"In the unpredictable world of commerce, to safeguard one's enterprise, a 'firewall' business structure is like donning armor—a solid fortress to keep threats at bay."
In the modest courtyard of the Shen residence, two bowls of coarse tea and a plate of fried soybeans were laid out on a small square table. Shen Miao, having prepared in haste, apologized for the meager hospitality offered to Lady Xi of the Xie family.
Yet Lady Xi waved off the apology without hesitation. She settled onto a low stool, lifted the tea bowl for a sip, and with an amused glance at the yellow dog squeezed into the chicken coop, remarked, "I didn’t come here for a feast. Besides, we’ve already enjoyed a fine bowl of noodle soup earlier."
Both being pragmatic, Shen Miao skipped further pleasantries and delved straight into discussing their joint venture—a noodle workshop. She proposed taking a thirty percent share of the profits, to which Lady Xi barely haggled. Instead, curiosity led her to ask, "What exactly is this 'firewall' you speak of?"
Without unreliable intermediaries muddying the explanation this time, Shen Miao concisely clarified the concept.
In essence, in the Song Dynasty—where capitalism had yet to sprout—families like the Xies typically managed their wealth through a rudimentary two-tier system: the parent entity (the family itself) and subsidiaries (shops, estates, or workshops under the family name). This simplicity made it frighteningly easy for those in power to dismantle a family’s entire fortune with a single stroke, tracing and seizing assets like plucking fruit from a vine.
But in later eras, to shield their wealth from such vulnerabilities, family enterprises devised intricate ownership structures. Shen Miao explained how fortunes could collapse not from missteps but from sheer success—when one grew too large or prominent, inviting the era’s backlash against monopolies. "A whale’s death feeds a thousand creatures," she mused, alluding to how the fall of a giant often redistributes opportunity.
In her past life, as her ventures expanded from shops to meat processing, cold-chain logistics, and even live-streamed agricultural sales, Shen Miao had learned to protect herself. She described layering corporate entities: Parent Company A holding shares in Subsidiary B, which in turn owned stakes in Grandchild Company C. Should Company C face legal strife, the risk wouldn’t cascade to A, shielded by legal separation. Additional safeguards—nominee shareholding, intermediary holding firms, isolated accounting, asset-bound contracts, and avoiding conflicts of interest—could further insulate the core fortune.
Why adopt such measures for a noodle workshop? First, distrust in the fairness of feudal commerce laws. Though the Song Dynasty boasted the most comprehensive and lenient trade regulations of its time, Shen Miao couldn’t rely on impartial justice under an autocratic system. Second, the workshop’s proposed location—Youzhou, near the border—targeted a sensitive clientele: soldiers and military supply chains. Prudence was survival. "My grandfather taught me that business is like crossing a river on crutches—bold yet cautious," she said. Instant noodles, ideal for border garrisons, would flounder in prosperous Bianjing. Third, the Song’s relatively fair taxation and trade laws made this scheme viable; other dynasties would’ve crushed it.
Fourth, Ji Brother’s earlier slip revealed the Xies’ choice of Youzhou. Shen Miao instantly guessed why: a high-ranking Xie relative governed there. "With such backing, the venture’s worth the risk," she concluded.
Using tea, she sketched the structure on the table, chuckling, "As you know, I spent three years married in Jinling, where maritime trade thrives. Merchants there—locals and foreigners alike—face far fiercer risks than inland traders. I picked up this method from an old litigator and wealthy merchants next door. Forgive my audacity in sharing it now."
Lady Xi and Mama Xi fell into stunned silence. The implications struck like tidal waves. The Xies, though fabulously wealthy, had languished under imperial suspicion for generations. Since Lady Xi’s father-in-law’s era, no Xie offspring—however brilliant or diligent—had risen beyond the sixth rank in office. Their gold mountain stood defenseless.
But Shen Miao’s "firewall" offered a lifeline.
Mama Xi, eyes sharp, summarized, "A invests capital but stays hidden. The shell company managing the workshop must be run by loyal, capable hands, bridging A and C. But its bylaws must be ironclad—profit splits, decision chains, authority limits—all codified. Otherwise, if the shell cracks, everything leaks."
"Even your attendants are formidable," Shen Miao marveled. The unassuming woman beside Lady Xi, though self-effacing, had grasped the scheme instantly.
Lady Xi smiled. "Mama Xi was groomed from childhood among hundreds of Xie family servants. She studied with Xie daughters, trained in household management, meant to accompany Ji Brother’s aunt as a marriage retinue. But..." Concubine Xie had entered the palace—and died there.
Changing tack, Lady Xi shared her own past. "When I married into the Xies from Youzhou, clueless about Bianjing’s intricate social webs, the matriarch assigned Mama Xi to guide me. Never underestimate her—she reads ledgers like scholars read classics."
Mama Xi demurred with a curtsy, "You honor me too much, milady."
Shen Miao, now apologetic, gleaned two insights: the Xies cultivated talent like Mama Xi in spades, ensuring capable stewards for the venture. And Lady Xi’s deliberate mention of her Youzhou origins confirmed Shen Miao’s hunch—the Xies had powerful in-laws there.
The unspoken pact solidified.
Between clever people, some things need not be spoken aloud—a shared glance and smile could convey all.
Yet Lady Xi's attitude toward Shen Miao was entirely different from when they first met. She had grown genuinely fond of this beautiful yet shrewd and cautious young woman. At her age and with her background, such wisdom was rare indeed.
Before visiting Shen Miao’s shop, Lady Xi had already investigated her origins, family background, and even the circumstances of her former husband. After settling the details of profit-sharing and other preparations, she patted Shen Miao’s hand affectionately before leaving, her heart full of pity for her.
Once seated in her carriage, Lady Xi sighed to Mama Xi, "Shen Miao is so intelligent—how could she have ever married into such a wretched family? Was she truly blinded by mere looks?"
Mama Xi, sympathetic, replied softly, "She was only fifteen when she married, still sheltered by her parents. Youth often leads to misplaced trust. Consider the sages of old—did they not endure trials to achieve greatness? King Wen composed the Book of Changes in captivity; Confucius wrote the Spring and Autumn Annals in hardship. Adversity sharpens the mind, and Shen Miao’s brilliance was surely honed through suffering."
Lady Xi, who had trained in martial arts since childhood and had only a passing familiarity with literature, found Mama Xi’s scholarly talk tiresome. But remembering her upcoming visit to the Feng household—a family even more inclined to poetic pretensions—she hastily said, "Ah-Xi, remember to draft two congratulatory verses for Grand Madam Feng’s birthday, along with a few sentimental poems about flowers and streams. The Fengs entertain ministers’ wives who love poetic games at banquets. Every time I dine with them, I barely eat, filling up on nothing but pretentious verses. It’s unbearable!"
Mama Xi chuckled. "Of course, of course."
Shen Miao stood at the door, waving enthusiastically with a practiced smile until Lady Xi’s carriage disappeared into the distance. Then she bounded back into the shop. Ji Brother and Youyu had taken Lei Ting to buy meat and hadn’t returned yet, Sister Xiang was napping, and only Zhuifeng remained in the courtyard, chasing a leaf tossed about by the wind. The name "Zhuifeng" (Chasing Wind) suited the dog perfectly—it was as unpredictable as the breeze.
Bursting with joy but with no one to share it with, she dashed over, scooped Zhuifeng into her arms, and planted two loud kisses on its head. Giddy, she cupped its furry face and rubbed it excitedly. "Zhuifeng, oh Zhuifeng! We’re going to make gold! Once the workshop starts running, won’t we be earning money even in our sleep? From then on, I’ll buy you two big bones every day—one to gnaw, one to toss away! That’s how rich we’ll be!"
Zhuifeng yelped in protest at the rough affection.
Fortunately, Ji Brother and Youyu soon returned, laden with bundles. Lei Ting, ever reliable, carried two oil-paper-wrapped trotters on its back, having resisted the temptation of raw meat the entire way. Had it been Zhuifeng, the trotters would’ve been devoured before they even made it home.
Shen Miao took the meat and, noticing Ji Brother’s sweaty brow, urged him and Youyu to wash up. When they returned, faces still damp, she couldn’t contain her excitement. "I’ll stew this meat first, then we’ll close the shop and head to Shopkeeper Zhou’s bookstore to get your school supplies. Yesterday, Dr. Yao mentioned that those who passed the preliminary exams start next month. While we have time, let’s prepare your bedding and stationery too."
Shen Ji blinked. "Sister, why are you so happy?"
With a smug grin, Shen Miao wiggled all ten fingers in front of him. "I just landed a huge job—catering a banquet at Dr. Feng’s house in Piyang Academy. We’ll earn this much."
"Ten strings of cash?" Shen Ji guessed.
"Think bigger!" Shen Miao beamed.
"Twenty?" Shen Ji hesitated to aim higher.
"Ten taels," Shen Miao whispered, pulling him close. "Of gold."
Shen Ji’s eyes nearly popped out. He couldn’t even voice the word, lips parting soundlessly before finally exhaling, "Gold?"
"Gold," Shen Miao sighed dreamily. She’d never seen real gold in this lifetime. In her past life, she’d adored it too—not as jewelry, but as bars stored in a vault. Just counting them had brought her immense joy.
Shen Ji swayed slightly, as if struck by the revelation.
"Let’s keep this to ourselves, alright?" Shen Miao mimed zipping her lips. "Go wake Sister Xiang, wash her up, and change her clothes. I’ll finish this stew, then we’ll leave."
The broth was ready—all she had to do was chop, clean, and parboil the meat before adding it to the pot. Just as she was about to close the shop, a familiar young garrison soldier rushed in, panting. "Madam Shen, closing already? Lucky I made it! Quick, pack twenty portions of instant noodles!"
She recognized him—he was the one who’d first brought the garrison commander and his men to try her instant noodles, startling her at the time. Since then, he often came for noodles, though he usually ordered lamb stew when he had time to sit. Only when busy did he take the instant kind.
"Right away!" Shen Miao bundled them swiftly, tying the packets with twine before handing them over. "Haven’t seen you all in a while—what’s kept you so occupied?"
"Don’t ask," the soldier groaned. "Qinzhou’s suppressing a Qiang rebellion, and refugees are spilling into Caizhou’s outskirts. The commander’s worried troublemakers might sneak into the city, so we’re patrolling day and night, no going home. Just in case." He yawned, exhaustion evident, then grinned. "Night shifts are brutal—cold rations won’t do. Your noodles keep us awake."
Shen Miao frowned. "Is the rebellion that bad?"
"General Xi already recaptured two counties. Should be over soon," the soldier reassured. "No need to panic—refugees won’t reach the capital. We’ve only caught a few petty thieves so far."
Though she kept her composure, after he left, Shen Miao decided to take her cart out later and stock up on non-perishables. If grain prices soared, her noodle shop would suffer.
Lost in thought, Sister Xiang wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. "Sister, I don’t want to go to the bookstore. I want to play with Gou’er."
She was still worried about Li Gou’er, who’d been beaten and scolded the day before, crying pitifully. She wanted to check on him.
Shen Miao thought for a moment and said, "Alright, then you and Youyu stay at home. Lei Ting will also remain here. I’ll go buy what we need and come back soon. If I’m not back by the time you’ve finished playing with Gou’er, go wait at Aunt Gu’s place. I’ll let her know to keep an eye on you. You and Gou’er can play in the alley, but don’t you dare run off to the streets, understand?"
Sister Xiang replied cheerfully, "Got it! I won’t wander off!"
With that, she tugged Youyu along and dashed toward the back gate of the Li household. Aunt Li was still napping, and the house was quiet. Shen Miao peeked out and saw Sister Xiang mimicking a dog’s bark at the Li family’s doorstep. Soon enough, Li Gou’er poked his head out, his eyes still puffy from sleep. The two whispered for a moment before he tiptoed out, and the trio scurried off to hide and chat by the drainage ditch behind the water house.
It hadn’t rained in days, so the winding ditch was dry—a favorite spot for the neighborhood children to play hide-and-seek.
Shen Miao then stopped by the Gu residence to inform Aunt Gu, who promptly carried a stool to her doorway and began sorting vegetables while keeping a distant watch. She waved Shen Miao off, saying, "Go on with your errands. I’ll sit right here—they won’t get past the alley."
With that settled, Shen Miao quickly tidied up, closed the shop, removed the large umbrella and charcoal stove from the stall cart, and set off with Ji Brother pushing it alongside her. Though there were closer bookshops in the inner city, she preferred making the longer trip to Shopkeeper Zhou’s place. First, to support his business; second, because his shop was near the Piyong Academy, where many scholars frequented, and he often had useful insights about the academy—perfect for gathering information for Ji Brother. Third, the recent success of her instant noodle venture and banquet catering had left her exhilarated, but since wealth shouldn’t be flaunted, she couldn’t share her joy freely. A walk under the gentle breeze and sunlight seemed the perfect way to calm her excitement.
By the time she reached Lanxin Bookshop, her emotions had settled. As she lifted the half-rolled reed curtain at the entrance, she couldn’t help but mock herself inwardly—she was, after all, an ordinary person who reveled in her own joys and sorrows. But being ordinary wasn’t so bad; these mundane, money-scented memories filled her heart with warmth and happiness.
Shaking off her musings, she stepped inside with a bright call, "Shopkeeper Zhou!"
The moment she entered, several pairs of eyes turned her way. The usually quiet bookshop was unusually lively today, with a group of scholars in wide-sleeved robes gathered around the counter, some seated, others standing.
Her voice drew their attention, and one of them—a baby-faced scholar—immediately exclaimed in delight, "Madam Shen!"
"Madam Shen, here to buy books too? My father’s had me locked up at home lately—I haven’t been able to visit your shop for noodles! I’ve practically starved myself thin!" He tossed aside the book in his hands and launched into an excited ramble, trying to push past his peers to chat with Shen Miao, only to be yanked back by Shang An. He turned to his friend indignantly, "Brother Shang, why’d you pull me? You don’t understand—I wrote three odes to noodles while confined, all praising Shen’s Noodles! Let go! Madam Shen is a beacon for us gourmands, a guiding light in the dark, a safe harbor for lost ships—"
"Ning Yi, spare us your flowery prose…" Shang An shuddered.
"…" Shen Miao also suppressed a shiver at the dramatic praise.
She remembered now—this was the scholar who’d once tried to buy egg yolk pastries from her and been refused. Later, when instant noodles became a sensation, he’d rallied a group of students from the Imperial College and Piyong Academy to sneak out at night for a taste, only to be caught red-handed by Dr. Yao. After that, he’d disappeared for a while.
Seems his truancy had been discovered, leading to house arrest—today must be his first day out.
Shen Ji, after parking the family’s cart outside, quietly slipped into the shop and stood protectively behind Shen Miao, eyeing the oddly enthusiastic Ning Yi with suspicion.
Just then, Shopkeeper Zhou emerged from the back room, holding the curtain aside as he spoke to someone behind him—a tall, slender figure. "Young Master Xie, why on earth do you need sand for your studies? I’ve got some river sand for raising turtles—you can take a basinful if you like!"
As the two turned, they spotted Shen Miao and exclaimed in unison, "Madam Shen, what brings you here?"
Shen Miao greeted Shopkeeper Zhou first, then looked up to realize the person behind him was Xie Qi.
Xie Qi’s leg had finally healed completely. Though the splints had been removed earlier, walking had still been painful. Now that he could move freely again, his family had urged him to return to the academy. Today, he’d come to Lanxin Bookshop for ink and brushes, along with other supplies, before heading back.
Shen Miao was always inexplicably happy to see Xie Qi. She stepped forward with a light curtsy. "I ran into you at the night market yesterday, and here we meet again today! Oh, I haven’t told you yet—Ji Brother passed the exams! Ranked sixth!"
She pulled Shen Ji forward, her face glowing with genuine gratitude. "If not for your guidance and the books you lent him, he wouldn’t have succeeded so smoothly. Once he starts at Piyong Academy, we’d be grateful if you could look out for him occasionally."
"No need for thanks. My books were just a small help—it was his hard work that earned this." Xie Qi smiled modestly before turning to Shen Ji. "Congratulations. Though we won’t be in the same class, we’ll be fellow students. Once you’re settled, I’ll show you around."
"Thank you, Brother Xie," Shen Ji replied, blushing slightly.
Shang An couldn’t help but side-eye Xie Qi’s uncharacteristic warmth. Since when did Xie Qi act so friendly? Lending books? Offering tours?
Ning Yi, however, sidled up again, slinging an arm around Xie Qi’s shoulders as he whispered conspiratorially to the siblings, "You might not know this, but Xie Qi here is the apple of every professor’s eye at the academy. He topped the child prodigy exams back then, and since entering Piyong, he’s never ranked below first in any test. His notes and annotations—let me tell you—are brilliantly insightful. I always borrow them before exams, and they’ve saved me from flunking out of the top class more times than I can count. Your brother here struck gold getting his hands on Xie Qi’s books!"
Shen Miao glanced at Xie Qi in surprise. So he was this exceptional? He’d never boasted about his achievements or flaunted his knowledge around her, so she’d never realized just how remarkable he was.
Xie Qi felt his cheeks grow warm under Shen Miao's clear, dark-eyed gaze. Uncomfortable, he averted his eyes and said softly, "Miss Shen, don’t believe him. He tends to exaggerate. I’m not particularly gifted in my studies—just more diligent than most."
Shen Ji, however, had read every annotation Xie Qi had scribbled in the margins of old books. He knew Ning Yi wasn’t exaggerating and nodded silently. What made Xie Qi remarkable wasn’t ornate prose, but his razor-sharp precision with words. Shen Ji had unconsciously mimicked his problem-solving approach during exams, which he believed was key to his own success.
"Regardless, one must never forget their roots or those who’ve helped them," Shen Miao insisted. "If you ever need anything in the future, Brother Xie, just say the word. As long as it’s within my power, I won’t hesitate."
Xie Qi’s heart raced. Shen Miao’s eyes were earnest, but her words barely registered—his ears caught only the two syllables of her name carried by the wind. Without thinking, he asked, "Miss Shen… which character is your name? Is it the ‘miao’ for ‘exquisite craftsmanship,’ or the ‘miao’ for ‘vast sails on the river’…?"
Only after speaking did he realize he’d shamelessly inquired about a young lady’s personal name! Heat crept up his ears.
Shen Miao, however, paid it no mind. A name was meant to be spoken, after all. With no parents or husband left, was she to hide it? Nonsense. She answered plainly, "It’s the ‘miao’ from ‘the boundlessness of heaven and earth.’"
Ah, the ‘miao’ from "vast and endless, my thoughts wander." Shen Miao.
Water—gentle yet boundless, soft yet powerful. A fitting name.
It suited her.
He silently repeated it in his mind several times.
Having settled the matter of her name, Shen Miao naturally turned to Shopkeeper Zhou, asking him to select quality brushes and ink for Shen Ji while inquiring about the stationery commonly used by academy students.
Though she didn’t wish to encourage vanity, she wanted Shen Ji to have what his peers did—to avoid standing out or enduring gossip. He’d soon live at the academy, adjusting to new people and routines. Fortunately, Xie Qi would be there too.
The thought eased her mind.
As she asked, Ning Yi eagerly stepped forward, extolling the virtues of different ink sticks, bristle types, and inkstones that produced the darkest ink. This time, Shen Miao listened attentively, even requesting samples for Shen Ji to test.
Meanwhile, Xie Qi lingered, Shen Miao’s name lingering in his thoughts. When he glanced at her again—her vibrant, spring-mountain eyes—Ning Yi’s chatter suddenly grated on him.
After a pause, he quietly approached, positioning himself two steps from Shen Miao and subtly edging Ning Yi aside. Softly, he began recommending items too.
"…Since Shen Ji practices Yan-style calligraphy, the wolf-hair brush Brother Ning suggested isn’t ideal. This purple bamboo shaft with mixed bristles would suit him better—medium-sized, perfect for his age."
Shang An stood nearby, arms crossed, scratching his chin thoughtfully at Xie Qi’s uncharacteristically tender tone.
Things were getting interesting.
Meanwhile, in Willow East Lane…
Li Gou'er crouched by the drainage ditch, listlessly scratching the ground with a stick. Glumly, he muttered to Sister Xiang, "…I really don’t want to stay home anymore."
"Did your mother really hit you?" Sister Xiang asked, concerned.
"Worse than hitting me." Li Gou'er’s smile was hollow. "She’s making me practice calligraphy, memorize poetry, and write five essays daily—from dawn till dusk, with only a noon break. It’s like being jailed."
Sister Xiang gasped. "That’ll kill you!"
"Mother says, ‘If Shen Ji can study like this, why can’t you? You’re just as capable. Do this, and you’ll enter the top class next year—even outrank him.’" Li Gou'er exhaled heavily. Though young, his heart felt weighed down, as if crushed by a stone.
Sister Xiang propped her chin on her hand, eyeing Youyu—who was idly plucking grass—before turning back to defend Li Gou'er. "But my brother only studied like that for a month! By then, he’d stare blankly, barely hearing us when we spoke. My sister said it was unhealthy and made him ease up. If you keep this up for a year, you’ll collapse."
"But if I refuse, Mother wails that I’m ungrateful and unfilial. I have to obey."
Sister Xiang’s face scrunched. Unsure how to comfort him, she mimicked adults with a heavy sigh, leaning against the ditch to watch wisps of clouds drift overhead.
Li Gou'er followed her gaze.
Small and crouched in the ditch, the sky above was a narrow rectangle—today a brilliant blue, like glazed ceramic sealing them inside this deep trench. Suddenly, Li Gou'er’s chest ached.
"Why can’t my mother be as understanding as your sister?" He hugged his knees.
Sister Xiang pondered, then admitted, "I don’t know." After a pause, she added proudly, "But my sister’s the best in the world. No one compares."
This only deepened Li Gou'er’s gloom.
They sat in silence, while Youyu—having stripped the area of grass—began stacking pebbles. When she turned for more stones, she tilted her head.
At the far end of the ditch, within the dark mouth of a drainage pipe, a pair of gleaming eyes seemed to be watching them.
