Chapter 96: Sure hope we don’t get another drought this year? Soybean Oil

The Emperor closely monitored the situation in Ji County. Bing Wengu’s big moves were immediately reported to the Emperor.

After reading the secret report, Zhan Yu handed it to the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince scanned it quickly and smiled, "Father, you really picked the right man."

The Emperor, unusually calm, remarked, "Bing Wengu indeed has some talent. Without background, connections, or patronage, he figured out how to bring in merchants and create opportunities for the people. Takes smarts and guts."

The Crown Prince said, "Though Bing Wengu is a bit cocky, his abilities are undeniable. To surpass Shen Yao in the imperial examinations without incurring retaliation from the Shen and Jiang families—and even doing business with them—proves he’s sharp."

Zhan Yu nodded slightly.

The Crown Prince, looking over the report, asked in confusion, "But Father, look here—why is Bing Wengu building a villa? And this villa is kept under wraps.

"The walls are two meters high, and atop them are sharp iron spikes. Anyone attempting to climb over could get sliced open.

"Inside, guards are posted day and night every ten steps, with sentries every hundred steps. No one is allowed in or out without Bing Wengu's direct say-so."

The Crown Prince frowned. "What is Bing Wengu planning? Why such tight security around the villa?"

The Emperor fell silent for a long moment before shaking his head. "Among the thousands of officials under my rule, I dare not claim to know each one intimately, but I can usually guess their motives with fair accuracy. Yet Bing Wengu... I just can’t figure him out."

The Emperor tapped a memorial with his finger. "Crown Prince, have you noticed another place that is even more mysterious and heavily guarded—where a Taoist priest resides? Not even my spies can sneak in to gather details."

Neither the Emperor nor the Crown Prince could guess what Bing Wengu was up to, but neither suspected rebellion.

After all, Bing Wengu had not recruited soldiers or trained troops. The fact that he hired women and even Shuang Er further dispelled the Emperor's suspicions.

That evening, both the Nan and Bing families came to Bing Wengu's courtyard to see Nan Jinping.

"Dad, Mom, Father-in-law, Mother-in-law," Bing Wengu greeted the four with a slight nod.

"Son-in-law, you're home too. We came to deliver something," Miao Shi said, taking out a contract. "Our family has built a new oil press workshop, all thanks to your recipe. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have mastered this craft. I thought it only fair that we don’t take the recipe for free—same as before, you’ll take fifty percent of the shares, and I’ll take the other half, no shame."

This time, neither Bing Wengu nor Nan Jinping refused.

Bing Wengu simply said, "Dad, Mom, put the shares in my husband’s name."

Miao Shi had anticipated this. "Of course. Here’s the contract—the whole family’s already signed and stamped it. Once Jin Geer does the same, we’ll submit it to the yamen for record tomorrow."

The Liang couple had come for the same purpose, though their contract was left unsigned.

Bing Wengu instructed Liang Shi to fill in Nan Jinping’s name, and she complied without protest.

With Bing Wengu’s guidance, the oil press workshop got up and running fast.

The Nan family, already making tofu using soybeans, now applied Bing Wengu’s method to extract soybean oil.

Strangely, in the Dayong Dynasty, they mostly used rapeseed oil.

It wasn’t that the technology to extract soybean oil didn’t exist—it did—but people simply disliked its weird, strong taste. Bing Wengu had even purchased some to test and found it unpalatable.

Not sure if the problem was with the beans or the extraction process, Bing Wengu had the Nan family press oil using his method. The result lacked the unpleasant soybean flavor, confirming that the problem lay in the traditional techniques.

Nan Dalang grinned, eyeing the golden oil. "Brother-in-law, how should we price this oil?"

The oil extraction rate from one jin of soybeans ranges between 12% to 15%. Given the less skilled methods of the workers at the Nan family, the average yield is around 12%.

Thus, one liter’s worth of soybeans can produce 1.25 jin of soybean oil.

One liter’s worth of soybeans costs twelve wen, while one jin of plant-based oil costs thirty-two wen.

Due to the effects of the famine in Jixian, prices here are about five wen higher than in other prefectural cities, so one jin of soybean oil can be sold for around thirty-seven wen.

Bing Wengu thought for a moment and said, "Make it twenty-eight wen."

Nan Dalang was stunned for a second, then, seemingly realizing something, showed an expression of admiration. "Brother-in-law, you’re really a people-first official."

Running their own business without fleecing the common folk, even selling at a lower price than the market—willing to take a smaller cut to help the people—if this isn’t a good official who cares for the people, then what is?

"The people of Jixian suffering from the famine are truly pitiable. Many just boil their food in plain water—no oil at all," Miao Shi sighed. "Thinking back, our family also went through such times. But now, looking back, it feels like another world."

Miao Shi sighed and looked at Nan Jinping. "All of this is thanks to Jin Geer and our son-in-law."

"Brother-in-law, everything else is manageable—stuff like tofu sells fine. But soybean oil is different. First, the common folk can’t afford it, and second, those who can afford it don’t like soybean oil—they’d rather have rapeseed oil. We know our soybean oil doesn’t have that odd bean flavor, but outsiders don’t!"

Bing Wengu pondered briefly before saying, "Get someone to sell fried snacks on the street!"

"Fried snacks?" Nan Dalang had never heard of it, much less tried it.

Bing Wengu briefly explained what fried snacks were, leaving Nan Dalang wide-eyed. "So, does that mean anything can be fried?"

"Exactly. Fried food comes out crispy and rich—even vegetables taste amazing when fried."

With Bing Wengu’s suggestion, the Nan family, not ones to drag their feet, immediately set up a stall in the marketplace.

"Come one, come all! One wen won’t leave you cheated or disappointed—if your belly’s running on empty, come check it out!" Nan Dalang, experienced in business, had no qualms about shouting loudly to attract customers.

In Jixian, there wasn’t a single person whose belly wasn’t running on empty. Hearing Nan Dalang’s calls, they gathered around to see.

All they saw was a little coal stove with a small iron pot placed on it.

A curious onlooker asked, "What are you selling?"

Nan Dalang lifted the basket beside him, revealing some vegetables inside.

"This is called fried snacks," Nan Dalang explained patiently, not fazed by the tiny margins. "You take these vegetables, fry them in this oil, then take them out to eat. Just imagine—crispy, golden, and soaked in oil. How could it not taste amazing?"

"Amazing? Of course it’s amazing!" the crowd immediately responded.

Someone quickly asked, "Fried food this oily—gotta be pricey, right?"

"Not at all, not at all!" Nan Dalang waved his hand. "Just a little bunch of greens, fried up for you—just one wen."

"Really?"

"Of course! It’s very cheap. Would you like to try a small portion?"

"Then give me one wen’s worth."

Nan Dalang promptly fried a small handful of wild greens for the customer. It was bare-bones—no fancy seasonings, just a pinch of salt.

The customer took the oil-paper-wrapped greens, plucked a piece with his fingers, and popped it into his mouth. His eyes went wide with shock.

"How is this so greasy, so crispy—so damn good! I’ve never tasted anything this good in my life!"

Of course, the man’s words were a bit exaggerated, but there’s no denying that fried food is the ultimate comfort food!

Even though the man clearly enjoyed it, he only ate one piece of fried wild vegetable before carefully wrapping up the rest.

“This has a lot of oil. I’ll take it home and add it to our dishes so the whole family can have a meal with a bit of richness.”

His words sounded pitiful, but this was the common reality for the people of Ji County after three years of severe drought.

Paying just one coin to add a bit of richness to their meals was something the people were happy to do, so they all gathered to buy.

Nan Dalang had to say, “If you want to buy fried food, bring your own bowls. For small orders, we won’t provide wax paper—only orders over ten coins get wrapped in wax paper.”

Those who lived nearby hurried home to fetch bowls, while those farther away asked Nan Dalang to give them wax paper, but he refused.

His small business only earned a coin or two per sale. If he gave out wax paper to everyone, not only would he make no profit, he’d be operating at a loss.

No matter how they pleaded, Nan Dalang wouldn’t budge, and the crowd had no choice.

Soon, Nan Dalang sold out of everything and closed up shop. Instead of going straight home, he headed to the store.

The Nan family had bought several storefronts on the street and picked one at random to open for business.

When Nan Dalang entered, Miao Shi barely looked up and said, “Sold out already?”

“Yes, lots of people bought.”

Miao Shi had only asked casually, without much interest. Nan Dalang hadn’t set up the stall just to sell fried food—it was mainly to promote their family’s oil.

By showing the people that their soybean oil didn’t have that strong beany aftertaste and was cheaper than others’, they hoped that, over time, more would come to buy it.

But that didn’t stop the fried food from becoming popular. When the people of Ji County received their first month’s wages, workers flocked in groups to buy from Nan Dalang.

“I’ve heard about your fried food for a while, but I didn’t have money before and could only dream about it. Now that I’ve got my pay, I’m definitely buying some to try!”

Nan Dalang smiled. “Try it, I promise you won’t regret it. After this time, you’ll want more.”

“Then give me two coins’ worth of wild vegetables, two coins’ worth of fresh mushrooms, some dried tofu, a chunk of tofu, a sheet of bean curd, a gluten ball…”

Since the Nan family made bean products themselves, Nan Dalang simply used their own goods for frying, though the servings were much smaller than in the shop, given the low prices.

“That comes to ten coins.”

The man counted out ten coins. “This makes ten—do I get wax paper now?”

“Yes, yes,” Nan Dalang answered while busy.

“Give me ten coins’ worth of fried stinky tofu. I love that stuff—it’s my favorite.”

“You got it!”

Nan Dalang was swamped with orders.

As Mrs. Han passed by with Gou Dan, the boy immediately recognized Nan Dalang. “Mother, isn’t that stall owner the County Magistrate’s brother-in-law?”

Mrs. Han had seen Nan Dalang during the last recruitment and recognized him at once.

“It really is!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Why would the County Magistrate’s brother-in-law be manning a little food stall here?”

In Mrs. Han’s understanding, a county magistrate was a big-shot official, and his relatives should all be high-and-mighty types. Even if they did business, it should be in grand, luxurious restaurants where they just sat back and collected money without lifting a finger.

"Mother, let's go take a look too. Lord County Magistrate has been so kind to us. If his husband's elder brother's goods aren't too expensive, we should give them some business."

Han Niangzi thought of the monthly pay she and her son had just received, feeling more confident.

"Alright, let’s consider it a way to thank Lord County Magistrate."

Han Niangzi took Gou Dan over and stood watching for a while, quickly understanding the situation.

She had heard about a new type of food called "fried snacks" in the county while working, but she never expected it was made by the magistrate’s family.

"Mother, it smells so good! It looks delicious," Gou Dan said. "Let’s buy some."

"Fine." Han Niangzi bought it mainly to express gratitude to Bing Wengu, so she didn’t opt for cheaper items and directly ordered half a chicken for twenty-five coppers.

Chicken was already fragrant, but after being fried, it became greasy and glistening, mouthwateringly fragrant.

Gou Dan couldn't stop swallowing his saliva. His mouth watered so much he kept swallowing hard. Han Niangzi said, "Let me tear off a piece for you to taste first."

Gou Dan quickly shook his head. "No, Mother. Madam will definitely notice and get angry, then she’ll scold you again."

Han Niangzi thought of Lü Shi's vicious temper and gave up.

As soon as Han Niangzi and Gou Dan stepped through the gate, they saw Lü Shi’s face like a thundercloud.

"Finally decided to come back? You’ve been running wild for a whole month, mother and son only now returning. People might think our Zhang family’s daughter-in-law ran off with someone!"

Lü Shi's beady eyes zeroed in on the oil-paper package in Han Niangzi’s hand. She made a grab for it and snatched it away. "What’s this? Chicken! Did you get your wages? Instead of bringing the money home, you go out burning through cash! Han Shi, have you no heart? Don’t you know how poor our family is?"

Gou Dan couldn’t bear to see his mother wronged and mustered the courage to explain, "No, Mother and I didn’t waste money. We bought this half-chicken because it was from the stall set up by the magistrate’s elder brother. We wanted to thank Lord County Magistrate for giving us this job."

"What’s there to thank? He hired workers, you worked—it’s not like he gave you money for free!" Lü Shi ranted self-righteously, showing no gratitude at all.

"That so-called magistrate—what’s there to thank? If he really wanted to help our family, he’d have hired San Lang or the other men in the house. Instead, he chose a woman and a child—who knows what his intentions are!"

Han Niangzi genuinely appreciated Bing Wengu, especially after starting work. She had come to deeply recognize his uniqueness.

Bing Wengu never looked down on her for being a woman. He listened carefully to her suggestions. If any of the male workers disrespected her or bullied the women with their words, they'd be fined at minimum, thrown out on the spot at worst. Now, none of the men dared to offend the women. Bing Wengu had even made her a crew boss, putting her in charge of those men. If anyone disobeyed or slacked off, she could directly penalize them—no one dared to defy her.

Han Niangzi truly regarded Bing Wengu as her benefactor. Hearing Lü Shi’s vulgar words insulting him angered her more than being scolded herself. Shaking with anger, she said, "Madam, His Lordship simply doesn’t discriminate by gender. No matter who from our family was hired, wages would still be paid. With this income, our lives are so much better than others in the village—all thanks to His Lordship’s kindness!"

"How dare you talk back to me!" Lü Shi exploded, lunging to go at Han Niangzi with pinching fingers. "I’ll teach you a lesson today—you’re rebelling against heaven! San Lang, come out here! Your wife dares to defy me—teach her a lesson!"

Zhang Sanlang came out and, without even asking, began beating Han Niangzi. Gou Dan, trying to protect her, was also struck by Zhang Sanlang.

Lü Shi confiscated all of Han Niangzi’s monthly pay and the half-fried chicken, gloating as she glared at her. "Don’t think just because you work at the magistrate's office (yamen) now, you’re something special. I’ll have you know—you're still my bug to squash. I can crush you however I please!"

"San Lang, call your brothers and the children over to eat the fried chicken." As Lü Shi doled it out exclusively among the men, she scolded, "Good-for-nothing spendthrift, always blowing money! How dare you buy something as expensive as chicken!"

Lü Shi tore the half-chicken into pieces, distributing it only to the men in the family—none for the women. This was how things had always been; meat was never shared with women.

Han Niangzi was used to this, but seeing Gou Dan receive nothing, she couldn’t help but say, "Madam, Gou Dan didn’t get any. Did you forget him?"

"The hell I forgot! I deliberately didn’t give him any. He dared to defend you earlier—he gets nothing from me!" Lü Shi ranted self-righteously. "Look at you two - getting all fat and happy. Don’t you ever think of your family? Couldn't you have skipped a bite or two to bring some home? Don’t you know we don’t even have rice to cook at home?"

Though both the yamen and the glassworks served meals, they weren’t allowed to eat freely or take food home—supervisors made sure of that.

Han Niangzi tried to explain, but once Lü Shi made up her mind, she wouldn’t listen.

"Stop bickering at me here. You've been running wild for a month without coming home, and there’s a mountain of laundry to do. Go wash it now."

Han Niang had just returned home and hadn’t even eaten yet, but she went straight to the laundry. Gou Dan, his heart aching for his mother, ran to help her.

Gou Dan fumed, "In the past, all the household chores were rotated among the different households. Now that you’re out earning money, why isn’t it being rotated anymore? Why is it all left for you to do when you come back?"

Han Niang patted Gou Dan’s head and said nothing. But in her heart, she understood better than anyone—Lü Shi was doing this on purpose, needling her and making sure she knew that no matter how much money she earned, she still had to obey, and this household was still under Lü Shi’s control.

Han Niang’s sisters-in-law, seeing her busy and beaten, mocked her, "Some people just have to stick their neck out, don’t they? Now look—not only do you have to earn money, but you also have to do extra chores when you come home!"

Han Niang stayed silent, washing the clothes quietly. The sisters-in-law taunted her for a while, but seeing she wouldn’t respond, they gave up and left.

They had only been quiet for a short while when a little girl came barreling over.

She crouched beside Han Niang, who recognized her daughter. After a month apart, Han Niang missed her dearly and was about to sweep her into a hug when Little Niang held out her hand and demanded, "Mother, give me two coins. Grandma didn’t share any fried chicken with me just now. I want to buy something else to scratch the itch."

Han Niang went still, staring at her daughter for a long moment. "Little Niang, don’t you miss me?"

Little Niang said impatiently, "Mother, hurry up and give me the money. Grandma could pop out any second."

Han Niang lowered her eyes. "Grandma took all my money. I don’t have any left."

"Mother, you play favorites! You know exactly how Grandma is—she never gives us girls any decent shares. You couldn’t even stash a bit for me?"

Han Niang pointed at Gou Dan. "The money for the fried chicken included his share too, and he didn’t get any either."

Little Niang shouted, "You’re lying! You love him so much—how could you not let him eat some on the way?"

With that, Little Niang ran off, leaving Han Niang shaking like a leaf.

"Elder sister’s being childish," Gou Dan said gently. "Don’t be upset, Mother."

Meeting Gou Dan’s worried gaze, Han Niang finally felt a little better. "At least I’ve got you."

Nan Dalang’s fried food business was doing exceptionally well, and soon, imitators appeared.

Fried food wasn’t rocket science, so imitation was inevitable. Nan Dalang didn’t mind, but the copycats saw him as a rival first.

Even though Bing Wengu was the county magistrate, Nan Dalang never thought of throwing his weight around. As long as others didn’t provoke him, he ignored them.

The copycat’s business had been doing fine, but one day, a customer came to return their order.

"Is your fried food spoiled? Why does it taste like beans?" the customer demanded.

"It’s fried in soybean oil, so of course it has a bean flavor," the stall owner explained.

"That’s nonsense! His doesn’t!" The customer pointed at Nan Dalang, who looked innocent.

"Impossible," the stall owner said, unconvinced.

"If you don’t believe me, buy a portion and try it. If his fried food has a soybean taste, I’ll buy your whole cart!" the customer snapped.

To prove himself, the stall owner actually bought a portion from Nan Dalang—and then was baffled.

"Why doesn’t your fried food have a soybean taste? Are you not using soybean oil?"

Seeing a chance to promote his soybean oil, Nan Dalang lit up and started pitching.

"Our soybean oil is processed differently from others. The fried oil tastes clean without that strong soybean flavor. You can use it for sautéing, frying—and best part? It’s a steal! Only twenty-five coins per pound, a full ten coins less than others!"

Nan Dalang didn't forget to tell the vendor, "If you plan to start a fried food business, I advise you to buy soybean oil from my family's shop—Nan Family Bean Shop on Middle Street, twenty-five coppers per pound."

The vendor was surprised, "Your family is willing to sell me soybean oil? Aren’t you afraid I’ll compete with you?"

"Not at all, not at all." In truth, Nan Dalang never intended to stay in the fried food business for long. He now owned several shops and had no time to manage such a small stall. The only reason he kept it was to promote his family’s soybean oil.

After this marketing push, the soybean oil business picked up, with many locals buying oil from the Nan family shop. Even some restaurants started buying from the Nans, and their business flourished.

When Bing Wengu got off work that evening, Nan Jinping read out the income from the oil press to him.

Bing Wengu shook his head, "You handle these matters. My work at the yamen is too busy—I simply can’t manage it all."

Nan Jinping then put away the ledger.

"It’s already the end of June, almost July, but the sky shows no sign of rain. What should we do?" Nan Jinping worried. "Could it really be like the Imperial Observatory predicted—another drought year?"