Chapter 3

Chai Cuiqiao asked, "Is he still coming over this afternoon?"

"Who cares if he comes or not."

Li Ang casually said, "Alright, go to the box and take two hundred coins. I’m going out for a bit."

"It’s already prepared, here you go."

Chai Cuiqiao smiled slightly and handed over a simple, plain cloth bag containing the money.

Li Ang nodded in approval, "Very considerate. I’ll buy some fruit for you when I come back."

"Get the Fenghua honey peaches! The white-skinned ones. I saw that the Baiguozhai at the street corner had new stock a few days ago."

Chai Cuiqiao blinked her eyes, her gaze gleaming with premeditated brightness, and she smacked her lips, "The ones about two and a half inches in diameter cost only five coins each, and eating one or two is enough for a dinner. There are also mulberries from Haizhou, three coins per bunch. Oh, and pomegranates, but they cost fifteen coins each, which is too expensive. Let’s buy some taffy instead."

Taffy is a type of candy made from fermented and saccharified corn, barley, and other grains. A small piece can be bought for one coin and can be chewed for half a day, making it the most cost-effective sweet treat for children.

"Hey, you’re really pushing it, aren’t you?"

Li Ang laughed, ruffled Chai Cuiqiao’s hair, and put the money bag in his pocket before leaving through the back yard.

As soon as he stepped out, he heard a surprised voice from not far away, "Risheng?"

Li Ang turned his head and saw a well-maintained woman in her thirties or forties, wearing a sleeveless top, carrying a bag, and walking over with her maid.

"Aunt Song."

Li Ang greeted her with a smile.

Aunt Song, who called him by his nickname, was the owner of the Lansheng Building, a restaurant next to the Security Hall. She and Li Ang’s mother, Cui Yi, were distant relatives from the same village, and both had moved to Yizhou City.

However, Aunt Song’s husband had passed away early, leaving her a widow with no family. She ran the restaurant while raising her son, Song Shaoyuan, during which the Li family helped her a great deal.

Since they were distant relatives and neighbors, they had a close relationship, and Aunt Song was like a half-aunt to Li Ang.

When the Li couple passed away four months ago, it was Aunt Song who helped arrange the funeral. Otherwise, with the high cost of funerals in this era, the Li family would have been left with less than twenty guan.

"Risheng, are you going out?"

"Yes."

Li Ang nodded, "I’m going to buy some new tea to send to Mr. Liuxuan."

Pu Liuxuan was the professor at the Yizhou Prefecture School where Li Ang studied and was also a close friend of Li Hanquan.

"Hey, why buy new tea? We have it at home."

Aunt Song waved her hand and instructed her maid, "Lvyi, go to the restaurant’s storage and get two jars of Qujiang thin slices."

"Aunt, really, there’s no need."

Li Ang was quite helpless. Qujiang thin slices were a famous tea, expensive, and even though they weren’t imperial tribute, a middle-grade Qujiang thin slice cost about 500 to 600 coins per pound, far beyond Li Ang’s budget.

Aunt Song shook her head, "What’s this about need or not? We’re family. Shaoyuan is off on a trip with his friends again, even though the provincial exams are coming up soon, and he’s not focusing on his studies at all. When he comes back, I’ll have to scold him. Just take his share to the teacher later."

"Song’s brother is outstanding at the prefecture school, always ranking at the top in exams. He will definitely pass the provincial exams this year. The trip is just a way to relax."

Aunt Song’s son, Song Shaoyuan, was known for his honest and kind nature, quick wit, and was a prominent figure at the Yizhou Prefecture School, making him a strong candidate for the provincial exams.

Li Ang chatted with Aunt Song as they walked, and soon the maid returned with two small ceramic jars tied with red string.

Aunt Song insisted that Li Ang take them and then nagged him as an elder, urging him to study hard and not to let his parents down.

After Li Ang left, Aunt Song watched his back, thinking about her own past when she lost her husband. She wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye and whispered, "Sigh, this child has really suffered, maintaining the family business alone..."

——

"Flatbreads, baked buns, steamed buns, five coins each!"

"Sell rice wine, rice wine, seven coins a bowl."

"Biluo, cherry biluo, pear biluo, apple biluo..."

"Smooth and fragrant rice porridge, with a scent like brocade soup. Fresh flour from the market, juice and residue mixed together..."

Li Ang walked down the street with two jars of Qujiang thin slices, listening to the vendors’ loud calls.

Steamed buns were round on top and flat on the bottom, like the mantou in his memory. Rice wine was sweet rice wine, and biluo were filled pastries shaped like dumplings, with meat for a savory flavor and fruits for a sweet one, even crab roe and egg yolk biluo, making everything possible.

Rice porridge was made from water caltrop, and brocade soup was made from water shield.

Using a poem by the poet Du Gongbu to advertise, the vendor seemed to have a taste for elegance, though the last two lines, "Fresh flour from the market," were actually from another poem by Du Gongbu, "Hua Ye Leng Tao," describing cold noodles made from a mixture of hawthorn leaf juice and flour, green like jade, and cooled with cold water to refresh and cool.

The Yishui River was the main artery of the city. Along the river, there were not only mobile vendors selling cooked food but also those selling fruits and household items.

Li Ang, who hadn’t been out for a long time, listened to the various calls, the sounds of carriages and horses, the clinking of bowls and chopsticks, and smelled the damp air and food aromas after the morning rain, feeling the breeze on his face. A smile crept onto his lips as he overlapped the bustling scene before him with the commercial pedestrian street in his memory.

He reached out and caught a falling willow leaf from the air, held it in one hand, and gently blew on it, occasionally stopping to greet familiar neighbors on the street.

"Clang, clang, clang—"

A distant and resonant bell sounded from the north. The shop assistants inside the street stopped their work and rang their own copper bells at the counter, while the vendors along the river took out their copper bells and shook them.

Even the cargo ships on the Yishui River had their bells rung by the boatmen.

In the Yu Kingdom, a day was divided into twelve hours: Zi, Chou, Yin, Mao, Chen, Si, Wu, Wei, Shen, You, Xu, and Hai, corresponding to the 24 hours in Li Ang’s memory.

Zi-chu was 11 PM, Zi-zheng was 12 AM, Chou-chu was 1 AM, and Chou-zheng was 2 AM.

At this moment, the bell that echoed throughout Yizhou City was rung by the Huatian Daoist Temple, with the number of rings corresponding to the hour. All the residents in the city would ring their own copper bells and copper chimes at Chen-zheng (8 AM) and Xu-zheng (8 PM) to follow the bell.

Why?

For thousands of years, in all the countries and regions under the influence of the Huatian religion, this has been the practice, and over time, no one questioned it.

It was said that the bell, which rang every day without fail, not only told the time but also had the function of driving away evil spirits...

But in this world, do demons really exist?

Li Ang slightly reined in his smile, put the willow leaf away, and quietly quickened his pace.

If there were really evil spirits, would he, who had awakened to his memories from another world, be considered a demon?