Shen Miao's shameless remarks, which would later be passed down through generations, nearly provoked the proud craftsmen of that era to sever ties with her on the spot.
In the end, she had no choice but to soften her tone and negotiate carefully with them. They finally settled on sixty-eight strings of cash for three brick-and-tile houses, with the added condition that she would provide the workers two meals a day—staple food, not just watery porridge—otherwise, they wouldn’t have the energy to work efficiently.
In ancient times, house construction was divided into "five trades and eight crafts," but carpenters held the highest status. At this time, carpenters also served as architects and designers, responsible for drafting plans, creating models, and supervising construction. Thus, Old Man Yang, brimming with energy, slung his carpenter’s square and ink marker over his shoulder and led his apprentices to Shen Miao’s home to survey the land. After discussions, they agreed to rebuild on the foundation of the previously burned-down house.
From the original owner’s memories, these three rooms were actually quite spacious and well-proportioned. One had been shared by the parents and Sister Xiang, another belonged to Ji Brother, and the last was hers. The furnishings in each were similar—beds, tables, chairs, cabinets, and clothing chests. Now, Shen Miao wanted to convert all three rooms into suites, using decorative screens as partitions to separate small sitting areas from bedrooms. The outer half of Ji Brother’s room could serve as a study, with the partitioned rear section functioning as a living space, ensuring both privacy and a dedicated place for reading.
For the bedroom areas in all three rooms, Shen Miao asked Old Man Yang to build floor-to-ceiling wardrobe units directly into the walls using bricks and stone, just like in modern times—complete with wooden rods and compartments to organize folded clothes. This way, garments wouldn’t have to be constantly stored in chests, where they’d get wrinkled and require ironing with a teapot’s hot base before wearing, not to mention being vulnerable to moth damage.
Modern wardrobes were so much better. Having a custom wooden wardrobe made would be expensive, but building one directly into the wall with bricks would save on lumber costs. They’d only need to apply plaster and install wardrobe doors and frames.
Outside all three rooms, she wanted raised platforms with covered front corridors to protect against rain, along with elevated brick flooring and drainage channels to prevent dampness and pests.
In the western corner of the yard, she also requested a small, free-of-charge pond lined with crushed stones and a flagstone path connecting it to the front corridor. And while they were at it… could they also clear the plot of land in the eastern corner, fence it with wooden rails, and prepare it for future planting of fruits and vegetables? Oh, and while they were there, perhaps they could also build brick chicken and dog pens beside the garden?
Shen Miao had initially hoped to ask Old Man Yang and his apprentices to throw in a free grape trellis or set up a clothesline pole in the yard, but seeing the old man’s increasingly pale and strained expression, she reluctantly gave up. With a sigh, she thought: Fine, let’s not push this honest craftsman to his breaking point—where else would I find such a good-natured and skilled carpenter for future projects?
After two collaborations—first on the food cart and then on the doors and windows of her home—Shen Miao had come to trust Old Man Yang’s craftsmanship. The kitchen door and courtyard gate he’d built were sturdy and perfectly fitted, which gave her confidence in both his skills and his character. When hiring contractors, the worst were the deceitful ones who took advantage of clients’ ignorance, cutting corners and delivering shoddy work.
So when it came to renovations, integrity and skill came first—price was secondary.
Old Man Yang wasn’t much of a talker, and his quotes were reasonable. The materials he’d used for Shen Miao’s doors and windows had been solid.
That’s why she felt comfortable hiring him again.
The discussion between Shen Miao and Old Man Yang lasted nearly two hours, during which she drained an entire pot of tea. Finally, the old man wiped the cold sweat from his brow and said, “Then it’s settled. I’ll draft the plans when I get back and deliver the cart you ordered tomorrow.”
With that, he and his apprentices hastily retreated, as if fleeing before Shen Miao could tack on another “while you’re at it” request.
This Madam Shen was sharp-tongued—not only a ruthless haggler but also a smooth talker. She showered him with flattery like, “You’re practically the Lu Ban of our time!” and “In all of Bianjing, yours is the only craftsmanship I trust!” Then came the bargaining: “Give me a better price, and I’ll refer more work to you!” or “If you can’t lower the price, you’ll have to throw in something extra—I’m a loyal customer, after all. You can’t brush me off with scraps!”
By the end, Old Man Yang was so bewildered that he couldn’t tell up from down. The promised referrals never materialized, but the freebies he’d thrown in certainly did!
The thought made him shudder, and his apprentices practically carried him away in their haste to leave.
The next day, Shen Miao was thoroughly pleased with both the blueprints and the food cart. She immediately gave her approval and arranged for a monk from Xingguo Temple to act as a witness. Contracts were signed, fingerprints pressed, and details like the construction timeline, payment, and house plans were finalized. In front of the witness, Shen Miao counted out forty strings of cash for Old Man Yang, who would use the funds to purchase lumber, stone, and materials for firing tiles and bricks.
Thus, the grand undertaking of the Shen family’s home construction began in earnest.
The Gu household was the first to notice the commotion.
Aunt Gu had been coughing for the past two days and had stayed indoors resting after taking some medicine, so she hadn’t stepped outside.
Early in the morning, the clamor of voices and the rhythmic shouts of laborers echoed from across the street. When the door opened, the rear gate of the Shen household stood wide, with a wooden ramp laid out. Two burly workers, thick hemp ropes slung over their shoulders, were hauling a foundation stone. Behind them, two more workers carried baskets of gravel and sand, filing in one after another. Others followed, transporting mud slurry and stones in an unbroken stream.
Aunt Gu was astonished. Were the Shens building a house?
She lingered for a while, noticing neighbors emerging from their homes. Soon, a small crowd had gathered at the Shen residence, peering curiously inside—until a wrinkled carpenter, his face like gnarled tree bark, shooed them away. "Move along! Nothing to see here! We’re about to roll logs—get hurt, and it’s on you!"
Aunt Gu recognized him as Old Man Yang, the carpenter from across the Golden Beam Bridge. Her own tables and chairs had been crafted by his hands. She stepped closer and asked, "Old Man Yang, is the Shen family really building a house?"
"Isn’t it obvious?" he grunted.
Nearby, Aunt Li gasped and sidled up to Aunt Gu. "Shen Miao’s only been back half a month—how’d she save enough for a house? Look at all those bricks piled inside! And a tiled roof, no less! Where’d the money come from?"
Aunt Gu instinctively defended Shen Miao. "Well, when she married, Old Shen gave her a dowry of a hundred strings—enough to turn heads in our alley. Even if she’s back from her husband’s family, it’s no surprise she’s got some savings."
"I doubt it," Aunt Li sniffed. If it were dowry money, she’d have started building right after returning, not waited till now. Her mind raced—the Xie family steward had visited several times lately, and Shen Miao herself had been frequenting the Xie household. She’d even spotted the Xie carriage picking her up more than once! That money had to be from the Xies.
She’d stumbled into a windfall!
Seeing Aunt Li’s sour expression, Aunt Gu frowned. "Even if it isn’t, she’s earned it through hard work. Since coming back, she’s been up before dawn and working late into the night. Saving enough to rebuild the burned-down house isn’t unreasonable. Should the three siblings keep living in ruins? Old Shen left behind these orphans—shouldn’t we be glad they’ve managed to scrape together a living? We’ve watched these children grow up, Aunt Li. Don’t be so sharp-tongued."
Fair enough, but what kind of work paid so handsomely? Pure curiosity... Aunt Li kept silent, casting one last glance at the bustling Shen courtyard before turning away.
Aunt Gu shook her head and returned home.
Gu Tusu was already up, standing in the courtyard, scrubbing his face haphazardly with a towel.
Aunt Gu approached him. "The Shens are building a house. You’re always hovering around Shen Miao—did you know?"
"No," Gu Tusu snapped, his face darkening as he stalked off.
"Hey, you little rascal!" Aunt Gu was baffled. "What’s gotten into you?"
With the house in chaos—dusty, crowded, and noisy—Shen Miao carried her money jar, Sister Xiang, the dog, and even a kitchen knife with her, leaving Ji Brother behind to mind the chickens and the house while he studied. Before leaving, she brewed a large pot of strong tea and steamed five trays of meat-stuffed coarse buns for the workers, then wheeled her newly minted food cart out to the morning market.
Her home was bare—just three beds, a few stools, and a table. With supplies stretched thin feeding dozens, there was hardly anything left to steal.
Aside from cheap bed frames, bedding, and stools, the place was so empty a thief might’ve pitied them enough to donate a few coins.
Ji Brother, though young, was more than capable of guarding the house.
Shen Miao had taken all her savings, hidden in a basket beneath the cart.
Once the morning market wrapped up, she planned to exchange her hoard of copper coins for silver at a major money house in Bianjing. Copper was heavy and bulky—silver was far more practical. One tael equaled one string of cash, compact and easy to conceal.
She’d considered the city’s various exchange shops, but heard they charged thirty coins per string as a "storage fee." Though the court had since issued official exchange notes and decreed counterfeiting punishable by beheading, Shen Miao still distrusted these privately run "banks."
In these times, nothing was steadier than silver and gold.
Besides, she wasn’t some merchant hauling vast sums—she had no need for such conveniences yet.
Silver was best!
Still, silver was her "long-term storage." Day-to-day expenses required copper coins.
Lost in these calculations, she didn’t notice the curious stares her little cart drew as she pushed it onto the bridge.
The cart was adorned brightly, with two wheels and a wooden sign carved atop its roof, the red paint so vivid it could be spotted from afar. Shen Miao had also nailed blue cloth curtains to the sides, with "Shen's Cake Shop" written boldly by Ji Brother.
When it was wheeled to its usual spot, Mei Sanniang watched in fascination, curiously reaching out to touch it and exclaiming in admiration, "Where did you get this cart made? It’s so lovely! And the countertop can hold things too? I envy you—your ideas just keep coming one after another."
Shen Miao took the opportunity to promote Old Man Yang’s carpentry shop.
Not only was the cart pleasing to the eye, but its surface also had grooves, allowing Shen Miao’s small jars and food containers to fit snugly without toppling over on slopes. A large round hole was deliberately left in the countertop, with a supporting crossbar beneath, where a small clay stove and griddle could be embedded. There was even extra space for storage.
Hooks hung from the cart’s handles, and Shen Miao had placed a handled wicker basket lined with oil paper to hold eggshells.
Underneath the counter, she set a deep wicker basket padded with a wheat-straw dog mat she had woven herself. Beneath the mat was her money box, and atop it, naturally, sat the dog’s rear. She positioned both the dog and the basket near the griddle stove so that, during the chilly mornings, the little one wouldn’t suffer from wind or cold while accompanying her to the stall.
The puppy she had bought was remarkably well-behaved—never barking unnecessarily or making messes. After just a few lessons, it had even learned to relieve itself in the gutter. Sister Xiang and Ji Brother adored it. While Ji Brother studied or practiced calligraphy, the pup would quietly curl up at his feet without disturbance. When Sister Xiang played with it in the yard, they’d toss beanbags until both were drenched in sweat.
With this new companion, Sister Xiang finally stopped pestering the three chicks. She had previously named each of them, though Shen Miao couldn’t recall all the names—only that the fluffiest, roundest little hen was called Rong Rong. Now, Sister Xiang had shifted her affections, no longer favoring the little white rooster.
Once, she huffed indignantly, "The white chicken keeps flying around and pecking people. I don’t like it anymore. Rong Rong is better—she listens to me and doesn’t run off." From then on, she often let Rong Rong perch on her head or shoulder to nap, proudly declaring, "Rong Rong is my bosom friend."
Now that the puppy had arrived, Sister Xiang no longer held daily "chicken meetings," much to the relief of both Shen Miao and the poultry.
Even when accompanying Shen Miao to the stall, the girl no longer dozed off after eating. As soon as the cart was set up, Sister Xiang would lift the curtain and wriggle halfway inside to play with the dog.
The puppy still hadn’t been named. Shen Miao wasn’t particularly skilled at naming things—her best ideas were along the lines of "Big Yellow," "Lucky," or "Woof Woof," all of which felt too plain. So she decided to take a few days to think of something better.
Miss Mi arrived earlier, already set up at her stall, meticulously carving a wooden hairpin. When she spotted Shen Miao, she paused to smile and greet her, "Good morning, Shen Miao."
"Morning, Miss Mi."
Then she noticed the new cart—and something wriggling inside. Curious, she peered closer and saw Sister Xiang’s bottom sticking out. Upon closer inspection, there was also a two-month-old yellow-and-white puppy hidden within.
"Shen Miao, you’ve brought the whole family along," Mei Sanniang teased, covering her mouth with a chuckle. "Your household keeps growing."
Lighting the stove, Shen Miao laughed helplessly. "I originally planned to buy a big guard dog, but yesterday’s market didn’t have any suitable ones. Instead, I ended up with this little pup—its teeth aren’t even fully grown yet! How’s it supposed to guard anything? I regret it a bit, but I’ll just have to wait for it to grow up."
Still, perhaps it was fate. After browsing so many pet stalls, only this puppy had captured her heart.
"It’s fine. Dogs raised from puppyhood are the most loyal," Mei Sanniang said breezily, waving a hand.
Just then, a cautious voice chimed in:
"Shen Miao, you want a big guard dog?"
The elderly woman waiting to buy cakes—Auntie Wu, whom Shen Miao recognized—had overheard their conversation. "I have a fierce old dog at home, raised for eight years now. A few years back, a thief climbed over our wall, and that dog nearly mauled him to death. If you’d like, I’d be happy to give it to you."
Auntie Wu often brought her granddaughter, Xiang Guo'er, to buy cakes. The little girl had always been a picky eater—no amount of hawthorn pills could whet her appetite. Meals were a struggle, with Xiang Guo'er barely taking a few bites no matter how much effort went into cooking. But she adored Shen Miao’s cakes. Whenever the child refused to eat, Auntie Wu would chase her for miles before finally relenting: "If you finish your meal properly, I’ll take you to buy cakes and red bean buns from Shen Miao’s shop."
Shen Miao was wrapping the flatbread in oiled paper when she heard this and asked in confusion, “Auntie Wu, why would you give away a dog you’ve raised for so many years, especially one so intelligent? Wouldn’t it be better to keep it?”
Auntie Wu looked distressed and sighed heavily. “It’s a long story… Lei Ting—that’s the name of our old dog—is fiercely loyal, majestic in stature, and incredibly strong.” The elderly woman pointed at the child clinging to her leg, tears welling in her eyes. “One day, our Xiang Guo’er was being bullied by other children in the alley. When Lei Ting heard her crying, he broke free from his leash in a frenzy, leaped over the wall, and charged at the bullies, barking wildly. He didn’t bite, but the child he knocked over hit the back of his head on the ground and bled heavily. My legs aren’t what they used to be, and I couldn’t stop it in time! Later, I rushed the child to the physician, and thankfully, the bleeding was stopped in time—nothing too serious. After half a month of care, the wound scabbed over and healed. But the child’s parents wouldn’t let it go. No matter how much we apologized or even after we paid them ten strings of coins, they still demanded that the dog be killed and its meat eaten for revenge. Otherwise, they threatened to report it to the authorities and have the dog beaten to death.”
Shen Miao fell silent. Such a situation… truly had no easy resolution.
“Their family has numbers on their side, and they come to our door every day to make a scene. My son and my husband are at their wits’ end. We originally thought of sending Lei Ting to relatives in the countryside and passing off some other meat as his. But even our own kin are afraid of a dog that’s hurt someone before. Yet… he’s truly a good dog. He’d never harm anyone under normal circumstances.” Auntie Wu wiped her tears and sighed again. “So when I heard that you, Miss Shen, were looking to buy a dog, I acted out of desperation. But I know you have two children at home, and they might be frightened if a dog were to turn aggressive… Forget I mentioned it.”
Auntie Wu took the flatbread, shook her head, and began to walk away dejectedly, leading Xiang Guo’er by the hand.
As they turned, Xiang Guo’er clutched her grandmother’s sleeve and pleaded in a tearful whisper, “Grandma, please don’t kill Lei Ting, okay? Lei Ting is a good dog…” But all she received in response was Auntie Wu’s repeated sighs.
Shen Miao’s heart stirred, and she called out to them, “Auntie, wait.”
She hadn’t agreed earlier because she suspected that a dog like Lei Ting, as Auntie Wu described, would only ever recognize one master. Even if given to her, she might not be able to keep him. But now that she knew the story, if Lei Ting were really killed for meat, she’d carry a weight on her conscience.
“When you have time, bring Lei Ting to my place. Let me see him first, and then we’ll decide,” Shen Miao finally said.
Though it wasn’t a firm promise, it was enough to bring tears to Auntie Wu’s eyes. “Ah, ah! Miss Shen, I don’t know how to thank you.”
Shen Miao shook her head. “I’m just agreeing to look. I might not be able to help.”
“But with your kindness, Lei Ting at least has a sliver of hope to live.” Auntie Wu expressed her gratitude profusely before hurriedly leading Xiang Guo’er away.
Only after they left did Mei Sanniang sidle up to Shen Miao and whisper, “Are you really taking that dog? Even if it costs no money, it’ll probably run back home in a few days. You won’t be able to tame it.”
Miss Mi blew away wood shavings and nodded slightly. “My family’s dog was sent to the countryside once, but it found its way back on its own.”
Shen Miao was reminded of her grandfather’s dog. In her past life, her family had adopted a retired police dog named Swiftwind—a mighty creature who had participated in flood rescues before retiring due to a leg injury. No one dared bully her as a child because Swiftwind was always by her side.
Swiftwind would carry her schoolbag in his mouth to see her off, and he could even read the clock, timing his arrival at the school gates to wait for her when classes ended.
Rain or shine.
No matter when or where, if she called out loudly, he’d charge to her side like a guardian angel.
Later, Swiftwind grew old and returned to the stars.
After reporting to the police dog unit, her grandfather received permission and arranged for a pet burial service. In the end, Swiftwind’s ashes were buried beneath the osmanthus tree in their old courtyard—the very spot where he loved to nap in life.
She murmured, “Let’s see… Let’s just see first.”
With that interlude over, another customer arrived. Shen Miao steadied her emotions and returned to her busy work.
As the weather warmed, the sun rose earlier each day.
Xie Tiao stumbled out, bleary-eyed. He had spent the last three or four days in the pleasure quarters of Zhulian Alley, and if he didn’t return home soon, his mother would surely beat him into minced meat with the Xi family’s long rod. So this morning, he resolved to head back.
But after a night of drinking, his legs felt like they were treading on cotton, and he staggered along, relying entirely on his servants to prop him up on either side.
It wasn’t until he was halfway home that his alcohol-numbed brain finally kicked into gear. Staring blankly, he turned to his attendant and asked, “…Where’s my carriage? Why hasn’t Zhou Lao’er come to fetch me?”
The attendant chuckled awkwardly, "The mistress is preparing a banquet, and all the carriages and horses at home have been recalled—either for purchasing goods outside the city, delivering invitations to various households, or sending messages to relatives and friends in Chenzhou and Caizhou. None are available. A few days ago, when Ninth Brother went out to study, he only had a donkey to carry his bedding, and even he had to walk the whole way on foot."
Xie Tiao was stunned. "This... Mother’s heart is truly too harsh."
He had been indulging in revelry outside for so long, and not only had his mother not sent anyone to look for him, but now she had even taken away the carriages!
"Third Brother, don’t worry. The mistress has already made it clear—you can drink as much as you like. Even if you drink yourself to death, she can’t be bothered to care."
Xie Tiao rubbed his throbbing temples, his heart filled with an indescribable bitterness. Eventually, he leaned slowly against his attendant’s shoulder and sighed. "Let’s go then... Ah, when we reach the bridge, buy me a bowl of Erchen soup to sober up first. Otherwise, I won’t even be able to walk back."
Huffing and puffing, they finally arrived at Auntie Fat’s fragrant drink stall. Exhausted, Xie Tiao plopped down onto a small bamboo stool placed beside the shop, fanning himself with his sleeve. A familiar aroma caught his attention, and when he turned his head, he remembered—ah, the pancake beauty.
After more than ten days apart, the beauty had grown even more striking.
When he first saw her, she had seemed somewhat pale and weary—beautiful, yes, but her lingering illness had left her looking tired. Now, however, she seemed to have regained her vitality. Her complexion was rosy, her eyes lively, and every smile and glance was utterly captivating. Eight out of ten customers who came to buy her pancakes left with flushed faces.
"Mo Chi, go buy me a pancake too," Xie Tiao ordered his servant between sips of Erchen soup. Though heavily drunk, his appetite had been awakened by the pancake’s aroma, reminding him of the delicious taste he had enjoyed half a month ago.
Soon, the pancake arrived. Xie Tiao ate it with the tea soup, enjoying the gentle breeze on the bridge. Suddenly, he felt his heart lighten, as if the faint unease and sorrow brought on by his mother’s cold indifference had dissipated.
He finished the pancake in a few bites. With a full stomach, his mind cleared slightly. Taking the silk handkerchief handed to him by his attendant, he wiped his trembling hands, unaware that his wide sleeve had slipped down, revealing a massive, gruesome scar across his wrist.
The scar stretched across his wrist, deep and horrifying, as if his hand had nearly been severed at the joint.
Xie Tiao acted as though he hadn’t noticed. Tossing the handkerchief aside, his wide sleeve fell back into place, covering the scar again.
After eating and drinking, he didn’t leave. Instead, he propped his chin on his hand, smiling as he admired the beauty making pancakes.
The warm spring breeze drifted along the Bian River, causing shop banners to flutter in the wind and lifting strands of the beauty’s hair. It was truly a picturesque scene.
A beauty, delicious food—all that was missing was fine wine. Xie Tiao couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret.
Shen Miao finished making the last pancake of the day and was scraping off the crumbs from the griddle when she turned and noticed the undisguised, intense gaze fixed upon her.
She looked over. It was a young man in his twenties, dressed in fine silks and reeking of alcohol—clearly still drunk. Though he was staring straight at her, his eyes were distant and unfocused, as if he were looking at her but lost in his own dream.
Plenty of men stared at her openly every day. How could she run a business if she minded being looked at? Shen Miao paid it no heed. Still, she glanced at him a couple more times, feeling that he looked somewhat familiar—yet she couldn’t quite place him.
Failing to recall, she shrugged, bid farewell with a smile to her regular customers, packed up her things, took Sister Xiang by the hand, and—with Sister Xiang leading the little dog—pushed her cart home.
After lunch, she took Sister Xiang to the money exchange to convert all her savings into silver ingots and broken silver. She watched intently as the money changer took out two large, pressed silver ingots on a tray and weighed them on the scale. Leaning over the counter, her eyes sparkled.
Sister Xiang wanted to see too, but she wasn’t tall enough to reach the counter, so she hopped up and down like a little rabbit beside Shen Miao.
One string of copper coins could roughly be exchanged for one tael of silver, but if the coins were of poor quality, they might not even amount to that.
The copper coins Shen Miao earned from her stall were a mix of good and bad, but the ones the Xie family had given her twice were all new—shiny, full-weight coins that even the money changer couldn’t fault. After deducting daily expenses and the cost of building the house, she ended up with forty-eight taels of silver in total.
These savings included some from the dowry Shen Miao had brought back from the Rong family, some from her daily stall earnings, and the rest from the Xie family’s payment for her pancake recipe. Each silver ingot in the money changer’s shop weighed twenty taels. Even the ingots reflected the Song dynasty’s understated style—only hammer marks on the surface, with the casting year and official seal engraved at the bottom, and no other decorative patterns.
The remaining eight taels were given to her as a large piece of broken silver, cut with special shears and weighed to the correct amount.
Before leaving, Shen Miao tucked two silver ingots into the inner pockets of her robe, one on each side, then tightly fastened the sash. Her chest now appeared fuller and slightly weighed down, but she held her head high as she strode forward with Sister Xiang in tow.
Her chest felt heavy, but it was no matter—she was willing to bear this burden.
It was just past noon, and the craftsmen had all gone home to rest, not returning until the second hour of the afternoon. Seizing the opportunity, she closed the gate and dug a hole in the chicken coop to hide the silver ingots. After instructing Sister Xiang and Ji Brother to keep watch, she left for the Xie residence to teach Chef Fang how to make pastries.
Yan Shu, knowing she would come, had already been waiting in the kitchen.
The moment she stepped inside, he blurted out, "Ninth Brother has gone to the academy to study—he’s not home!"
Shen Miao chuckled. "I didn’t even ask."
Yan Shu stuck out his tongue. "This servant thought Madam Shen would surely inquire."
She wrinkled her nose and playfully smeared flour on his face with her dusted hands. "Don’t talk nonsense, little page."
Yan Shu yelped and dashed out to wash his face.
Chef Fang grinned from the sidelines. Ever since learning that he would be taught Shen Miao’s pastry-making skills, he had treated her like a revered mentor. Today, he had even waited at the side gate in advance, preparing tea and snacks for her. He had somehow procured a round-backed chair so she could sit comfortably while instructing him. His address for her had also changed to "Madam Shen, the teacher."
It sounded odd, but no matter how Shen Miao protested, he refused to change it.
When she returned from the Xie residence, she found Auntie Wu standing at her doorstep, holding the leash of a large black-backed dog.
The sun was setting, its fading glow retreating as shadows stretched across the alley. The imposing black dog had sharp, sword-like ears and a formidable bone structure, sitting upright beside Auntie Wu like a sentinel. Even from a distance, as Shen Miao stepped down from the Xie family carriage, she met the dog’s alert gaze.
Shen Miao approached slowly, mesmerized. Though Lei Ting was clearly not a German Shepherd—and of course, she knew such breeds didn’t exist in the Song Dynasty—its black-and-tan coat and dignified, intelligent eyes gave it a noble air. As she drew near, the dog rose slowly, its posture radiating vigilance.
She stopped in her tracks.
What a magnificent creature!
"Lei Ting, from now on, you’ll be with Madam Shen," Auntie Wu said, crouching to stroke the dog’s head. Only then did the rigidly poised tail begin to wag affectionately. Tears welled in Auntie Wu’s eyes, her voice trembling. "Our home can’t protect you anymore. I’m so sorry."
Lei Ting nuzzled her hand in response.
Auntie Wu then guided Shen Miao’s hand toward the dog’s nose, letting it familiarize itself with her scent.
Lei Ting lifted its head to study Shen Miao. Her reflection shimmered in its almond-shaped brown eyes. The dog showed no hostility, but neither did it display warmth.
Relieved by its calm demeanor, Auntie Wu exhaled.
She stepped aside, revealing a large bundle behind her—inside were a sack of dog food, a patchwork cushion, two canine garments, and even a cotton-stuffed "kickball," all painstakingly sewn by Auntie Wu under lamplight.
Shen Miao felt a pang of guilt for her own pup, still living in the chicken coop, napping alongside the chicks.
Before leaving, Auntie Wu meticulously listed Lei Ting’s preferences: it loved gnawing on large bones but, like a cat, also enjoyed fish broth. It adored playing kickball, could run swiftly—even carrying a child on its back—and was strong enough to pull carts or help fetch water. She eagerly emphasized the dog’s virtues, hoping Shen Miao would grow fond of it.
"Madam Shen, from the moment I saw you, I knew you were a good-hearted girl. You’ll treat Lei Ting well, won’t you? In the future, may I bring Xiang Guo'er to visit occasionally? If it’s inconvenient, I won’t trouble you again," Auntie Wu implored, her eyes brimming with hope.
Shen Miao took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed Auntie Wu’s tears. "Come anytime. Don’t feel like you’re imposing. I have no parents or husband—having a kind elder like you in my life is a blessing."
Only then did Auntie Wu leave in peace. But after a few steps, Lei Ting tried to follow. She sternly commanded it to stay, waving her arms. "Go back, go back."
The dog hesitated, then let out a few obedient barks.
Shen Miao was now certain Auntie Wu hadn’t lied—this imposing dog, though intimidating, had been impeccably trained.
That day, its aggression had been an accident.
Even after Auntie Wu disappeared from sight, Lei Ting refused to enter the courtyard with Shen Miao. Instead, it sat by the flower platform at the doorstep, curling up beneath it when tired, as if remembering its mistress’s order to wait there without straying.
Shen Miao didn’t force it. She laid out the cushion brought by Auntie Wu on the platform beneath the raised floor, tied the dog leash to the door ring, and filled a bowl with food before heading inside. There was already a small dog in her home, and upon catching Lei Ting’s scent, it trembled in fear and immediately darted into the chicken coop, refusing to come out no matter how hard Sister Xiang tried to pull it.
Sister Xiang herself was too afraid to approach Lei Ting. That night, she clung to Shen Miao and whispered, “Lei Ting looks so fierce. I’m scared it’ll bite me.”
Shen Miao told her Lei Ting’s story, and Sister Xiang clutched the blanket, deep in thought after listening. Shen Miao wondered what she might say, but the girl simply tilted her head, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
So, “falling asleep the moment your head hits the pillow” wasn’t an exaggeration after all.
Ji Brother came in, put away his books, and blew out the lamp. He thought having Lei Ting around wasn’t a bad thing. “With Lei Ting here, no one dares to come near our house. Once we get used to it, maybe it can even teach our little dog how to guard the place. Look, A-Jie, your dog is still hiding in the chicken coop!”
Shen Miao sighed helplessly. When she first bought the little dog, it had seemed so bold! But Lei Ting was massive—standing on its hind legs, it might even reach a person’s height, like a fierce general among dogs. The little pup barely came up to its legs, so its fear was understandable.
It would grow out of it eventually.
By the second day of Lei Ting’s arrival, Shen Miao noticed fewer neighbors lingering near her door, peering curiously.
Aunt Li, who was terrified of dogs, even took detours to avoid their house. A small blessing in disguise.
In the days that followed, the Shen household continued their renovations. Shen Miao went about her usual routine—setting up her stall, teaching cooking at the Xie family’s home. The stray tabby cat, Shuaibiao, still came to mooch fried eggs, even bringing along an orange-furred companion to join in the feast. Lei Ting remained outside, the little dog kept playing with the chickens, and nothing out of the ordinary happened.
Just as the house was nearing completion, the Imperial Academy posted an announcement, heralding with drums and gongs that the entrance examinations would soon begin.
This was a major event, sending ripples of excitement throughout Bianjing.
Shen Miao had already registered Ji Brother for the exams. Piyong Academy’s entrance test required proof of residency—only children from respectable Bianjing families were eligible, and a fee of two hundred coins was required. Many applied, but few passed the initial screening. Still, it was said that hundreds would sit for the exam, making the competition fierce.
This time, she was going to collect Ji Brother’s examination number. Piyong Academy, located in the outskirts of the outer city, spanned over fifty acres. During the exams, bamboo examination sheds were set up in places like the soccer field, equestrian grounds, and archery pavilion. Students were assigned to these sheds based on their examination numbers.
The children’s exam was a grand affair, lasting an entire day. Candidates had to bring their own writing materials and food.
The examination sheds were cramped—three walls of woven rattan, a single desk and stool, nothing more. Each stall felt like a prison cell, with only hot water provided and strict limits on what could be brought inside. Most examinees could only pack dry flatbread to nibble on with water, resigning themselves to a meager meal.
But Shen Miao had a trick up her sleeve—something both delicious and convenient. She had prepared it for Ji Brother well in advance.
