Chapter 46

The night was serene, the candle flames flickering softly.

Tang Jin’s heart slowly clenched. If this woman refused to keep her secret after they parted ways, she was finished.

After a moment of silence, Chu Lingyue didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “A-Jin, how much silver do you think counts as enough saved up?”

Tang Jin blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected Chu Lingyue to sidestep the question.

A bit thrown off, she asked, “What do you mean by that, my lady?”

Chu Lingyue opened the ledger again, flipping to a fresh page. As she wrote, she said, “Suppose business stays as good as today’s, with profits at a hundred taels. My twenty percent would be twenty taels a day—six hundred a month. After expenses, that’s about seven thousand taels a year. Nearly enough. So what about you, A-Jin?”

How long would it take her to save up, and how much would she need before it was enough?

Tang Jin stared blankly at the figures in the ledger. Without thinking, she replied, “I plan to travel the world, with no worries about food, clothing, lodging, or transport. How much would that take?”

Chu Lingyue said, “By that math, you’d make forty taels a day. After expenses, that’s fourteen thousand a year. For an ordinary person living frugally, a dozen years or so would suffice.”

Tang Jin froze. “Does that mean two or three years of saving would leave me set for life?”

Was it really that simple?

Chu Lingyue continued, “That’s the ideal scenario. The restaurant can’t operate nonstop year-round, and it won’t always profit a hundred taels a day. If you want to buy a house later, live a bit more luxuriously, and travel in greater comfort, over ten thousand taels isn’t much. And…”

“And what?”

“And the Hundred Blades Code of Laws mandates a six percent commercial tax on total profits. In disaster years, merchants must donate money and goods besides. Suppose you settle down later—marry, buy a house, hire servants, get everything in order. Ten thousand-plus taels would last only five or six years.” As Chu Lingyue spoke, she jotted down another line.

Tang Jin rubbed her forehead, frowning. “What if I don’t marry? Just buy a house, no servants. Live a touch better than now, take a few long trips each year. Based on the most realistic estimates, how many years of saving?”

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so simple anymore. By this reckoning, even five or six years might not cut it.

Chu Lingyue wrote some more. “If it’s less than ideal—say the restaurant makes sixty or seventy taels a day, closes on holidays, and takes two extra days off a month for emergencies—to secure a worry-free life, you’d need to save for seven or eight years.”

Tang Jin went numb. “That long?”

How had it jumped to seven or eight years in the blink of an eye?

Chu Lingyue nodded. “It depends on the life you want. If it’s like back in Tang Village—plain clothes, wooden hut, no house, no travels—you wouldn’t need to save at all. What you earn day-to-day would more than cover it.”

Tang Jin shook her head. “No way. I have to buy a house, and I have to travel far.”

Without travels, how could she seek out old countrymen or experience the wonders of the ancient world? And her quality of life had to improve.

Chu Lingyue took a sip of tea and said slowly, “Then it’d take over a dozen years. Of course, A-Jin, you have other options.”

Tang Jin’s face lit up. “Like what?”

Chu Lingyue’s lips curved slightly. “Find someone reliable to partner with in a year, and keep the restaurant going indefinitely.”

Tang Jin’s excitement deflated. Where was she supposed to find another Chu Lingyue? And she couldn’t imagine bustling away at a restaurant her whole life. She wanted ease and leisure.

Wait—hold on. Why a whole year from now before finding someone?

“My lady, are you leaving?”

Chu Lingyue replied airily, “Yes. As you said, we go our separate ways once the silver’s saved. A year should be enough for me.”

Now Tang Jin panicked. “What happens to me if you go? I mean, what happens to the little restaurant?”

How had talk of savings turned into parting ways in a year?

Especially since the System hadn’t reacted at all to any of it.

What did that mean? It meant this woman truly planned to leave once she’d saved enough.

Chu Lingyue chuckled lightly. “The little restaurant can keep going without me. If you’re worried about the food, A-Jin, just marry or take a spouse. Someone that close should be trustworthy.”

Tang Jin shook her head repeatedly. “No, no, no—you’re the reliable one, my lady. Hundred Blades divorces are a dime a dozen, and plenty of couples turn on each other over money. That’s too risky.”

Perhaps from habit, or maybe because she’d come to know a bit of Chu Lingyue’s character, she instinctively rejected the idea of finding someone else.

What if she picked wrong? She’d be ruined.

Chu Lingyue’s expression cooled. “A-Jin, I have to go eventually. Our marriage was forced by circumstances. You should find someone who truly makes your heart glad to spend your life with.”

They couldn’t stay together forever. She wouldn’t allow it.

After a decade of hardship, she knew exactly the path she wanted. Things she’d once thought impossible now glimmered with hope. She couldn’t waste any more time.

Tang Jin stared, her heart churning with regret. She never should have brought up going their separate ways.

But she couldn’t very well block someone from pursuing their own dreams.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. “My lady, what if I give you an extra ten percent of the profits? Stay a few more years?”

Chu Lingyue paused. An extra ten percent would make it thirty.

“Six months.”

“Deal.” Tang Jin breathed a little easier. Too bad the goods shelf in the void could hold only thirty-five dishes max. Otherwise, she’d cram in every question for Chu Lingyue over the next two years and stockpile tens of thousands of recipes.

For now, she’d take it one step at a time.

Wait—her original question had just been whether Chu Lingyue would keep her secret.

But thinking of Chu Lingyue leaving in a year and a half, Tang Jin didn’t dare mention parting ways again.

Sensing her hesitation, Chu Lingyue finally answered, “On that matter, A-Jin, rest easy. I won’t harm others unless they harm me first.”

In other words, as long as Tang Jin never hurt her, even if they parted, she wouldn’t betray Tang Jin’s secrets.

Tang Jin got the answer she’d most wanted, but joy eluded her. She could only force a smile. “You’re joking, my lady. I’d never hurt you.”

Chu Lingyue lowered her gaze and said nothing.

The candlelight played across her face, lending it an uncommon gentleness.

Unable to hold back her curiosity, Tang Jin asked, “My lady, what do you plan to do after?”

Was seven thousand taels really enough?

Chu Lingyue glanced up, her tone casual. “Nothing much. Just live a plain life.”

【Ding! Reward: A plate of cumin mushrooms.】

Tang Jin: “…” Fine, keep your secrets. She wasn’t that curious anyway.

The next morning, Tang Jin and Chu Lingyue sold off the bowls and plates, then brought out only four bowls of century egg lean meat congee.

Old Madam Tang grumbled, “Porridge again for breakfast?”

Tang Jin nodded. “Yeah, everyone drink up. Then we divide the silver.”

The mention of dividing silver silenced them all.

After the meal, Tang Jin pulled out the one hundred and six taels from yesterday and looked at the three women before her.

She couldn’t cover Chu Lingyue’s promised twenty percent herself—not when she needed to save a fortune.

“I didn’t expect the restaurant to do this well. Should we rethink how we split the silver?”

Chu Lingyue paused, recalling last night’s talk, and played along. “How do you want to split it, A-Jin?”

With earnest sincerity, Tang Jin said, “I’m fine either way, but you’ve been working so much harder, my lady. Twenty percent is too little, right? What do you say, Laidi?”

With that, she turned her gaze squarely on Tang Laidi.

Caught in Tang Jin’s piercing stare, Tang Laidi’s scalp tingled. She spoke up quickly. “No objections here. You decide.”

Tang Jin arched a brow, still fixing her with that look. “I suggest giving my lady an extra ten percent. Where should it come from, you think?”

That would shift the split from 4-4-2 to 4-3-3.

Old Madam Tang cleared her throat softly. “This old lady approves.” She was just getting scraps anyway—it didn’t touch her share. And giving more to Chu Lingyue? She had no complaints. It was only right.

Under Tang Jin’s oppressively intense gaze, Tang Laidi’s breath hitched. “I approve too. You say how it comes out?”

Why was her little sister staring her down like that? Did she expect it to come from her share?

Tang Jin immediately pulled out yesterday’s ledger and read flatly, “The Liu Brothers’ table drank seven jugs of wine and ate ten plates of shrimp tails yesterday. Know what that means?”

“What does it mean?” Tang Laidi’s heart skipped, her voice softening.

“It means you all scarfed down over fifty taels in food.” Tang Jin hadn’t spelled it out, but her point was crystal clear.

Tang Laidi opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Tang Jin shot her a look. “From now on, no matter how good business gets, I cover all ingredients personally. My lady will have to help cook more, and who knows how many bowls and plates we’ll wash. So who should cover that extra ten percent?”

“F-Fine, I’ll cover it.” Tang Laidi regretted it now—why hadn’t she held back yesterday?

Well, she’d gone and eaten away a full ten percent.

But the split made sense. Chu Lingyue had way more on her plate, Tang Jin footed all the ingredients, and she herself wasn’t pulling much weight. Losing ten percent stung less knowing profits would only climb. And it wasn’t going to outsiders—Lingyue was family.

“Since Laidi’s so stand-up about it, that’s how we’ll split from now on.” Tang Jin divided the silver into four portions: forty taels for herself; thirty each for Tang Laidi and Chu Lingyue; and the remaining six taels to Old Madam Tang.

Old Madam Tang quietly pocketed her six taels and hobbled to the back yard on her cane, steps surprisingly brisk.

She’d had a hand in that table yesterday too, and it made her uneasy just thinking about it.

Good thing Tang Jin hadn’t docked her share. The unlucky granddaughter looked pretty steamed—better steer clear.

Tang Jin wasn’t truly angry. The Liu Brothers had helped their business, after all—a thank-you feast made sense. But fifty taels in one night? Like throwing silver out the window.

She had to give her little sister a wake-up call. If this kept up, what then?

Truth was, Tang Jin felt glum. In a year and a half, Chu Lingyue would leave. Who’d she partner with then?

Laidi was reliable enough, but a bit dim. One slip, and everything could go up in smoke.

Chu Lingyue was better—understood without spelling it out, quick on her feet, reassuring.

As Tang Jin mulled it over, she couldn’t help glancing at Chu Lingyue. Was there any way to keep this woman around?

Got it!

“My lady, I need to talk to you.”

Chu Lingyue gave her a sidelong glance. “What is it, A-Jin?”

Tang Jin opened her mouth, then spotted Tang Laidi’s gossip-hungry face nearby and clamped it shut.

For a moment, both turned their eyes to her.

Tang Laidi’s heart pounded. Helpless, she stood. “Uh, you two chat. I’ll go help Grandmother Tang steam rice in the back yard.”

Sigh, the little sisters had changed. In the past, the little wifeys’ night talks had never excluded her, but now they even found her to be in the way.