North Family Letters

Qiu Ju spent half a year traveling between Shenyang and Harbin, and she did make a fortune by reselling clothes and watches.

The money felt heavy in her hand, and she couldn't bear to spend it recklessly. She folded it neatly, wrapped it in oil paper, hid some in her inner pocket, and sent the rest back to her hometown. Every time she received a letter from home saying that the old house had been repaired with new tiles and her sisters had new cotton-padded coats, she felt that all the hardship and toil were worth it.

But running long-distance trade routes was ultimately not a long-term solution. The costs of transportation, food, lodging, market commissions, and repeated raids thinned the profit margins. With more and more competitors entering the market, the prices of clothes and watches were being driven down significantly. Standing in the crowded market, Qiuju felt a sense of panic for the first time—if she continued like this, she would eventually be crushed.

On a night when she was so worried that she couldn't sleep, a man who called himself "Old Chen" approached her.

Old Chen looked to be in his forties, spoke kindly, and kept calling her "little fellow villager." He would linger around her stall every day, occasionally lending a hand to watch over her goods. Seeing her worried expression, he sighed and said, "Young lady, running around selling goods is hard work and doesn't make much money. You'd be better off starting a small, stable business. These days, every household needs these things; that's what makes a long-term business."

Qiuju's heart skipped a beat, and she pressed for details.

Old Chen lowered his voice: "Dishwashing liquid. Restaurants, canteens, and guesthouses need it every day. It's low-cost, quick to produce results, and you can make it at home. A bucket costs only a few cents, and you can sell it for a few dimes or a dollar. It's a sure-fire way to make a profit."

As he spoke, he took a small bottle of clear liquid from his bag, poured it into the oily bowl, rinsed it with water, and the oil stains were immediately clean. Qiuju watched this, and her heart warmed instantly—this stuff was used in large quantities in Northeast China. If she could really make it herself, she wouldn't have to travel all over the country anymore, nor would she have to worry about being caught and having her goods confiscated. She could do business steadily right at her doorstep.

Seeing that she was interested, Old Chen changed the subject: "This is a secret recipe, I don't teach it to just anyone. But since you're honest and it's not easy for a young woman to be out in the world, I'll give you the recipe and the whole method for free for a fixed price of two hundred yuan."

Two hundred yuan is no small amount; it represents several days' worth of Qiuju's pure profit from working from dawn till dusk.

She hesitated all night. On one hand, she was afraid of being scammed; on the other hand, she wanted to find a stable job and go home to be with her sisters. Old Chen kept hanging around in front of her, saying that he had people doing this in several cities, and that business was booming. He even patted his chest and guaranteed, "If you can't make it, come find me. I'm in this market every day."

Qiu Ju finally believed it.

She gritted her teeth, took out two hundred yuan from her savings, and handed it over with both hands. Old Chen took the money and gave her a crumpled piece of paper with several ingredients written on it: alkali, laundry detergent, fragrance, water, and a few chemical names she had never heard of before. He then briefly explained the proportions and mixing steps, telling her to just follow the instructions at home.

"Remember, don't tell anyone else. This is a unique business," Old Chen repeatedly instructed.

Qiuju treasured the note, hiding it close to her body. She packed her bags that very night, took the money she had earned and this "get-rich-quick" recipe, and boarded the train home. All the way, she was thinking to herself: find an empty house when she got home, buy all the materials, make a small batch for the neighbors to try out, and if it's good, deliver it to restaurants. Once she made a lot of money, she would bring her sisters over to work together.

The further north the train went, the brighter her heart felt, and even the cold wind outside the window seemed comforting.

Back home, the family was both surprised and delighted. Qiuju took out some of the money she had earned to buy household necessities, and then told her second sister, Song Xiahe, about the secret recipe.

Xia He still felt uneasy and advised her, "Is it really that easy to make dish soap? Don't tell me it's a scam."

Qiuju, however, was full of confidence: "They've tried it on the spot, it can't be wrong. Once I make it, our family will have a stable income."

She excitedly followed the list on the slip of paper, running all over the supply and marketing cooperatives and grocery stores to buy all the materials. She set up a large basin in an empty room at home and mixed the ingredients according to the proportions. The resulting clear liquid looked plausible, but when applied to oil stains, it had absolutely no effect.

She thought the proportions were wrong, so she adjusted them again, adding alkali, powder, and water. She spent a whole day working on it, but the liquid in the basin was either too astringent and burned her hands, or it couldn't remove the oil at all, and it even smelled bad and precipitated after a few days.

Qiuju panicked.

She took the note around and asked people, but some knowledgeable people glanced at it and shook their heads: "This is no secret recipe at all. It's just some cheap stuff mixed together. It's completely unusable, let alone worth selling."

That night, Qiuju sat on a bench in the empty room, looking at basins of discarded liquid, and tears streamed down her face.

Two hundred yuan of hard-earned money were exchanged for a worthless piece of paper; all her hopes were dashed. She dared not tell her sisters that she had been cheated, and could only secretly throw away all the materials, crying under the covers at night—it wasn't just money, it was her expectation for a better life for her family.

The wind howled outside the window, and Qiuju clutched the crumpled piece of paper, feeling both regret and pain in her heart.

She then realized that the outside world not only offered opportunities, but also traps hidden beneath friendly faces.

This time, she suffered a real setback. A secret recipe turned into nothing (continued).

As dawn broke, Qiuju got out of bed with red eyes. The aroma of corn porridge wafted from the kitchen. Her second sister, Xiahe, came over with a porcelain bowl. Seeing the dark circles under her younger sister's eyes, she swallowed her words and silently pushed the hot porridge in front of her.

Qiuju gripped her chopsticks, unable to swallow a single bite. Last night's tears had softened her joy and awakened all her naivety. She dared not look into her family's eyes, afraid of seeing disappointment, and even more afraid that she would blurt out the truth about being deceived, causing her family to grieve.

"Why aren't you eating? Are you feeling unwell?" Xia He asked softly, gently touching her forehead.

Qiuju suddenly lowered her head, shoveled down a couple of mouthfuls of porridge, and mumbled, "It's nothing, I'm just tired from traveling."

But the truth eventually came out. That afternoon, an aunt from the same village came to borrow needles and thread and caught Qiuju secretly pouring the foul-smelling liquid into the ditch in the corner of the yard. The pungent smell filled the entire yard. The aunt casually asked a question, and Qiuju's face turned pale instantly. Xiahe, who had seen everything, waited until the aunt left, then pulled Qiuju to sit on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and coaxed her softly for a long time. Finally, Qiuju couldn't hold back anymore and burst into tears, telling her in detail how she had been cheated out of the secret recipe and how all her efforts had been in vain.

Two hundred yuan was, in those days, half a year's pocket money for a farming family. It was Qiu Ju's hard-earned money, penny by penny, earned through the freezing cold and rain of Northeast China, carrying heavy bags and squeezing onto trains and tending her stall. Xia He listened, her eyes reddening, but she didn't blame her. She simply patted her back gently: "Silly girl, the money is gone, but it's good that you're alright. Our family is all healthy and strong; we're not afraid of not earning it back."

Hearing the crying, the younger sisters timidly came over. The youngest sister tugged at Qiuju's clothes and handed her a piece of candy that she had been hiding for a long time, whispering, "Sister, don't cry, I'll give you the candy."

Looking at her family, Qiuju felt a surge of grievance and regret well up inside her, only to be slowly soothed by a warm current. She wiped away her tears, hugged her younger sister tightly, and nodded firmly.

You've cried enough, regretted enough, but life still goes on.

Qiuju pressed the crumpled piece of paper containing the secret recipe under the kang mat. She didn't throw it away, not because she was reluctant to part with it, but because she wanted to keep it as a memento—to constantly remind herself that there is no such thing as a free lunch in this world, and all stability and wealth must be earned through one's own hard work. Those who use the guise of "guaranteed profits" and "secret recipes" are mostly just traps wrapped in sugar.

After resting for two days, Qiuju gradually calmed down. She recalled her days trading goods in Shenyang and Harbin; although it was hard work, she had genuinely made money. But this time, she no longer thought about finding shortcuts, nor did she hope for a business that would provide a permanent solution.

She discussed with her second sister about pooling together the remaining money in the family to buy small commodities like needles, thread, socks, and handkerchiefs from the supply and marketing cooperative in town, and setting up a small stall at the village entrance. This way, they wouldn't have to travel far or live in fear; they could stay home, stay with their loved ones, and save money little by little, working steadily and diligently.

The spring breeze gradually warmed, melting the remaining snow in the corner of the courtyard and also dispelling the gloom in Qiuju's heart.

She carried a small stool and set up a stall under the old locust tree at the village entrance. Red hair ties, white handkerchiefs, and sturdy socks were neatly arranged. She was no longer in a hurry to make a lot of money like before; she simply greeted the villagers with a smile, spoke honestly, and sold affordable goods. Within a few days, her stall had repeat customers.

When asked about her previous business dealings in Northeast China, Qiuju didn't hide anything. She smiled and said that she had been cheated and suffered setbacks. Her tone was calm and composed, lacking the eagerness of the past and instead showing a more grounded demeanor.

The secret recipe paper under the kang mat was gradually forgotten in a corner. Qiuju tended her stall every day, going out to greet the sunrise and returning with the sunset. She didn't earn much, but she held onto every penny with peace of mind.

She finally understood that the so-called road to wealth is not a piece of waste paper with written materials, but the solid ground beneath her feet, the tireless work in her hands, and the peaceful atmosphere of a family gathered together, even with simple meals.

That setback caused by the secret recipe hurt her, but it also taught her a lesson. From then on, she no longer sought overnight riches, but only wished to take one step at a time, steadily and practically, to live a warm and bright life.