In the Song Dynasty, dumplings were called "jiao'er" or "jiaozi." Near the Zhouqiao Bridge, there was a famous shop selling "zaorou shuangxia jiaozi" (crispy meat dumplings), which was always packed with customers. Rumor had it that even the emperor had once sent palace attendants to buy them.
As soon as Sister Xiang heard about it, she shook her head like a rattle drum. "Never had them! I want to eat!"
"Alright then, you two come help me sift the wheat flour. I'll prepare the filling first, and we'll have them ready in no time!" Shen Miao tapped Sister Xiang's nose playfully before heading to the kitchen to chop the cabbage.
Ji Brother, having just helped Sister Xiang put on her shoes, carried a small stool over. To save money, Shen Miao always bought wheat flour that had only been roughly ground by a millstone, with just the dirt and small stones sifted out. This kind of flour still contained a lot of bran, making it look dark and giving it a coarse texture. However, from a modern nutritional standpoint, bran is actually healthy and helps with weight loss.
But neither Ji Brother nor Sister Xiang needed to slim down, and Shen Miao also preferred a smoother texture—otherwise, it would feel like sandpaper in the throat!
So she had Ji Brother pound the wheat grains a bit finer in a mortar, then sift it twice. Even then, it usually wasn’t perfectly refined, so she would place the flour in a bamboo winnowing basket, lift it with both hands, and gently toss it into the air. The lighter bran would drift away with the wind, leaving behind a finer, smoother flour.
Still, it couldn’t compare to the ultra-fine flour of later eras, where milling technology could separate flour into different grades. If only the Song Dynasty had flour mills—then their dumplings would be truly exquisite.
But that was just wishful thinking.
Shen Miao chuckled at herself as she washed and finely chopped the cabbage, then salted it to draw out moisture. While the cabbage was marinating, she fried eggs until tender, chopped them, and diced carrots, scallions, and ginger.
Then she mixed the cabbage, eggs, carrots, scallions, and ginger in a large bowl, seasoning it with salt, five-spice powder, oil, and soy sauce. The dumpling filling was now ready.
Next, she washed spinach, sliced it into strips, and pounded it in the mortar to extract its juice.
By then, Ji Brother had finished winnowing the flour. Shen Miao poured the vibrant green spinach juice into the flour and proceeded with the usual dumpling-making steps—adding water, kneading the dough, letting it rest, then rolling it into a long strip and cutting it into small pieces.
Then came her signature trick: without even using a rolling pin, she dusted the pieces with flour to prevent sticking, flattened them slightly, stacked them together, and deftly rotated and pinched them with her hands. After flipping them over and giving them a few more turns, she had a dozen perfectly round, thin dumpling wrappers ready in no time.
While wrapping the dumplings, she started boiling water. By the time the dumplings were ready, she dropped them into the pot before the water even reached a full boil.
Sister Xiang watched in wide-eyed amazement. Lately, she had taken to perching by the stove, mesmerized by Shen Miao’s cooking. Shen Miao worked swiftly and efficiently, never leaving a mess—after each step, she would wipe the counter and tidy the dishes, keeping everything spotless.
Sister Xiang closed her eyes, feeling the warm steam from the boiling dumplings rise against her face. Amid the comforting crackle of burning firewood, Shen Miao paused to wipe Sister Xiang’s face with a handkerchief before bending down to hug her.
She adored her big sister so much.
Cooking dumplings required skill—adding a pinch of salt to the water, controlling the heat, and following the rule: "Boil uncovered for the wrappers, covered for the filling." Adding cold water three times during cooking ensured the wrappers wouldn’t tear. Soon, a pot full of plump, crescent-shaped dumplings, resembling little ingots, was ready.
Shen Miao had made a large batch—about sixty or seventy dumplings. With no meat at home, the filling was mostly cabbage and carrots, but the taste was still delightful. She set aside half, arranged them on a plate, and took them over to Aunt Gu’s house as a thank-you for borrowing their cart earlier.
Only Aunt Gu was home in the backyard. Gu Tusu was busy at the wine shop, and Uncle Gu—whom Shen Miao hadn’t seen since her return—was said to spend most days at the family’s rented wine cellar outside the city, brewing from dawn till dusk.
Aunt Gu was warming porridge in the kitchen when Shen Miao arrived. Upon hearing her purpose, Aunt Gu waved her hands. "You three are barely making ends meet—don’t trouble yourself with gifts!"
"It’s no trouble—just cabbage and egg filling, very light. I was afraid you might find it too plain," Shen Miao said with a smile, placing the dumplings on the backyard table. "You’ve helped us every day since I returned. How could I not show my gratitude? With things as they are, this is all I can offer—please try my cooking."
Aunt Gu finally stopped refusing. Wiping her hands on her apron, she examined the dumplings and laughed. "What an unusual shape! So green, and shaped like little gold ingots!"
Song Dynasty dumplings were typically triangular, resembling crescent moons—hence the name "jiaozi." Shen Miao’s plump, curved version was quite novel.
Shen Miao teased, "It’s for good luck—may you earn ingots every day!"
Aunt Gu chuckled. "You’ve certainly become quicker with words!"
"Try them—I’ll head back now," Shen Miao said, preparing to leave.
After she left, Aunt Gu picked up a dumpling and took a bite. The surprising flavor delighted her—the wrapper carried a hint of spinach, the thickness was just right, and the filling blended the sweetness of cabbage, the fragrance of eggs, and the subtle crunch of carrots. It was even more delicious than meat fillings—light yet flavorful. Before she knew it, she had eaten three standing by the table.
"Truly a cook’s daughter—born with the gift," Aunt Gu murmured to herself. While dumplings were a staple during winter solstice and New Year celebrations, she had never tasted any so refreshingly delicious—so good she couldn’t stop.
Still, she restrained herself, setting the plate aside to keep warm on the stove, saving the rest for when her husband returned from the cellar so the whole family could enjoy them together.
Back home, Sister Xiang had already stuffed herself, bits of cabbage sticking to her cheeks. Ji Brother blocked her from reaching for more, tapping her chopsticks away with his own. "You’ve had twelve already! No more, or your belly will burst!"
Sister Xiang pouted, on the verge of tears. The moment Shen Miao walked in, she jumped off her stool, dashed over, and tugged at her skirt, wailing that Ji Brother was the worst big brother in the world for denying her dumplings.
Ji Brother gritted his teeth in frustration.
Shen Miao found it quite amusing to watch the siblings bickering over a dumpling! The two children had been by her side for four or five days now. Apart from Ji Brother being a little stubborn at first, they had since been eager to help with chores, never causing any trouble—well-behaved to a fault. It seemed she had given Ji Brother and Sister Xiang enough sense of security that they now felt comfortable acting spoiled in front of her!
But who would have thought they’d throw a tantrum over food?
Shen Miao couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Ji Brother being all serious and Sister Xiang puffing her cheeks with her hands on her hips.
In the end, she decided to mediate between the two: "Sister Xiang, your elder brother means well. You shouldn’t scold him like that. At your age, eating twelve large dumplings is already plenty! If you overeat, you’ll regret it when your stomach aches later. Ji Brother, your intentions are good, but your sister is still young. When you talk to her, speak gently. If you’re always harsh or lose your temper, no one will like that, understand?"
Then she assigned them a task: "You’ve eaten your fill, right? Go to Aunt Li’s house and play with her son, Li Gou'er. While you’re there, ask Aunt Li for me which market sells the best and cheapest chicks and ducklings. We’ll buy a few to raise when the big market opens on the first and fifteenth of the month."
Aunt Li’s house was just two or three homes down from the Shen residence. Her husband, Li Tiaozi, was a traveling crockery mender, carrying his bellows, small furnace, stool, and tools while clanging his way through the streets. Their shop also sold pots, pans, and other household wares. Aunt Li, on the other hand, was an expert at raising poultry—her backyard was always bustling with chickens, ducks, and even rabbits. In the few days Shen Miao had lived there, she’d heard Aunt Li’s roosters crowing proudly from the top of the wall every morning.
Shen Miao wanted to raise a few chickens for eggs and even thought of getting a couple of puppies to guard the house. After all, her household consisted only of women and children. Though the courtyard walls and gate had been repaired, she still worried about people with ill intentions targeting them.
Before long, Sister Xiang and Ji Brother returned together, saying, "Aunt Li said if you don’t mind, she has two newly hatched broods of chicks—some speckled, some black, and some white—all strong and healthy. She’s willing to sell them to you cheaply, so there’s no need to buy from outside."
This was exactly what Shen Miao had hoped for. She quickly finished the dumpling in her mouth, wiped her lips, and stood up. "Perfect! I’ll go with you two to pick them out."
She had already planned her days: setting up the stall early in the morning, taking a nap at noon, and preparing for the next morning in the afternoon. Once the stall cart and earthen oven were ready, she could bake a few batches of bread and sell them at the evening market as well.
Right now, only the courtyard walls and kitchen of the Shen residence had been restored. The main house, side rooms, storeroom, and woodshed had all been burned to the ground, leaving only the skeletal frames. When the walls were rebuilt, the remnants had been demolished, leaving an empty plot.
She still had about twenty strings of cash in savings. Back then, she had asked Old Man Yang, and he’d told her that rebuilding these rooms would likely swallow up all twenty strings—maybe even require another twenty on top. And that was just for the most basic wooden-beam house. If she wanted stone-brick or blue-brick tile roofing, it would cost sixty to a hundred strings.
From ancient times to the present, housing prices have always been a headache.
Shen Miao was the type to panic without savings, so she decided not to rush. She would save up a bit more and then rebuild all three back rooms in one go. That way, the noodle shop could reopen properly.
Lost in these thoughts, she casually picked up a wicker basket and followed Ji Brother, who was counting his steps, and Sister Xiang, who was skipping along, to Aunt Li’s house. Aunt Li was sitting in her small courtyard, stitching shoe soles. When she saw Shen Miao, she gestured toward the hens leisurely pecking around the yard, trailed by a line of chicks. "Go ahead and pick whichever you like!"
