Regarding Tian Sangsang’s personality and skills, Qiu Saozi had confidence in her, especially since she had a bit of money saved away, unlike others. She imdiately said, "Sure, I’ll take so."
"Alrighty." Tian Sangsang replied with a bright smile, "Sister-in-law, would you like to eat it here or take it ho?"
"Here." Qiu Saozi thought for a mont, then stepped up to the nine-grid pot and pointed, "Give two skewers of pork ribs, spicy ones." She wasn’t much interested in vegetables or tofu; when she went out shopping, she was most drawn to at. People here didn’t usually eat spicy food, but she wanted to give it a try for a change.
The others weren’t as decisive as Qiu Saozi and stayed on the sidelines to see how it turned out.
Tian Sangsang placed the freshly cooked skewers into a bowl, ladled so soup over them, and handed it to Qiu Saozi. Qiu Saozi stared at the skewers in her bowl—the plump pork ribs had been steeped in the soup, turning a rich reddish-brown. She took a sip of soup first, then bit into a piece of rib; her face flushed rosy pink. The aromatic, spicy flavors danced on her taste buds—it was so spicy, and yet, as Tian Sangsang had promised, she couldn’t stop eating!
"So, how is it, Qiu family’s?"
After finishing all the pork ribs, Qiu Saozi lifted her bowl and drank the soup to the last drop. She stuck out her tongue and wiped her mouth. "This taste, it’s indescribable! I’ve lived this long, but this is the first ti I’ve eaten sothing so satisfying...it’s like, like..."
"Like what?" soone asked eagerly.
"Like giving birth to a child! That smooth and comfortable feeling!"
Hahaha. Tian Sangsang laughed inside.
"Oh, co on, we’re eating—why bring that up?" another woman waved her hand dismissively. Still, she fully understood what Qiu Saozi ant—it was just that good.
Unable to resist, the other won each bought four skewers, with two being taken ho for their kids.
"Delicious, truly delicious!"
"The spicy ones are definitely the best—so exciting!"
One of them, who ordered water spinach and bone broth, said, "This bone broth is completely different from ours. The flavor is much richer."
Of course, it’s different—it had been simred for the entire night. Tian Sangsang genuinely thought of herself as an honest rchant. But, to be honest, most rchants of this era generally were honest.
Back then, canned goods were mostly free of additives, and street delicacies like skewers weren’t yet plagued by the worries of dead pigs, gutter oil, or all sorts of chemical flavor enhancers that would trouble future generations. Overall, food in this era was much safer—not like later tis when you’d only dare eat branded products and steer clear of unregulated small workshops.
"Sangsang!" As her shift ended, Chen Ying approached the store’s entrance, holding a parcel. "That guy Zhao sent you sothing again."
"Wow!" she exclaid, taking a good sniff. "Why are you selling hot pot now?"
"It’s not hot pot—it’s skewered snacks." Tian Sangsang picked up a skewer of pork bites and handed it to her.
Chen Ying’s face reddened. She stamred, "How...how much? I’ll pay you."
"No need." Tian Sangsang waved the package in her hand and said, "Thanks."
Chen Ying imdiately broke into giggles.
Later that evening, Tian Sangsang unpacked the parcel Zhao Chun had sent. Inside was a tin of pearl cream. The cream was packaged in a tin similar to Baiqueling’s hand cream—round, but with a golden yellow color. It was completely different from the modern style of pearl creams. When she brought it to her nose for a sniff, its fragrance was rich and lingering. On the lid, there was an illustration of a woman with traditional features, holding a fan and smiling subtly, exuding a classical charm. The brand was called "Fuxiang."
She hadn’t heard of this brand, but Tian Sangsang wasn’t surprised; after all, over eighty percent of this era’s background was fictional. She figured the quality should be decent.
But...why would Zhao Chun send her pearl cream?
Tian Sangsang shook her head and continued exploring the package. Inside, there was also a CD and a letter.
In the letter, Zhao Chun explained that they had found a female beggar on the streets whose voice surprisingly t their standards. They had pulled her in to sing the song "Daybreak." From there, Zhao Chun seed to have opened the floodgates, rambling endlessly about how this woman was a genius, a natural talent fit to make a living with her voice—a true gem they’d discovered.
Was it really that exaggerated? After all, everyone relies on their voices to make a living.
Tian Sangsang entered her private space. This ti, she didn’t borrow a phonograph but instead bought a second-hand CD player from Taobao.
The tender, bittersweet lody began to play, and Tian Sangsang closed her eyes, quietly imrsing herself in the emotions carried by the music. "It was an autumn day, the breeze so tender, reminding of their helpless and hopeless eyes..."
For a fleeting mont, Tian Sangsang almost thought she was hearing Han Hong. However, this woman’s voice was even better—more polished, without Han Hong’s sharpness. In so ways, she had surpassed Han Hong and delivered her own unique style. And music is all about uniqueness!
Her eyes snapped open—what a genius!
She compared the original version to this rendition. There was no such thing as "the best," only "better!"
In the letter, Zhao Chun asked if she was satisfied with the song.
Satisfied? How could she not be?
Could the song be sold?
Of course, sell it!
Tian Sangsang decided to let Zhao Chun handle everything. She wasn’t too concerned about money; she just hoped more people could hear quality music. Back then, most popular songs were either revolutionary anthems or folk tunes. Revolutionary anthems weren’t lacking, and there was no shortage of folk music either.
As for her identity, she didn’t want it exposed. She sent a reply to Zhao Chun, expressing her wish to keep the songwriter’s identity anonymous. Even if people found out she once sang this piece in Tian Family Village, she wanted it to be known that she had learned it from soone nad "Yadan." In the future, if she lent her lyrics to other songs, all of them would credit Yadan as the songwriter.
For so reason, when Tian Sangsang was younger, she loved glamorous, elegant Chinese-style aesthetics. But now, she preferred sothing more grounded—like her pseudonym, "Yadan." She was very pleased with it.
Very pleased.
Moreover, nas like Big Yaya, Second Yaya, and Third Yaya held an unpretentious charm that she found appealing.
She rembered how there was a popular novel titled *Chen Ergou’s Unbridled Life*, and for a ti, she had considered writing her own called *Chen Erya’s ssed-Up Life*. Of course, it never went beyond the imagining stage.
Thus, the pseudonym "Yadan" was born out of this whim.
...In the city...
"Yadan?" Zhao Chun muttered, taken aback.
Yadan. Only Tian Sangsang could co up with such a na.
"What duck egg?" Nearby, Yao Yu and several teammates asked, "Boss, what’s the verdict? What did that bigshot say? Did they give any feedback? Is it a go?"
"It’s a go." Zhao Chun chuckled, his eyes curving triumphantly. "From now on, don’t call her a bigshot—she has a na."
"What na?" The group’s anticipation soared.
According to Zhao Chun, this was a truly remarkable person. Despite being from a rural area, her first foray into singing had yielded such an incredible song. The situation was akin to the story of Cao Zhi from history—composing a poem in seven steps. Her talent, though dormant at first, had burst forth in stunning brilliance. A true prodigy!
"Yadan." Zhao Chun said softly.
"Boss, why are you fixated on duck eggs today? Hungry for duck eggs?" Yao Yu widened his eyes and pressed, "Seriously, just spill the details! We’re so anxious, our hearts are practically hanging by a thread!"
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