Wei Yao had been running his pastry shop for years, and the moment he caught a whiff of this aroma, he knew it was something special. Dragging along his stubborn, reluctant donkey, he finally managed to squeeze through the crowd gathered around a small stall and peeked inside.
Golden, crispy-skinned baked buns were arranged on the small table, exuding a sweet, wheaty fragrance. The vendor was a lovely young woman, accompanied by a chubby little child. The pair worked swiftly, packing the baked buns for customers with practiced ease.
The buns were clearly freshly baked, glistening with a tempting sheen. Wei Yao’s eyes gleamed with interest as he overheard customers calling her "Shen Miao," so he chimed in, "Shen Miao, I’d like one as well."
"Good morning, sir! One baked bun is eight coins—filled to the brim with sweet red bean paste. That’ll be eight coins, please! Come back if you like it!"
"Uncle, come back if it’s tasty!" the plump child added cheerfully, his chubby face beaming as he collected the payment.
Wei Yao couldn’t help but smile at the child’s sweet, earnest sales pitch, but before he could respond, the bustling crowd pushed him and his donkey aside.
Forced to retreat, he looked down at the warm, golden-brown bun in his hand.
Eight coins—not expensive at all.
His own shop sold delicate pastries for hundreds of coins a box, but he had never seen anything quite like this. Holding the bun, he led his donkey away, taking a bite as he walked.
His eyes instantly lit up.
The outer layer was crisp at first, then gave way to an incredibly soft, fluffy texture—yet with just the right amount of chewiness.
Inside, there was only a single layer of red bean paste, but it was smooth, velvety, and perfectly sweet without being cloying. The more he ate, the more impressed he became. Crafting such exquisite bean paste was no easy feat.
Wei Yao was a connoisseur. His shop employed two master pastry chefs, yet after just one bite, he felt their years of experience paled in comparison to this young woman’s skill.
He devoured the bun in a few bites, itching to turn back and ask her more. But the crowd was thick, and he still had important deliveries to make. With a last lingering glance at the busy Shen Miao, he reluctantly moved on.
He memorized her face, resolving to return once the morning market ended—his mind already racing with an impulsive idea. Would she be willing to join his pastry shop?
Wei Yao’s business was sizable—he owned two shops in a row on Tonggu Lane near Jinliang Bridge. But with more and more pastry shops popping up nearby, his regular customers were gradually slipping away. His profits dwindled, leaving him anxious and desperate.
That was why he had taken to making deliveries himself—partly to show respect to his clients, partly to butter up the procurement stewards of wealthy households, hoping to win back their patronage.
But if he could offer something truly unique, something with unmatched flavor… A spark of hope flared in Wei Yao’s eyes.
He quickened his pace. Once the deliveries were done, he would return and convince Shen Miao!
Meanwhile, Shen Miao remained oblivious to the recruitment plans swirling around her. She multitasked, preparing hand-pulled pancakes while packing a large red bean bun for an elderly woman and her grandson.
After paying, the old woman led her clinging grandson aside to eat, breaking off a piece for the child before sampling some herself.
Ah, she had only managed to snag a tiny taste earlier—now she could truly savor it. Mmm… delicious. The bean paste was soft, sweet, and melted in her mouth like a dream. Even with her aged teeth, the bun was easy to enjoy.
Her picky grandson, who usually turned up his nose at food, had already wolfed down his portion and was tugging at her pants impatiently. "Granny, more! I want more!"
Chuckling, the old woman broke off another piece, and soon, the two of them had polished off the entire bun right by the bridge.
Still unsatisfied, the little boy whined that he wasn’t full—this was the first time he’d ever had such an appetite!
Delighted, the old woman hurried back to the stall, only to find that the once-heaping stacks of buns were nearly gone. Just four or five remained.
"Two more, please!" she called out quickly.
As the morning market wound down and daylight fully broke over the city, Song Dynasty officials raised long bamboo poles to extinguish the candles in the crane-shaped stone lanterns lining the streets.
Xie Qi, dressed in fresh clothes, rode in a carriage with his mother, Lady Xi, across Jinliang Bridge to the outer city to retrieve the betrothal gifts returned by the Cui Family.
Since returning to the capital, he had only relayed his uncle’s explanation to his parents—that his cousin Wan Niang had fallen gravely ill, leading to the broken engagement. He kept the rest to himself.
His parents, assuming he was distressed over the sudden turn of events, had comforted him repeatedly. They had even handled the formalities with the Cui Family discreetly, shielding him from the details.
Today was merely about collecting the returned gifts.
Seeing Xie Qi’s somber expression, Lady Xi gently reassured him, "Ninth Son, what’s meant to be will be. You’ve been plagued by misfortune since childhood—every time you went to the Imperial Street for lantern festivals, the lanterns caught fire; every trip to Jinming Lake ended with you falling in; every study excursion led to theft or scams… Truly, nothing ever went smoothly for you. Your mother has grown accustomed to it. That your marriage hit a snag isn’t entirely surprising, so don’t dwell on it. Besides… Our family’s old servant in Chenzhou confirmed it—Wan Niang was as pale as paper, frail and bedridden, clearly suffering from a severe illness. Your uncle and aunt ended the engagement for the sake of both families’ reputations. They even returned double the betrothal gifts and kept our name untarnished. It was an amicable parting. There’s no need for you to grieve."
Xie Qi’s brow twitched. His cousin was still alive?
From the description, it seemed she had lost the child, but surviving was better than nothing. He would carry this secret to his grave, ensuring she could live the rest of her days in peace.
The weight that had pressed on him for days finally lifted, and a faint smile touched his lips. "You’re right, Mother."
Xie Qi had exceptionally handsome features—rounded, dark eyes with slightly blunt outer corners, giving him a gentle, noble air whenever he smiled.
Lady Xi patted his hand. As their carriage slowed in the congested traffic on Jinliang Bridge, the mingled aromas of street food wafted inside.
Seizing the opportunity, she blinked and ventured, "Your mother has been so busy today, she hasn’t even had breakfast. Her stomach is staging a rebellion. Won’t you join me for a bite?"
Xie Qi nodded absently. "Of course. It’s only right that I accompany you."
Lady Xi smiled and signaled a servant outside.
In truth, she had already questioned Xie Qi’s attendants and learned he had barely touched his meal that morning. This was her way of coaxing him to eat.
She instructed the servant to hurry to the bridge market and buy whatever looked clean and appetizing.
The carriage inched forward like a tortoise through the crowded streets, crawling at a sluggish pace. Before long, a rhythmic knocking sounded against the carriage wall, and a servant handed in bundles of food—glutinous rice balls in sweet fermented rice, pan-fried dumplings, zongzi stuffed with marinated meat, flatbreads, and more.
Xie Qi examined each item, finding them all a bit too greasy for his taste. Yet, under his mother’s expectant gaze, he reluctantly picked the most appealing-looking one: a golden-brown, oblong-shaped steamed bun.
This was a preparation he hadn’t seen before.
Unlike ordinary steamed buns, this one had a crisp, fragrant crust on top. Expecting a meat filling, he was surprised when his first bite revealed a sweet, fluffy interior as soft as a cloud. Instead of oozing grease, it was filled with a smooth, subtly sweet red bean paste.
The sweetness was just right—neither bland nor cloying—and paired perfectly with the crisp outer layer, making it unexpectedly delicious. His long-dulled taste buds awakened, and he took another bite, this time encountering bits of partially crushed beans that added a pleasant chewiness.
"Mother, this is quite good. You should try some too," Xie Qi said, handing the remaining bun in its oiled paper wrapping to Lady Xi. "I wonder where it’s from? I’ve never tasted anything like this before. Who would’ve thought a steamed bun with sweet bean paste could be so delightful when baked?"
Lady Xi took a few bites and nodded in agreement. "It is quite good." She lifted the carriage curtain to ask the servant who had bought the morning meal, even thinking ahead to the family’s ongoing Buddhist rites. "This baked bun is excellent—which shop made it? Go back and ask if they’d be willing to prepare more. Did they use any animal fat in the dough? Your grandfather’s death anniversary is approaching, and I’ve been worried about the lack of good vegetarian offerings for the ceremony. Perhaps these could serve the purpose."
The servant grinned. "What a coincidence! Madam actually tasted their wares just yesterday! The pancakes Third Young Master sent over were from the same place—Shen’s Cake Shop. The young woman who makes them is quite lovely, and some even jokingly call her the 'Pancake Beauty'!"
Lady Xi recalled the pancakes from the previous day—indeed exceptionally tasty. This Shen girl clearly had skill. She chuckled. "What a fortunate encounter! Go and ask—for the three-day ceremony… let’s say… can they make four hundred and fifty buns?" She instructed the servant to turn back immediately and inquire.
In the time it took for this exchange, Xie Qi had already polished off the entire bun with some tea, much to Lady Xi’s delight.
Ever since returning from Chenzhou, the young master had lost his appetite. On the first day, he’d even vomited after a few bites. The physician diagnosed exhaustion from travel, saying his spleen and stomach were out of balance. There was no cure except careful nurturing—getting him to eat more would gradually restore his health. The Xie family’s cooks had exhausted their skills to no avail.
Thank the heavens—now the boy was finally eating with relish.
"Forgive me for worrying you, Mother. This son has been remiss." Noticing Lady Xi’s gaze, Xie Qi understood her thoughts at once.
Overcome with guilt, he rose to bow.
Lady Xi waved him off. "No need for such formalities in the carriage! Honestly, for someone so young, you act like a stuffy old scholar. I can’t stand this habit of you and your father, always bowing at the slightest occasion."
Hailing from the Huainan Xi clan—a rare Song Dynasty military family that rose to prominence without facing imperial purges—Lady Xi had developed a straightforward, pragmatic temperament, with little patience for excessive ceremony.
At last, the Xie family carriage descended from the bridge, leaving the crowded streets behind. The coachman readjusted the reins, and the horses broke into a brisk trot, soon disappearing beyond the southern city gates.
Meanwhile, Shen Miao, who had been about to pack up her stall, stared in pleasant surprise at the wealthy servant who had suddenly appeared before her. His moving lips might as well have belonged to a living, breathing god of wealth:
"Madam Shen, my master’s family greatly enjoyed your baked buns and sent me to ask—could you prepare four hundred and fifty within the next two or three days?"
