As soon as Xiao Changyi mentioned the battlefield, An Jing thought of all the scars on Xiao Changyi’s body and felt uncomfortable inside. Her brows furrowed slightly, but she did not ask any further. Instead, she said, "Your handwriting is prettier than mine."
She had practiced calligraphy with her grandfather, and it seemed she had been restrained by model calligraphy texts from an early age. Although her brush writing looked quite nice, it did not have the openness of Xiao Changyi’s writing, nor did it have his grandeur.
Xiao Changyi was both amused and exasperated. "Why are you comparing your writing to mine?"
Without hesitation, An Jing lifted her chin with playful arrogance, "Haven’t you realized by now that I have a very competitive spirit?"
Xiao Changyi’s lips curved into a smile, and he remained silent. He simply reached out and gently touched her face.
At first, An Jing did not notice anything amiss and let Xiao Changyi stroke her cheek. When he withdrew his hand, she finally saw that his palm was black — meaning he had touched her face with the same hand he had been using to write with charcoal.
That meant the left side of her face must certainly be black as well.
An Jing did not get angry. Instead, she smiled even more brightly, authoritatively hooked her arm around Xiao Changyi’s neck, and pulled him down. He had no choice but to lower his head until he was at the right height, and then she rubbed her charcoal-smudged left cheek against Xiao Changyi’s handsome face.
So that Xiao Changyi would look just like a piebald cat, just like her.
After smearing Xiao Changyi’s face black, An Jing still smiled and teased, "I told you, I have a strong competitive spirit!"
Xiao Changyi’s smile grew even broader. His wife was truly unique.
The next day, as dawn was just breaking, Xiao Changyi and An Jing set out to sell fermented bean curd in the town.
By the time An Jing and Xiao Changyi arrived in town, the day had already brightened, but they still managed to snag a good spot.
In the middle of some vegetable vendors.
Xiao placed a coarse cloth with the words "fermented bean curd" written on it and spread it out, displaying the words. The illiterate may not recognize it, but those who could read would surely know what they were selling.
An Jing brought along a small stool, placed it in front of the clay jars, and then took a plate and chopsticks out of her back basket.
Xiao Changyi immediately opened the lid of the clay jar. An Jing used chopsticks to pick out four pieces of the moldy tofu, three to be arranged in a circle on the plate, with one on top in the center.
The moldy tofu was coated in a red chili powder, making the dish even more appealing, and immediately attracting many onlookers.
Once An Jing arranged the moldy tofu neatly on the plate, she set the plate on the small stool.
As soon as Xiao Changyi saw that An Jing had finished arranging the moldy tofu, he covered the clay jar again. With a sample on display in front, there was no fear that people wouldn’t know what was inside the jar.
An Jing and Xiao Changyi squatted on either side of the clay jars, ready for business, just waiting for buyers to come.
"What’s this you’re selling? I’ve never seen it before," asked a vegetable vendor uncle nearby, who had been watching with curiosity.
An Jing replied with a smile, "Fermented bean curd."
"Fermented bean curd?" The uncle thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Never heard of it."
"This is a food my husband and I just came up with not long ago. Of course, you wouldn’t have heard of it," An Jing explained.
"You came up with it?" The uncle’s eyes widened in astonishment. Then, looking at the four pieces of fermented bean curd in the plate, he commented, "Well, it does look pretty appealing." After a pause, he asked, "Girl, how much are you selling it for?"
An Jing extended one finger from each hand, crossed them, and made an "X."