Youyu had been doing rough labor since childhood, developing immense hand strength, and due to her simple-mindedness, her reactions were often unpredictable. If others saw a pair of gleaming eyes in a dark, shadowy ditch, they would surely be terrified and might even turn and flee.
But Youyu was different. She neither screamed nor ran. Instead, she abruptly reached in and grabbed.
She seized something like hair and yanked with all her might, dragging out whatever creature—human or beast—was hiding inside.
The commotion was too loud! Sister Xiang and Li Gou'er were startled, and when they looked over, they were so frightened they pressed themselves against the wall, standing frozen, eyes wide, unable to speak for a long moment.
In Youyu's grasp was a child as thin as a stick of firewood, with a filthy face, tattered clothes clinging to their body, and dripping wet. The moment they were dragged from the darkness into broad daylight, they kicked and thrashed wildly, but Youyu's iron-like grip held them fast.
The drainage ditch connected to underground tunnels that led to the moat outside the city. These passages were deep and winding, and because fugitives had once hidden in them, the openings along the imperial street were barred with iron grates and lined with rows of inward-facing hooks—preventing anyone from crawling through and entering the palace grounds. Anyone foolish enough to try would likely be gutted.
But other areas lacked such elaborate defenses. Usually, a few stones were placed to block half the opening, moved aside during rain, and that was considered sufficient. The drainage hole in Willow East Alley was no exception. The stones moved aside during the last rain still lay neatly to the side, forgotten.
"You... Youyu, what... what did you catch?"
Sister Xiang and Li Gou'er slowly calmed down and cautiously approached. The child was so thin that Youyu could pin them down with one hand. Defiant and stubborn, they lay on the ground, no longer struggling but still panting heavily, their cracked fingers digging into the dirt. Even exhausted, they refused to let Youyu drag them another inch.
Their clothes barely covered them, and one emaciated leg was bent unnaturally. Their face was gaunt, skin stretched tight over cheekbones, deeply sunken, and covered in filth. Sister Xiang gathered her courage to look at them but only saw a pair of shockingly large eyes—cold and fierce, like biting snow.
Sister Xiang shrank back, unnerved by their glare, while Li Gou'er instantly ducked behind her, peeking out with a trembling head.
Unable to move, the child lay still, and eventually, Sister Xiang's curiosity got the better of her. She crouched down again, eyes wide, studying the figure on the ground.
Li Gou'er was even more timid than Sister Xiang. After hiding behind her for a while, he finally muttered, "Sister Xiang, they look terrifying. Don't go near them."
He tugged at her sleeve twice, but when she didn’t budge, he stamped his foot, abandoned both Sister Xiang and Youyu, scrambled out of the ditch, and ran off to call for help.
"Mother! Aunt Gu! Youyu caught a thief!"
Youyu still held the child tightly, like a cat proudly presenting a caught mouse, her simple face wearing a foolish grin, eager for praise.
The ditch offered no shade. The wind stirred the shadows, scattering fragmented sunlight through the eaves. Sister Xiang, bathed in dancing light, clasped her hands on her knees, leaned down, and softly asked with a frown, "Who are you? Why were you hiding here?"
No answer came. The filthy child looked up at Sister Xiang—clean, fair-skinned, and glowing in the light—then squeezed their eyes shut, tears welling from the brightness after so long in darkness.
They were even more silent than Youyu.
After a moment of thought, Sister Xiang's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Come home with me! I'll give you a pancake and cut your hair!"
The family dog had a habit of picking up random things, and Shen Miao never imagined this bad habit could spread to humans.
Unaware of the situation at home, she was busy splurging at Lanxin Bookstore.
After running her shop for so long, she had quietly exchanged fifty taels of silver at the bank, adding it to her previous savings, all stashed deep in the vegetable cellar.
Now, excluding the funds for shop operations and daily expenses, she had saved over a hundred taels.
The Shen household's meals and living conditions had gradually improved. Meat was no longer a luxury, and Ji Brother no longer had to practice writing on reusable wooden boards as he once did.
Xie Qi browsed the bookstore shelves, casually pulling out a book and saying to Shen Miao, "During the Cao Wei period, there was a metaphysician named He Yan. His annotations on the Analects are the best. If you buy the Analects, you must also get his commentary. He compiled interpretations from countless scholars of the Han and Wei dynasties, making it much easier to study."
If anyone else had said this, Shen Miao might have hesitated, but coming from Xie Qi—a perennial top scholar—she had only one resolute response: "Buy!"
"The same goes for Mencius. Zhao Qi of the Eastern Han wrote Mencius Chapter Notes, the earliest surviving commentary. He emphasized textual analysis and contextual clarity—essential for mastering Mencius."
"Buy, buy!"
"No need to mention ink, brushes, and paper—Ning Daze’s earlier selections will do. But you’ll also need a ruler for lining paper and a book knife for trimming. Does Ji Brother have a seal? If not, Madam Shen should take him to have one carved when you have time. The stone doesn’t need to be expensive—just three seals: a leisure seal, a corner seal, and a name seal. Since the emperor favors calligraphy and painting, the academy offers art classes once every seven days. Having a seal will be useful later."
"Got it, got it!"
"Shopkeeper Zhou also sells rain gear. You’ll need a straw raincoat, a bamboo hat, and wooden clogs..."
Shen Miao, now blindly trusting, nodded eagerly. "Buy, buy, buy!"
Soon, the counter was piled high with books and supplies. Shopkeeper Zhou grinned from ear to ear, even throwing in a large coarse cloth bundle and cheerfully packing everything onto the cart for her. "If you’re missing anything, don’t worry. The academy is just a stone’s throw away—you can practically see the side gate from here. Just follow this path, and you’ll be there in no time."
Shen Miao nodded, holding Ji Brother’s hand as she bid Xie Qi farewell and prepared to return to the city. She still needed to buy rice and order two smaller quilts for Ji Brother. Ninth Brother had mentioned that the academy dormitories varied in size, usually housing four to eight students per room, each with a narrow single bed. Their family’s rattan mats and quilts were too large, so it was best to have custom-made ones that could be rolled up and tied to the book chest for easy transport and airing.
Xie Qi followed them all the way outside. Just as Shen Miao was about to tell him not to bother, her gaze froze—she suddenly noticed something moving beneath Xie Qi’s clothes.
The thing wriggled and rustled from his waist, quickly scurrying up to the collar of his robe. The neat, square lapel of his garment suddenly bulged outward.
She stared in surprise as a fluffy, round cat’s head emerged from his robe, tilting back and meowing loudly.
"Qilin?" Shen Miao reached out to pick it up, holding it in both hands as she met the damp, gleaming eyes of the little kitten.
The night before, when Zhuifeng had carried it back in his mouth, the kitten had been drenched in saliva, its fur clumped and tangled like a mop that had come to life—utterly unsightly.
In the darkness, she hadn’t gotten a good look at its appearance. But now, in daylight, she realized how strikingly beautiful it was—a long-haired cat with an orange left cheek and a black right cheek, perfectly split down the middle. Its head bore a patch of yellow, while its body was mostly orange with scattered black patches, its belly entirely white except for some speckles on its hind legs. Its front legs were pure white.
Turning its tiny paws over, she saw all four pads were pink.
Xie Qi had taken excellent care of it. The kitten now smelled faintly of lamb’s milk, its fur dry and fluffy, its meows much louder and livelier.
"Why are you carrying it around with you?" Shen Miao stroked the cat, amused by the sudden appearance of a kitten from Xie Qi’s robes.
Xie Qi sighed with a mix of exasperation and fondness, tapping the kitten’s head lightly. "I fed it all night, so it’s imprinted on me. Whether it’s Yan Shu or Qiu Hao trying to feed it, it refuses to eat and just yowls. But the moment I show up, it quiets down—only crying when it’s hungry. Right now, it must be hungry again."
Besides, it needed feeding every couple of hours, so keeping it close was just easier.
Today, Qiu Hao had accompanied Xie Qi out. Seeing the kitten stir, he expertly rummaged through the bookcase on his back, pulling out a piece of lamb’s milk cake. He cut off a small piece, borrowed warm water from Shopkeeper Zhou to dissolve it, then produced a small silver spoon. Once everything was ready, he handed the bowl and spoon to Xie Qi.
Shen Miao watched with fascination as Xie Qi fed the kitten—his broad palm cradling it effortlessly while his other hand held the spoon, patiently offering one tiny scoop after another. Qilin lapped eagerly with its pink tongue, meowing impatiently between bites, its little ears twitching with each swallow.
Once full, the kitten’s belly visibly rounded, its muzzle smeared with milk. Xie Qi even took out his own handkerchief to gently wipe its face.
At this age, kittens grew sleepy after eating. Qilin staggered a few clumsy steps across Xie Qi’s robes before burrowing back inside with a wriggle.
Xie Qi’s loose garment, cinched at the waist with a belt, formed a natural nest between his abdomen and the sash. Shen Miao glanced over, spotting the faint curve where the tiny cat curled up beneath the fabric.
It must have been sleeping there earlier too—she just hadn’t noticed.
"You’ve gone to so much trouble… I didn’t expect you’d be the one taking care of Qilin." Shen Miao felt a pang of guilt, knowing how demanding nursing a kitten could be. "Since it’s so attached to you, will you take it to the academy? Won’t that interfere with your studies? Maybe I should take it home instead?"
Xie Qi rested a hand over his waist, fingertips brushing Qilin’s back through the fabric. He shook his head. "It’s fine. Qilin is well-behaved—once fed, it doesn’t make noise. Besides… Mr. Feng is busy writing lately and hasn’t been keeping a close eye on me."
Shen Miao noticed his hand, then lifted her gaze to find him looking down, long lashes casting shadows over his eyes—a sight that inexplicably stirred a ripple of tenderness in her chest.
Still, guilt lingered. She insisted that if it ever became inconvenient, he should let her know.
Watching Xie Qi feed the kitten reminded her—she could have asked Wan Wuniang or other pet shops whether any nursing mother cats were available. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier? She must have been too frantic that night.
But Xie Qi gently declined, escorting Shen Miao and Ji Brother all the way to the street corner. Only after they had pushed their cart far into the distance did he remember he had come out to buy something himself—yet he’d forgotten everything the moment he saw her.
Now empty-handed, he realized he’d spent the entire afternoon wandering without purchasing a single thing.
Hurrying back to the bookstore, he was immediately met with the knowing, teasing stares of Shang An and Ning Yi.
The two grinned mischievously at him.
Shang An stayed silent, but Ning Yi waggled his eyebrows and chuckled. "Xie Jiu, ah, Xie Jiu… The way you and Shen Niang stood side by side doting on that kitten just now—it should be painted! We could title it ‘A Happy Family of Three.’ What do you think?"
Xie Qi’s ears burned. Snatching up the nearest book, he hurled it at Ning Yi.
"Shut your mouth! Don’t slander a lady’s reputation!"
Shen Miao and Ji Brother returned to the inner city, stopping first at Taifeng Grain Shop. Seeing that prices hadn’t changed from days prior, she promptly ordered a hundred pounds of wheat flour, along with red beans, mung beans, rice, and millet—several hundred pounds in total.
Their cart could only carry a fraction of it; any heavier and it would be impossible to push. Fortunately, she was well-acquainted with the shopkeeper, who promised to send extra helpers to deliver the rest the next day.
Passing a butcher’s stall, she noticed some well-cured salted pork with a fresh pink hue and bought a portion. Then she came across a vendor selling dried bamboo shoots and picked some up as well. Strolling leisurely, chatting with Ji Brother, she browsed without a care—completely unaware of what awaited her.
By the time the sun dipped westward, they reached the mouth of their alley—only to find their courtyard gate wide open, shadows moving inside. A sense of foreboding prickled at her.
Hurrying forward, she discovered a crowd of neighbors gathered in her yard, loudly debating something.
Aunt Gu, Aunt Li, Gu Dalang, Sister-in-law Liu, and others formed a circle. Aunt Li, munching on melon seeds, spotted her first and called out, "Girl, you’re back! Your Sister Xiang brought home a filthy little monkey!"
The crowd parted, and Shen Miao’s jaw dropped at the sight: in the middle of the yard sat a gaunt, skeletal child, dripping filthy water onto the ground. Clutching two leftover egg pancakes from that morning, the child devoured them ravenously. Its hair was a matted, greasy tangle, and the stench of filth clung thickly even from a distance.
"Li Gou'er said Youyu found him in the ditch."
"Look at him—he must’ve been hiding there for days. How’d a child end up alone in there?"
"Could he be a refugee who slipped in? He’s got no known background. Should we report this to the authorities?"
"It doesn't seem likely. He's alone and so young—how could he have traveled all the way from Qinzhou to Bianjing? Look how thin he is—you can count every rib. It’s only because the weather’s warmed up that he hasn’t frozen to death by now. If we report this to the authorities, the patrols have been strict lately. They might mistake him for a fugitive and throw him in jail. With his frail body, two days without food would probably finish him off."
"Then who’s going to take care of him if we don’t report it? Easy for you to say when it’s not your problem."
The neighbors argued back and forth, their voices rising in disagreement until Shen Miao’s head throbbed. She glanced at Sister Xiang, who was crouched in front of the boy, watching him wolf down a cold, greasy egg pancake with pity in her eyes.
Ji Brother stole a look at his silent elder sister, then at Sister Xiang, before turning to Youyu—who was too busy hauling water to pay attention to anything else. Her mind only remembered tasks by the hour.
After standing silently amid the debate, Shen Miao finally stirred. She turned first to Aunt Gu with a smile. "Thank you for keeping an eye on Sister Xiang and the others this morning. I never expected something like this to happen, but since it has, we’ll deal with it." Then she addressed the crowd. "Everyone, please go home for now. I’ll question him properly first and figure out the whole story."
Aunt Gu pulled Shen Miao aside before leaving, her voice low with concern. "Less trouble is better. Don’t report it—just send him away. Don’t invite unnecessary problems. In this world, your own family comes first. We can’t save everyone."
Shen Miao nodded. "I know what’s important. Don’t worry, Auntie."
Once the crowd dispersed, Shen Miao pulled Sister Xiang aside for details. After listening, she stole another glance at the boy. He was painfully thin, having finished the pancake and now leaning against the wall to stand. One of his legs was clearly broken, healed crooked without treatment, leaving him with a permanent limp.
He shrank into the corner as the wind grew colder, shivering uncontrollably.
Shen Miao sighed and tapped Sister Xiang’s forehead. "You’re even more trouble than Zhuifeng."
Sister Xiang blinked up at her. "Did I do something wrong, A-Jie?"
"No. I’m just afraid you might run into bad people." Truthfully, what unsettled Shen Miao most wasn’t that Sister Xiang had brought home a stranger—it was that someone had been hiding in the ditch for days without anyone noticing. What if it hadn’t been a child, but a dangerous criminal? Would Sister Xiang and Youyu have made it back alive?
She made a mental note to mention this to the patrolmen who often bought noodles from her shop. They should search the sewers more thoroughly to prevent real trouble.
With these thoughts, Shen Miao stepped into the kitchen, ladled hot water from the stove, mixed in some cold, and carried the bucket to the courtyard. The boy still huddled by the vegetable patch. She approached him.
"What’s your name?"
"Where’s your home?"
"Where are your parents?"
The boy didn’t move. At first, he glanced at her, but soon his eyes dropped, refusing to speak.
Shen Miao sighed and reached out to pull him up. She’d braced herself to use some strength, but he lifted as easily as a paper kite.
Though he’d eaten, he was still dizzy with hunger, swaying on his feet. His bony wrist trembled in her grip. Even in her past life—and now in the Song Dynasty—she’d never seen a child so starved.
If Sister Xiang hadn’t given him those pancakes, he might not have lasted much longer.
The thought struck her suddenly.
After hauling him up, Shen Miao stripped off his tattered rags and dunked him into the wooden tub. The moment the water touched his skin, he thrashed violently—but exhaustion quickly stilled him. She scrubbed him with a fresh cloth, turning the water black with filth. The stench was so foul that even Sister Xiang, peeking from where Ji Brother held her back, pinched her nose and fled.
Shen Miao dumped the water and refilled the tub. The second round was just as murky.
By the third, the water finally lightened—and she understood why he’d struggled. His body was a patchwork of bruises, whip marks, and unhealed gashes. Some were scrapes from the ditch, but others were unmistakably from beatings.
Her hands paused. She fetched scissors and sheared off his matted hair, then scrubbed his face and scalp. Before, he’d been a grimy stick figure. Now, he was a pale, bruised one—too battered to tell if he was handsome.
His head looked too large for his body, like a bobblehead doll.
But at least he now resembled a human being. He flinched occasionally in the water, pain flickering across his face.
Shen Miao was about to call for Ji Brother when she noticed him already standing behind her, holding his smallest set of clothes. "A-Jie, he can wear these."
She dressed the boy, rolling up sleeves and pant legs repeatedly until they no longer swallowed him whole—though he still looked like he was wearing a sack.
"A-Jie."
"Hmm?"
"Let him sleep in my room."
"We’ll manage for a few days. Once he recovers, we’ll decide whether to send him to the authorities or elsewhere." Shen Miao nodded. After dumping the water and tidying up, she dried his freshly cropped hair with a thick towel, then lifted him. He was likely Sister Xiang’s age, maybe younger, but weighed half as much—barely twenty pounds.
So light. Light enough that she feared he might slip away in the night.
She tucked him into Ji Brother’s bed and, without thinking, pressed a hand to his forehead. No fever—his body was still fighting. "Rest now," she murmured. "Sleep well."
Shen Miao doted on children. Both Sister Xiang and Ji Brother’s beds had a straw mat at the base, two layers of padding, and now, in the warmer months, a woven rattan mat on top—soft, cool, and comfortable.
The boy sank into the bedding like cotton fluff and was asleep in moments.
Shen Miao watched him for a few breaths before turning to open the shop.
As the night market buzzed to life, customers flowed in and out of the Shen family’s noodle shop. The braised meat in the kitchen had reached perfect tenderness. The stench of washing the boy had long faded, replaced by the rich aroma of simmering broth and spices, curling through the courtyard like smoke from a hearth.
A pot of braised meat sold out overnight, and even the small bottles of liquor that had been sitting untouched in the drinks cabinet found many takers. Truly, to sell alcohol, one must have good snacks to pair with it! Shen Miao thought to herself as she sliced the braised meat for customers. Later, she decided, she would pickle some sweet garlic, sour radish, and vinegar-soaked peanuts—perfect accompaniments for noodles.
In the days that followed, the child she had taken in did little more than eat and sleep, curled up in Ji Brother’s room, motionless—perhaps too weak to move. Sometimes, if the lamp wasn’t lit, it was hard to even spot him there.
At mealtimes, Shen Miao would bring food into the room, and he would devour it ravenously, as if he wanted to chew even the bones to dust. Yet he never spoke a word. If not for the one cry he let out when Shen Miao treated his wounds and drained his festering sores, she might have thought he was mute too.
At first, Sister Xiang and Youyu often peeked at him through the window, curious about this strange boy. Sister Xiang, especially, couldn’t stand the silence and kept trying to talk to him. But he never responded, never even looked at her.
Eventually, Sister Xiang grew bored. Children’s interests are fleeting, after all, and she had friends all over Willow East Lane—even in other alleys, like Xiang Guo'er. Soon, she stopped paying him any mind, dragging Youyu off to play elsewhere instead.
And so the boy fished out of the sewer stayed in Shen Miao’s home for four or five days. The deathly pallor clinging to him gradually faded under the warmth of three hot meals a day. By the time he could walk without swaying, Zheng Neizhi of the Xie family came calling again.
He brought the contract for the Youzhou noodle workshop. Shen Miao read it carefully several times, ensuring there were no hidden traps and that it matched their prior agreement, before signing and stamping it without hesitation.
With the contract settled, the Xie family would soon send someone to Youzhou to scout locations and begin construction, while Shen Miao would need to hand over the recipe for instant noodles in the near future.
Once this matter was concluded, Zheng Neizhi clasped his hands and added, "Tomorrow morning, Zhou Da will come to fetch you to the Feng residence."
Shen Miao acknowledged this with a smile. After seeing Zheng Neizhi off, she hesitated, then entered Ji Brother’s room.
Ji Brother wasn’t there—he had gone out to rescue his sister. Sister Xiang had somehow gotten into another quarrel with Liu Douhua.
The boy, however, remained motionless even as night fell, so the room stayed unlit. In the dim, shifting shadows, he crouched in the darkest corner, his large eyes wide open, silent as a ghost.
If not for the two large trunks stuffed under the bed, he might have hidden beneath it. While most children feared the dark, he seemed to find safety in it.
Shen Miao sat on the edge of the bed and asked again, "What’s your name? Where’s your home? Where are your parents?"
Still, no answer came.
She shrugged and continued, "Tomorrow, I’ll be going out. If you don’t tell me the truth, I can’t just leave you here without knowing your background. After dinner, I’ll take you to the local authorities and let them help you. Do you understand?"
From the start, Shen Miao hadn’t planned to keep him long. Without knowing his origins, as Aunt Gu had rightly said, her duty was only to her own family. Everyone had their own fate. She had saved this child to give him a chance to recover, but ultimately, he needed to be reported to the authorities.
Having said her piece, she patted her skirts and stood to leave. Then, for the first time in all these days, the silent boy stirred. A rustling sound came from behind her, followed by a voice—not soft or childlike, but rough and hoarse:
"My name is Chen Chuan. My home is by the Chuan River, the third house along. My family dyes cloth. There’s always fabric hanging everywhere."
Startled, Shen Miao turned back. He was leaning against the wall now, his eyes large and bright, his voice hollow, as if dredging up memories:
"I have an older sister and a younger brother. During the Lantern Festival this year, a man with a thick beard grabbed me. He stuffed me into a sack, took me on a boat, then switched to a cart. I tried to run twice when he let me out to relieve myself, but he whipped me, then broke my leg with a stick. He only gave me one piece of flatbread a day so I wouldn’t have the strength to escape. Later, he sold me to someone else. I stayed in that sack for days until we reached a chaotic place. The sack tore on something, and I fell out of the cart, rolling into a crowd. The man who bought me tried to catch me, but I slipped into a drain and ran."
"He didn’t get me."
Having finished, his eyelids drooped. Then his knees hit the floor as he knelt, pleading in a whisper:
"I want to go home. Don’t send me away. They’ll return me to the traffickers. I don’t want to be caught again. Please."
Shen Miao couldn’t bear it. She hauled him up by the arm. "Which prefecture or county is your home in? Do you remember?"
Tilting his face up at her, the wariness in his eyes gave way to tears. He shook his head helplessly—he didn’t know. All he recalled was a river where his mother would wash clothes, his baby brother strapped to her back, and the yard crisscrossed with ropes of dyed fabric in every color, through which he used to weave and play.
Shen Miao pressed him back onto the bed and rubbed his bruised knees.
For a child his age, remembering even this much was impressive.
From his description, it sounded like somewhere in the Jiangnan region—houses built along waterways, nothing like the outskirts of Bianjing. If he’d been taken during the Lantern Festival, nearly four months had passed since then. The trafficker must have dragged him halfway across the country before reaching the capital.
In an era where travel was slow and letters slower, finding his home would be like fishing for a needle in the ocean.
Shen Miao stood there for a long time, torn. Then Sister Xiang came bounding back, clutching a handful of wildflowers she’d picked somewhere. The little glutton poked her head in and asked, "Elder Sister, what’s for dinner tonight?"
Turning, Shen Miao saw her framed in the doorway, backlit by the evening sun. Sister Xiang grinned and held up a bunch of pale blue blossoms. "Look at these flowers! Such a rare color, don’t you think?"
The delicate stems were already wilting in her grip, but bathed in the golden light, they still seemed full of life.
In that moment, a chilling thought struck Shen Miao: What would have become of Sister Xiang and Ji Brother if she hadn’t come into their lives? Would they have ended up like this boy—lost on the streets, sold and resold until even their memories of home faded? And if so, would anyone have helped them?
Shaking off the grim notion, she looked at the skeletal boy—Chen Chuan—and finally relented. "Fine. You can stay. One more mouth to feed won’t make a difference."
Still, she’d have to consult a legal expert later. What was the status of a trafficked child resold by brokers? Did the original deed of sale still hold?
As for his injuries, the external wounds had mostly healed over the past few days, but it remained uncertain whether his leg could be saved... Once she returned from the Feng household, she’d take him to Chief Physician Zhao for a proper check-up.
Her mind buzzed with countless questions, but Shen Miao took a deep breath and decided not to dwell on them. The cart would find its way when it reached the mountain—problems could be tackled one by one, and worrying wouldn’t help.
With that thought, she stepped forward and affectionately patted Sister Xiang’s head. "We’re having bamboo shoot stew with cured meat rice for dinner. Go play for now—I’ll start cooking."
Bamboo shoot stew?
Just hearing the name made Sister Xiang’s mouth water—another dish she’d never tried before!
Authentic bamboo shoot stew should be made with fresh spring bamboo shoots, but at this time of year, none were available. Shen Miao soaked dried bamboo shoots instead, then sliced pork belly and salted pork into thin pieces. Once the water in the pot boiled, she added the salted pork first, bringing it to a vigorous boil until the broth turned milky white. Then she tossed in the rehydrated bamboo shoots and pork belly, reducing the heat to a gentle simmer. The bamboo shoots absorbed the meat’s richness, while the meat soaked up the shoots’ freshness, resulting in a thick, creamy broth ready to serve.
The cured meat rice was simple too. She thinly sliced the cured meat, fried it in oil with scallions until fragrant, then stir-fried it with leafy greens before mixing in steamed rice. The rendered fat from the cured meat seeped into the grains, creating a savory, aromatic dish.
Shen Miao finished cooking quickly. When she brought the food out, she found Sister Xiang chatting with the boy named Chen Chuan—though Sister Xiang spoke ten sentences for every one of his, and his replies were limited to "Mm," "Yes," or "No." Still, encouraged by his responses, Sister Xiang grew even more enthusiastic, eventually dragging him out to eat by force.
Thus, an extra person joined them at the small courtyard table.
Sister Xiang, ever fickle, insisted on sitting next to Chen Chuan today, squeezing onto the same side. Ji Brother couldn’t be bothered with her—he’d already quarreled with Liu Douhua earlier over a handful of wildflowers, each claiming to have picked more. Liu Douhua refused to admit defeat, and Sister Xiang wouldn’t back down either, so they’d bickered over the silliest things again.
As for seating arrangements at the table...
Ji Brother glanced at his elder sister and sat up even straighter.
Every day, without fail, he secured the spot to her left, refusing to yield it to anyone.
But soon, a pang of melancholy struck him—in two days, school would start, and he wouldn’t be able to eat at home as often.
Shen Miao shook her head. As she ladled soup for the children, she suddenly felt like the director of a kindergarten—Youyu, despite her towering height, was no different from the little ones, forever a child who’d never grow up.
She served each of them rice and soup. Youyu’s bowl was the largest—since she ate at least four bowls per meal, Shen Miao had taken to using a soup basin for her to save on dishwashing.
When she handed Chen Chuan his bowl, she added, "From now on, you can call me ‘Elder Sister’ too. I can’t help you find your family, so I’ll only be able to provide for you for a few years. Once you’re older and capable, you can search for them yourself."
Chen Chuan looked up at her, then after a long pause, accepted the bowl with both hands and murmured, "...Elder Sister."
Sister Xiang’s ears perked up. She persisted, "How old are you?"
Chen Chuan had already buried his face in his food, eating with one hand while encircling his bowl protectively with the other. He never spoke while eating.
"You’re shorter than me, so you must be younger. That means I’m also your elder sister—you have to call me that too." Even without an answer, Sister Xiang reached her own conclusion.
Shen Miao stifled a laugh. She couldn’t understand why Sister Xiang was so fixated on being called "Elder Sister," challenging everyone to compare ages.
"Alright, hurry up and eat."
Only then did Sister Xiang sit down and take a sip of the soup. The clear, savory flavor enveloped her taste buds, leaving her too preoccupied to speak. Like Chen Chuan, she devoted herself to eating, alternating between soup and rice until her bowl was empty. She was the first to raise her hand for seconds, demanding, "More soup! And lots of meat!"
That night, the Shen household was silent except for the faint glow in the kitchen.
Youyu had gone home, Sister Xiang and Ji Brother were asleep, and Chen Chuan—the boy they’d picked up—had made a bed on the floor in Ji Brother’s room, presumably deep in slumber. Shen Miao sat alone on a small stool, sealing the last bun. She’d already arranged for Aunt Gu to watch the children the next day, and these buns were their prepared meals. Before leaving, she’d steam them so they could eat.
At dawn the next day, Shen Miao boarded the Xie family’s carriage and set off while even the chickens were still asleep.
When Sister Xiang woke up needing to pee and stumbled drowsily to the outhouse, she realized her elder sister was gone. Only Aunt Gu remained in the yard, watering vegetables and feeding chickens while wearing an apron. Seeing the groggy girl, she smiled. "Your elder sister is so diligent—before leaving, she steamed meat buns for you and even made a big pot of egg drop soup, all kept warm in the pot. Still sleepy? If not, go ahead and eat."
Sister Xiang then remembered—her elder sister was catering a banquet at the Fengs’ today, and since they weren’t close family, she couldn’t bring the children along.
Her drowsiness vanished. Pouting, she pinched her nose and entered the outhouse.
Aunt Gu took the dogs for a walk, but the moment she leashed them, they yanked her off her feet, sending her flying out the gate in a blur.
From then on, her feet barely touched the ground—especially with Zhuifeng, who, if not for the leash, would’ve soared straight into the sky.
By the time Aunt Gu returned to the Shen courtyard, disheveled and panting, Ji Brother and Chen Chuan were already up. Ji Brother, freshly washed, stood under the eaves with a book in one hand and a meat bun in the other, reciting his lessons.
Chen Chuan, the boy Shen Miao had taken in, lurked in a corner of the yard. Sister Xiang sidled up to him, chattering away as she handed him two buns.
With the shop closed today, Youyu had the day off and didn’t come.
Aunt Gu wiped her sweat and rubbed her aching back, thinking ruefully that she couldn’t tell whether she’d walked the dogs or they’d walked her. No wonder Shen Miao had warned her—those dogs were strong. She hadn’t taken it seriously before—how strong could dogs be? When Shen Miao walked them, it always looked effortless.
But now her old back was nearly wrecked.
She unleashed the dogs in the yard, then glanced again at the shadowy figure of Chen Chuan. Such a gloomy child—hardly likable. Only someone as kind-hearted as Shen Miao would keep him around. Most would’ve given him a few meals and sent him packing without a second thought.
Even though the shop was doing well and Shen Miao’s life had improved, an extra mouth to feed was still a burden.
Aunt Gu didn’t fully approve of Shen Miao’s decision to keep him, but since she’d made up her mind, there was no point objecting.
Every family had its own fate.
Once she saw the children eating, she headed to the shop.
She removed half of the shop's door panel to let in some fresh air and light, then took a broom to sweep the floor for Shen Miao.
Many regular customers, noticing the shop was closed today, peeked in to ask. Aunt Gu cheerfully explained on Shen Miao's behalf: "Madam Shen's skills are so excellent that she's been invited to prepare a banquet elsewhere. She’ll be closed for the next two days—come back the day after tomorrow."
One after another, dozens of people came by to inquire. Aunt Gu’s mouth grew dry from repeating the same words. Among them was a servant from a wealthy household, dressed in crisp new attire, who nearly burst into tears upon hearing Madam Shen wouldn’t be open for two days. Crestfallen, he trudged away.
She hadn’t paid much attention before, but it turned out the young mistress had such a thriving business, with so many loyal customers. Aunt Gu mused to herself as she finished sweeping, wiped down the tables and chairs, and then reattached the door panel.
Clapping her hands clean, she returned home to fetch her sewing basket and settled leisurely in Shen’s courtyard to mend clothes. She watched Sister Xiang tease Chen Chuan, Ji Brother combing Qilin’s fur, and Zhuifeng chasing after a few chickens—only to sneakily gulp down a still-warm one when no one was looking...
Not far from the entrance of Willow East Alley, an ornately decorated ox-drawn carriage stood parked. The same nearly tearful servant dragged his feet to the carriage and reported glumly, "Madam, Shen’s Noodle Shop is closed today. They say the owner is away."
Madam Wang’s face fell. She fanned herself irritably with her round silk fan and grumbled, "Of all days to close—why today? Ugh, without those steamed buns, my whole day is ruined!"
While other young ladies adored poetry and music, Madam Wang’s passion was food. At banquets where others competed in wit and elegance, she remained silent, devouring every dish.
But today was different. Today, she was attending the Feng family’s banquet!
The Feng family’s feasts were notorious in the capital.
Notorious for being inedible.
The mere thought of the Fengs’ love for sweetness—how their cooks added malt sugar to everything, even stir-fried spinach—turned her stomach.
"What a misery! Fine, fine, let’s make a detour to East Tower and grab a couple of braised pork knuckles instead," Madam Wang conceded with a sigh.
The servant’s lips twitched. "Madam, isn’t braised pork knuckles a bit too... heavy for breakfast?"
"Enough chatter, hurry up!" Madam Wang snapped, her dialect slipping out in her agitation.
She yanked the carriage curtain shut and groaned inside.
If she didn’t fill up now, would she have to starve at the Fengs’?
She refused to endure malt-sugar-drenched cold spinach!
