Juhua replied, "Exactly! For example, you could stuff a chicken inside a pig's stomach and simmer it slowly. The flavor is fragrant, and it's very nourishing to eat. But a poor family like ours could never afford a dish like that. We'd have to sell it for a fortune just to break even. I've only tried making it once after I thought of it—when my dad hurt his leg after a fall. I simmered one to help him recover. This sets it apart from the common pot dishes sold at the docks, doesn't it? My family can keep selling our usual dishes, and you can sell yours."
"Excellent!" Manager Mao exclaimed, slapping his thigh in approval.
Chen Yu nodded repeatedly as he listened, then asked Juhua, "So, Miss Juhua, does this mean you're willing to sell these recipes to me? How many of these dishes have you come up with in total?"
