8 Hand-Pulled Pancakes

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Wen Zhongxia spent two days observing the Imperial Academy. The students' class hours ran from early morning until late evening.

She roughly estimated that classes started around eight o’clock, ended around noon, followed by an hour’s break for lunch, then resumed until sunset.

At the Guozijian, most students were sons of officials and lived at home. However, more than half of the students at the Imperial Academy stayed within the Xiqing Courtyard, while many rented rooms outside.

After much consideration, Wen Zhongxia decided to sell breakfast and lunch. During these hours, students had limited time and were reluctant to go far; a food stall right at the entrance would be very appealing.

She had also settled on what snacks to sell: the famous hand-grabbed pancake, renowned throughout the Jiangnan region in her previous life.

The hand-grabbed pancake could be eaten wrapped in greaseproof paper, requiring no additional bowls, chopsticks, or tables. Since they had little capital, saving wherever possible was essential.

“What kind of pancake is a hand-grabbed pancake? I’ve eaten sesame and baked cakes before,” Xu Xiu asked curiously.

Wen Zhongxia deftly kneaded the dough. “It’s a snack from the south. Sister-in-law, you’ll know once you try it.”

After kneading the dough until it was as smooth as silk, she set it aside to rest.

She then prepared an oily mixture using some flour and added chopped scallions for fragrance. Pouring hot oil into the mixture, she stirred it into a paste.

The smooth dough was divided into small portions, each rolled out thin and long with a rolling pin, brushed with the oily scallion paste, then rolled up like a carpet.

“Why go through the trouble of this extra step?” Xu Xiu watched carefully, wanting to help if her sister-in-law got overwhelmed.

Wen Zhongxia continued kneading without pause. “This creates layers in the pancake. The more you roll, the more layers it has. Hand-grabbed pancakes are also called thousand-layer pancakes.”

Once rolled, the dough was flattened again and cooked on a griddle.

Freshly cooked hand-grabbed pancakes had small brown spots dotting their surface. Pressing gently, the layers of dough would separate slightly but remained connected.

Crispy on the outside, tender inside, with the scent of scallions mingled with a faint salty taste, Xu Xiu and Wen Mengdong ate the plain pancakes in just a few bites without adding anything.

Wen Mengdong licked his lips, wanting more. “Sister, I want another one.”

Xu Xiu smiled broadly. “Alright, let’s sell hand-grabbed pancakes.”

“When we officially start selling, we’ll add eggs, sauces, and some pickled vegetables to make them taste even better,” Wen Zhongxia said brightly, placing another pancake on the pan.

“The hand-grabbed pancake is just the first step. If it sells well, we’ll make other snacks too.”

She already had more than twenty kinds of pancakes in mind.

As the Analects say, “To do a good job, one must first sharpen one’s tools.” Having the idea, they now needed to prepare the proper equipment to set up their stall.

Wen Zhongxia commissioned a blacksmith to make a flat-bottomed pan and bought a large stove, spending most of the money they had saved from selling popcorn.

She had planned to buy a two-wheeled cart but gave up after seeing the price—better to let the carriage service earn that money.

Besides, they also needed a work table for kneading dough and placing items. If they bought a cart and piled everything on it, she and Xu Xiu might not be able to push it.

The carriage services in Dongjing were highly developed, capable of both short and long-distance transport. The distance from Wen Zhongxia’s small courtyard to the Imperial Academy was not far, and a simple flatbed cart ride cost only five wen.

She found a man surnamed Li, about thirty or forty years old, who owned a donkey-drawn flatbed cart and arranged a daily pick-up and drop-off schedule.

Two days later, before dawn, Uncle Li arrived early at the courtyard gate. Today, Wen Zhongxia and the others would officially set up their stall at the Academy entrance.

Uncle Li was taciturn but helped diligently, carrying their goods without being asked.

After tying everything with ropes, one side of the cart near the driver’s seat was still empty. Uncle Li gestured for little Dong to sit there.

Wen Mengdong hesitated at first because the big black donkey was temperamental—kicking and flicking its tail—but his desire to ride won out.

Encouraged by his sister, he carefully sat down.

The donkey seemed to sense a stranger’s presence and brayed loudly, a rough sound that almost startled Wen Mengdong off the cart.

Wen Zhongxia comforted him, “Don’t be afraid, it’s just saying hello.”

“Really?” Wen Mengdong summoned courage and tried imitating the bray, “Hee-haw… hee-haw…”

Hello to you too, big black donkey.

Wen Zhongxia and Xu Xiu burst out laughing, and even Uncle Li cracked a smile.

The big black donkey probably thought, “What nonsense is this little kid talking? I don’t understand.”

The two women walked beside the cart, and by the time they reached the Academy gate, the sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon.

They quickly unloaded their goods. Wen Zhongxia said, “Uncle Li, you haven’t eaten breakfast yet, have a hand-grabbed pancake before you go. It’s on the house.”

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Uncle Li had already seen the kneaded dough while helping carry the goods—white flour, made for scholars, definitely high quality. He felt it improper to eat for free.

“No need to be polite. I’ve already eaten at home. I’ll come on time to pick you up,” he replied, patting the donkey’s rump and driving off without looking back.

Wen Zhongxia didn’t insist and busied herself lighting the stove and heating the pan.

The spot at the Academy gate wasn’t fixed; whoever took it first kept it. Over time, sellers developed an unspoken understanding.

As newcomers, Wen Zhongxia and the others couldn’t get the prime spots near the main gate and had to settle a bit further away.

Other food stall owners glanced curiously at the new faces. Seeing the offerings were different from theirs, they relaxed and exchanged whispers.

Wen Zhongxia paid no mind, arranging pickled vegetables, seasonings, and other condiments, ready to welcome customers.

...

“Brother Qin, let’s have breakfast together in the dining hall,” Zeng Nian invited as Qin Qian stepped out of the dormitory.

Qin Qian held a scroll in his hand, waving it off. “I’m going to eat outside.”

“But there’s nothing good outside.”

“Still better than the dining hall.”

He had been disappointed two days in a row by the dining hall’s food. The meat buns had little filling—bit once, no filling; bit again, the filling was gone.

The cooking was so poor it was more than just bad taste—it felt like sheer negligence.

Yet at the gate, the usual food stalls looked dull as ever.

Qin Qian rubbed the copper coins in his hand, thinking he might as well eat at a food shop across the street, even if it was more expensive.

As he took a few steps, his peripheral vision caught a flash of red.

Not far ahead, a new food stall had appeared. The red was from a paper sign pasted outside the table, bearing five bold black characters: “Wen Family Hand-grabbed Pancakes.”

Usually, only established shops put up such eye-catching signs; small stalls rarely bothered. This one was truly unique.

Qin Qian couldn’t help but approach. A woman with her hair tied up greeted him, “Sir, would you like to buy hand-grabbed pancakes? A southern snack, unique in Dongjing, only seven wen each.”

Xu Xiu now constantly emphasized “unique” in her calls.

As a northerner, Qin Qian’s interest piqued. He stepped closer. In front of the stall stood a student, while a young woman deftly cooked a round pancake on the flat iron griddle.

“Sizzle!” An egg was cracked swiftly onto the pancake, edges turning yellow as the woman pressed the pancake onto the egg.

Once cooked, she transferred it to the cutting board and smiled. “Sir, what sauce would you like? We have spicy sauce and sweet bean sauce.”

The student said, “Spicy, but not too much.”

“Very well. Would you like toppings? We have shredded potatoes, tofu skin, shredded cabbage, and pan-fried pork tenderloin. Tenderloin costs an extra three wen; the vegetables are two wen each.”

The student hesitated, scratching his head—everything looked delicious. “Shredded potatoes and tenderloin, please.”

Wen Zhongxia skillfully spread the sauce, added the toppings, folded the pancake in half, wrapped it in greaseproof paper, and handed it over.

The student paid twelve wen and took the package.

The thick, long pancake revealed fresh green lettuce, yellow shredded potatoes, and golden tenderloin layered inside.

Though still slightly hot, the student bit into it on the spot. The outer layer crumbled crisply, and he quickly caught the falling crumbs with his hand. Inside, the egg layer was soft and tender.

The spicy sauce was rich and mildly pungent, instantly awakening the taste buds without discomfort—rather, it whetted the appetite and enhanced the aroma.

Another bite revealed the abundant fillings. The tenderloin was marinated, juicy and tender; the shredded potatoes were incredibly crisp, the method of preparation unknown.

The lettuce cleansed the palate, its fresh green a perfect finishing touch.

Qin Qian didn’t need to ask how his friend found it. Seeing him eat nonstop, cheeks stuffed, it was clear.

He immediately stepped forward. “I want one hand-grabbed pancake, with all the toppings, extra spicy. I love spicy food.”

“You want the deluxe hand-grabbed pancake. Please wait a moment,” Wen Zhongxia smiled brightly.

Deluxe—such a powerful name.

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The student felt regretful; he should have added everything too.

Qin Qian finished the pancake, utterly satisfied.

The taste exceeded his expectations by a hundredfold, combining meat, vegetables, and staple, with sauce both fragrant and spicy—perfectly matching his dietary preferences. Even in class, he couldn’t stop savoring the memory.

“Brother Qin, not going to the dining hall was a wise choice,” Zeng Nian complained, turning back. “Today they made ‘bótāo’—the whole thing clumped together; you have to tear it apart with chopsticks.”

Zeng Nian had barely eaten and looked weak and listless.

Qin Qian rested his head against his hand, staring out the window, unresponsive.

Zeng Nian waved in front of his nose. “Brother Qin, did you hear me? Brother Qin!”

“Ah, what did you say?”

“I said I’m still hungry.”

“Then go eat a hand-grabbed pancake,” Qin Qian said excitedly. “It’s the first time I’ve had such a delicious pancake—layer upon layer, crispy to the point of crumbling, and you can fill it with so many toppings. The tenderloin is so tender…”

“Stop, stop! You know I’m starving. Isn’t this just torturing me?” Zeng Nian’s mouth watered.

“If only I knew she’d still be here at noon, I’d have bought two more earlier,” Qin Qian regretted, pounding his fist.

Zeng Nian was skeptical. It’s just a pancake—how good could it be?

“Brother Qin must have been so traumatized by the dining hall that everything tastes amazing now.”

Meanwhile, Wen Zhongxia had mentally prepared for a slow first day, but after selling the first pancake, she never stopped.

Most students were in growth spurts and had big appetites; several bought two at once.

Only when the class bell rang did Wen Zhongxia and Xu Xiu finally sit down to rest.

The three of them each held a supreme deluxe hand-grabbed pancake, loaded with double eggs and double tenderloin, leisurely biting into them.

Selling hand-grabbed pancakes was far more exhausting than selling popcorn but also more rewarding.

Xu Xiu’s smile never faded. Seeing the small wooden bucket at her feet half-filled with eggshells, she said, “We need more eggs and shredded potatoes. I’ll go buy some from Madao Street later.”

“Get some tofu skin too; many people like it.”

“All right.”

Wen Zhongxia took a big bite, savoring the aroma of her own cooking. Her arms ached a little—her body wasn’t as strong as the original owner’s had been.

“Sister, let me massage your arms,” Wen Mengdong said, noticing her discomfort. He stood behind her, gently tapping her shoulders with his little fists.

The child’s fists were soft and had no real strength.

“That feels so good! Now a few taps on the right side,” Wen Zhongxia squinted, speaking exaggeratedly.

Xu Xiu laughed and pretended to be sad. “Nobody massages me. Nobody loves me.”

“Huh? Sister-in-law, wait a moment, I’m coming!” Wen Mengdong finished his pancake in a few bites and stood between the two adults, massaging both. Fair treatment for all.

Wen Zhongxia glanced around, feeling a bit guilty. Surely no one would accuse them of child labor?

Finally, the noon bell rang. As soon as Qin Qian and the doctoral lecturers left, he immediately dragged Zeng Nian out.

Zeng Nian was bewildered. Since they had met, he had never seen Brother Qin so eager for food.

“Are you sure the pancake stall will still be here at noon?”

“Pray it will be!”

The stall was indeed still there, but the young woman was nowhere to be seen.

The entire stall was surrounded by a crowd of students, and only the clear, melodious voice could be heard faintly from within.

“One spicy, one not spicy, right? Got it.”

Qin Qian was stunned. Why were there so many people?