They sat with their backs to the mouth of the alley, each occupied with their own tasks—some had sewing baskets on their laps, embroidering; others held small winnowing trays, shelling peanuts; one even had an old loofah sponge in hand, with a wooden basin at her feet, scrubbing household bottles and jars.
Aunt Li, ever the gossip, was naturally among them.
Though Shen Miao carried a heavy load, her steps were light and soundless as she approached. Engrossed in their work and chatter, the women hadn’t noticed her arrival. So Shen Miao lingered with amusement behind a messy pile of odds and ends, listening quietly for a while.
One said, “Why hasn’t the Xie family come around these days?”
Another answered, “Probably because Steward Zheng didn’t take a liking to Eldest Sister Shen!”
A third sighed, “Even as servants, they’re servants of the Xie family! Their monthly wages are likely more than what we earn from our hard work. Marrying Eldest Sister Shen would already be reaching above their station—it’s no surprise they’d look down on her. Poor thing, but she’s been married before—no longer a maiden.”
Yet another countered, “Not necessarily. I heard her former husband was impotent.”
Someone else questioned, “No, that’s not right. I heard it was because Eldest Sister Shen couldn’t bear children that her mother-in-law cast her out.”
“Divorcing a wife after just three years without a child—that’s too hasty! No, no, I heard from Old Gu’s wife long ago that her ex-husband had… improper relations with his own mother. Eldest Sister Shen couldn’t endure it, so she…”
One woman gagged at the thought. “I’ve heard that too—it’s too disgusting to believe. Let’s not talk about it.”
Another sighed for her. “Regardless, Eldest Sister Shen’s looks are still outstanding. Not just in our alley, but within ten miles, you won’t find anyone as refined as her. But alas, being divorced and branded as possibly infertile—no matter how beautiful, no one dares to approach her now. Ah, such a bitter fate. The Shen family, one after another, all suffer.”
Sister Xiang tilted her head up to look at her elder sister, puzzled to see her even stifling a laugh. She shrugged and went back to licking the candy her sister had made for her—a big, round lollipop of melted rock sugar, sprinkled with toasted walnut and peanut crumbs, swirled around a bamboo stick.
The sweet, crunchy treat was too delicious to resist!
While Sister Xiang was lost in her candy, Shen Miao listened with equal fascination—until Aunt Li, embroidering a handkerchief, snipped a thread with her teeth and sourly remarked, “Eldest Sister Shen might’ve thrown herself at Steward Zheng, but it wasn’t entirely for nothing. Yesterday, Gou Er came back saying her brother, Ji Brother, has been studying phonetics and composing poetry. And he’s got a whole new set of fine brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones—probably all gifts from the Xie family, thanks to her fawning!”
Ji Brother wasn’t at the stall today, staying home to study instead.
The earthen oven in Shen Miao’s home had dried out, making it quicker to bake red bean buns. Its tight seal and steady heat meant he no longer needed to watch the fire. Besides, with the summer exams just half a month away, Ji Brother had to focus.
So she left him at home, where he could study in peace.
Following the study guide Xie Ninth Brother had outlined, Shen Miao assigned Ji Brother a rigorous routine: fifty pages of calligraphy practice daily, an essay on the Four Books, memorizing The Rhyme Enlightenment, composing two regulated poems, and three policy essays—well, more like flattering tributes.
This version of the Song Dynasty didn’t yet have The Rhyme Enlightenment, but Shen Miao had memorized it in her past life! She recited it for Ji Brother, had him transcribe it word by word, and then made him memorize it himself.
Though her family had been chefs for three generations in her previous life, they weren’t uneducated ones. Her grandfather was not only skilled in calligraphy but also excelled in painting landscapes and birds-and-flowers, with a house full of classical books.
Her parents had grown up just half a street apart, so whenever she tired of cooking lessons with her grandfather, she’d slip away to her grandfather’s courtyard. There, under the warm sun and gentle breeze, she’d curl up in his lap as he leisurely aired books, read, and brewed tea—listening to him recite passages, sipping tea, and dozing off.
Those days seemed unforgettable, even across two lifetimes.
The books she’d memorized with her grandfather, the principles she’d learned—they hadn’t faded. They remained etched in her mind.
Now, just as her grandfather had once done for her, she recited The Rhyme Enlightenment for Ji Brother, explaining, “This was compiled by an old scholar in Jinling City. I find it excellent for learning classical rhyme schemes, tonal patterns, and couplet techniques.”
Ji Brother was instantly captivated and copied it down himself, committing it to memory daily.
Say what you will, but the “practice makes perfect” approach was the fastest way to improve exam scores. Ji Brother’s progress in recent days was so rapid even Shen Miao could see it. She’d even gotten some damp wooden planks from Old Man Yang—coated with waterproof lacquer, so the ink could be rinsed off—to save paper for Ji Brother’s calligraphy practice.
Thus, Ji Brother had been studying day and night, his mind wholly absorbed. By day, he was dazed; by night, he muttered rhymes in his sleep: “Clouds pair with rain… snow with wind… sunset glow with clear sky…”
So, these women could gossip about her all they wanted—but not about Ji Brother, who was pouring his heart into his studies.
Suddenly, Shen Miao spoke up behind them, “Good day, aunties. All gathered here?”
Her voice startled them so badly they nearly dropped their things, as if seeing a ghost in broad daylight. By the time they looked up in alarm, Shen Miao had already composed herself.
Not giving them a chance to speak, she pointed at them mournfully. “You may slander me, but you mustn’t speak ill of Ji Brother. Don’t you know that of all things in life, knowledge is the one thing that can’t be gained through flattery? If fine brushes and ink could fill one’s belly with learning, everyone would be a scholar! Aunt Li, when Ji Brother wasn’t studying, you scorned him. Now that he’s diligent, you still find fault? Never mind the rest—just answer me this: Have we three siblings ever eaten your rice or worn your clothes? Why must you torment us orphans who’ve lost our parents and only have each other?”
Aunt Li’s face flushed red and then paled under Shen Miao’s blunt accusations, her guilt plain to see.
Shen Miao didn’t feign anger. Instead, her eyes reddened as she spoke, pulling out a handkerchief to dab at nonexistent tears. Trembling, she pointed at them. “Aunties, your hearts are too cruel! You’ll be the death of us! If I hear such talk again, I’ll find a rope and hang myself at your doorsteps! Then we can meet every night and catch up!”
“W-what nonsense is this?!”
"Eldest Sister, don’t be angry. These are just rumors, and the aunties were merely gossiping."
"Yes, yes, none of it came from us."
"Oh dear, my pot is still boiling on the stove—I must hurry home!"
"Me too, my little Bao’er seems to have woken up. I should go as well!"
With that, they scattered like startled birds, and Aunt Li also seized the chance to slip away. Shen Miao slowly straightened up, dabbed the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, and let out a soft, disdainful sniff before lifting her chin. "Sister Xiang, let’s go."
Just as she reached her doorstep and set down the carrying pole to open the gate, she noticed Gu Tusu standing by the entrance of the Gu residence, as if he had been listening for some time. Shen Miao glanced at him but didn’t dwell on it, merely nodding slightly in acknowledgment.
To her surprise, Gu Tusu lowered his head and suddenly spoke. "Eldest Sister, you’ve changed so much from before."
Shen Miao paused mid-step and turned to face him.
"Back then, if they gossiped about you like this, you’d always run home in tears..."
"Second Brother Gu," Shen Miao interrupted his reminiscing with a sigh of resignation.
She had no fear of being exposed as an imposter—no one could unravel that she wasn’t the original Eldest Sister Shen. Raising her head, she met his gaze steadily, the first time she had done so since returning to Bianjing. The alley was empty except for the two of them, yet she kept her voice soft. "Do you know that people are never unchanging? The tearful Eldest Sister Shen has grown up. The girl who was coddled by her family, ignorant of the world’s cruelty, married off to Jinling for three years—only I know what she endured."
Though she was no longer that Eldest Sister Shen, only she could truly understand her.
Shen Miao carried every memory of that girl in her mind, intimately acquainted with her weakness and regrets. Her voice was quiet but firm. "For three years, I was far from my parents and brothers, forced to face an unfamiliar ‘family’ alone. Every day, I woke to my mother-in-law’s endless torment: washing clothes late into the night, rising before dawn to fetch water and cut grass, spinning thread and embroidering all day to earn extra coin… Second Brother Gu, you must understand—a woman can only retain her innocence if she’s cherished by her parents in her youth and blessed with a good marriage, never tasting hardship. But how many in the entire Great Song Dynasty are so fortunate? I was not. My family is gone, my marriage dissolved, and now I have nothing left. To say such things to me now… doesn’t it feel overly harsh?"
Gu Tusu was struck speechless, his face flushing dark red.
"That’s not what I meant—"
Shen Miao shook her head.
"If one dwells forever in the past, how can they move forward? Fortune or misfortune, I accept the trials fate has given me, and I believe no one is doomed to misery forever. There’s a line in an opera I adore: ‘My fate is mine to command, not heaven’s.’ Clichéd as it sounds, I’m certain that one day, I’ll carve out a good life with my own hands."
Her gaze was unwavering as she spoke each word deliberately:
"Second Brother Gu, since my return, you’ve been kind and helpful. I’m grateful—for you, Aunt Gu, and Uncle Gu’s care of Ji Brother and Sister Xiang, and for your lingering regard for the girl I once was. But you must see now that I’m no longer the Eldest Sister Shen from your memories. So… Second Brother Gu, look ahead too. I sincerely hope you’ll find a virtuous wife who suits you, that you’ll live happily and well… As for me, I’ll strive to live earnestly and fully."
"Second Brother Gu, don’t trouble yourself over me anymore."
With a deep bow, she ushered Sister Xiang inside before he could reply.
She had considered clarifying things with Gu Tusu for some time, but the opportunity had arrived unexpectedly. Perhaps it was for the best—Gu Tusu wasn’t a bad man, but she was tired of tiptoeing around him. Now, facing the Gu family in the future, she’d no longer feel indebted.
Gu Tusu stood motionless for a long while, as if relearning how to breathe, before slowly leaning against the rough courtyard wall and lifting his head. The sky above the alley was a brilliant blue, thick clouds drifting lazily. Yet his mind was cast back three years, to the day this narrow lane had been festooned with red silk lanterns, musicians crowding the Shen household’s gate, the air thick with celebration.
The Shen courtyard had been piled high with dowry chests, the newly crafted bridal sedan waiting at the alley’s mouth. By custom, the bride’s feet weren’t to touch the ground before departure. But Eldest Sister Shen had no elder brother, and Ji Brother was still too young.
It was he—after their birth charts were matched—who, as her sworn brother, carried her to the sedan.
Clad in emerald bridal robes, a round fan in hand, she had fluttered onto his back like a delicate swallow.
Her slender arms looped around his neck, and Gu Tusu’s eyes burned so fiercely he nearly stumbled. Even now, he remembered that day vividly. For it was the day he had been closest to her—and the day he lost her forever.
Amid the joyous music, the clamor of well-wishers and the bridal attendants, those few dozen steps had felt like miles. By the time they reached the sedan, he could barely bring himself to let go. Only after the attendant’s repeated urgings did he grit his teeth and kneel.
Once she was seated inside, her face half-hidden behind the fan adorned with mandarin ducks, she had spoken her final words to him, crisp and clear:
"Second Brother Gu, thank you."
He rose, head still bowed, and reached out to straighten the jade pendants on her bridal robes.
"Ah Miao…" His voice was hoarse, trembling. In the Song Dynasty, a woman’s given name was reserved for parents and husband—never to be spoken lightly by others. Yet for the first and last time, the name he had whispered hundreds of times in his heart escaped his lips. "If the Rong family ever mistreats you, send word. I’ll come at once to defend you."
Eldest Sister had frozen, but before she could respond, the attendant shoved him aside, spitting in disgust. "Bah! Young Master Gu, how dare you utter such ill omens on this blessed day? Enough—the auspicious hour has arrived! Lift the sedan—"
Shoved aside like a lifeless puppet, he staggered, staring blankly at his hands. In that moment, he knew: by letting go, he had released her from his life forever.
From then on, she would belong to another.
A surge of desperation rose in his chest. As the music swelled again, he jerked his head up—only to see the scarlet sedan curtain drawn aside. Through the noise, Eldest Sister lowered her fan just enough to reveal smiling eyes as she called softly to him:
"Second Brother Gu, I’m leaving now. Take care."
The suona's high-pitched notes rang out, accompanied by the clamor of gongs and drums. Firecrackers were lit, and the voice of the eldest sister seemed shattered by the noise, dissipating into the wind. The sedan chair swayed as it departed, and the pair of familiar, gentle eyes he knew so well were soon obscured by the fluttering curtains.
That surge of impulse, in the end, faded away within those eyes.
Yes, no matter what, he still wished for her to be well—to live a good life, forever.
Yet in the end, nothing went as he had hoped.
The Shen family was gone. The eldest sister returned alone, but the hand that had been pushed away back then remained pushed away. Why had he been so restrained by his own sense of inferiority, too timid to compete with the elegant and scholarly Rong Dalang? If only he had been braver back then... If only he had confessed his feelings to the eldest sister sooner... How much better things might have been.
Now... it was too late for regrets.
He tilted his head back, exhaling a heavy breath, then roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Without another glance, he turned and shut his own door behind him.
Having spoken her piece, Shen Miao felt a lightness in her heart. She truly didn’t want to let anyone down, but sometimes, she couldn’t go against her own feelings—nor could she pretend otherwise. Just as one couldn’t cut corners when cooking, she believed the same applied to life.
Humming to herself, she stepped briskly into the kitchen, her fingers curling around the handle of her knife. With a practiced flick, she twirled it effortlessly, and her mind settled into calm.
No more overthinking—today’s lunch would be a delicious meat roll!
She began chopping the meat with rhythmic thuds. The rolls were simple to make: mix flour with water, knead the dough, then let it rest for a quarter of an hour. Meanwhile, the minced meat was seasoned with salt, oil, soy sauce, and a homemade blend of thirteen spices, ground in advance. A handful of chopped scallions was stirred in, and once the dough was rolled out paper-thin, the filling was spread evenly before being rolled up tightly.
Sliced into segments and steamed for a little over fifteen minutes, the rolls were ready to eat.
One bite into the fluffy, fragrant meat roll, and the rich taste of minced meat filled the mouth. Dipped in sauce, it was even more irresistible!
Beyond the scallion and pork filling, Shen Miao also loved variations like preserved vegetable and pork, braised pork, or spicy minced meat—each one equally delicious, the kind of flavor that could make one swoon with delight.
And sure enough, just as the rolls were being steamed, Sister Xiang came sniffing around, drawn by the aroma.
While she busied herself at home, Shen Miao hadn’t noticed that earlier, when she was speaking alone with Gu Tusu, someone had lingered at the mouth of the alley, listening intently to her impassioned reflections on fate and life.
Amid the bustling marketplace, Xie Qi walked with a large rattan bookcase strapped to his back. Beside him, Yan Shu carried nothing, while Qiu Hao dutifully led a sleek, black Dezhou donkey, its back laden with bedding, straw mats, and two crates of books. The trio—man, servant, and donkey—turned away from Willow East Alley and merged into the lively streets.
Yan Shu couldn’t hide his disappointment. "Ninth Brother, why didn’t you call out to Shen Miao just now? Didn’t we come specifically to buy some egg yolk pastries for Old Doctor Yao at the academy?"
That box of pastries Shen Miao had given Ninth Brother after the rain-soaked banquet had earned his enthusiastic praise. He’d kept only two for himself, sending the rest to the ladies of the household.
As a servant, Yan Shu had been lucky to taste half of one—but that half had left him craving more ever since.
Xie Qi didn’t answer immediately, lost in thought. After a long pause, he chuckled softly.
"My fate is mine to command, not Heaven’s?" What a fine phrase. I wonder which opera it’s from. None of the variety shows or performances in Bianjing seem to have it—perhaps it’s a Jinling play? I’d love to hear the story behind it.
Qiu Hao struggled to keep the stubborn donkey moving, while Yan Shu gave its hindquarters an impatient smack, muttering, "Stupid beast, behave! Hurry up! Qiu Hao, just give it a whip—that’ll teach it… Ninth Brother, with the household carriages all dispatched for the banquet preparations, we’ll have to walk all the way to the outer city. By the time we reach the academy, it’ll be dark!"
The older servant finally reined in the unruly donkey and scolded Yan Shu. "Dare to criticize the mistress now? If Steward Zheng hears of it, you’ll be beaten again."
Yan Shu pouted. "If I get beaten, it’ll be because you tattled."
Qiu Hao shot him a sidelong glance and ignored him, dragging the donkey ahead with renewed effort.
Xie Qi, oblivious to their bickering, murmured to himself, "Fortune or misfortune, one must endure the trials fate brings, yet believe no one is doomed to misery forever… Shen Miao’s words are remarkably wise."
Only then did Yan Shu realize his master hadn’t been listening at all. He puffed his cheeks in silent indignation. Whether anyone’s truly unlucky for life, I can’t say—but here’s one who’s been unlucky half his life already!
By the time they had crossed an entire street, the Golden Beam Bridge long out of sight, Xie Qi finally snapped back to reality. "Ah! We forgot the pastries!"
Yan Shu gritted his teeth. "It’s too late to go back now!"
After a moment’s thought, Xie Qi flagged down an idle loiterer at the roadside, paid him a few coins, and sent him to the Xie residence with a message. Recognizing the name "Xie family of West Bell and Drum Lane," the man didn’t dare cheat them, bowing obsequiously before hurrying off.
"Steward Zheng can send someone to Shen Miao’s home to buy them and deliver them to the academy later. Even if we’d gone just now, she wouldn’t have had any ready-made." Xie Qi had initially wanted to avoid drawing attention to his craving for sweets, but there was no helping it now.
Yan Shu brightened instantly, tugging at Xie Qi’s sleeve. "Those pastries are truly divine. I’ve been dreaming of them since last time. Just save one for me, just one—I’m not greedy!"
"Have I ever deprived you of treats? Now hurry—if we dawdle any longer, how will you make it back?"
The trio gradually disappeared into the distance.
Meanwhile, over half an hour later, the clatter of hooves and carriage wheels echoed at the mouth of Willow East Alley. The residents peeked through cracked doors and windows, curiosity piqued.
Well, well—standing at Shen Miao’s doorstep was a sharply dressed middle-aged man. Wasn’t that Steward Zheng from the Xie family again? He was knocking on her door once more! The onlookers perked up, some even throwing their doors open to gawk openly.
When Shen Miao answered, she was momentarily taken aback to see Zheng Neizhi. Noticing the neighbors’ prying eyes, she sighed inwardly—so much for her earlier speech about independence. Now she’d never shake the rumors.
Still, she greeted him properly. "Steward Zheng, what brings you here? Is there something you need?"
Zheng Neizhi laughed heartily, "There are indeed two pieces of good news. First, our Xie Ninth Brother has specially sent me here to place another order for fifty egg yolk pastries, which he intends to gift to the academy’s scholars. Second, our family’s matriarch has been craving Madam Shen’s egg yolk pastries ever since she last tasted them. Our household chef has tried several times to replicate them but failed, so the lady of the house has sent me to inquire whether we might purchase Madam Shen’s pastry recipe—to save us the trouble of frequently going out to buy them."
It seemed the return gift she had sent Xie Ninth Brother had been shared with his family elders, and now it had unexpectedly brought her another stroke of luck. Shen Miao paused in surprise, then immediately brightened with a smile, swinging her courtyard gate open in delight.
Previously, Manager Wei had refused to buy her red bean bun recipe, fearing it was too easy to imitate. If a competitor figured it out, he’d suffer a double loss. But the Xie family was different—they weren’t in the business of selling pastries, so such concerns didn’t apply.
Her eyes sparkled as she eagerly ushered Zheng Neizhi inside, "Ah, I see! Please, Steward Zheng, come in and let’s discuss this in detail… Ji Brother! Ji Brother! Put down your books for now—go brew some tea for our guest! Sister Xiang! Stop tormenting the chickens—they’re practically bristling with fear! Hurry to the kitchen and fetch some of the cookies I just baked for our guest! And don’t forget to wash your hands!"
Fortune had knocked on her door again. As for the gossip and rumors? Who cared!
