Running a Food Stall to Support My Deceptive Omega - Chapter 4

The deliciousness of Hu-la Soup goes without saying.

Having just snatched the soup, Rong Heng felt a small ripple of joy in her heart. She pressed the bowl against her lips and tilted it back, but she forgot to open her mouth.

The thick, sticky soup flowed down the corners of her mouth and chin, staining her clothes and the floor in a messy puddle.

Rong Heng froze, stunned, and it took a long moment before she realized she needed to open her mouth to drink.

When she finally tasted the soup, the spicy heat hit her instantly. Her eyes grew misty, and tears teetered on the brink of falling. The two red moles under her right eye seemed to tremble with her emotion. Her brow furrowed; she thought the “wicked Alpha” (Qianyuan) had tricked her into eating some kind of poison.

However, after smacking her lips a few times, the savory aroma of the soup finally bloomed. She found herself wolfing it down instinctively. All the while, she kept a wary eye on Mu Jinyu, terrified that this “bad person” would snatch the bowl back and stop her from eating.

After gulping down half a bowl, the warmth of the food settled in her stomach. The panic of starvation began to fade, and her cold body grew warm from the soup’s spicy heat.

Rong Heng’s mind was simple, devoid of complex schemes. Now that she was fed, she gradually relaxed, squatting to the side like a little mushroom. She held the bowl with both hands as if offering a tribute, sipping small, precious mouthfuls. She marveled at the sensation of food sliding down into her belly.

When she had woken from her coma yesterday, her mind had been a void. Every concept had vanished; she didn’t even know what she was. She didn’t know she could move or blink. She had simply lain in the forest, staring at the sky… until Mu Jinyu found her. Only then did she realize she could move. And only after seeing Mu Jinyu drink the soup did she realize that such a thing could be consumed.

The soup contained many ingredients, but Rong Heng didn’t yet understand the concept of chewing. She simply let the vegetables and gluten chunks slide down her throat whole.

Watching Rong Heng stop running and eat contentedly, Mu Jinyu sat nearby with a deep frown, her mouth curved downward like an inverted crescent moon. She was frustrated—annoyed that Rong Heng had exhausted her and stolen her food, and speechless that the girl had abandoned her escape attempt just for a meal.

Mu Jinyu stood up, took a deep breath, wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, and locked the courtyard gate. Now, even if Rong Heng wanted to run, she couldn’t.

Seeing that Rong Heng was still occupied with the food, Mu Jinyu ignored her. She carried a bucket of water that was still lukewarm from the stove into the utility room and shut the door.

The world went silent. She was alone.

She leaned against the edge of the wooden tub, feeling utterly drained. The first nineteen years of her life hadn’t been agonizing, but they hadn’t been easy either. She was a child of a single-parent home. Her mother had raised her with an abundance of love, so she never felt different from other children. She grew up bright and friendly.

But then her mother fell ill and passed away. Left alone, Mu Jinyu had to complete her hard-won education, never daring to slacken for a moment. Her mother loved her deeply, and she didn’t want to disappoint her or make her worry.

When she first arrived in this world, a fleeting thought crossed her mind: Why didn’t the heavens just let me die? At least then I could see Mom again.

But it was only a moment. She knew her mother wouldn’t want to see her “down there” so soon. Perhaps being reborn in another world was her mother’s final gift. Therefore, she had to live on with resilience, even here.

Stripping off her clothes, Mu Jinyu began to scrub her body. It was filthy; layers of grime came off. She scrubbed harder and harder, venting all her frustrations on herself until her back and chest were red and raw.

After cleaning up and applying medicine to her wounds, she pushed open the door and stepped back into the yard. The warm sun hung in the sky, its light filtering through the leaves to cast dappled shadows. Looking at the tall tree stretching its branches toward the sky, Mu Jinyu smiled. Her features lifted as she clenched her fists, telling herself that life would never be harder than it was today.

She walked toward Rong Heng.

Rong Heng had finished the soup and was standing by the gate, studying how to get out. Sensing Mu Jinyu’s approach, she bristled like a little hedgehog, watching her warily.

Mu Jinyu didn’t want to argue. She knew she couldn’t earn Rong Heng’s trust overnight. She simply held out her palm and said, “Take this. Look after yourself.”

In her hand were eight patches of medicinal herbs. Rong Heng’s injuries were worse than hers; these likely wouldn’t be enough, and she’d have to find a doctor later. Mu Jinyu held her hand out steadily. Seeing Rong Heng hesitate, she gave her arm a small shake to encourage her.

Rong Heng, processing things slowly, was startled by the movement and pressed herself against the gate in fear. After a few tense breaths, she finally realized Mu Jinyu wasn’t trying to hurt her. She tentatively reached out, flinching back once just before touching Mu Jinyu’s palm, terrified of being grabbed. Finally, she snatched the medicine and turned it over in her hands, inspecting it.

Seeing her finally take it, Mu Jinyu stretched her arm and walked back into the house.

Talking wasn’t enough to survive in ancient times; she needed to find a way to earn money. The original owner’s family had been in business, so they shouldn’t have been poor. Unfortunately, the owner’s two mothers were traveling to buy stock when they disappeared, so they had taken the bulk of their savings with them.

The original owner had searched the house and found seven or eight taels of silver, but she had been too distraught to save it, spending it here and there until only three small pieces remained for Mu Jinyu.

Refusing to give up, Mu Jinyu searched the house again. She checked the gaps under the wardrobes, under the vanity, and even under the bed. The mothers had dug a hole under the bed large enough to hide a person, where they kept their main savings and valuable business items. It was covered with wooden boards and packed earth—impossible to find unless you knew it was there. But Mu Jinyu found it empty.

Exhausted, Mu Jinyu sat on the bed and wiped the sweat from her brow. She wasn’t disappointed; instead, she felt a surge of determination. No hardship would break her.

During her time living alone in her previous life, she had worked in many restaurants because waitressing was the easiest job to find. She had picked up some cooking skills. But could she make money selling food here? Could she perfectly recreate the dishes?

Mu Jinyu was a woman of action. If she was going to sell food, she needed to know what was available, what was missing, and what the market prices were. She checked on Rong Heng, who was squatting by the wall, and then headed out.

As soon as she left, Rong Heng stood up and went to the gate. She pulled at it, remembering that was how Mu Jinyu had opened it. But the gate only creaked and remained shut. Rong Heng tilted her head, confused as to why the door behaved differently for her. Giving up on the door, she looked at the item Mu Jinyu had given her.

It was a square piece of oil-paper containing a black mass of pounded herbs. It was excellent for stopping bleeding and reducing swelling, but Rong Heng didn’t know that. She brought it to her mouth. It didn’t smell bad, so she gave it a lick.

Her pale, delicate face instantly crumpled! She stuck her tongue out and didn’t dare pull it back in.

It tasted terrible!

Mu Jinyu returned to the breakfast street. It was near noon now, and the street was less crowded. Many stall owners were resting on stools, preparing to pack up. Without an injured person to worry about, Mu Jinyu wandered casually through the lingering aromas.

She walked from one end of the street to the other, listening to the vendors’ cries and the customers’ chatter. She struck up conversations naturally, and before long, she knew what every stall sold, how long they had been there, and how much a portion cost. She even picked up a bit of local gossip.

Leaving the breakfast street, she visited rice shops, general stores, and dry goods wholesalers to check prices. Louxu County was situated on a plain surrounded by mountains on three sides, with several rivers running through it. It was a bustling hub for merchants.

The original owner’s mothers had sold fried small fish in the night market. In a place with so many rivers, this was a brilliant business. They had sampled fish from every river to find the best-tasting ones, then coated them in a batter made from northern flour and fried them to a golden, savory crisp. It was a famous local delicacy.

However, flooding in the north had destroyed the wheat crops, causing flour prices to skyrocket. Worse, northern flour eventually became unavailable. The mothers had tried flour from other regions, but the change in ingredients ruined the texture. Being perfectionists, they couldn’t accept a sub-par product. They had taken their donkey cart to other counties to find the right supply, which was when tragedy struck.

Mu Jinyu thought that since the family already had the connections for fish, she should stick to that trade. But if she sold fried fish, she’d be forced to use inferior flour, which would ruin the family’s reputation and feel disrespectful to the mothers’ legacy. She needed a new idea.

Thinking of fish, a specific dish came to mind: Knocked Fish Noodles.

This was a delicacy from coastal regions. At dawn, fishermen would bring in Mian fish (croakers)—slender, silver-bellied, and incredibly fresh. To make the noodles, the scales and bones are removed, and the meat is scraped away.

Then, a layer of white sweet potato starch is spread on a cutting board. The fish meat is placed on top, coated in starch, and then pounded repeatedly with a slender bamboo stick. The fine starch is forced into the fish fibers, creating a perfect bond. It retains the sweetness of the fish with the chewy texture of the starch.

As the meat is pounded, it spreads out into a thin sheet. Once it is as thin as a cicada’s wing, it is lightly toasted over charcoal to set the texture. Then it is sliced into strands, boiled, and served with a light sauce or crisp vegetables.

The thought of the bouncy, savory noodles made Mu Jinyu’s mouth water. She had eaten them every morning while working in the city and never grew tired of them.

Louxu County didn’t have Mian fish, only river fish, and she couldn’t get the highest quality starch. The taste would be different, but as long as it wasn’t bad, this “new” dish would surely sell.

“Let’s do it!”

Mu Jinyu turned back to the flour shop to ask about sweet potato starch. She was surprised to find that this world already used a variety called “Multi-Treasure Sweet Potato.” It was golden-fleshed, sweet, large, and cheap. It was a staple in every household. Apparently, a family named Xiao in Shanghe Village near the border had mastered its mass production, distributing it across the entire Rong Kingdom.

Mu Jinyu was impressed; there were talented people everywhere. She bought three liang of sweet potato starch, one small fish, and two sweet potatoes before heading home.

As she walked through the streets filled with people in ancient robes and topknots, she couldn’t help but stare. She was fascinated by the intricate jewelry and the beautifully crafted cloth bags—designs she had never seen in her own world. When she made eye contact with other girls, she gave them a bright, sweet smile, her eyes sparkling.

The girls, however, mostly ignored her.

Back at the house, she unlocked the gate. Her heart skipped a beat when she didn’t see Rong Heng in the yard, and she rushed inside. She only relaxed when she found Rong Heng fast asleep on the bed. Good, she thought, sleeping is good.

She quietly closed the door and went to the stove to prepare the Knocked Fish Noodles. She scrubbed everything clean and swept up the fallen leaves in the yard to use as kindling.

The kitchen knife was blunt. Without a whetstone, she ran the blade against the bottom of a ceramic bowl until it was sharp. She deftly descaled the small crucian carp. When it came to filleting, she visualized the steps and expertly separated the meat from the bones without a single mistake.

She spread the sweet potato starch on the board. The starch was a bit coarse and greyish, with some clumps. She used a bowl to crush and refine it. She placed the fish on top and coated it thoroughly.

Searching for something to pound the meat with, she realized she didn’t have a bamboo pole. But she was resourceful. She went to the persimmon tree in the yard, stood on a stool, and climbed up. Luckily, the tree wasn’t too tall. She grabbed a sturdy, flexible branch and snapped it off. She swung it a few times; it had a good weight and snap to it.

Climbing down, she felt proud of her agility. With her heart still thumping from the climb, she washed the branch and began pounding the fish. It was a tedious process. After a while, her arms grew tired, so she pulled a stool over and continued while sitting.

After about fifteen minutes, the fish and starch were finally fused. She held the thin sheet up to the sunlight. The light filtered through the translucent, pearly-grey sheet, casting a glow on the stove. Mu Jinyu grinned and placed the sheet into the hot dry wok.

Soon, the sheet was toasted dry, and the savory aroma of fish began to fill the air. She removed it, added water to the wok, and kept the fire going. She sliced the soft sheet into thin ribbons. Once the water reached a rolling boil, she dropped the noodles in.

At the last moment, she remembered the seasoning. She patted her head and searched the cupboards. The jars were there, but the contents were ruined. Even the salt had grown moldy! She had never seen salt grow mold before. She stared at the amber-colored mold in the salt jar with wide, honey-colored eyes, wondering for a few seconds if it was salvageable before deciding to throw it all out.

Without seasonings, she would have to eat the noodles plain.

As the thick white steam billowed and the water bubbled, the Knocked Fish Noodles were ready!

As she lifted them from the pot, the sleeping Rong Heng’s nose twitched. She woke up instantly.

Rong Heng: Noodles! Eat!

Mu Jinyu: Wait for it!