After the students had eaten, the coachmen cleaned up the dishes and tables without letting Qiao Xiaomai lift a finger.
Pointing at the vegetable garden of Qiao Xiaomai's house, Fan Jia asked, "Those are the chilli peppers?"
"Yes," answered Qiao Xiaomai.
The peppers were already red, ready to be harvested within the next few days.
When the time comes, she would keep the seeds and send the chilli skins to Yang Ye.
"Excellent," Fan Jia, unable to forget the addictively spicy cucumber in chilli oil, clicked his tongue. "When can I have some?"
"Hmm... three to four years perhaps?" The seeds were too few; by planting year after year and given Yang Ye's status as a prince, Qiao Xiaomai couldn't say when Fan Jia could taste the fruits of her labor.
Upon hearing this, Fan Jia's face filled with regret.
Recalling that taste, the wait seemed endless!