Chapter Forty-Four: The Culinary Business

Some say that the world progresses because of the lazy; laziness drives invention—tools were created to avoid toil, carriages to spare people from walking. It is through idleness, they claim, that civilization advances.

Yet Qin Huaiyu and his two companions, notorious for their laziness, proved themselves spectacularly unworthy. In less than a day, they returned three tattered, bald quill pens to Mo Dun.

Within the Mo Residence in Chang’an, the three stood before Mo Dun with not a shred of guilt, boldly and unapologetically.

“They’re useless!” Yuchi Baolin grumbled in his deep voice, shaking his head as he pointed to a quill snapped in two.

“They break at the slightest mishap!” Cheng Chumo, face full of disdain, tossed his bald, broken quill at Mo Dun’s feet.

“And yours?” Mo Dun, heart aching for his precious pens, looked to Qin Huaiyu, hoping he might have spared his.

“Uh... I just wanted to see how it even works,” Qin Huaiyu replied sheepishly, producing a quill split clean in half.

Mo Dun was speechless; expecting these rough-handed men to write with such delicate quills was akin to asking them to embroider silk—a task beyond their nature.

“By the way, did you manage to purchase the shop I asked for?” Mo Dun inquired.

“Relax, you can count on us. We settled it yesterday—here’s the deed. Eight thousand taels, the shop and the mansion behind it are ours!” Qin Huaiyu pulled out the deed and placed it before Mo Dun.

“Opposite the Imperial Academy?” Mo Dun’s brows rose in surprise as he glanced at the trio.

“Don’t tell me you three picked this spot just to mooch food and avoid effort?” he teased.

“Ahem! Of course not!” Qin Huaiyu waved his hand awkwardly. “You wanted a prime location, and this is the best—think of all the students at the Academy, surrounded by bustling streets and heavy foot traffic. I pulled every string to secure this spot, and it’s big enough for anything!”

Mo Dun considered it—the site opposite the Academy was indeed vibrant, packed with people.

He nodded in satisfaction, “Alright, this will do. It’ll be perfect for our meals too, sparing us from the swill served in the cafeteria.”

“Haha, I told you this was the right place!” Yuchi Baolin laughed heartily.

Qin Huaiyu and Cheng Chumo shot him embarrassed looks; that was exactly their thinking, but admitting it would only make them look foolish.

“The place is settled, but I wonder about this gourmet business you promised would make us rich,” Qin Huaiyu said.

Mo Dun glanced at them, understanding their worry. Five thousand taels was no small sum; if they lost it, they’d be hurting for months.

“You’ve arrived just in time—the new dish is ready for its first trial. Lucky you!” Mo Dun smiled.

Their faces lit up at the mention of gourmet food.

In the Mo Residence kitchen, clouds of white steam carried an enticing aroma. The three stood in the doorway, mouths watering. The smell alone promised deliciousness.

“Master, it’s ready!” Zi Yi directed Tie An and Mo Yi as they carried out a giant steaming basket. Inside, fragrant, steaming buns emerged.

“Isn’t this just steamed bread?” Qin Huaiyu asked as he reached for one, only to yelp when the steam burned his fingers.

“These are much whiter than steamed bread, and they’re round,” Cheng Chumo observed. Yeast in this era was immature, so steamed breads often turned yellow, and white buns were still a legend.

“It smells amazing—it must taste great!” Yuchi Baolin drooled.

“These aren’t steamed bread; they’re buns!” Mo Dun took the chopsticks from Zi Yi, picked up one from the edge, blew gently, and took a big bite.

The piping hot bun, stuffed with pork and scallions, was bursting with flavor. Mo Dun’s face showed pure enjoyment; once again, he tasted the familiar flavors of his homeland.

“Wow, this is delicious!” The three quickly followed Mo Dun’s lead, devouring the buns with relish.

They deserved their reputation as the Imperial Academy’s “bottomless pits”—the full basket vanished in no time.

“With food this good, no wonder you called the Academy’s fare swill,” Qin Huaiyu said, rubbing his now-round belly in satisfaction.

“I’ll eat these every day from now on!” Cheng Chumo declared, making a momentous decision.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Yuchi Baolin asked, swallowing his last bite and looking at Mo Dun.

“There’s something even better coming!” Mo Dun replied, a sly smile on his lips.

“These are soup dumplings!” Mo Dun pointed at a smaller steaming basket brought by Mo Er, leisurely picking one up and eating it. A new aroma tantalized their senses.

“And these are broth-filled buns!” Mo Wu, frail and thin, carried out the smallest basket.

The three watched Mo Dun savor his food, tormented by their bursting bellies.

“What do you think of this gourmet business?” Mo Dun asked.

“Unique—bound to make a fortune!” Qin Huaiyu replied, thoroughly satisfied.

“But once we launch, others will surely imitate us. These buns aren’t that complicated,” Cheng Chumo predicted, seeing both promise and risk.

“The more we sell, the more we earn!” Yuchi Baolin focused on profits.

Mo Dun considered their words. “Our greatest advantage is the flour—ours is snow-white and flavorful, a unique Mo family secret that no other shop possesses.”

“Second, these steamers can be stacked; we can steam ten baskets of buns at once. That’s something others can’t replicate.”

The kitchen’s thick steam cleared, revealing a towering stack of steamers. The three nodded approvingly—Mo Dun had already anticipated the challenges.

“Third, this is only the first of many gourmet ventures. There will be more dishes launched in succession!” Mo Dun thought of the dazzling array of snacks from later eras, confident the business would thrive.

“There’s more?” The three were pleasantly surprised. They’d thought buns alone were a bargain, not expecting further delights.

“Of course. That’s why I had you buy such a large shop,” Mo Dun affirmed.

“But these advantages will only last for a while. In the short term, we’ll make quick money; in the long term, imitators will catch up,” Mo Dun cautioned, dashing their hopes.

“What should we do then?” The three panicked. They’d hoped for lasting profits, not just a quick windfall.

“The only way is to build a brand—to declare ourselves the original creators of the buns, the authentic source, the best flavor. Once we earn enough, we’ll open branches all over Chang’an—one at each of the busiest gates: west, east, and south. Then, in every district, and eventually in Luoyang, Kaifeng, throughout the entire Tang Empire. As long as we don’t ruin our reputation, no one can threaten our position.”

The grand vision Mo Dun painted was staggering, leaving the three dazzled.

“The whole Tang Empire eating our buns—what a business that would be!” Yuchi Baolin murmured.

“We need a powerful name to shock the empire!” Cheng Chumo said, fired with ambition.

“Ahem!” Mo Dun coughed, embarrassed. “Actually, I’ve already chosen a name: ‘Dog Ignored Buns.’”

“Dog Ignored?” The three were thunderstruck, left speechless.