On the third day after Zhu Yu became the proprietor of a shabby restaurant, her creditors blocked the door, officials ransacked the kitchen, and the lawyer next door held her nose and asked her to compensate.
The reason is that she fried a pot of stinky tofu.
The whole capital said that stuff was poisonous, but some people had to pack away three portions after finishing a bowl. Later, she brought out frighteningly black preserved eggs, tofu with white mold, and strange-smelling sauces. Every time she brought out a new dish, one more case was reported to Jingzhao Mansion, and a long queue formed in front of the restaurant.
No one knows that what is more deviant than these "poisons" is the backyard of the restaurant.
The widow who was kicked out of her husband's house worked as the accountant, the butcher's daughter who escaped from marriage held the kitchen knife, the brewing lady took charge of the fermentation workshop, the embroiderer made signs, and the troupe girls shouted for them along the street.
Zhu Yu originally just wanted to save a small store. In the end, they set rules together: there will be wages and dividends, and they can stay or leave at any time.
