is people competing over food and clothing—never over who’s the better person,” the eldest uncle said with forty years of life experience.

“That’s why the world is going downhill, and hearts aren’t what they used to be,” Su Youcai sighed.

“Enough lamenting, time to get back to work,” the eldest uncle said with a sigh. There were still over a thousand bamboo tubes to scrub.

~~

All the bamboo tubes had to be boiled, scrubbed, and left to dry. The four of them worked until deep into the night before finally finishing. Fortunately, they were staying in town; had they returned to Erlang Beach, they wouldn’t have had a wink of sleep.

But “Commander” Su Lu insisted it was necessary. Bamboo tubes that had contained sweet drinks were prone to bacteria. If a customer got sick, not only would their dreams of profit be ruined, but the reputation of “Sweetwater Records” would be destroyed.

Su Lu had slept no more than two hours when the proprietress arrived with four helpers. She brought the remaining tangerines, crushed sorghum, the big jar of fermenting brew, and the distiller’s yeast.

They moved the whole production into the inn’s courtyard, much to the innkeeper’s annoyance—who immediately demanded more money.

With four strong, skilled hands joining them, production was no longer a bottleneck. Business on the fifth day of the New Year was even more booming. After a night of fermentation, many people came, drawn by the reputation.

Now, not only children but also many young men and women, and even people from the Luoluo and Miao communities, joined the buying crowd.

As Su Lu predicted, sales of golden kumquat nectar rose sharply, indicating the wealthy had been drawn in.

This was a good sign. When the well-off bought, the crowd believed it must be something special.

That night, they calculated their earnings: 1,475 tubes of Sweet Honey and 225 tubes of Golden Kumquat Nectar sold, with total revenue of 5,550 copper coins! After deducting wages, food, lodging, boat fare, and stall fees, they still had 4,800 left.

The proprietress didn’t go home that night but stayed with them at the inn.

—

When threading the coins onto string, the proprietress couldn’t help shedding tears.

She’d thought she’d never be able to repay her debts in this lifetime. Who would have imagined that Su Youcai and his son would turn her worthless, rotting stock into a tableful of copper coins?

“Sister-in-law, why are you crying?” Su Youcai asked kindly, helping her string the coins.

“It’s nothing—I’m just happy. I finally see hope for paying off my debts,” she replied, wiping her tears with her sleeve. “It’s all thanks to you and your son.”

“Haha, as long as you don’t resent me for collecting the debt,” Su Youcai laughed heartily, his features rendered all the more striking by the flickering candlelight.

“How could I? It’s only right to pay what one owes,” she replied, lowering her head. “Not just your money, I’ll repay everyone.”

“You’re truly honest. With business so good, you’ll be debt-free soon enough,” Su Youcai said confidently.

“Yes, I think so, too.” She smiled, her bright eyes glancing at him.

~~

But the world seldom goes as one wishes. The very next day, just as the Sweetwater Records stall opened, trouble arrived.

A middle-aged man wearing a scholar’s gown and square cap forced his way through the crowd to the stall, scowling.

“You, you—” The customers were about to complain, “What gives you the right to shove me aside?” But seeing his attire, they all fell silent, muttering, “Even a scholar can’t cut in line.”

A scholar’s presence still carried some weight—if he had been a degree-holder, not a soul would have dared protest.

But the scholar had no time for grumbling. His eyes blazed with fury as he glared at the proprietress.

“Which would you like, sir?” She greeted him with a habitual smile, but when she saw his face, her expression changed. “Father.”

It was Scholar Cheng himself. The previous day, he’d heard his daughter was selling sweet drinks at the temple fair with the Sus. Furious, he’d slept poorly and rushed to town at dawn. Sure enough, it was true.

And his daughter had become the center of attention at the fair!

Scholar Cheng was mortified, with nowhere to hide. After much deliberation, he decided to confront her himself. Face dark, he said, “You’ve shamed the family completely!”

The proprietress quickly composed herself and said in a low voice, “Father, let’s talk somewhere else so we don’t disrupt business.”

“Business?!” Scholar Cheng snorted but followed her behind the bamboo rack.

Under so many watchful eyes, the proprietress grew even calmer and asked, “Father, why are you here?”

“Because of your mischief—it’s already spread back to Erlang Beach!” he said angrily. “Enough talk, come home with me now!”

She was silent for a moment, then gave a forlorn smile, “If you’d said that before the New Year, I wouldn’t have hesitated—I’d have taken Tian Tian and gone home with you.”

“But I waited through New Year’s Eve and never heard those words,” she sighed. “At the time, I thought I no longer had a family to return to.”

Scholar Cheng’s cheeks flushed with shame. He sighed, “Daughter, I had your brother bring you word, didn’t I? The creditors have been camped at the He family’s house, pressing you for money, but really waiting for me—to shift the debts onto our family.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “So I never blamed you for not helping. But on New Year’s Eve, when the creditors left, if you’d called me home, I wouldn’t have refused.”

“But it’s against custom—a married daughter cannot spend New Year’s Eve at her parents’ house,” he said miserably.

“Yes, if I saw the lanterns on New Year’s Eve, it would bring ruin to the family,” she replied with a forced smile. “Since that’s the rule, what I do now has nothing to do with my family. Father, you shouldn’t interfere.”

Her gentle nature had been steeled by months of relentless debt-collectors.

—

Her reply left Scholar Cheng speechless. After a long pause, he mumbled, “Well, I’m telling you now—come home, daughter.”

“But now I don’t much want to hear it,” she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I just want to pay off my debts and be free.”

Scholar Cheng suddenly realized how much his daughter had changed.

But, as she said, a married daughter is like water poured out—if she refused to listen, there was nothing he could do.

At least, he couldn’t force her.

Still, he didn’t leave. For reasons even he couldn’t explain, he lingered by the stall all day, watching his daughter intently.

The proprietress wasn’t strong enough to face customers with a smile under her father’s gaze. She had to hand over front-line duties to the wet nurse and retreat to the back to peel oranges.

Whether because of this or not, their evening tally showed a sharp drop in sales—only nine hundred tubes of Sweet Honey sold.

The good news, though, was that Golden Kumquat Nectar sales had reached three hundred and one.

“After expenses, today’s earnings are three thousand seven hundred,” Su Lu reported, his tone practiced.

“That’s a lot less than yesterday,” everyone grumbled. Truly, people’s hearts are never content…

“Did Mr. Cheng’s presence really make that much of a difference?” the eldest uncle asked, glancing at the proprietress. “Or was it only with the proprietress that we could achieve yesterday’s sales?”

“Not necessarily…” The proprietress blushed, her charm as the Sweetwater Beauty only adding weight to the uncle’s theory.

“It’s normal,” Su Lu said after a moment’s thought. “This is the third day—novelty wears off. Those who wanted to try have done so, so sales naturally fall.”

“And didn’t you notice? There were fewer people at the fair today,” Su Youcai analyzed. “The first three days before the New Year, everyone visits relatives. On the fourth, they’re free to stroll the fair. But three days is enough—now they’re off to visit distant kin again.”

“That’s how it is,” the eldest uncle agreed, clapping his hands. “So business will be even worse tomorrow.”

“Why not rest tomorrow, then come back on the fifteenth?” Su Youcai suggested.

“That won’t do!” Su Lu shook his head. “There’s no technical barrier in sweet drinks—even the bamboo tubes and straws can be copied. In a few days, there’ll be imitators.”

“They’re probably already copying us,” Su Youcai agreed.

“So if we pause now, we’ll be handing over the market. It’ll be hard to win it back!” Su Lu declared.

“What should we do, then?” Everyone unconsciously looked to him for guidance.

“I have two strategies,” Su Lu replied, calm and collected. “If there’s no scarcity, create it—starting tomorrow, Sweet Honey will be limited to five hundred servings a day, and Golden Kumquat Nectar to three hundred, first come, first served.”

“At the same time, launch a low-priced product to block competitors from entering the market!” he continued. “Last night, Second Brother and I tried boiling hawthorn with sweet fermented liquor—it’s quite good.”

Hawthorn keeps well and is the only widely available fruit on the market… if it can be called a fruit.

P.S. Today’s the last day of the month—anyone with a spare vote, please cast it! Congratulations to young Su for finally having tuition money!