OFTLHFRO C41

Chapter 41: Cherished Like Gold

The steward politely escorted the other visitors out, ordered a carriage prepared, and the three of them climbed aboard—Luo Mingchen holding the orchid, Huo Yan holding the child.

Seeing this, the rejected men stared after them, clearly unwilling to accept the outcome.

Noticing their gaze, Luo Mingchen, seated inside, offered them a neat, polite fake smile through the window.

The men: “…”

Why did it make them want to throttle him?

As Luo Mingchen gave directions, the coachman suddenly found the route familiar. “Young sir, where to?” he asked, puzzled.

“By the bookshop next to Baisleaf Academy, the tofu shop at the corner behind it.”

“The Zhangs’ tofu shop, isn’t it?” the coachman blurted.

“Used to be,” Luo Mingchen replied, cradling the flowerpot. “Their daughter-in-law had a baby, so the couple moved. They sold the shop to us.”

The coachman chuckled. “Such a tucked-away shop—what did you buy it for?”

“To make tofu.”

Uh…

The coachman was at a loss, then finally managed, “Is it good?”

“I’ll bring a few pieces for you all to taste later. If you like it, come by often.”

“Ha! Thank you, young sir,” the coachman laughed.

The steward, listening to the exchange, wanted to laugh as well—and found himself curious about the family that had raised a child like Luo Mingchen.

Smiling and easy with their own master, and just as easy chatting with a coachman—neither fawning nor disdainful. The steward had met many people and knew what ordinary farming folk were like. Yet he’d never met someone quite like Luo Mingchen.

But to say he was some pampered scion from a rich house didn’t fit either. His cheerful, capable manner didn’t match such a background.

Huo Yan, too, was intriguing—a trained fighter, probably blooded, yet able to hold a baby with such gentleness. The contrast was striking.

When they arrived, Luo Mingchen handed the flowerpot to the steward, unlocked the shop, and swiftly wrapped three portions of tofu.

“Here,” he said, “and please take this portion back for Master Ming. Stir-fry it with a few cherry tomatoes and just a splash of water—really only a little. Last time Yuanjing was here, he seemed to love it that way.”

The steward noticed Luo Mingchen had already set the tofu in the carriage and, when the flower was back in his arms, pulled out a few copper coins. “It’s not easy running a shop.”

But Luo refused with a smile. “No need. If you like it, come buy some next time.”

“This…”

“Our two boys are friends with your young master, and you’ve gone to the trouble of bringing us back. Take it. It’s not much.”

For now, Luo Mingchen needed to reassure Master Ming, to make him comfortable leaving the orchid in their care.

A few pieces of tofu to build goodwill and ease any doubts—very cost-effective.

Practically trading tofu for gold. That math, he could do in his sleep.

The steward, warmed by Luo Mingchen’s bright smile, accepted. “Then we’ll take it.”

Before leaving, he added a gentle reminder: “This Ink Orchid was left by my master’s dear friend on his deathbed. Please, take great care.”

Luo Mingchen’s expression turned serious. “Rest assured, I’ll guard it like a hundred taels of gold.”

The steward blinked, then nodded with a helpless smile and departed.

Once they left, Luo took the orchid into his space and found it a suitable spot.

It didn’t need special technique. Inside that space, plants practically couldn’t die even if they wanted to.

He did not plant it in the space’s soil, though. He was afraid it would mutate too much, and Master Ming wouldn’t recognize it—might even think it had been swapped.

Seeing the orchid perk up noticeably once inside, he smiled and stroked a leaf. “Little gold, be good.”

Exiting the space, Luo’s mood was buoyant.

Catching sight of his money-hungry glow, Huo Yan’s eyes softened unconsciously.

“At first I thought this was some rare variety,” Luo said as he set down two cups of water, sliding one to Huo Yan. He took a few sips and continued, “I even figured I could split a division in the space, cultivate it, and sell to orchid lovers later—make another fortune.”

“But it turns out the orchid is the keepsake of Master Ming’s late friend,” he said, “which is why it’s so precious.”

“To those who love it,” Huo Yan said with a slight curve to his lips, “it’s priceless.”

“Exactly. And since it’s someone’s keepsake, I can’t, in good conscience, split it. Better to raise it well as is. I’ll take it out later; if it grows too fast, it’ll be hard to explain when Master Ming comes by tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

Still, Luo Mingchen had gotten an idea for making money.

“Tomorrow, let’s buy some flowers and plants. We can cross-pollinate a few into special forms and sell them in a big city. Hm, what should we buy?”

Huo Yan thought for a moment. “Scholars tend to like plum, orchid, and chrysanthemum—some also like lotus and pine. Wealthy households favor peony, tree peony, rose, and Chinese rose. Anything flamboyant or distinctive tends to be popular.”

Luo nodded, taking mental notes.

Then Huo Yan glanced at him, leaned closer, and asked, “What do you call me?”

Luo paused and blinked. “Huo Yan?”

Huo Yan was about to say more, but the little girl in his arms had woken sometime during the talk and was staring at him, black-and-white eyes wide.

He gave up with a sigh. “Tonight.”

“…How about you say it now?” Luo ventured.

The answer was a soft, rather prideful hum.

After returning, the steward reported to Master Ming.

The old man glanced at the three blocks of silken tofu on the table and, hearing the rest, chuckled. “He truly said he’d care for it like gold?”

“Yes,” the steward replied.

“An honest fellow,” Master Ming mused, twirling his beard.

“Indeed,” the steward agreed. These days he had heard too many grand declarations from supposed experts. Better an honest man like Luo Mingchen. If he said he did it for the gold, they felt more at ease.

“Since he sent tofu and Yuanjing loves it, prepare it as he suggested,” Master Ming said.

“Yes,” the steward answered.

They had expected a quiet afternoon, but just before school let out, several house cooks arrived with baskets, asking to buy tofu.

As he wrapped tofu, Luo Mingchen smiled. “Sisters, why come so late to buy vegetables?”

Grand households usually bought the freshest food early in the morning—enough meat for the day. There were hardly any wealthy mansions nearby; making a special trip for tofu at this hour was unusual.

One cook laughed. “With a daughter-in-law about to give birth, why are you calling me ‘sister’?”

“Really?” Luo said, genuinely surprised. “You can’t tell at all.”

He truly wasn’t trying to flatter. The woman looked barely past thirty—and already about to be a grandmother?

“You honey-tongued boy,” she teased. “We only came because our ladies sent us—told us to buy tofu here.”

“Are you all from the same household?” Luo asked, more curious.

“Of course not,” another replied. “We just ran into each other on the road—and found we were all sent to the same place.”

Listening as he wrapped, Luo asked which households they served. He soon learned they were from the families of the three new friends of the brothers.

Though delighted by the business, he didn’t want his hard-made tofu to be wasted. So he asked casually, “Was it the study servants who bought it yesterday? Did they bring it back and everyone liked it?”

The cooks grinned and nodded—one even said she would buy extra.

That reassured Luo Mingchen.

As long as food wasn’t wasted, that was what mattered.