"You vile, tongue-rotting worm! Playing sick all this time, and now you dare bite back!"
"My son has passed the imperial exams! He’s divorcing you, this wretched merchant’s daughter, and even returning your dowry money—we’ve shown you more mercy than you deserve! Yet you dare bully an old woman, smashing my house to pieces! Give back the silver, you barren, ill-omened hen! Disgrace! Pah!"
"Those pitiful dowry chests of yours—nothing but a few rotting wooden boxes—aren’t worth my glance! Take them away before I have someone toss out this heap of shabby trash!"
The gentle spring sunlight filtered through the swaying willow branches, and wild crabapple blossoms unfurled along the banks of the Qinhuai River, painting a scene of serene beauty. Yet no one in the narrow alleyway had eyes for such splendor. A crowd of neighbors had gathered, drawn by the spectacle, as an old woman’s shrill curses pierced the air. A donkey cart, piled high with belongings, squeezed its way out of the throng.
Shen Miao sat perched on the cart, a small blue bundle tucked under her arm. Hearing the relentless stream of abuse from behind and noticing the growing crowd, she theatrically pulled out a handkerchief, letting her peach-blossom eyes well up with tears.
The original owner of this body had always possessed a delicate, pitiable beauty, and now, fresh from a grave illness, she looked even more fragile—like a willow branch trembling in the wind.
Many among the onlookers were passersby who knew nothing of the situation. Seeing her in a faded, plain cotton jacket, her hair wrapped in a coarse blue headscarf with only a wooden hairpin for adornment, her thin face pale and streaked with tears, they couldn’t help but feel sympathy. Some even sought out the local gossips for details: "This lady seems decent—what’s all this about?"
A neighbor, who had been munching on sunflower seeds from her sleeve, eagerly launched into the tale:
"Let me tell you, sir—this Granny Rong is a widow with only one son, a scholar who just earned his xiucai degree. Now that he’s risen in status, he looks down on his wife, Shen Miao, for being an orphaned merchant’s daughter, sickly and unlikely to bear many sons. She’s been mistreated for years! Now, while her son’s away studying, Granny Rong took it upon herself to divorce the poor girl! Shen Miao used to endure it all silently, weeping and begging when she learned of the divorce. She fell gravely ill, but the old hag refused to call a doctor, hoping she’d die. Yet somehow, she pulled through! And guess what?"
The storyteller didn’t wait for a response before barreling on:
"After brushing death, Shen Miao’s dull wits sharpened! She stopped crying, stopped pleading—just bided her time until she could walk again. Then, sneaking past Granny Rong, she went straight to the magistrate’s office and hired a litigation master to witness the retrieval of her dowry! That miserly old crone would never agree, of course, and was about to throw one of her usual tantrums—but Shen Miao beat her to it! She wailed, collapsed to the ground, and started smashing every pot and pan in the Rong household!"
Granny Rong was notorious in the alley for her temper and habit of swindling neighbors, so everyone was eager to chime in. One bystander giggled behind her hand: "The old woman keeps saying Shen Miao was divorced for failing to bear children in three years—what a joke! Her son spends all his time at the Mingzhou Academy, coming home maybe once or twice a year. Even then, Granny Rong hovers over them day and night, making them sleep separately! We all suspect Shen Miao might still be a virgin!"
Another shook his head: "That’s not even the worst of it. The money for Rong Dalang’s studies mostly came from Shen Miao’s dowry. Now that he’s a xiucai, they toss her out and try to keep what’s left of her dowry! Thankfully, the litigation master she hired was sharp-tongued and well-versed in the law—he forced them to return it. That’s why the old witch is so furious!"
The listener nodded gravely, casting a disdainful glance at the plump, shrieking figure still ranting at the alley’s entrance.
Shen Miao had long left the noise behind. Once the cart was clear of the alley, she leaned back, her dark, round eyes now dry of tears. She turned her still-pale face toward the Qinhuai River, where music drifted from flower boats, and willow tendrils trailed into the water. The bustling riverside teahouses and wine shops stood in vibrant contrast to the misery she’d escaped.
One last look—this was the place where the original owner had wasted her life.
"Miss Shen, the Nanjin Ferry is just ahead. Stay seated while I find a porter for your things," the carter said, reining in the donkey.
Granny Rong’s kind—widows who schemed to seize dowries—were rare even in the Song Dynasty, before Neo-Confucianism had fully taken root. The carter, who’d overheard her plight that morning, clearly pitied her and went out of his way to help. Shen Miao’s eyes curved slightly as she murmured, "Many thanks, kind sir."
"Ah, no need. You’ve suffered enough."
Shen Miao had no intention of lingering in Jinling. From the moment she’d transmigrated into this body, she’d resolved to escape the Rong household at the first opportunity—it was no golden nest, just a pit of snakes!
So when the Rongs demanded a divorce, it played right into her hands. During her "convalescence" in the woodshed, she’d combed through the original owner’s memories and confirmed this was a Song Dynasty unlike the one she knew: Emperor Taizu of Song had reclaimed the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun through silver and gold, and the throne had passed not to his brother but to his eldest grandson, Zhao Weizheng, who became Emperor Taizong of Song.
Thus, this Song was prosperous and powerful. Though external threats remained, there’d been no Jingkang Incident, no "Manjiang Hong" lament. In the original owner’s memory, Jinling was the most flourishing city south of the Yangtze, where commerce thrived and disputes over land, loans, and trade were common. Litigation masters were as plentiful as teahouses, and Jinling even had private schools dedicated to teaching litigation—called "litigation studies." That was how Shen Miao had easily hired one while Granny Rong was out gambling.
Moreover, under Song law, a woman divorced against her will wouldn’t be caned or jailed. Demanding her dowry back wasn’t just acceptable—it was expected. Any family that withheld it would be scorned, and even corrupt officials would hesitate to side with such greed. Unlike the meek original owner, Shen Miao had made sure the Rongs paid dearly.
Rong Dalang was a spineless mama’s boy who’d let his mother abuse his wife. In the original owner’s memories, he’d even slept in his mother’s room! He contributed nothing to the household—without marrying into the Shen family’s dowry, he’d have never enjoyed such an easy life. The Song Dynasty prized lavish dowries, and even as a small merchant’s daughter, the original owner had brought a hundred strings of cash.
The girl was rather simple-minded, unaware that she should have held onto her dowry tightly to make the Rong family obedient. Instead, she dutifully handed it over to fund Rong Dalang’s studies and cover household expenses, even diligently caring for that shrew of a mother-in-law! Now, she managed to reclaim barely a tenth of it, but at least there were still twenty-three strings of cash—enough for her to return to Bianjing. That’s right, the original owner of this body was from Bianjing.
Her parents had run a "soup cake shop" in Bianjing—what later generations would call a noodle house—and business had always been good. Three years ago, after Rong Dalang failed the imperial exams, he came to Bianjing to promote his literary reputation. While having breakfast at the Shen Family Soup Cake shop, he caught sight of the original owner. Struck by her delicate beauty despite her plain attire, he became infatuated and thus their acquaintance began.
Rong Dalang was also quite handsome, and his sweet talk deceived the Shen family into believing he was a reincarnated literary genius unjustly overlooked by fate. They actually agreed to marry their daughter to him. Yet, less than half a year after the original owner moved far away to Jinling, tragedy struck: her parents were killed when a young nobleman in fine silks recklessly galloped his horse through the streets and collided with their cart while they were out buying vegetables and grain.
The original owner rushed back to Bianjing to arrange the funeral and settle her two young, clueless siblings. Back then, her younger brother was only six, and her sister just three—both mere toddlers suddenly left without their parents’ protection. She had intended to bring them back to Jinling, but the Rong family refused to take them in. Her mother-in-law scowled at her, and Rong Dalang simply kept his head down in silence.
Later, the original owner made excuses for herself—perhaps she had no choice, or perhaps it was because her brother had already started school in Bianjing and couldn’t easily be moved. In the end, she left her siblings with their uncle’s family and arranged for the soup cake shop to be leased out. The monthly rent went entirely to the uncle as support for the children.
But the good times didn’t last. Two months ago, the uncle’s wife sent a letter complaining that the merchant who rented the Shen family shop had been careless with fire. One night, a blaze broke out. Though the flames weren’t extensive, the shop was completely destroyed. Fearing repercussions, the merchant fled overnight with his money. Now, the place lay in ruins, and no one was willing to rent it. The aunt kept pressing her to send more money home.
The original owner once again considered bringing her siblings to Jinling—which was precisely why Granny Rong was determined to drive her out. Her dowry was nearly exhausted, and now two more mouths to feed were on the way. With her son now a scholar, Granny Rong would rather he marry a new bride with a hefty dowry!
Rong Dalang, it was said, had caught the eye of Instructor Zheng from Mingzhou Academy. Instructor Zheng also had a daughter of marriageable age, and Rong Dalang had been bending over backward to curry favor with the Zheng family. He hadn’t returned home in nearly half a year—likely waiting for the original owner to die so he could remarry.
As Shen Miao worked with the litigation master to settle the dowry matter, she pondered for a long time and soon figured out her plan after leaving the Rong family. Recalling the original owner’s background, she realized that moving to Bianjing to make a living wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, the original owner’s family had run a food business, which aligned perfectly with her own expertise from her past life.
What a coincidence—in her previous life, three generations of her family had been chefs!
Moreover, the original owner’s younger siblings were still living under someone else’s roof in Bianjing. Shen Miao wasn’t as naive as the original owner; the letter made it clear that the aunt was no kind soul. Bianjing was expensive, and shop rents were surely high. After three years of collecting rent, she was still pressing for more—who knew how the children were faring now?
Since she had taken over this body, the least she could do was look after the only family the original owner had left. She couldn’t just abandon them.
Lost in thought, she finally saw the coachman return with a porter, who haggled diligently on her behalf. At last, she could board the boat and head north.
