"Giddy up—"
The sky was overcast, as if holding back an impending rain. Traveling merchants from distant places, burdened with luggage and leading donkeys or camels, trudged wearily along the road to Bianjing. Zhou Da carefully steered the Xie family's carriage away from Shen's Noodle Shop, brushing past the bustling crowds in the narrow streets.
The carriage shafts trembled lightly, the wheels creaking as the newly replaced summer gauze curtains fluttered in the wind. Inside, Xie Qi's figure was faintly visible, his brows slightly furrowed in deep thought.
When the carriage stopped at the eastern side gate of the Xie residence, Xie Qi leaped down and instructed Zhou Da, "Wait here. I may need to go out again soon." Then he hurried into the main courtyard, heading straight for the small parlor where Lady Xi usually managed household affairs.
As he passed through the outer corridor and stepped past the moon gate, the gatekeeper on duty spotted him and immediately bowed. "Ninth Young Master, the lady is occupied at the moment. She instructed me to tell you to return to your own courtyard first. She will send for you when she has time."
Xie Qi halted, his swirling thoughts suddenly stifled in his chest. Earlier, Madam Shen had said many things that left him utterly bewildered:
"If you truly intend to supply the border, you should first obtain the court's permission, shouldn’t you? If the authorities refuse, I won’t proceed with this business. I’m just a commoner—I can’t defy the court. That’s the first point.
Secondly, even if the court grants approval, I think we should still proceed cautiously to minimize long-term risks. Here’s an idea you might consider: it would be best to establish a 'firewall trading firm' between the Xie family and the actual workshop. This way, the true owner of the noodle workshop would be neither the Xie nor the Shen family. Instead, both families would indirectly control it through shares in this intermediary firm.
Ninth Young Master… Ninth Young Master, do you understand? Actually, one layer of firewall isn’t enough. It’s better to design a more complex structure… This would completely separate the family’s assets from the risks of the business."
He had tried his best to memorize her words, but his mind felt as tangled as a ball of yarn. It seemed harder than writing ten policy essays in an hour!
But his mother was a skilled manager of household finances—perhaps she could decipher Madam Shen’s meaning!
He silently rehearsed the confusing words in his mind again before asking, "How much longer will Mother be busy? Do you know which steward or estate manager is reporting to her?"
The gatekeeper also seemed puzzled. "Third Young Master arrived early this morning with a large bundle and has been waiting for the lady since she rose." He paused, then chuckled. "Who knows what strange idea he’s come up with this time? If you’re in a hurry, Ninth Young Master, you might stroll in the garden. The lady might lose her temper and chase him out soon."
Xie Tiao, the third son, was notoriously unreliable. Even in his twenties, he was still frequently scolded—a fact well-known among all Xie family servants. Though they dared not show it openly, many privately looked down on him.
Xie Qi glanced at the sky, puzzled. It was still early—Third Brother never rose before noon when at home. What had gotten into him today? After a moment of fruitless pondering, he sighed and flicked his sleeves. "Then I’ll go pay respects to Grandmother. If Third Brother comes out, summon me immediately."
"Yes, I’ll remember."
Old Lady Xie was renowned outside for her philanthropy and devotion to Buddhism and Daoism. Thus, she resided in the northern courtyard closest to the Great Xiangguo Temple. Xie Qi’s father, a calligrapher famed in court, had personally inscribed the name "Hall of Daylilies" for her residence in bold, sweeping strokes.
The Hall of Daylilies was shaded by lush pines and ancient cypresses, perpetually wreathed in the fragrance of incense. Visitors often remarked on the serene atmosphere befitting a devout soul. Yet when Xie Qi stepped into the tranquil courtyard, cooled by the pine-scented breeze, he was met with Old Lady Xie’s booming laughter: "Hu! Hu! Hahaha!"
Beneath the elegant, towering trees, there were no seekers of Zen—only a few nuns and a silver-haired matriarch in brocade, snacking on fresh fruits and cricket-shaped pastries while playing tiles.
Had Grandmother moved her gaming table outdoors in just a few days?
As Xie Qi approached, Old Lady Xie was deftly counting her winnings, threading copper coins onto a red string with glee. "You’ve lost again! Don’t say this old woman is swindling your incense money. Each of you can take a box of these pastries home—they’re made with clarified butter… Ah, our Ninth Young Master is here!"
"Grandmother, may you be well." Xie Qi bowed deeply in greeting, then clasped his hands respectfully toward the nuns before turning back to Old Lady Xie. "Did you sleep well last night? Have you eaten breakfast?"
Old Lady Xie’s eyes darted evasively. Nanny Yu, her lifelong attendant who had never married, covered her smile with a handkerchief. "The Old Lady ate four egg-yolk pastries this morning. Then she complained it wasn’t enough and had a bowl of noodles with two more eggs."
Xie Qi’s head throbbed. "Grandmother, have you forgotten how last time you overate and groaned in the privy for hours? Your legs cramped so badly you swore never to eat so much again. And now? You’ve forgotten the pain once the wound healed."
The nuns stifled laughter.
Old Lady Xie, so dignified in public, was privately a gluttonous child at heart—a fact well-known to these frequent visitors.
Unfazed, Old Lady Xie retorted, "How old am I? If I can’t eat what I like, what’s the point of living? I might as well die early and reincarnate sooner!"
"No one’s forbidding you, just warning you against discomfort from overeating…"
Grandmother and grandson bickered over the matter, but their debate was cut short when a maidservant lifted the beaded curtain and announced, "The lady and Third Young Master have arrived."
Xie Qi and Old Lady Xie fell silent.
The nuns, who had come under the pretense of discussing scriptures but had yet to recite a single verse, hastily chanted "Amitabha" and scurried out the back door at the news of Lady Xi’s arrival.
Lady Xi strode in.
Her hair was coiled high like clouds, and she wore a water-blue silk jacket with wide sleeves. Though no longer young, her dignified beauty carried an air of authority honed from years of managing the household.
"Our Pure Blade has come," Old Lady Xie greeted her warmly, still using Lady Xi’s childhood name affectionately even after all these years, rather than formal titles like "Lady Xi" or "Eldest Son’s Wife."
She was utterly satisfied with this daughter-in-law. Ever since Lady Xi married into the family, Old Lady Xie had promptly handed over the household management duties to her. From then on, she ate well, drank well, and slept well—especially after the death of Xie’s grandfather, the old lady’s happiness only grew. She often invited old friends over for card games or arranged outings to enjoy nature, watch operas, or listen to music.
She particularly loved watching burly, half-naked men perform acrobatic theater, sometimes spending entire days engrossed in the spectacle without returning home. When the city grew stifling, she would retreat to the family’s countryside estate, surrounded by children and grandchildren, free from mundane worries—truly a life of bliss.
When Lady Xi entered the room, someone followed behind her.
Old Lady Xie’s gaze shifted to Xie Tiao, who trailed after Lady Xi, and she couldn’t help but startle in surprise.
Xie Tiao bore a strong resemblance to Lady Xi. He was even more striking and robust than his younger brother, Xie Qi, but years of indulgence in wine and pleasure had tarnished his once-handsome appearance. He was usually seen stumbling around in a drunken stupor, swaying with every step, making it easy to forget that he had once been the youngest military scholar in history since the establishment of the martial examinations in the seventh year of the Tiansheng era.
But today, it was as if he had been reborn. Gone were the loose, flowing robes he usually wore; instead, he was clad in a fitted, narrow-sleeved robe embroidered with gold and silver thread, cinched at the waist with a black leather belt and paired with dark leather boots. His hair, often disheveled from drink, was now neatly tied up with a hairpin.
The transformation was so stark that Old Lady Xie momentarily doubted her eyes. She fumbled for her reading glasses, wondering if she was seeing the Xie Tiao of three years ago.
Nearly all the Xie children excelled in both scholarly and martial pursuits. As the eldest legitimate son, Xie Tiao had naturally been groomed with the utmost care by the Xie family. Yet fate had been cruel to him. The very day after he passed the palace examination and was named a military scholar, his mentor, Xu Cun, was implicated in a succession dispute. Soon after, Xu Cun and his entire family of three were murdered.
Using the Xu family’s wrongful case as justification, the late emperor seized the opportunity to wield his blade against the great aristocratic families. Many scions of noble houses were accused of conspiring in the rebellion, thrown into prison one after another like dumplings into boiling water.
The emperor’s goal was clear: weaken the aristocracy and elevate commoners. He intended to pave the way for his young crown prince with the blood of the noble clans.
Three years ago, the succession crisis had claimed the lives of countless heirs meticulously raised by the great families. Despite Lady Xi and Xie’s father pleading with him to stop, Xie Tiao had stubbornly pursued the truth behind the Xu family’s case, determined to clear his mentor’s name. But in the end, his efforts were in vain—he was ambushed, losing a hand in the process.
His recklessness should have cost him his life in such treacherous times, yet he survived. Perhaps it was because the late emperor, moved by the sacrifice of Concubine Xie—who had shut herself in the palace and taken her own life to spare her family—had shown mercy.
But the boy was broken nonetheless.
For three years, Lady Xi had ignored him, allowing him to wallow in debauchery, as if she had completely given up on her eldest son. Perhaps it was also a way to signal the Xie family’s submission to the current emperor and the empress dowager.
“Elder Brother…” Xie Qi stood up, staring at Xie Tiao in disbelief, unable to tear his gaze away.
Xie Tiao smiled at him—a smile like a silver hook, carrying all the regrets of the past, now dismissed with a laugh.
Lady Xi had already taken her seat beside Old Lady Xie, personally serving her a cup of hot tea. Her voice was calm as she spoke:
“Mother, today Third Brother came to see me and spoke at length.” Lady Xi’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued, “The child said he wishes to leave the capital and go to Qinzhou to seek refuge with his maternal grandfather. There, he plans to resume martial training in preparation for next year’s diplomatic mission to the Western Regions. Afterward, he hopes his grandfather can recommend him to join the envoy and help reopen the Silk Road.”
Old Lady Xie was so shocked she nearly dropped her teacup. “How can this be?” she exclaimed. “Qinzhou is in chaos right now, overrun with rebellious Qiang tribesmen! Haven’t you heard? Just recently, they dared to kill a third-rank official bearing the Song banner! It’s far too dangerous!”
Xie Qi whipped his head toward Xie Tiao, then, without a word, dropped to his knees in a rigid bow.
The sight of him kneeling broke Lady Xi’s composure, and tears streamed down her face.
“Mother, let him go!” she pleaded. “Staying in the capital will only waste his life—he can do nothing here. When the Xu family was destroyed, this child stubbornly pursued the truth behind their case. But just as he uncovered a lead, the two night watchmen who witnessed the intruders were run down in the street! His own hand was nearly severed… and then the palace coup happened…”
Lady Xi wiped her tears and pressed on, her voice resolute. “For the sake of the Xie family’s survival, we endured, not daring to act further—but he suffered for it. We thought he would spend the rest of his days in this drunken haze, but now he’s finally awakened. Let him leave the capital! Away from the prying eyes of those Imperial City Department ghosts, who will even remember his surname?”
Old Lady Xie’s eyes reddened, and she nodded heavily, her expression somber.
“If even you, his mother, are willing, what can I say? It’s just…”
Her aged eyes turned to Xie Tiao, and she leaned forward to pull him up, her voice trembling. “Third Brother, your great-grandmother is old. If you leave now, it may be years before you return… Will I even live to see you again? If you must go, promise to send letters often, so I may know you are safe!”
Xie Tiao’s heart ached with sorrow and reluctance, but his resolve quickly hardened again. He knelt once more and kowtowed three times to Old Lady Xie, his voice hoarse. “Great-Grandmother, your grandson has been drowning in wine, his mind muddled. But yesterday, while drunk, I stumbled into a shop for noodles and met a young woman who, with just a few words, opened my eyes.”
He then recounted, nearly word for word, what he had heard about Xu Xiake and how a person has but one life to live. As he spoke, his excitement grew, and he blurted out, “That young woman, Shen Miao, may be of humble birth, but her spirit is far stronger than mine. She spoke of Xu Xiake, who kept writing even when his legs failed him. I’ve only lost one hand—I still have my legs, my other hand! How can I continue wasting away like this?”
“When Mentor Xu was still alive, he once gifted me a line from Li Bai’s poetry: ‘Even in death, a hero’s bones bear fragrance, unashamed before the world’s heroes.’ He hoped I would become such a man, but I failed him.” Xie Tiao’s voice shook as he thought of his teacher’s family, slaughtered unjustly. His useless hand trembled. “Before, I thought myself powerless—unable to clear Mentor Xu’s name or save those two men. I lived in shame, surviving like a coward. But now I understand: I must fulfill his dying wish. I must live, climb higher, achieve what no one else can. Only then can I reopen this case and bring justice to Mentor Xu. Hiding is death, avoiding is death—better to live with a clear conscience, giving my all!”
Old Lady Xie and Lady Xi were deeply moved by his words, so much so that they missed something else. Both praised him and helped him up, ready to encourage him further, when suddenly Xie Qi asked in a daze, “Elder Brother, which ‘Shen Miao’ are you talking about?”
“What Shen Miao?” Old Lady Xie, forgetful in her old age, had already lost track.
"Madam Shen of Willow East Lane," Xie Tiao said absentmindedly, pointing at the empty porcelain dish on the table. "Mother knows her—the one who runs the noodle shop. Oh, Grandmother, those cricket cakes you ate? They were made by her."
Lady Xi nodded. "I see. The things she says truly resonate with me. Someone who speaks like that must be remarkably wise. She sounds wonderful. By the way..." Lady Xi suddenly remembered something and turned to Xie Qi. "Speaking of her, didn’t you visit her today, Ninth Brother? Did you discuss the instant noodle workshop with Madam Shen? How did it go? Ninth Brother? Ninth Brother?"
But Xie Qi stood there lost in thought, his ears reddening, utterly silent. Then, out of nowhere, he broke into a foolish grin.
He had known all along.
Madam Shen was truly the finest person in the world.
Old Lady Xie observed this and shook her head with a sigh. "Is our Xie family cursed by bad feng shui? No sooner has the eldest grandson recovered than the youngest loses his wits?"
Lady Xi burst into laughter, though she cast a thoughtful glance at her younger son.
"Achoo!"
Shen Miao, the very woman the Xie family was discussing, was crouched in her courtyard learning how to make "soap balls" from Aunt Gu. Just as they began, her nose suddenly itched, and she sneezed.
Was someone bad-mouthing her?
Rubbing her nose, Shen Miao turned her attention back to Aunt Gu, who was pounding pig pancreas into a paste. She mimicked the motions, diligently mashing the cleaned pancreas—already stripped of fat and membranes—into a muddy consistency.
After Xie Qi left that morning, she had busied herself cooking and selling noodles before finally finding some free time. She had planned to go out to buy pig’s head meat when Li Tiaozi suddenly knocked on her door, announcing that merchants from the outer city were spreading word: Piyong Academy would post the exam results today! He was heading out to wait for the list and asked if Shen Miao’s family wanted to send someone.
So Shen Miao promptly sent Ji Brother to accompany Li Tiaozi to check the results.
Before he left, she pulled him aside, bent down to meet his eyes, and reassured him: "Ji Brother, remember this—it doesn’t matter. Whether you pass or fail, it doesn’t define you. Don’t blame yourself over this one exam, understand? Life is long. Go on now, and when you return, I’ll make you something delicious for dinner."
Ji Brother took a deep breath and nodded. "I understand, Elder Sister."
Shen Miao watched him leave.
Sister Xiang had taken Youyu out to walk the dog and hadn’t returned yet.
After buying the pig’s head meat, Shen Miao stopped by the Gu family to place a monthly order for wine. There, she spotted Aunt Gu making soap in her courtyard. Intrigued, she lingered to watch before eagerly asking to learn. Without hesitation, Aunt Gu brought over the pig pancreas and medicinal herbs, guiding her through the process.
Soap balls had long been sold in specialty shops in the Song Dynasty. Willow East Lane once had a soap-making family, but they had since moved away. Aunt Gu, however, had picked up the technique after observing them a few times during visits. It wasn’t complicated—after some trial and error, she mastered it and began making soap not just for her own use but also to sell at the market.
She didn’t keep the knowledge to herself either. Soon, the women of Willow East Lane learned from her, and today, Shen Miao became her latest apprentice.
"Once the pig pancreas is mashed, add bean flour, lard, monkshood, soapberries, and cypress leaves..." Aunt Gu recited while mixing the ingredients. After grinding everything together, she shaped the mixture into balls and left them to dry in the shade for a day before use.
It really was quite simple.
Shen Miao curiously pinched the still-soft soap ball in her hand. It smelled a bit funky.
"Don’t mind the smell. Making it ourselves is far cheaper than buying from shops. A piece like this sells for thirty coppers out there," Aunt Gu boasted. "With soapberries, just add water and rub—it’ll lather nicely. Use the foam to wash your face and hair. It leaves you feeling clean and refreshed."
Isn’t this... handmade facial soap? Shen Miao turned it over in her hands. If pressed into a mold and cut, it would look just like the overpriced artisan soaps from her past life.
The cost wasn’t even that high.
So why did a bar of handmade soap sell for over a hundred yuan in her previous life? Even a thousand years ago, it only cost thirty coppers! Feeling cheated, Shen Miao grumbled inwardly.
As Aunt Gu arranged the soap balls on a bamboo tray, she noticed the jasmine flowers Shen Miao had placed in a vase on the porch. A thought struck her, and she leaned in conspiratorially. "Elder Sister, tell me honestly—has someone taken a liking to you?"
Shen Miao blinked. "No."
"Really?"
"Really. They’re all just here for the noodles." Shen Miao laughed openly. Even Xie Qi, who visited most frequently, came strictly for business discussions and collaborations.
There was no hint of romance.
When negotiating shares with him, she had almost blurted out a demand for half. But then she reconsidered—equal ownership could lead to deadlock. What if they disagreed on decisions?
Better to concede some profit. She’d settle for a significant but non-controlling stake, avoiding management headaches while still enjoying dividends.
She swallowed her initial words and asked for thirty percent instead. But her fingers had already extended—two still raised—and under Xie Qi’s puzzled gaze, she awkwardly retracted them with an embarrassed chuckle.
She had also discussed many details with him. She wondered how his talks with Lady Xi had gone.
If this venture succeeded, it would provide stable income for her, Ji Brother, and Sister Xiang, securing their future. With steady dividends, she could expand her noodle shop or open new branches.
Lost in thought, Shen Miao barely registered Aunt Gu’s teasing chuckle. "Are you so sure they’re just here for the noodles? What if they’re here for you?"
"I’m a divorced woman. Who’d want to marry me after a few bowls of noodles?" Shen Miao said lightly, though inwardly, she was relieved. The divorce had spared her many complications.
Aunt Gu disagreed. Glancing around to ensure no one was nearby, she whispered, "Elder Sister, don’t say that. Many women remarry. Even the Empress Dowager—the most revered woman in the land—was once a commoner and a remarried widow! When her family fell on hard times, her first husband sold her into servitude for mere dozens of strings of cash. And now? She rules the palace."
This was the first time Shen Miao had heard such shocking gossip, as the original memories of "Eldest Sister Shen" contained nothing of the sort. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Selling his wife into servitude?? Sending her to the prince's estate as a maid?? This Empress Dowager's former husband is even more despicable than my own ex-husband!"
"Shh, shh! That man has now been recognized as the late emperor's sworn brother and even enfeoffed as the Marquis of Lejiang—truly a case of 'when a man gets his wish, even his chickens and dogs rise to heaven.' You mustn’t speak ill of him, or we’ll be in trouble if someone overhears," Aunt Gu hastily waved her hands to stop her.
Shen Miao curled her lips in disdain. "A man like that actually gets a title."
Truly, the world was full of all kinds of creatures.
"It’s all for appearances. What else could they call him? The Empress Dowager’s former husband? How would that reflect on the late emperor’s dignity? They just needed some plausible excuse—a purple robe, an empty title—to shut the world’s mouth. Why not?" Aunt Gu was quite pragmatic about it. "That’s why I say, don’t belittle yourself. So what if you’ve remarried? Look—the most formidable remarried woman in the land sits in the imperial palace!"
There were many who remarried, but only one became Empress Dowager! What an extraordinary woman she must be, to climb from such a devastating start—being sold off by her husband—to the very pinnacle of power. Each person’s fate was different; how could they even be compared? Shen Miao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but her heart warmed at Aunt Gu’s attempt to comfort her.
As they chatted, the two carried bamboo trays to sun the soap bars. Once finished, Shen Miao paused in thought—why not close the shop for the day?
It wasn’t laziness, but she’d been so busy lately that she’d neglected Ji Brother and Sister Xiang. That was her mistake. Today, she decided, they’d enjoy a hearty meal and a night market outing—a proper day of fun!
Without hesitation, she shut the shop door, hung the "Closed" sign, and bid Aunt Gu farewell. After fetching some silver, she headed to the market to pick out a plump chicken. They often ate pork, but it had been ages since they’d had chicken.
Regardless of whether Ji Brother passed the exams or not, Shen Miao resolved to cook a feast. The afternoon breeze had turned chilly, the sun long hidden.
Why not make a firepot chicken? She could line the pot with coarse flour cakes—not cornbread, but crispy on one side, soft on the other, soaking up the rich chicken broth. Perfect.
No sooner decided than done. She selected two large chickens, slaughtered them, and was about to carry them inside by the feet when hurried footsteps echoed from the alley. Shen Miao turned—it was Ji Brother, sprinting toward her, face flushed and drenched in sweat!
The hair she’d tied for him that morning was now a windswept mess.
"Elder Sister!"
Gasping for breath, he bent over, hands on knees, too winded to speak further.
Shen Miao froze in delighted surprise, the pale chicken dangling from her hand, then rushed to him. "You’re back? Why alone? Where’s Uncle Li?"
"Uncle Li... Uncle Li’s still behind... I... I couldn’t wait... pant... ran ahead..."
"Well? Did the results really come out?"
"They’re... pant... out..."
