The noodle shop was indeed about to open, and during this period, Shen Miao had been so busy with preparations that she hadn’t found time to set up her stall at the bridge market.
Shen Miao had ordered four sets of square tables and benches from Old Man Yang, which had just been delivered. She arranged the tables and chairs in two rows down the center of the shop. Along the walls on either side, she had Old Man Yang extend wooden planks to create long, narrow tables that could fit five or six small stools each. When crowded, these could seat quite a few people.
The Shen family’s shop wasn’t particularly large, so she decided against adding a separate L-shaped counter. Instead, inspired by later customs, she had half of the wall connecting the shop to the kitchen torn down, creating a half-wall window opening. The lower half of the wall was covered with thick wooden planks, serving as both a serving window and a counter, saving a good deal of space.
To accommodate this, Shen Miao also made some adjustments to the kitchen layout. The makeshift dining table and cabinets were moved to the newly built front porch in the courtyard. Previously, the kitchen had four old-fashioned stove pits built along the walls, with a long wooden worktable in the middle and corners cluttered with baskets and miscellaneous items, making movement inconvenient and the space messy.
Now, Shen Miao had Artisan He add two soup stoves between the four stove pits and combine them into a single countertop. This way, water could be boiled while stir-frying, saving both firewood and time. At the far end, she added a four-burner clay pot stove for cooking specialty rice noodles and noodles in clay pots.
The eight-tiered bamboo steamers for buns and the low soup stoves were moved to the corner, making space for steaming rice, buns, and other dishes, as well as simmering broths and braised meats.
The original wooden worktable in the middle had been badly scorched, so Shen Miao commissioned Old Man Yang to make a new one—two tables joined together, providing a spacious surface for prepping and chopping ingredients. Underneath, she had four large baskets custom-made by a basket weaver to fit snugly, storing kitchen utensils, rags, and brushes. On the other side of the kitchen, two wooden shelves along the wall, also paired with baskets, were used to store fresh vegetables. Next to the shelves was the entrance to the Shen family’s cellar.
It was only after reorganizing the kitchen that Shen Miao discovered the cellar!
And it wasn’t small—deep enough to require a ladder to descend.
Though it had long been emptied, the cool cellar could now serve as a natural refrigerator for perishable meats and vegetables.
Finally, she had two brick sinks built for washing vegetables, with bamboo pipes connecting the drains. A hole was drilled in the corner, extending the bamboo pipe outside to channel wastewater directly into the rain gutters, which then flowed into Bianjing City’s extensive sewer system.
The only downside was that the bamboo pipes lacked elbow joints—they were connected at right angles using mortise-and-tenon joints, requiring regular maintenance to prevent clogs. Still, this was an innovative design unseen in other eateries’ kitchens. Most establishments simply dug drainage ditches, leading to filthy, foul-smelling kitchens if not cleaned daily.
When Artisan He saw Shen Miao gesturing about not only the brick sinks but also the drainage pipes, he gaped in astonishment.
Beside the sinks, she placed two large water vats she had bought earlier, planning to purchase two more later.
Not having a well at home was inconvenient, but digging one wasn’t easy—not only was it costly, but it also required official approval from the authorities, a permit known as "Zeyu Zhunhuo."
No one in Willow East Alley had a private well. According to Aunt Gu, obtaining such a permit required at least fifty strings of cash just for bribing the officials—and that was the price years ago. Who knew how much it cost now?
Shen Miao had no money.
Fortunately, the water station wasn’t too far away.
All in all, the renovated kitchen followed a layout that would later become standard in restaurants, though modern kitchens would also include hanging cabinets, fans, and high-powered exhaust hoods—luxuries she couldn’t afford now. Still, for a small shop like hers, with all the seasonings and cookware arranged neatly, Shen Miao felt it was more than sufficient for her needs.
Outside the kitchen, there was still some empty space next to the counter. After a moment’s thought, Shen Miao had Old Man Yang build a wooden drinks cabinet. She planned to collaborate with the local tofu shop to sell simple soy milk, Mei Sanniang for mung bean soup and sour plum drink, and the Gu family for small batches of liquor. These beverages could be stored in double-handled clay jars alongside various wines, sold as add-ons.
The biggest change in the shop? Shen Miao had laid brick flooring.
Though they were plain, unsold gray bricks she haggled for from Artisan He—some even bore scorch marks—they were cheap and practical. Brick floors would make cleaning much easier, especially on rainy days when customers wouldn’t track mud inside.
All these renovations cost over four thousand coins—nearly five strings—and delayed the opening repeatedly. By the time everything was ready, it was already late May, well past the Dragon Boat Festival.
But as Shen Miao stood in the small, orderly shop, she felt every bit of effort had been worth it.
In business, you had to invest to reap rewards.
Thankfully, her stall had earned her a fair sum, and the Xie family’s purchase of two of her pastry recipes had helped tremendously. Otherwise, she might have had to wait until next year just to save enough for renovations!
Early that morning, after hanging up the peach wood charms and giving everything a thorough cleaning, she wiped down the tables, chairs, floors, and counter again. Staring at the bare white walls, she considered having Ji Brother write up two menus with simple dish illustrations—though most people here were illiterate, the drawings would serve as nice decorations. Bare walls felt too plain.
Plus, it would give her shop a scholarly air. Shen Miao stood proudly with her hands on her hips, thinking: What other little noodle shop had walls covered in writing?
Hand-drawn illustrated menus—what a cultured little hole-in-the-wall!
Not stopping there, she bought two potted pines for the entrance and six oval oxhorn copper lanterns to hang from the ceiling.
She also visited a fireworks shop, purchasing forty or fifty firecrackers. She strung their fuses together with hemp rope, then cut red paper into decorative streamers to hang from the potted plants. A length of red cloth was bought to tie a flower to the family dog’s tail and a big red bow around Thunder’s neck.
A red cloth rosette was draped over the shop’s signboard, and she even consulted the blind fortune-teller on Golden Beam Bridge to pick an auspicious date and hour.
Amidst the crackling of firecrackers and billowing smoke, the shop opened its doors in a blaze of festive red.
At this time, there was no custom of restaurants opening with flower baskets or firecrackers, so Shen Miao's actions struck everyone as quite novel. The sound of firecrackers, usually reserved for the New Year, echoed down the entire street. Even a little dog, startled by the noise and darting about, had a large red flower tied to its wagging tail, drawing quite a crowd of onlookers.
Curious passersby approached and noticed two green pine trees flanking the shop entrance, their branches adorned with an array of festive paper cutouts—gourd-shaped, diamond-shaped, square, and floral—each inscribed with words like "wealth," "joy," "happiness," and "good fortune."
The handwriting seemed to belong to a child—not particularly refined, but earnest and deliberate in its strokes.
Charming, indeed.
Many neighbors from Willow East Alley wandered in. Aunt Gu praised everything she saw, while Aunt Li nitpicked at every detail. Yet no one could deny that Shen Miao had transformed the shop into a spotless, inviting space that pleased the eye.
Except for one thing...
Aunt Gu linked arms with Shen Miao and whispered, "Why haven’t you replaced that signboard? It’s scorched black and riddled with wormholes. Why not ask Old Man Yang to carve you a new one?"
Shen Miao looked up. The signboard was indeed weathered, standing out starkly against the freshly painted shop.
Truth be told, the sign had been found wedged behind the stove.
After Shen Miao’s parents met their untimely deaths, the sign had been taken down, nearly ending up as firewood under the hands of the merchant who rented the shop.
When first recovered, it was coated in soot. After cleaning, the once-vibrant redwood had turned pitch black. No amount of scrubbing could restore its original luster. In the end, Shen Miao sent it to Old Man Yang, who planed away the uneven surface and repainted it.
Though it looked better upon return, the scars in the wood remained visible.
Shen Miao and Ji Brother had stood silently before the sign for a long time. Finally, without a word, Shen Miao asked Ji Brother to fetch ink and a large brush to retrace the faded characters. Then, with the help of a tall ladder, they hung it back up.
Nearly everything left by Shen Miao’s parents had been lost to the flames. Only this sign remained, carrying the memories of Ji Brother and Sister Xiang’s carefree days under their parents’ shelter.
On opening day, Shen Miao held Ji Brother and Sister Xiang close as firecrackers crackled around them. She tilted her head back, gazing upward.
The blind fortune-teller from Golden Beam Bridge had some skill after all—the weather was exceptionally clear, and the sunlight bathed the five bold characters, "Shen’s Noodle Shop," in a warm glow. Though scarred, the redwood sign with its black lettering now bore a subdued, timeless sheen.
"From today onward, we truly have a home again."
Shen Miao lowered her head, pulling her siblings tighter into her embrace.
Sister Xiang buried her face in her elder sister’s chest, while Ji Brother kept staring at the sign—familiar yet unfamiliar—until his eyes inexplicably grew hot. Who could have imagined that one day, he and Sister Xiang would have a place to call home again? It felt unreal.
Before Shen Miao returned, he hadn’t dared to dream of such a thing.
Amid the popping firecrackers and swirling smoke, he could only manage a hoarse "Mm" in response.
Shen’s Noodle Shop opened its doors, but by noon, not a single bowl of noodles had been sold. Instead, the shop was flooded with well-wishing neighbors from the alley. Though these folks loved to gossip behind closed doors, on such an occasion, they were all warmth and enthusiasm, arriving early with gifts—bowls, rice, flour, tofu, eggs, even fresh cuts of meat—soon piling up the narrow front porch of the backyard.
Aside from the neighbors, the first to congratulate her were Mei Sanniang and Miss Mi, who sold spiced drinks on Golden Beam Bridge.
Shen Miao happily accepted their gifts—two large jars of honeyed jujube soup and perilla drink from Mei Sanniang, plus two woodcarvings of magpies on blossoming branches from Miss Mi—before pulling them inside.
"You didn’t have to bring gifts! No need for formalities." Shen Miao beamed, patting her chest. "From now on, whenever you come for noodles, I’ll give you half off!"
"How stingy! I thought you’d say it’s on the house!" Mei Sanniang exclaimed dramatically.
Shen Miao flushed slightly. "I’ve spent every last coin getting this shop ready. Once I start turning a profit, I’ll treat you both to three days and nights of noodles—free of charge, no questions asked!"
Mei Sanniang rolled her eyes skyward. "Do you think Miss Mi and I are cows with three stomachs? What a cruel scheme—trying to burst our bellies to save on noodles!"
"What slander! If you keep this up, I’ll have to take my grievances to the magistrate!"
As the two bantered, Miss Mi covered her mouth, laughing.
Once the teasing subsided, Mei Sanniang took a proper look around, growing increasingly impressed. "You’ve really given this place a unique touch." She marveled at everything, especially the locked liquor cabinet by the counter, praising its design. "When I save enough to rent a teahouse, I’ll have one just like this—perfect for displaying expensive teas and fine porcelain. It’s eye-catching and tempting!"
Then, with genuine concern, she asked, "Now that you’ve opened this shop, will you stop making those steamed buns and baked rolls of yours? That’d be a shame."
Shen Miao pointed to the small cart parked in the backyard. "I’ll keep the stove underneath and the steamers on top. I’ll place it right outside the shop entrance. I even had a tall bamboo stool made so Sister Xiang can mind the stall."
She’d already planned it all out—prepare the buns and rolls the night before, steam them fresh in the morning for breakfast sales, then switch to noodles for lunch and dinner. The cart wouldn’t go to waste.
Lowering her voice, Shen Miao poured tea for the two women and made Mei Sanniang an offer. "As the weather heats up, a noodle shop needs refreshing drinks. But running this place alone—making buns, rolls, and noodles—I’m afraid I’ll be stretched too thin. Here’s my idea: What if I place a standing order for your thirst-quenching teas? You deliver them early each day, saving me time and giving you steady business. But—no charging me full price! Give me a rate that lets me turn a profit, and make sure it’s quality stuff, clean and proper. What do you say? If you’re not keen, I’ll ask another teahouse."
Mei Sanniang’s plump face lit up. "Of course! I’ll discuss it with my husband tonight. Don’t worry—my ‘Plump Sister’s Spiced Drinks’ have a reputation on Golden Beam Bridge. I’d never cut corners!"
Miss Mi, sipping her tea, nodded in agreement. "She’s right. Noodles can make you sweat in the summer heat. Without a cool drink to go with them, customers might lose their appetite."
The two sat for a while, but as people kept coming to offer congratulations, they worried they might be intruding and decided to leave together.
Ever since Shen Miao mentioned selling spiced drinks, Mei Sanniang had been itching to hurry home, afraid the big business opportunity with Shen Miao might slip away. Seeing the commotion, she quickly pulled Miss Mi along and left.
Chef Fang from the Xie family had spent several days learning how to make egg yolk pastries and cookies from Shen Miao and had come to regard her as half a mentor. Just as Mei Sanniang and the others left, he arrived carrying half a freshly slaughtered lamb as a congratulatory gift. The bloody spectacle drew stares as he paraded through the streets, and when he suddenly appeared, Shen Miao was so startled she nearly tripped on the steps.
Many regular customers from Jinliang Bridge who frequented her stall also came by. A burly man who often bought her pastries not only gifted her a bolt of linen but also sat down to order noodles. It was only then that Shen Miao learned this dark-skinned man’s surname was Bai.
And he had an unexpectedly pristine name: Bai Xueshan (White Snow Mountain).
Shen Miao went into the kitchen to roll out the noodles. Hearing the man’s introduction, she couldn’t help peeking through the counter window at his face—darker even than Gu Tusu’s, so much so that he could play Judge Bao without makeup. She silently mulled over his name.
Such a lovely name… for such a dark-skinned man!
He sat boldly on the stool closest to the counter, flashing a bright grin as Shen Miao studied him, then turned to chat with her. “You can call me Bai Laosan (Old Third Bai). Don’t let my looks fool ya—I’m only twenty-five!”
Twenty-five?!
Shen Miao’s eyes widened. She didn’t dare admit she’d thought he was at least forty.
Bai Laosan seemed to notice and said sheepishly, “Dunno why, but I’ve always looked like this. Even as a kid, folks said I looked old. My wife says I must’ve landed face-first when I was born.”
Shen Miao lowered her head, stifling laughter until her hands trembled while kneading the dough.
Don’t laugh at customers—hold it in!
For her first trial day, Shen Miao had prepared only two types of noodles. One was Old Beijing Zhajiangmian (fried sauce noodles). The sauce had been pre-cooked—she’d made a small vat of it, sealed it with oiled paper, and stored it in the cool cellar of the kitchen, scooping out a bowlful each day. It could last several days.
She figured the opening day would be busy, and zhajiangmian was quick, easy, and delicious. The other option was pork bone clear broth noodles, the stock simmered overnight without pause until morning.
Pork bone noodles were common, sold at other shops too, but Bai Laosan had never heard of “fried sauce mixed noodles” and ordered that instead. Curious, he asked, “Miss Shen, what’s fried sauce?”
Shen Miao paused, wondering where “Old Beijing” was at this time, then smiled. “It’s a method from Yanzhou, so it’s not common in Bianjing City. It’s a sauce made from pork, mixed with shredded cucumber, scallions, radish, and bean sprouts. Very fragrant—don’t worry, you’ll love it!”
Even without much explanation, Bai Laosan’s mouth watered.
Shen Miao finished pulling the noodles just as the oil in the wok heated up—the pre-made sauce needed a quick stir-fry to evaporate excess moisture until the oil separated, maximizing its aroma. Sure enough, before the sauce even left the wok, Bai Laosan was on his feet, sniffing eagerly.
Once the sauce was stir-fried over high heat, the noodles were chilled in cold water and plated, topped with the pre-cut shredded vegetables. A generous ladle of piping-hot sauce was poured over one side.
When she brought it out, Bai Laosan could hardly contain himself. “So fragrant! Just like you said!”
Shen Miao showed him how to mix it. With his strength, he had it done in three strokes. Every chewy strand was coated in rich, savory sauce, and with his first big bite, he tasted the tender, well-fried pork cubes—fat and lean, bursting with flavor.
Head down, he devoured the bowl and, before even swallowing the last bite, called out, “Another bowl!”
Shen Miao chuckled and went to make another.
Just as she finished and brought it out, an elderly woman and a child entered the shop. A frail but warm voice rang out at the door: “Miss Shen, wishing you a prosperous opening—” Before she could finish, Lei Ting (Thunder), who had been dozing in the backyard, sprang up so abruptly that he sent three half-grown chickens flying off his back. In two bounds, he charged into the shop.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!”
Shen Miao turned in surprise to see silver-haired Auntie Wu holding Xiang Guo’er’s hand, a basket of eggs in her grip, nearly knocked over by Lei Ting’s enthusiastic greeting. “The eggs—careful with the eggs!” Auntie Wu cried in a fluster.
Xiang Guo’er leaped to wrap her arms around Lei Ting’s neck. “Lei Ting! Sit! You’ve gotten fat! Grandma’s back can’t take this!”
Lei Ting obediently sat, tail wagging nonstop.
Luckily, Bai Laosan wasn’t afraid of dogs. Bowl in hand, sauce smeared around his mouth, he watched the scene with amusement.
“Auntie Wu, you’ve finally come. Didn’t you say you’d visit Lei Ting often? It’s been so long—I was starting to worry.”
Shen Miao chided gently as she helped her sit, then pointed at Lei Ting.
“You should know—ever since you left him with me, he’s been waiting by the backyard gate for you, refusing to come inside or go anywhere else. A few days ago, Sister Xiang was playing on the front porch while I was busy inside. The child slipped and nearly tumbled down the steps, but Lei Ting broke free from his leash and dashed in, using his own body to cushion her fall. When I came out, I saw blood—his neck was scraped raw from the leash, but he never made a sound. After that, I kept him in the yard to heal, and he’s been better since, no longer trying to run out.”
As Shen Miao recounted Lei Ting’s story in a soft voice, Auntie Wu’s eyes reddened. “Ah, it’s not that I didn’t want to come, but the family matter wasn’t settled yet. I didn’t dare. Thankfully, after some compensation and a signed agreement promising Lei Ting would never return, they finally dropped the issue of whether he lived or died…” She clasped Shen Miao’s hands gratefully. “Thank you, Miss Shen. Lei Ting looks so healthy and glossy now—all thanks to you! See? I told you he was a good dog.”
“What’s past is past. Better days are ahead—no more tears.” Shen Miao soothed her with a gentle pat on the back. “Of course you didn’t lie. He saved Sister Xiang—I’ll always be grateful! Now, since the shop’s just opened, please sit. I’ll make noodles for you and Xiang Guo’er.”
As she spoke, she pinched Xiang Guo'er's cheek again: "Xiang Guo'er, have you not been eating properly? Your little face has lost all its plumpness! Come visit often and play with our Sister Xiang. Not only will you have Lei Ting to keep you company, but we also have another little dog at home! It’s naturally short and chubby, with yellow fur, a white belly, and a big, round face—utterly adorable."
Xiang Guo'er, who disliked eating and was quite slender, had large eyes and delicate features. She listened to Shen Miao's words with great enthusiasm, nodding repeatedly.
"Don’t trouble yourself. You’ve done our family a great favor—how could I take advantage of you? Since you’re busy today, we’ll just sit for a while and leave. We’ll come back another time to properly support your business." Auntie Wu stood up to stop Shen Miao from cooking and pulled out a large sandalwood figurine of the God of Wealth from her cloth bag. Despite Shen Miao’s protests, she insisted on placing it on the counter.
"I got this for you from the Taiqing Temple outside the city. It’s been blessed and will ensure your business thrives and wealth flows in. The old Taoist priest there is quite renowned—just keep it here, and it’ll surely bring good fortune."
Then, she bent down and ruffled Lei Ting’s fluffy head: "Be good, Lei Ting. Guard Shen Miao’s home well, and protect her family. Don’t be stubborn anymore—stay here peacefully. Granny will come visit you again."
Lei Ting’s almond-shaped eyes, glistening with moisture, reflected Auntie Wu’s aged face before letting out a loud, clear bark.
Afterward, Auntie Wu and Xiang Guo'er left, glancing back every few steps. But this time, Lei Ting didn’t follow. Once Auntie Wu was out of sight, the dog nudged open the curtain to the back hall and settled in the courtyard.
The chicks had grown into half-sized chickens, and Lei Ting’s thick black fur made a perfect perch for them. One after another, they fluttered onto its back, with the plumpest, a speckled hen who ate the most, already laying eggs—just yesterday, it had even squatted over Lei Ting’s forehead and deposited a warm egg there.
Later, several waves of customers came by, and once the prepared fried sauce ran out, Shen Miao temporarily closed the shop.
She stepped out and, following the same approach, signed supply contracts with Zheng Tuzhu the butcher, Shopkeeper Xu from the grain store, and Madam Wang, who sold fruits and vegetables. Finally, she visited the Gu household. Coincidentally, Gu Tusu had gone to the outer city to deliver wine, so Shen Miao explained her intentions to Aunt Gu—she wanted to stock a few varieties of light, affordable wines in her shop, preferably ones that were refreshing and not too strong.
This had always been part of her plan, but with so much to prepare lately, she’d only hinted at it to familiar shopkeepers and vendors a few times without finalizing anything, making it seem rather rushed. Fortunately, dealing with acquaintances made negotiations easier.
"You’re really going to sell wine? Your father’s shop only ever offered well water to quench thirst and never sold anything besides noodles," Aunt Gu teased with a smile, but she still picked up a wine dipper and led Shen Miao to the front of the shop to sample the wines. Shen Miao tasted about seven or eight varieties and settled on three: a common millet wine favored by ordinary folks, a crisp and refreshing cypress-leaf wine, and lastly, a slightly pricier mulberry-fall wine. The latter was crystal clear, smooth on the palate, and especially delightful when chilled with well water—perfect for sweltering summer days.
May had already passed, and Shen Miao had switched to lighter clothing. Eating noodles often left one drenched in sweat, especially since she planned to serve mixed noodles like oil-splashed noodles, dandan noodles, and fried sauce noodles. A complementary drink would be the perfect finishing touch.
By the time she finished all this, the sky had nearly darkened.
Today’s trial run had sold over forty bowls of noodles, but with the early closure, it was hard to gauge how well business would fare.
Tomorrow would mark the first full day of operation, and Shen Miao felt a twinge of nervousness. She’d invested most of her savings—would the shop thrive? Lost in thought about the future, she silently carried a lantern back to the shop, intending to double-check the fire and locks before securing the door.
Just as she turned the corner, she spotted a plump, round-faced boy in blue robes sitting on the doorstep.
Raising the lantern, she recognized Yan Shu, Ninth Brother’s attendant, and called out in surprise, "Yan Shu, what brings you here?"
In the flickering lantern light, the woman’s slender shadow swayed. Yan Shu sprang up with a grin and bowed. "Ninth Brother heard from Chef Fang that your shop had opened and specially sent me to offer congratulations."
With that, he unfurled two pieces of silk cloth inscribed with calligraphy.
"Oh, there’s no need—Ninth Brother is too kind," Shen Miao began, but before she could read the words, Yan Shu hastily produced a perfumed, gold-flecked invitation. "Ah, also! On the fifteenth of next month, our household is hosting a grand banquet with a troupe of performers—there’ll even be acrobatics! Ninth Brother invites you to bring Ji Brother and Sister Xiang along to relax and enjoy the festivities!"
Now holding three items in her arms, Shen Miao was momentarily stunned and blurted out, "Huh? Did the academy let out so early? If you’re out running errands for Ninth Brother, does that mean he’s on break?"
Yan Shu shook his head and heaved a long, exasperated sigh. "The academy hasn’t given any break. It’s just that our Ninth Brother’s streak of bad luck struck again. A few days ago, he went with some scholars to Yaoshan Temple to watch the ‘golden mountain sunset’ and got bitten by a snake—luckily, it wasn’t venomous. Then, on the way down, he tried to save Meng San from slipping and ended up injuring his own leg—fortunately, it wasn’t broken. But on the frantic ride back to the city for treatment, Qiu Hao got too anxious, overturned the cart—though Ninth Brother, ever prepared, skillfully leaped out in time. Still, while dragging Qiu Hao from under the cart with his injured leg, he strained his arm. That’s why he’s recuperating at home now."
"Wha—?"
Shen Miao was speechless. That… that was truly a run of terrible luck.
