Aunt Ding’s face stiffened, and she was about to find some excuse to refuse. Over the past few years, she had managed to marry off several of her daughters with generous dowries, partly from her family’s savings but also thanks to the monthly rental income from Second Shen’s shop. Having enjoyed the profits for three years, the thought of returning it all at once suddenly pained her.
To her surprise, Uncle Shen spoke up generously, "We never intended to keep it. It’s just that Ji Brother was still young, and with your shop entrusted to us for management these past years, we had no choice but to collect the rent on his behalf. Now that you’re back, it’s only right to return it to you..."
These words infuriated Aunt Ding to no end. She still had one daughter left to marry! The dowry funds weren’t even fully saved yet, and now they were just giving up a perfectly good shop? Unable to contain herself, she pinched Uncle Shen hard under the table, making him wince in pain. Yet, Uncle Shen persisted, "All these years, with you gone, no one mentioned it, and I nearly forgot the bond between brothers. Now that you’re back, I’m reminded of Second Shen’s kindness..."
His voice trailed off, choked with emotion.
Shen Miao was taken aback. Who knew that a few words about Father Shen would affect Uncle Shen so deeply? Suddenly, Uncle Shen burst into tears, sobbing as he spoke, "Wait here. I’ll go fetch the land deed and property title, and I’ll even pack some silver for you..."
Before he could finish, Aunt Ding kicked his chair out from under him and yanked his ear furiously. "Have you lost your mind, Shen Dalang? Spouting nonsense like that! That shop of your brother’s burned down to nothing but charred beams. Even if you wanted to sell it, no one would buy it. Fine, give them the deeds, but if you dare hand over silver, you’ll have to answer to this rolling pin in my hand!"
Uncle Shen trembled under her scolding and didn’t dare argue. He slunk back to the main room and returned with a paper bundle. Shen Miao took it and confirmed it was indeed their land and property deeds.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
At least this trip wasn’t in vain. With these documents, she, Ji Brother, and Sister Xiang finally had a foothold in Bianjing.
As for the three years’ worth of rent that had already lined Aunt Ding’s pockets, untangling that mess would be difficult. That was why Shen Miao hadn’t even brought it up.
Knowing when to quit while ahead, she decisively gathered the two children and prepared to leave. Aunt Ding, her face dark with anger, didn’t even bother to see them off. Uncle Shen, however, escorted them to the gate. Shen Miao told him not to trouble himself further, but he grabbed her hand.
Glancing around like a thief, he quickly stuffed a roll of copper coins into her sleeve before darting away. "I won’t see you off. Hurry back now!"
Only a fool would refuse free money, especially from Uncle Shen. Shen Miao didn’t hesitate, swiftly tucking the coins away.
After all, this was what Uncle Shen owed Ji Brother and Sister Xiang!
Clutching her sleeve, she hurried the two children into a carriage. She had already lingered too long at Uncle Shen’s place. If the southern Zhuque Gate of the inner city closed, they’d be stranded.
Fortunately, the return trip went smoothly. Once home, Shen Miao pulled Ji Brother under the covers to count the money. She had been terrified of being robbed along the way, gripping the oil-paper bundle so tightly it was crumpled. Unwrapping it, she found two neatly wrapped strings of coins—two thousand copper coins in total!
For Uncle Shen, this was pocket change, but for Shen Miao and her siblings, it was a godsend.
The shiny new coins gleamed in their eyes. Shen Miao discussed with Ji Brother, "Let’s use one string to repair the back hall’s walls, doors, and windows. Otherwise, we can’t even close them at night. With just two children and a woman at home, we’d be easy targets for thieves."
"Sister’s concerns are valid," Ji Brother agreed, though he lowered his head awkwardly. "I only regret being too young to guard the house for you."
"Your thoughtfulness warms my heart, but you’re still just a child. Don’t push yourself too hard," Shen Miao said earnestly. "You’re already incredibly responsible."
Ji Brother shook his head, feeling he could do so little.
"We’ll save the other string for your future studies," Shen Miao decided, allocating the funds. Then she took the children out for supper, buying supplies for their upcoming stall and arranging for Old Man Yang to repair the backyard’s doors, windows, walls, stove, and roof.
From her stroll through the night market the previous evening, she already had a good grasp of the commercial layout near Jinliang Bridge.
And she knew exactly what she’d do next.
Bianjing was now in late spring, with warm breezes and willow trees shrouded in mist. The night market lasted until the fifth watch, but before dawn, the streets were already bustling again with the morning market.
The cries of peddlers weaving through the morning mist roused Shen Miao from sleep. Still drowsy, she lay wrapped in blankets, staring blankly for a while before fully waking.
To get their stall up and running as soon as possible, she had kept Ji Brother and Sister Xiang busy for two full days—effectively turning them into her child laborers, helping with chores inside and out.
Over those two days, she had first sought out Old Man Yang, who recommended a skilled bricklayer. After settling on a fair price and wages, she left Ji Brother and Sister Xiang to supervise the repairs at home. Shen Miao had prepared a large pot of herbal tea and a thick pot of millet porridge with minced meat, instructing the children to serve the workers breakfast and ensure the courtyard was properly fixed.
Meanwhile, she went to the Street Administration Office, paid fifty copper coins—twenty for rent and thirty as a kickback to the clerks—and registered for a "bridge market business permit."
Many of the clerks in their blue uniforms were local ruffians who had bought their positions. Shen Miao endured their flirtatious remarks while handling the paperwork. Fortunately, the current prefect of Kaifeng was a stern, incorruptible official like Judge Bao, so the clerks didn’t dare lay hands on her. After a few teasing remarks, they let her go.
Ignoring their barks like background noise, Shen Miao calmly completed the process and received a green-painted wooden plaque labeled "C-Left Five"—likely her stall’s designated spot.
She then went to scout the location. Sure enough, the four tall marker posts on Jinliang Bridge bore the characters "A, B, C, D." Counting five bridge piers from the "C" post, she found a narrow patch of empty space—barely a foot wide—sandwiched between tightly packed stalls.
Coincidentally, this spot was right next to the plump woman selling spiced drinks whom Shen Miao had questioned earlier. The woman recognized her immediately, her sharp eyes spotting the wooden plaque. Suspicious, she asked, "So all those questions before were for this? What are you selling?"
Shen Miao smiled. "I sell baked cakes. After eating something dry, a cup of your spiced drink would be perfect, wouldn’t it? Being neighbors, we’ll complement each other’s business. What a fortunate coincidence!"
The woman visibly relaxed, her wariness fading.
After completing the paperwork, securing a market stall, and smoothing over neighborly relations, Shen Miao went on to purchase ingredients for tomorrow's stall: flour, rice, scallions, spices, cooking oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and other seasonings, along with pork belly, sesame seeds, Chinese cabbage, eggs, chicken, red beans, pork intestines, liver, kidneys, and other offal...
This shopping spree made another sizable dent in the meager dowry she had left.
With so many items, she hired a porter to haul them home by cart.
After tallying the expenses—repairing the courtyard walls and doors cost 913 copper coins, a cartload of charcoal set her back 200 coins, and the ingredients totaled over 300 coins—she realized she'd already spent two strings of cash since arriving!
Barely making ends meet, she was burning through her savings fast.
Shen Miao sighed and patted the flat purse at her waist.
Later, she brought some fresh fruit bought from the market to the Gu household, intending to ask Aunt Gu if she could borrow their handcart the next day. Before Aunt Gu could respond, Gu Tusu immediately agreed and even offered to escort her early in the morning, insisting the cart was too heavy for her to push alone.
Aunt Gu watched her son's eagerness with a raised eyebrow.
Sensing the awkwardness, Shen Miao quickly thanked them and added, "I must also thank Second Brother Gu for recommending Old Man Yang near Golden Beam Bridge—he’s a skilled carpenter. I’ve ordered a handcart from him, so I won’t trouble you again after this."
Before Aunt Gu could reply, Gu Tusu cut in again, "No trouble at all! Feel free to ask for help anytime."
Noticing Aunt Gu’s stiff smile, Shen Miao hastily excused herself, thinking it best to avoid relying on Gu Tusu in the future. Though she harbored no improper thoughts, as a divorced woman, she knew how gossip spread. Best to steer clear of misunderstandings.
At last, her stall preparations were nearly complete.
Returning home, she found the backyard wall still under construction. She’d hired bricklayers to rebuild it with lime-mortared stone, demolishing even the intact sections for uniformity. Though pricier than a simple earthen wall, she wanted durability—better to invest now than face repairs later.
For the gate, Old Man Yang sourced a sturdy walnut plank, costly but worth it. Shen Miao adored walnut wood’s fine grain, its resistance to scratches, moisture, and termites. In her past life, her mother’s walnut furniture had lasted decades, looking new even then. The kitchen door, however, was cheaper pine—lightweight, easy to craft, and half the price.
The renovations drew curious neighbors, who gathered to gossip and pity her in hushed tones:
"Did you know? The Shen girl was sent back by her husband’s family."
"Why’d he divorce her?"
"Word is, her mother-in-law arranged it. That scholar husband of hers... ahem... had unnatural habits with his own mother—"
"Heavens! Such a beast!"
"Ay, truly! Now she’s left with no support, raising siblings alone... And that Uncle Shen of hers? Won’t lift a finger for his own brother’s children..."
Shen Miao rubbed her nose innocently. Were these aunties unaware how loudly they whispered? The half-built wall did little to muffle their words.
Still, she pretended not to hear. The gossip didn’t harm her—in fact, it might help.
She didn’t fear being talked about or pitied.
This was why she’d left Jinling. Bianjing was Shen Miao’s hometown, where neighbors had known her family for decades. Most held no ill will toward her.
Checking the wall’s progress, she noted Artisan He—a taciturn master in his fifties, recommended by Old Man Yang—worked with brisk efficiency. In under two hours, he’d torn down the old ruins and rebuilt half the wall.
She reminded him, "Artisan He, once you’re done here, let me know so I can explain how to build the earthen kiln."
"Artisan" was the Song Dynasty’s respectful term for craftsmen. He nodded wordlessly and kept working. Their agreement included not just walls and roof repairs but also two stoves and a kiln.
Satisfied he wouldn’t forget, Shen Miao returned to the kitchen to prep ingredients.
She’d already organized half the supplies earlier. Rolling up her sleeves, she flexed her wrists and shoulders, then plucked the cleaver from the cutting board. With a flick of her wrist, the blade flashed silver in the air.
Today, she’d cook lunch for over a dozen people—a meal that needed to be hearty, delicious, and affordable. Time to show her skills.
