Shen Miao was born under the red flag and raised in the spring breeze. Stubborn by nature, she had been doted on by her grandfather due to her exceptional culinary talent. At home, she lived as if she were second only to heaven, and thus had never personally witnessed the aristocratic customs that had faded centuries ago.
The original Shen Miao, a woman of humble origins, had lived only a little over twenty years. The most accomplished person she had ever known was her weak-willed, mother-fixated husband, Rong Dalang, and she too had no opportunity to interact with the lofty nobility.
The depictions of aristocratic and imperial life in films and books seemed distorted, always slightly different from reality—perhaps because performance and truth were separated by an invisible barrier. When Shen Miao walked into West Drum Tower Street with a basket on her back, she noticed that no peddlers had set up stalls along the street, nor were there any idlers lounging at the entrances of eateries or teahouses.
The entire West Drum Tower Street lay in the shadow of the Great Xiangguo Temple, where the chimes of Buddhist bells and the murmurs of sutras drifted through the air. Tall ginkgo trees, cypresses, and white pines lined the quiet road, where few pedestrians passed.
The street was paved with neat gray bricks, unlike the dusty dirt roads outside. Shen Miao had thought only the Imperial Avenue connected to the palace was brick-paved, but here was another.
She slowed her steps, leading Sister Xiang by the hand as they walked deeper into the street.
The dense shade of the trees brought instant coolness. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows that swayed with the breeze, dancing across brows and shoulders. The faint scent of incense wafted over from beyond the temple walls. The place exuded an innate tranquility, as if the lively clamor of the outside world had been entirely shut out by the towering walls of these grand mansions. At midday, the silence was profound.
The main gate was a set of four vermilion doors studded with copper nails, flanked by two imposing stone lions. Side gates and smaller entrances were guarded by servants. Upon closer inspection, the thresholds of these smaller gates were made of polished bluestone slabs. Lanterns painted with the Xie family name in cinnabar red hung diagonally from lamp brackets embedded in the brick walls.
Beneath the unlit lanterns sat two or three well-dressed servants, chatting and cracking melon seeds as they played a game. When Shen Miao approached, one of them studied her for a long moment before tucking the seeds into his sleeve and asking amiably, "Are you the lady surnamed Shen? Zheng Neizhi, the senior steward of our lady’s household, instructed us to await your arrival."
Shen Miao smiled, set down her basket, and gave a polite but unhurried bow. "Indeed. As per Zheng Neizhi’s instructions this morning, I’ve brought the vegetarian steamed buns."
"You’ve come at just the right time. Please wait here a moment while I take these buns inside to report to Zheng Neizhi."
One of the burlier servants carefully retrieved the oil-paper-wrapped buns from Shen Miao’s basket and patiently explained, "Please don’t take offense, madam. We’re not deliberately slighting you. I’m merely a gatekeeper—I can’t enter the inner quarters. Once past this gate, I can only relay messages to the servants at the second gate, who will then report to the inner stewards. Zheng Neizhi will then inform the lady’s personal maid, and only if our lady has further instructions will word be sent back to you."
"Neizhi" was an honorific for high-ranking stewards in noble households, while "yangniang" was the Song Dynasty term for personal maids.
The depth of these household hierarchies could already be glimpsed from these servants’ words.
Shen Miao nodded in understanding.
This grand mansion operated like a vast corporation with layers of bureaucracy—when a visitor arrived, the receptionist reported to the clerk, who reported to the assistant, who reported to the manager, who then reported to the deputy director… Well, she’d probably be waiting a while. But for three strings of coins, what was a little waiting? She might as well take it as a break.
So she set down her empty basket, took Sister Xiang’s hand, and moved to stand by the side gate where there was shade. Fishing out a small piece of rock sugar wrapped in a handkerchief—leftover from making red bean paste that morning—she gave it to Sister Xiang as a treat.
Just as expected, it came in handy.
The servant hurried inside to deliver the message, leaving two gatekeepers behind. One of them, a younger man, stole several glances at Shen Miao. Noticing she had a child with her, he slipped back into the guardhouse and returned with two stools. "The round trip will take at least half an hour. If our lady is occupied, it may be longer. You two should sit and rest."
"Thank you, sir." Shen Miao accepted without hesitation.
With nothing else to do, the two servants struck up a conversation. Those who served as slaves or maids either came from families bound to the household for generations or had been sold into service as children. With no other roots to speak of, their pride lay entirely in their masters.
Thus, Shen Miao learned that this Xie family was none other than the illustrious Chenjun Xie clan, once as renowned as the Langya Wangs. However, the aristocracy had long declined. Even the most glorious main branches of the Xie family had been nearly wiped out during the late Tang Dynasty by the failed scholar-turned-rebel Huang Chao, who had methodically slaughtered them according to their genealogies.
This surviving branch was a distant offshoot, but centuries of aristocratic heritage meant their remaining wealth and influence were still considerable. The gatekeepers puffed out their chests as if they themselves had built this vast fortune, pointing out another residence down the street.
West Drum Tower Street housed only two families. One was the Xie family, and the other bore the imperial surname—Zhao. They were descendants of the third son of Emperor Taizu Zhao Kuangyin’s cousin, true imperial relatives by blood.
Though over generations, this branch of the Zhao clan had dwindled to the lowest noble rank: County Marquis.
"But a marquis is still a marquis!" the gatekeeper declared.
Shen Miao widened her eyes in feigned awe, craning her neck to peer past the thickest ginkgo tree at the other half of the street—the western side belonged to the Xies, the eastern to the Zhaos.
What an eye-opener! Shen Miao listened with an amused smile, treating it as mere entertainment.
The gatekeeper, however, found her reaction underwhelming. Why only surprise, but no reverence? As a mere commoner who made a living selling cakes, shouldn’t she feel humbled and awestruck upon learning she stood before the once-great Xie family, neighbors to imperial kin?
How strange.
Had he known that even Shen Miao’s curiosity was mostly performative—that inwardly, she was critiquing how the brick pavement wasn’t as smooth as modern parks’ or how these ginkgo trees paled in comparison to those in Luoyang’s Yongxing—he might have fainted on the spot!
What did it matter if they were the Chenjun Xies or the imperial Zhaos? Though Shen Miao did her best to adapt to this era, she could never fully shed her historical perspective.
They were all relics of the past, long gone! Having witnessed far grander and more expansive horizons, how could she possibly yearn for an old world? Why would she grieve over not being born into nobility? Why would she ever feel inferior because of status?
She did not consider herself lowly, even when selling pancakes on the streets, even when her home was bare and impoverished, even when making a living as a woman in this world.
So when she listened to the gatekeeper’s boasting, it was as if she were listening to a storyteller, utterly engrossed. Sister Xiang, too, was drawn in by her casual demeanor, tilting her head slightly before nestling quietly against her elder sister’s leg, focused on licking her piece of sugar.
If she didn’t hurry up and eat it, the rock sugar would melt in her palm! Sister Xiang noticed her hand was already sticky, so she lowered her head and stuffed the entire piece into her mouth. When she looked up again, her cheek bulged with the lump of sugar.
In the inner courtyard of the Xie household, Xie Qi had just finished his studies when Xie Tiao caught him to practice the Xi family’s long staff techniques together. His martial prowess was ultimately no match for his elder brother’s, and he was forced back step by step until he reached the corridor. In the end, he had no choice but to resort to a clever trick—kicking off a pillar to launch himself into the air before bringing his staff down in a sweeping strike, finally turning the tables.
Ignoring Xie Tiao’s protests of "that doesn’t count, let’s go again," he waved him off and returned to his room, drenched in sweat, to bathe.
Freshly cleaned, he emerged to find Yan Shu presenting him with clean clothes and socks, beaming as he said, "Earlier, Zheng Neizhi brought Lady Xi some wonderfully fragrant roasted buns and asked this servant to invite Ninth Young Master to come taste them. Even through the door, the aroma was irresistible!"
"Then let’s go try them." Xie Qi smiled, draping the towel over the screen before stretching his arms to slip into his inner robe, fastening the ties as he lowered his head.
Xie Qi often went out, so he was accustomed to dressing himself and disliked having maids or servants assist him. Yan Shu, eager to get to the delicious food, peeked impatiently from behind the screen, taking a moment to marvel—while Ninth Young Master appeared scholarly once dressed, beneath his robes, his seemingly slender frame was actually covered in lean, well-defined muscle, with broad shoulders and a strong waist, much like the martial bearing of the Xi family’s cousins, who trained rigorously for border defense.
Yet as he layered on his inner robe, tunic, and outer garment, the flowing sleeves billowing in the breeze restored his Xie family’s refined and graceful demeanor.
All the Xie children, regardless of gender, were raised to study literature and practice martial arts—a tradition stemming from Lady Xi’s own upbringing. She had entered the Xie household carrying a black-lacquered, gold-inlaid Xi family long staff. As the matriarch, she not only managed the household with skill but also raised her children in a unique manner.
Once Xie Qi was ready, Yan Shu happily led the way. Entering the main courtyard of the Xie family’s eldest branch, Xie Qi saw several plates of sliced roasted buns laid out on the huanghuali wood table carved with the "Five Blessings" motif in front of Lady Xi. His siblings—Xie Shiyiniang and Xie Tiao—were already there.
Xie Tiao had already polished off his plate and was now stealthily reaching toward his younger sister Xie Shiyiniang’s blue-and-white porcelain dish with its intricate vine pattern. She promptly smacked his hand away.
"Mother, look at Eldest Brother! I don’t even have enough for myself!"
Xie Tiao withdrew his reddened hand, pouting. "Aren’t you usually trying to be like Zhao Feiyan, eating like a bird and refusing to take more than two bites? Why the sudden change?" Before she could retort, he turned to Lady Xi. "Mother, why didn’t you have them buy more?"
Lady Xi ignored their squabble. "These were just samples to test the taste. Since you all like them, we’ll settle on this vendor. Our family’s pastry chef only ever makes the same few vegetarian treats—jujube cakes, poria cakes—so dry even a monk would choke reciting sutras. These roasted buns are excellent; even when cold, they stay soft and fragrant. The woman who makes them is quite ingenious... Ah, Ninth Young Master is here. Try some as well."
Xie Qi glanced down—it was the same roasted bun he’d had that morning, seemingly no different. But the memory of its soft, sweet flavor lingered, and he couldn’t resist taking a piece. Though entirely vegetarian, it lacked none of the richness of those made with lard or eggs. Missing a hint of eggy fragrance, it made up for it with a cleaner, lighter taste.
He nodded slightly, then glanced at his sister, who had been skipping meals for days to maintain her slender figure. Smiling, he remarked, "If these buns can whet Eleventh Sister’s appetite, Mother knows they must be good."
Xie Shiyiniang flushed. Of course she wanted to eat—it was just that a while ago, while boating at Jinming Pond with some noble young ladies, they had insinuated she had "the charm of the Tang dynasty’s plump beauties." Wasn’t that just a veiled insult about her weight?
Furious, she had since cut back on meals, stubbornly refusing to eat much.
But every night, hunger gnawed at her. And today, these roasted buns smelled so good... and Mother said they were entirely vegetarian...
Xie Shiyiniang finally gave in, rationalizing: Vegetarian food won’t make me fat. A little won’t hurt... won’t hurt...
"Every single one of you is a headache," Lady Xi sighed, shaking her head. The Xie family had not yet divided the household, so all the children were ranked together by age. In truth, she had only borne three: the eldest, Xie Tiao, was irresponsible, always out drinking and carousing; the middle child, Xie Qi, had been the most reliable, but since his broken engagement, his appetite had waned; and the youngest, her once-doting daughter, had lately been acting possessed, refusing meat and meals alike.
"Then we’ll place an order with the pancake-selling Madam Shen for four hundred and fifty roasted buns," Lady Xi declared decisively, instructing her attendant to fetch the payment. "A woman alone, making a living by her craft—it’s not easy. No need to withhold any deposit; draw up the contract and pay her in full. Go now, don’t keep her waiting outside. It’s poor manners."
"Yes, my lady." The servants promptly set to work.
With that, Lady Xi shooed all three children out along with the buns. "Don’t just stand there—I’ve got accounts to settle with the stewards. Go amuse yourselves. Looking at the three of you, not a single one pleases me right now. Out, all of you."
Xie Qi, innocent, picked up his plate and followed his siblings out, thinking: I just got here! Didn’t even sit down!
Why am I being scolded too?
Xie Tiao was unfazed by the reprimand. If he didn’t get scolded by his mother at least twice a day, he’d have trouble sleeping at night. The moment they stepped out, he lazily slung an arm over his younger brother’s shoulders and suggested eagerly, "Ninth Brother, how about I take you to that new pleasure house in Pearl Lane—"
Before he could finish, Lady Xi’s roar erupted from inside: "Xie Tiao, you dare!"
Xie Tiao didn’t linger, sprinting off immediately.
Left behind, Xie Shiyiniang and Xie Qi exchanged glances. After a pause, Xie Qi offered, "How about... a game of chess in your courtyard?"
"Fine. Last time, Second Brother lost an inkstone to me. What’s the wager today?"
"How about Mother’s share of roasted buns?"
Xie Shiyiniang, still hungry and craving more, swallowed hard. "Deal!"
The siblings walked side by side along the covered corridor, while Yan Shu trailed behind, despondent. Poor me, he lamented inwardly. If the buns are the prize, does that mean I won’t get any?
The next moment, Xie Qi turned and casually popped a piece into his mouth. "Here. Have I ever let you go hungry?"
Yan Shu covered her mouth, her eyes sparkling as she looked up, but Xie Qi had already turned away. She quickly trotted after him.
Outside, Shen Miao was chatting amiably with the two gatekeepers, nearly learning how many branches the Xie family had.
Finally, the messenger gatekeeper came out again, beaming as he congratulated Shen Miao: "Congratulations, Miss Shen! Everything went smoothly. Our lady found your baked buns excellent and has entrusted you with all the vegetarian pastries needed for the three-day Dharma assembly. She even prepaid the silver, saying the extra is for your tea."
With that, he presented four strings of shiny new coins—clearly freshly minted, of much better quality than old coins! Originally, the agreed price with Zheng Neizhi was 3,600 coins, but the Xie family’s lady had given four strings—an extra 400 coins as "tea money"!
Shen Miao barely managed to contain her joy. Steadying herself, she sincerely praised, "Thank your lady for me. She handles matters so decisively—truly worthy of a noble household’s mistress! Oh, by the way, does your lady permit me to use the kitchen’s oven? I can prepare the dough at home, bring it early, and bake it fresh on-site for perfect timing!"
"The lady said the outer courtyard’s kitchen is at your disposal. When you arrive, come to this gate, and the on-duty gatekeeper will escort you in. Leave the same way when you’re done."
That suited her perfectly. Shen Miao then pointed at Sister Xiang and asked, "My parents passed early, leaving me to care for my younger siblings. They’re still small—may I bring them along?"
The gatekeeper glanced down at Sister Xiang, who had been quietly eating candy, and after a moment’s thought, agreed. However, he cautioned, "That’s fine. The outer kitchen is for guest meals, so you may bring them. But let me be clear—aside from the kitchen, please keep your siblings close and ensure they don’t wander. The outer courtyard houses several young masters, and they’re quite mischievous…"
"I understand. You have my word."
Satisfied, Shen Miao happily took Sister Xiang home.
Though the Xie family bore the typical arrogance of scholarly clans, their household rules seemed decent. The gatekeepers were neither haughty nor corrupt—a reassuring glimpse of what working for them might entail.
Shen Miao clutched the heavy pouch of coins tightly, nearly sprinting home with Sister Xiang, wary of thieves. Fortunately, the journey was smooth. Spotting a street vendor selling sugar figurines, she even treated Sister Xiang to a giant sugar horse bigger than her head.
At the alley’s entrance, they met Shen Ji, carrying a small basket. Shen Miao excitedly shared the news about the Xie family’s order and let him feel the weight of the coin pouch in her satchel.
"The Xie family’s alms schedule doesn’t clash with the morning market. If I finish selling early and hurry back to prepare, I can make both!" When Zheng Neizhi first inquired, Shen Miao had suggested baking red bean buns at the Xie estate—saving both charcoal and time. Even with this big order, she planned to keep her stall running.
Tired? Not when there’s money to be made!
Though happy, Shen Ji worried his sister would overwork herself. Rising before dawn for the market, she barely had time to rest in the afternoons—now even that would be gone for three days. Firmly, he said, "Then I’ll skip copying books these days. I’ll help you and accompany you to the Xie family."
"Don’t worry about it. This little work won’t stump me," Shen Miao shook her head. "Aunt Li said the Imperial Academy’s entrance exam is next month. I’m counting on you to pass! What teacher could rival the Academy’s scholars?"
But Shen Ji was resolute: "Sister, don’t fret. I’ve copied most of today’s texts—these three days, I’ll master them before continuing. Even helping you tend the fire or mash beans, I can still study. As our teacher said, a gentleman doesn’t waver in adversity."
Shen Miao stared at her brother’s youthful yet determined face, touched by his maturity. She ruffled his hair proudly. "Ji Brother, such resolve is admirable. You’re right—I’ve heard it said: 'A gentleman isn’t made in lofty halls. In wealth, he resists indulgence; in poverty, he holds fast to his principles. That’s what makes a true gentleman.'"
Meeting his gaze, she softly added,
"I believe—and look forward to—you becoming such a gentleman, steadfast in integrity."
Shen Ji nodded solemnly, seeing his reflection in his sister’s clear eyes.
He would.
He’d study hard and ensure Shen Miao and Sister Xiang lived well.
Perched on the doorstep, Sister Xiang licked her sticky sugar horse, glancing between her siblings. "What about me? Where do I go if you’re both leaving?"
Shen Miao and Shen Ji turned simultaneously, bursting into laughter.
"Where else? The three of us stick together!"
The next dawn, Shen Miao rose early as usual, preparing sixty red bean buns and fifty hand-pulled pancakes for the market.
After two days, selling out before the market closed was common, but she wouldn’t increase output.
First, this quantity was manageable alone; more would overwhelm her. Second, the novelty of hand-pulled pancakes would fade—only true fans would return. Third, competitors were already mimicking her, though their sauce and skill fell short.
So she’d maintain this scale—enough to avoid exhaustion or waste.
For small ventures like hers, sustainability meant knowing limits.
True to his word, Shen Ji skipped Lanxin Bookstore to help at the stall.
With him minding Sister Xiang and handling sales, Shen Miao focused solely on cooking. Shen Ji’s quick calculations ensured smooth transactions, rarely missing a beat.
When there were no customers, he would sit on a stool and read the few pages of text he had copied the day before.
As expected, today the red bean buns sold out faster than the scallion pancakes, and it wasn't until the morning market ended that all the pancakes were finally gone.
Shen Miao was busy packing up her stall, preparing to return home and make the Wei Family’s order of one hundred and fifty red bean buns for the day, when a well-dressed man leading a donkey suddenly approached.
Without preamble, he asked, "Madam Shen, would you be willing to work as a pastry chef at our Wei Family’s bakery?"
