In early June, Bianjing City was already sweltering. Along the Bian River, small boats piled high with vegetables and fruits often drifted by, their vendors calling out with drawn-out cries: "Golden apricots and sweet melons! Juicy pears and small plums—all big and sweet!" Their voices rippled across the water, carried back by the humid breeze. Even just passing over the bridge, the calls made one's mouth water.
On Jinliang Bridge, Ning Yi was wrestling with a stubborn donkey.
The beast belonged to Meng San, its glossy hide hiding a spine of pure defiance—it refused to be ridden, bucking off anyone who tried. Both boys were drenched in sweat from the struggle.
"Should just sell it off at Horse Market Street!" Ning Yi wiped his forehead, gripping the reins so hard they trembled. The donkey, utterly unbothered, held its head high, chewing on willow twigs and refusing to even glance at them—before letting out a loud, derisive fart.
Meng San sighed. "My dad says its temper's too foul to fetch a decent price. We're stuck with it."
"Can't out-curse it, can't outfight it—this isn't a donkey, it's my ancestor!" Ning Yi glared at the smug creature. "Of all the donkeys in the world, why'd your dad pick this one?"
"He was drunk that day. Got swindled by the seller." Meng San scratched his head.
Ning Yi waved a defeated hand. "Never mind, we're almost there. Next time, I’m walking. Never again with this beast."
Meng San frowned. "You just got out of detention with Mr. Feng. Why sneak over the wall again in such a hurry? And why drag me along?"
"No choice! Shang An’s sick at home, and Xie Jiu’s vanished from the academy. Who else could I ask?" Ning Yi grumbled. Days ago, he’d seen Xie Qi sketching shrimp—a sure sign that Shen’s Eatery had a new dish. He’d tried to sneak out that very night, only to run into Mr. Feng midway and get roped into transcribing his manuscripts. Five days of nonstop writing later, his wrists ached, and his eyes were bleary. Such misery!
Finally freed, he’d returned to the dormitory, rubbing his sore wrists—only to find it empty except for Meng San, who was mumbling over his books.
Meng San vaguely recalled Xie Qi being called away by a servant, but he’d been too absorbed in his own essay to notice.
Seeing everyone gone, Ning Yi felt even more justified in skipping class. Remembering Meng San’s donkey, he’d dragged the boy along, hoping the ride would speed things up.
He couldn’t wait—he’d been dreaming of Shen’s spicy crayfish for days.
But the journey had been a disaster. The donkey refused to be ridden, spat, kicked, and snorted rudely at them the whole way.
Ning Yi was fuming.
"Why sneak out? To get seats at Shen’s! Haven’t you heard? These days, the line for their crayfish stretches around the block by dinnertime. If we don’t go early, we’ll miss out."
He glanced at the sky—still bright blue, the sun slanting over gray-tiled roofs. It wasn’t even noon yet!
Smug, he nodded. This time, he’d planned perfectly. Surely no one would beat them there.
Meng San gaped. "You’re insane. Going half a day early for a night-market dish?"
Ning Yi licked his lips. "I brought a chessboard. We’ll pass the time playing at Shen’s. It’ll fly by."
Just saying it, he could almost smell the crayfish sizzling in spicy red oil.
Meng San turned to leave. "I’m going back."
"No! We’re already at Jinliang Bridge!" Ning Yi clung to his sleeve, then outright hugged him. "Come on! Be a pal! I’ll treat you—you won’t regret it!"
Trapped, Meng San reluctantly agreed.
But crossing the bridge, Meng San squinted. "Uh… looks closed."
Ning Yi paled. "No way. Not again!"
He sprinted ahead.
Under Shen’s noodle shop’s eaves, two red lanterns swayed in the wind. The doors were shut tight, a red paper pasted on them: "Closed for two days—family celebration."
Ning Yi pressed his face to the crack, peering inside. The shop was empty—just tables, chairs, and stacks of bamboo baskets in the corner. A plump sparrow hopped about, pecking at yesterday’s crumbs.
Truly closed.
Meng San patted his shoulder. "Let’s go back. I’ve still got homework."
"Every single time!" Ning Yi’s eyes welled up. He buried his face in Meng San’s sleeve and burst into tears. "Meng San, why is my luck so terrible? Waaah—!"
Shen Miao was indeed occupied that day. At dawn, the Xie family’s betrothal gifts had arrived from Chenzhou with great fanfare!
Thirty-two gleaming red-lacquer boxes of rosewood, gilded and stamped with "double happiness" characters, were carried in by a procession of green-clad servants. The three-zhang-wide alley was packed like sausage casing, utterly impassable.
This was the "Nazheng" rite of the Six Ceremonies, held on an auspicious even-numbered day. Xie Qi’s parents, elders, and matchmaker had all come. With no close kin of her own—and unwilling to invite her uncle’s family—Shen Miao had instead asked Aunt Gu, Granny Zeng, Aunt Li, and other dear neighbors to stand in as family.
It was just as well. She’d expected the Xies’ gifts to be lavish, given their status.
And they were. Box after box filled the courtyard until there was no room to step. Curious onlookers gathered, some counting the gifts from the threshold, others climbing trees to peer in.
But as the red-silk-draped gifts kept coming, whispers swelled—admiring, awed, and envious.
Soon, the newly minted "family elders" shooed them off. "Shoo! None of your business! Stop gossiping and scram!"
Aunt Li had just returned from showing off at her parents' home when she stumbled upon this joyous occasion. Bursting with energy and with nowhere to direct it, she overheard someone gossiping about Shen Miao being a divorced woman who remarried to climb the social ladder. Instantly, she exploded like a firecracker, sneering as she advanced step by step, delivering a sharp rebuke:
“And who are you, some hag crawled out of the gutter? Before spouting nonsense, take a good look at yourself in the mirror! If you’ve got the skills, try marrying a handsome, wealthy young man like her next time. If not, quit your sour grapes. So what if she climbed high? You couldn’t, so you begrudge her? Standing on the Shen family’s turf, badmouthing their daughter—what does that say about your virtue? Pah! Go piss and take a good look at yourself!”
The target of her tirade turned purple with rage but couldn’t match Aunt Li’s rapid-fire delivery. Defeated, they could only storm off in a huff.
“Who even wanted you here? Must’ve been kicked in the head by a donkey,” Aunt Li muttered, arms crossed like a guardian deity at the gate, scanning for any other fools bold enough to provoke her.
Sister-in-law Gu wasn’t far behind, brandishing a broom to shoo people away, her hair ornaments swinging wildly and even smacking her face in her fury.
The aunties in the alley had all dressed in their finest clothes and adorned themselves with every valuable piece of jewelry they owned. Granny Zeng took it to the extreme, piling all the family’s gold hairpins onto her head until she had to steady herself while walking. Shen Miao worried she might strain her neck.
Inside the house, Shen Miao and Xie Qi watched the scene with warmth in their hearts.
Peeking out beside them by the windowsill were two furry heads—one large, one small—belonging to Lei Ting and Qilin.
Bound by propriety, the engaged couple wasn’t allowed to be present during the betrothal gift ceremony, even though they knew each other inside out. For appearances’ sake, they’d been confined indoors with Lei Ting and Qilin the moment the gifts were displayed, left to sneak glances through the window cracks at their own celebration.
The room was stifling. Though summer had just begun, the willow tree at the alley’s entrance already drooped under the heat. Yet the lively festivities at the Shen household seemed to thrive in the sweltering weather.
Once all the betrothal gifts were brought in, Aunt Gu counted them three times over. Granny Zeng squatted before a pair of gilded bronze geese sculptures, poking them with her finger before declaring to Grandpa Zeng, “Look at these geese—solid! Must weigh at least two catties!”
Grandpa Zeng nodded. “Indeed. Quite the lavish display. Remember when that famously wealthy Official Zhou got married? Folks who saw his betrothal geese said they were just wood wrapped in copper foil. The bride’s family mocked him for being cheap.”
“That’s nothing!” Gu Dalang sidled up, whispering into Grandpa Zeng’s ear. “You haven’t seen the third load—a huge lacquer box inlaid with mother-of-pearl, filled with twenty-some cakes of imperial-grade dragon-phoenix tea. That’s the kind of rarity money can’t easily buy.”
Beyond that, there were a jade-carved green jade ruyi scepter, baskets of brocade piled so high the lids wouldn’t close, and lustrous pearls bought from Persian merchants in the south...
After surveying it all, Sister-in-law Gu and Aunt Li grew so nervous they considered shutting the gate—what if something went missing?
But the Xie family’s servants, relatives, and the strikingly handsome Xie Qi and his elder sister merely smiled, unfazed. Not wanting to seem petty, Aunt Li shot Sister-in-law Gu a look: “Let’s stand tall. Pretend we’ve seen it all before—can’t let them think our girl’s family is easily impressed.”
So they straightened their backs, feigning nonchalance while their hearts raced like rabbits.
Fortunately, the auspicious hour soon arrived. A senior member of the Xie family, acting as master of ceremonies, solemnly unfurled a gilded scroll and boomed, “In solemn pledge of union, we present: twelve ingots of pure gold; the ‘three golds’—bracelets, earrings, and bridal cape; six chests of brocade, six of satin; eight loads of livestock and delicacies; land deeds…” The list went on for what felt like an eternity.
“This is even more than I imagined,” Shen Miao murmured, turning to Xie Qi in disbelief. “How is there so much?”
Xie Qi’s ears reddened as he averted his gaze. “It’s... it’s standard for our family when taking a wife. Really.”
Really? Shen Miao eyed him skeptically, but he’d already turned away.
Northern Song weddings typically featured “twelve betrothal gifts,” with gold and jade items in pairs and tea-wine sets. Yet here were thirty-two loads—nearly triple the norm.
Suddenly, she recalled the impossibly thick letter Xie Qi had sent to Chenzhou announcing their engagement. Given his meticulous nature, he’d probably planned this extravaganza from the start!
She couldn’t quite describe the feeling. She wasn’t vain—even if the Xie family had offered less, she’d never have felt slighted or disrespected.
But now, their unmistakable regard warmed her heart like sunlight.
By noon, the gifts were tallied, the paperwork exchanged, and the treasures locked safely away. Finally freed, Shen Miao, Xie Qi, and their furry companions emerged.
Lady Xi and Father Xie gazed at her with such affection she nearly blushed.
“Come,” Lady Xi said, drawing her close. “Today’s a celebration. I’ve ordered a feast from Fan Tower—let’s enjoy it together.” Then, privately, she added, “Xie Qi takes after his father, though he’s better—at least he doesn’t write pretentious poetry. But his life’s been hard. We never expected much, just prayed he’d stay healthy. Yet he’s surpassed all hopes, and now he has you. We see now—his blessings were simply waiting for you.”
Shen Miao ducked her head, embarrassed by the praise.
Lady Xi patted her hand. “Xie Qi’s great-grandmother is too frail to attend, but she sent her bridal jade bracelet for you—a sign of her fondness. And Chong and I adore you too. You needn’t live in Chenzhou after marrying; settle wherever you wish. A woman remains herself after marriage, so keep running your Shen business without worry.”
Shen Miao’s eyes shimmered with emotion, but Lady Xi only smiled tenderly.
“A lifetime of happiness for you both—that’s all we ask.”
Meanwhile, Xie Qi was cornered by the aunties, bombarded with advice on treating her well. Amid the chaos, Gu Dalang slipped him a book, winking and urging him to “study it later.”
Xie Qi looked down with a serious expression and saw the blue cover neatly inscribed with the words "Book of Rites." Though he had already read it before, he obediently accepted it with gratitude.
And so, after delivering gifts to the neighbors, Shen Miao closed up her shop and rode in a carriage with the Xie family to Fan Tower. The moment she left, Ning Yi arrived—just missing her by a hair.
Come to think of it, though she had been in Bianjing City for quite some time, she had never once visited Fan Tower. She only vaguely knew its location and had heard its fame sung daily by others.
Even in Shen Miao’s memories, there was no real impression of Fan Tower. In her imagination, it was a towering restaurant, lofty as a celestial mountain. So she had always assumed it was simply a five-story grand building.
Having seen skyscrapers hundreds of stories high in her past life, she remained perfectly composed on the way there.
That was, until she caught sight of the real Fan Tower. Peering through the carriage curtains from afar, she was utterly stunned.
Fan Tower wasn’t just one building—it was a sprawling complex of five interconnected pavilions. East, West, South, North, and Central, each with soaring eaves and upturned corners, linked by aerial bridges and railings, forming a magnificent and intricate structure. The tallest, the East Tower, was one of the highest buildings in Bianjing City, offering a view of the imperial palace.
Upon arrival, they were delayed a while longer.
The crowd was overwhelming. The carriage sheds in front were completely jammed, and countless wine merchants bustled about, loading carts with liquor—Fan Tower was the foremost of Bianjing’s seventy-two major wine houses, supplying nearly three thousand smaller vendors daily.
Shen Miao’s eyes sparkled with fascination.
Lady Xi, noticing her rapt attention, knowingly explained that Fan Tower wasn’t just a restaurant—it housed entertainment halls, shops of all kinds, and anything one could wish to buy.
The shops inside weren’t run by Fan Tower itself but were leased to merchants through a system called "maipu"—renting out spaces for profit.
Shen Miao understood.
Fan Tower was Bianjing’s—no, the entire Song Dynasty’s—only "Wanda Mall."
An ancient shopping complex!
Indeed, many business strategies she thought were modern had already been pondered by their ancestors. She had been the ignorant one all along.
The more she observed, the more intrigued she became. She had often heard customers rave about Fan Tower and neighbors compare her cooking to its chefs, but she had never paid it much mind. The image she had formed from hearsay had misled her, and she had been too busy to visit in person.
Perhaps the reason she had avoided Fan Tower was an unconscious arrogance—a belief that her era, a thousand years more advanced, had nothing left to marvel at.
But this visit truly opened her eyes.
A pang of shame crept into her heart.
Still, it was good she came! Running such a grand, thriving establishment in Bianjing City meant there was much here worth learning.
Xie Qi, watching Shen Miao’s eyes gleam with excitement, smiled to himself. He could tell her mind had already wandered to business strategies—whether today was their betrothal and gift-exchange ceremony seemed almost secondary.
Quietly, he thought, As long as she’s happy, nothing else matters.
Inside, just as Shen Miao had guessed, Fan Tower was indeed a grand marketplace.
Past the central gate, the first floor’s grand hall, the second floor, and the private rooms on the third were all leased to different vendors. A dazzling array of shop signs and banners overwhelmed the senses, with wine shops dominating the scene.
The air was thick with the fragrance of liquor.
"Bianjing’s finest wines, Shoumei and Zhihe, are brewed exclusively here in Fan Tower," Lady Xi said, linking arms with Shen Miao as they strolled. "The second and third floors host exquisite delicacies—they display sample dishes for customers to choose from, even serving them in silverware."
Shen Miao listened thoughtfully. Fan Tower’s business model was not only unique but also high-end, with signature offerings that justified its legendary reputation.
"The West Tower is mostly for musicians and singers," Lady Xi added in a hushed tone. "They say even the late emperor once visited to meet a famous songstress, and ballads were composed about it. The North Tower sells luxury imports like silk, jewelry, and spices. Third Brother once bought an owl here—they even sell hunting dogs. The South Tower has more casual seating, offering affordable snacks..."
Shen Miao nodded. Fan Tower truly had it all—luxury boutiques, pet shops, a KTV-like entertainment section, and a food street.
"We’ve arrived. Our reserved private room is here."
Upon reaching the third floor, a neatly dressed, courteous attendant greeted them at the stairway. After checking their reservation, he guided them inside.
Shen Miao surveyed the decor with quiet approval.
The hall was elegantly adorned, partitioned into banquet rooms with nameplates on the doors and thick Persian carpets underfoot.
Each dining area featured pillars or walls decorated with scrolls and poetic verses praising signature dishes:
"Iron cauldron burns pinewood, snow broth floats like amber—Mountain-Braised Lamb."
"Golden sauce cracks jade jars, chrysanthemum dew stains frost crabs—Crab-Stuffed Orange."
"Spring thunder awakens jade bamboo, ice bowls shatter like zithers—Three-Crisp Soup."
The ambiance was exquisite, reminiscent of a five-star hotel’s Chinese banquet hall.
Shen Miao’s eyes darted from one marvel to another, her mind buzzing with inspiration for her own teahouse.
This trip to Fan Tower was already worth it.
Inside the private room, after the customary seating arrangements by seniority and gender, toasts were raised in celebration. Father Xie recited poetry, and two musicians were invited in. Familiar with the Xie family, Shen Miao felt at ease in conversation.
Later, after several rounds of drinks, Father Xie grew thoroughly drunk, slurring his words as he clung to Lady Xi’s lap, refusing to let go.
Mortified, Lady Xi tried to gently push him away—to no avail. Finally, losing patience, she shoved him hard. He tumbled onto the Persian carpet, mumbling, "Chunjun, don’t kick me… I don’t want to sleep in the study tonight."
Lady Xi’s eyelid twitched, and she hastily excused herself to freshen up.
Shen Miao quickly lowered her head, pretending to be engrossed in savoring the dishes—though Fan Tower’s cuisine was undeniably "Song-style," with delicate, artistic plating that reminded her of Michelin-starred presentations.
But it suited the establishment’s character perfectly.
For a large-scale business to thrive, it needed clear positioning, decor that matched its identity, unique and competitive offerings, and strong branding.
Fan Tower excelled in all these aspects.
The principles weren’t so different from modern business strategies.
Come to think of it, her idea of opening a morning tea house might just work. Shen Miao rubbed her chin. She already had the uniqueness and positioning—for decor and promotion, she could draw inspiration from famous teahouses of her past life. As for marketing…
Marketing was something she was quite skilled at.
Xie Qi sat on the low stool beside Shen Miao, quietly peeling a bowl of river shrimp for her while she was lost in thought. He then meticulously deboned the lamb, piling the tender meat into another bowl, and placed both on her table. Not stopping there, he also set the last dessert from the banquet—honey-glazed cherries—in front of her.
When Shen Miao finally snapped out of her daze, she found her small table overflowing with food, every dish heaped to the brim. She turned her head and saw Xie Qi smiling gently as he said, "Eat up, or it’ll get cold."
Shen Miao sighed and pushed half the food back toward him, muttering under her breath, "How could I possibly finish all this? Do you think I’m a gluttonous pig?"
"A-Miao… aren’t you actually born in the Year of the Pig?" To her surprise, Xie Qi responded with utter seriousness.
Shen Miao secretly reached under the table and gave his arm a light, reproachful smack. His cheeks flushed pink, but even after being hit, his eyes crinkled with warmth, his smile softer than anyone else’s.
After that lavish meal at Fanlou, Shen Miao returned with renewed energy, spending the next few days feverishly preparing for her teahouse venture. She drafted a thick stack of proposals, scribbling notes, making revisions, scrapping ideas, and rewriting them over and over until, at last, she finalized her plans.
Just as she was about to begin renovating the teahouse, the dwarf Ya Bao pulled up in a tightly covered green-canopied donkey cart outside Shen’s Noodle Shop. Shen Miao happened to be inside doing accounts when she looked up and saw Ya Bao hopping down from the driver’s seat, grinning as he announced:
"Madam Shen, mission accomplished."
