The roasted fish in the clay pot before them had a golden, crispy skin, its enticing aroma wafting relentlessly into their noses. Aunt Gu couldn’t hold back any longer—she was so overwhelmed by the fragrance that she couldn’t even muster polite words. With a smile, she raised her chopsticks and said, "I’ve long known of Sister Shen Miao’s skills—this must be delicious."
She and Uncle Gu both reached for the fish at the same time, each picking up a piece and placing it in their mouths. The first bite delivered the satisfying crunch of the crisped skin, releasing a light "snap" as they chewed. But this crispness wasn’t dry—the fish had been thoroughly soaked in rich broth, making it both flavorful and fragrant.
The second bite revealed the tender flesh of the fish, first roasted and then stewed, already infused with the numbing heat of Sichuan peppercorns and other spices. The natural sweetness of the fish was layered with the deep aroma of seasonings and the unique charred fragrance from the hot oil, leaving no trace of fishiness.
They had known Shen Miao was skilled, but Aunt Gu and Uncle Gu hadn’t expected the fish to be this good.
"Let’s eat the fish first," Shen Miao said with a smile, placing a large, fatty piece of fish belly into Aunt Gu’s bowl. "If it stews too long, it’ll get tough. After the fish, we can move on to the side dishes and noodles. And if the noodles aren’t enough, I’ve also steamed rice—pouring the fish broth over it makes for an incredibly tasty meal."
Her few words reignited everyone’s appetite.
"Roasting and stewing the fish like this—who knew it’d be so fragrant?" Uncle Gu muttered between bites, his chopsticks moving nonstop without needing encouragement. By chance, he picked up a few strands of bean sprouts and cabbage—vegetables that had absorbed the broth until they were soft but still retained their texture. The spiciness mingled with a subtle sweetness, the natural flavors of the cabbage and sprouts emerging in waves with each chew.
Gu Tusu said nothing, focusing entirely on eating. The fish was tender yet firm from the frying, the flesh easily separating from the bones with a gentle press of his tongue. He spat out a few fine bones occasionally, noticing even they had crisped up enough to be crunched between teeth. He barely had time to savor each bite before reaching for the next.
And because the fish stayed warm over the stove, every mouthful filled his belly with warmth and fragrance. Fish, when kept hot, never tasted fishy—instead, it carried the smoky essence of charcoal, making it even more delicious.
Lost in the meal, Gu Tusu only remembered after eating for a while that he’d brought something. He quickly handed a jar to Shen Miao, who had just sat down. "Sister, this is this spring’s newly brewed plum wine. Take it."
"You didn’t have to bring anything!" Shen Miao laughed as she accepted it. "Perfect! Plum wine is sweet, tart, and refreshing—I’ll pour everyone a cup. Drinking and eating meat together—could anything be more delightful?"
Hearing this, Sister Xiang hastily swallowed her fish and raised her hand. "Elder Sister, I want some too!"
Shen Miao smiled but refused. "Children who drink wine turn silly. I made a separate pot of fish soup for you—have that instead."
Sister Xiang stuck out her tongue and returned to her meal.
While pouring the wine, Shen Miao also brought out the fish soup simmering with tofu in the kitchen, placing it closer to Chen Chuan. "Chen Chuan, drink more soup. The roasted fish is a bit too salty, and your leg hasn’t fully healed—eat less of it."
The children had their own table with a large pot of non-spicy roasted fish. This batch had no Sichuan peppercorns, and Shen Miao had dry-fried it with minimal oil, knowing the kids couldn’t handle much heat—and for Chen Chuan’s sake. Instead, this version was seasoned with fermented black beans, the dry-frying intensifying the savory richness, creating a different kind of deliciousness.
After a quick reminder to be careful of bones and burns, Shen Miao left them to eat on their own. Shen Ji took the first bite, hissing at the heat before hurriedly serving Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan, making sure to pick the belly meat with fewer bones for his younger siblings.
Sister Xiang ate with equal urgency, puffing at the heat while already reaching for the next bite, half her bottom hovering off the seat as she clutched her bowl and eyed the pot. "Brother, are the noodles ready yet?"
She couldn’t wait to try a bowl of the quick-cooked noodles soaked in broth, each strand coated in the rich liquid—just the smell alone was mouthwatering!
Shen Ji grabbed another pair of chopsticks to stir the noodles beneath the fish, testing one. They had absorbed the broth perfectly, fragrant and flavorful, cooked just right. Swallowing quickly, he motioned for his sister to hand over her bowl. "They’re done, they’re done—here you go."
Sister Xiang eagerly passed her bowl and even grabbed Chen Chuan’s to hand over as well. Soon, both had steaming bowls of broth-soaked noodles topped with generous chunks of fish. The noodles were smooth and chewy, each bite followed by tender, crispy-skinned fish, the fat seeping into the strands—a harmony of flavors that kept the two children’s heads down.
Chen Chuan stayed silent, his chopsticks moving swiftly, his tongue adeptly separating bones before he swallowed, his expression softening with satisfaction.
Sister Xiang blinked in surprise. "Chen Chuan, you’re so good at picking bones clean!"
She tried her best, but her discarded bones always had bits of meat clinging to them—waste that pained her.
Chen Chuan looked up through the steam, momentarily at a loss for words.
Before the Shen family had rescued him, he’d been stuffed into a burlap sack, limbs bound, only untied briefly for necessities. Back then, he’d been given just one piece of flatbread a day. He had starved for so long. Later, the bearded man who’d kidnapped him stopped tying him up—only because his leg had been broken, leaving him unable to run far.
The man hadn’t taken just him. There were other burlap sacks, holding boys and girls alike. He’d often snarl questions at them—What’s your name? Where’s your home?—and if they answered, he’d beat them until fear silenced them next time.
He even gave them new names.
Some children, over time, forgot their real ones. That was when the bearded man would hum and sell them off.
Chen Chuan had been the most stubborn. Every time, he’d glare hatefully and declare his name clearly—earning himself more beatings. That was why he’d been the only one with a broken leg, the last to be sold.
By the time they reached Bianjing, he’d seized his chance to escape, throwing himself into a drainage ditch, crawling and clawing forward with desperate courage. He didn’t know where that bravery came from. Young and naive, he was unyielding by nature—refusing to compromise, refusing to give up.
Even to this day, though he had forgotten much, he still remembered the general appearance of his home and his own name.
His family lived by the water, and from childhood, he had learned to eat fish. His mother often bought small rice-field fish, steaming one for each family member. He and his father could always cleanly strip an entire fish skeleton. Neither his elder sister nor his younger brother were as skilled as him.
Chen Chuan lowered his head again and began eating in big mouthfuls.
These past few days at the Shen household had been the best since he left home—he could eat his fill, stay warm, avoid beatings, and no longer had to fear being dragged away and sold in the middle of the night.
Chen Chuan still startled awake at the sound of the door opening, but he no longer shrank in fear.
Because now, he could recognize Sister Shen’s footsteps. After finishing her nightly tasks, she would gently push open the door. The wooden door of the Shen household was newly made, and the hinges only let out a faint creak—soft enough not to wake anyone. Yet for some reason, Chen Chuan always heard it, even in his sleep.
Afterward, Sister Shen would tiptoe inside to pull the blankets over him and Shen Ji, then lightly touch his forehead with concern. She seemed especially worried that his leg injury might cause a fever, so she would check every night, only leaving once she was sure he was fine.
He knew all this. He just kept his eyes closed, pretending to be fast asleep. Instinctively, he felt this might ease Sister Shen’s worries, sparing her extra trouble. Even when the pain kept him awake or jolted him from sleep, he didn’t want anyone to know.
Lost in thought, he watched as Sister Xiang and Shen Ji fought over the crispiest piece of fish skin. Sister Xiang, plump and lively, clambered onto Shen Ji, laughing and wrestling until she pinned him to the table.
Shen Ji, helpless with laughter, surrendered and placed the prized fish skin into her bowl. Only then did she relent.
But then, Sister Xiang turned and placed the fish skin into Chen Chuan’s bowl.
Chen Chuan glanced at his bowl, then at Sister Xiang.
Her eyes were large and round, like black grapes, yet when she smiled, they curved into crescents—much like Sister Shen’s. But Sister Shen’s smile was gentler, like the calm river near their home. Sister Xiang, rounder and sweeter, grinned like a bowl of creamy curd with an extra spoonful of honey.
"I fought hard for this—it’s for you," Sister Xiang said proudly, tilting her head left and right before scooting closer. She leaned in and whispered, "Chen Chuan, are you missing your parents?"
Her warm breath, tinged with the scent of grilled fish, brushed against his ear.
The question left him stunned.
Without waiting for an answer, she pressed on, her voice soft and deliberate, "I miss my parents too. But Auntie says they’ve gone to heaven, and I’ll never see them again in this life. But you’re different—your parents are still out there. Maybe they’re looking for you too. One day, you might see them again. As long as there’s hope, you’re luckier than the three of us."
Her voice was tender, tickling his ear.
"So don’t be sad. Eat more, and let’s grow up fast together," Sister Xiang said, reaching out with her small, fish-scented hand to clasp his thin, scarred fingers. "When I grow up, I’ll be as amazing as Sister Shen. Then I won’t secretly miss my parents anymore. And when you grow up, your parents might find you and take you home."
"But… if they do come for you, don’t forget me, okay? You have to write to me," she added, squeezing his fingers. Her grape-like eyes widened earnestly as she stared at him. "Pinky promise."
Her plump little finger hooked around his, giving a gentle shake. A long-suppressed ache surged in his chest, tightening his throat and stinging his eyes. He blinked rapidly, forcing back tears.
Finally, he managed to swallow the lump in his throat and murmured, "Mm." Awkwardly, he curled his own pinky around her soft one. "I won’t forget. I’ll write to you."
"I’m learning to write from Brother too. I’ll write to you someday," Sister Xiang said, grinning again.
The two children made their childish vow, huddling closer, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. The heavy longing they usually hid—too shy to share with elders or siblings—now entwined like two vines in the warmth of the night, clinging to each other’s fingers.
At first, Shen Miao didn’t notice any change between the two children. After the grilled fish won unanimous praise from the Gu family, she threw herself into introducing the dish at her shop.
She experimented repeatedly with the side dishes, seasonings, and broth ratios, serving so many test batches that the entire family belched nothing but fish for days, narrowly avoiding indigestion. Finally, she perfected the recipe, recreating the iconic flavor of night-market stalls from her past life.
Next, she compared several fish vendors but ultimately chose the one where the tabby cat often begged for food. The cat’s discerning taste proved reliable—it knew which shop had the freshest fish and which owner was the most honest. Shen Miao negotiated a wholesale deal with the vendor, who was thrilled. While carp and perch sold well, his pond was overrun with large grass carp that rarely found buyers. Now, he could supply Shen Miao at a 35% discount, clearing space and earning more—a win-win.
And the shop even handled gutting the fish.
After securing the supplier, Shen Miao calculated costs—fish, sides, spices, clay pots, charcoal—everything. After nights of deliberation, she settled on pricing it at 98 coins per serving. Though it was a hearty dish meant for sharing, packed with ingredients and uniquely prepared, the price was already razor-thin for profitability.
When the kiln delivered the clay pots and mini stoves, everything was ready. She had Shen Ji paint a giant poster in the style of modern advertisements: a family gathered around a table, a golden-fried fish sizzling in a massive pot, surrounded by heaping sides drawn to look overflowing.
At the top, bold letters proclaimed: "One Grill, One Feast," with fiery accents and a strikethrough price of "188 coins!" beside a massive red splash: "TODAY ONLY! 98 COINS!" The shop’s address—"Golden Beam Bridge, Willow East Lane, Shen’s Noodle Shop"—was printed at the bottom.
Shen Miao had Shen Ji paint several promotional posters—one was pasted on their own door, while the other two were handed to a pair of idle men who roamed the streets. She paid them twenty coins each to wear the posters on their chests and backs, turning them into walking advertisements.
She also had them blow small trumpets and parade through the streets, chanting: "Shen's Noodle Shop in Willow East Lane now serves braised grilled fish! Half a pot of fish, half a pot of toppings—genuine ingredients, delicious flavor!"
"Gather with friends or family—Shen's invites you to feast on fish!"
"Shen's has specialized in grilled fish for twenty years, using ancestral techniques! No regrets in buying, no regrets in eating!"
A passerby who recognized Shen Miao couldn’t help but laugh and retort, "What nonsense! Young Mistress Shen isn’t even twenty yet—how could she have twenty years of experience? Was she grilling fish in her mother’s womb?"
The idle man grinned and replied swiftly, "It’s ancestral craftsmanship—the years count from the ancestors! Shen Miao inherited it, so what’s strange about twenty years? There are century-old shops and century-old broths everywhere!"
Admittedly, this peculiar advertising method was eye-catching. By midday, people were already asking about the grilled fish. Shen Miao smiled and said, "It’ll be ready by the night market—come back later."
From morning till noon, aside from making noodles for customers, Shen Miao spent her time preparing side dishes, seasonings, broth, and marinating fish for the grilled fish.
When customers arrived later, they could order on the spot. Once the fish was fried, it could be served immediately on a portable stove, making the process much faster.
After finishing her tasks, the shop entered a quiet lull in the afternoon. She urged Shen Ji to pack his bedding and belongings—they needed to leave soon.
Two days prior, the Piyong Academy had sent a young lecturer for a "home visit," not only announcing the start of the children’s studies but also providing a list of necessities: ten days to half a month’s worth of rice, bedding, clothes, shoes, basins, and study tools. There was a lot to prepare, but fortunately, she had already bought everything. Now, it was just a matter of loading the cart and setting off.
Shen Miao temporarily closed the shop, instructing Sister Xiang not to fool around with Youyu and Chen Chuan. If anything happened, she was to seek Aunt Gu across the street—no running around, no entering the kitchen, no lighting fires, no going near the well, no fighting with Liu Douhua, no plucking chicken feathers to make shuttlecocks… Her endless nagging made Sister Xiang clutch her head in exasperation. "Elder Sister, please stop!"
Shen Miao flicked her forehead lightly, then hurriedly packed some freshly fried small yellow fish as a snack for Shen Ji before leading him swiftly to the academy.
By the time they arrived, they were already late. Many families had brought their children early in the morning to wash bed boards, hang curtains, fetch water, and arrange their belongings. Some even believed the dormitories had shared sleeping platforms and rushed to secure spots far from the chamber pots.
But Shen Miao had already inquired with Ninth Brother at Lanxin Bookstore. The Piyong Academy, being an official institution, had newly whitewashed corridor-style dormitories—spacious, with individual beds assigned by admission rank. Chamber pots weren’t kept inside; instead, there were dedicated latrines outside, regularly cleaned by attendants, ensuring cleanliness.
So Shen Miao took her time, letting Shen Ji eat two more meals at home and stay a little longer before sending him off, unlike others who rushed. They arrived at the academy by mid-afternoon. The sun blazed, but the academy was cool, shaded by lush trees. Other families escorting their children also wandered, admiring the scenery.
True to its reputation, Piyong Academy was vast—pavilions and towers nestled among lakes and flourishing foliage, its beauty rivaling that of a modern university. Stepping inside, Shen Miao felt a pang of nostalgia.
Back in her own student days… well, she hadn’t started boarding until after high school. Thinking of this, she glanced at Shen Ji, her heart aching a little for him.
In modern times, he’d still be in elementary school—yet here he was, leaving home so young for studies.
Shen Ji was unusually quiet today, torn between excitement and reluctance. He carried a large rattan bookcase and held his rolled-up mat, while Shen Miao lugged his bundled bedding in one hand and a half-sack of finely sifted rice and wheat flour in the other.
"Shen Ji, don’t worry—you’ll be back home in ten days. I’ll bring you snacks when I can. Just focus on your studies," Shen Miao reassured him gently.
To her surprise, Shen Ji shook his head. "Elder Sister, it’s not about leaving home. I’m just…" He looked at her, concern in his eyes. "I’m worried about you managing everything alone while I’m away."
He sighed like an old man before fretting further:
"Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan are still young, and Chen Chuan’s leg is injured—they can’t help much. Even with Youyu doing chores, you have to run the shop and care for them. I’m afraid you’ll exhaust yourself." His frown deepened. "Especially today, when we’re launching a new dish—I feel uneasy not being there for such an important moment."
So he was worried about her!
Shen Miao finally laughed, pinching his little topknot. "You sound like an old man! Don’t worry—I can handle the shop. Sister Xiang may be mischievous, but she’s well-behaved when it counts. Haven’t you noticed? During busy hours, she helps clear bowls and sweep. Today, Chen Chuan even watered the vegetables and fed the chickens from his wheelchair. They’re young, but don’t underestimate them. If it gets too much, I can always hire temporary help. There are plenty of idle men around—just a few coins will get them working for a day. So study well and stop overthinking."
Shen Ji nodded reluctantly but insisted earnestly, "Elder Sister, this is my true concern. Please take care of yourself. If business is busy these days, remember to rest, drink water, and sleep early. If you’re too tired, just close the shop for a day—it’s fine to earn less. I don’t need much money at the academy anyway. The string of coins you gave me today will last a long time. So promise me—rest when you can."
Warmed by his words, Shen Miao softened. "Alright, I promise. I’ll rest when needed. Now, are you reassured? Ah—that dormitory with the ‘A’ character on the wall, is that the one up ahead?"
Shen Ji followed her gaze, standing on tiptoe. Large drooping banana leaves half-covered the wall, but the character ‘A’ was indeed visible. His heart pounded, as if he were back on the day he checked the exam results—a familiar thrill stirring within.
Approaching the spot, it was indeed the place! This year, the Biyong Academy had admitted twenty top-tier students for its elite program, with five students sharing each dormitory. A row of four large brick-tiled houses stood before them, their back walls lined with banana trees and green bamboo. A few gray-clad, gray-capped servants swept the cobblestone path—it looked quite decent.
Since Shen Ji was ranked sixth, he was assigned to the second dormitory, first bunk. Shen Miao followed him inside to inspect the arrangements: each student had a small bed with a desk beside it, and two sets of cabinets stood in the corner. The place was reasonably clean.
The room already had two or three boys around Shen Ji’s age, each sitting on their own beds. When they saw Shen Miao leading Shen Ji inside, they stared curiously.
Having arrived earlier, these boys had already tidied their bedding, curtains, and quilts. One boy’s mother had even fetched water and diligently wiped down all the desks, chairs, cabinets, and windowsills in the dorm.
Another boy, surprisingly young, already wore "spectacles"—a rare sight in this era for someone so nearsighted. His long-robed father held his hand and earnestly admonished him: "Remember to carefully store these spectacles in their cotton pouch before bed. Don’t scratch or drop them—they aren’t cheap! Treasure them. I’ll leave now. Study hard and don’t disappoint me."
Shen Miao also helped Shen Ji arrange his bedding and clothes, hanging up the green mosquito net. Seeing that everything was settled, it was time for her to leave. As family, she could only accompany him this far.
She gave him a few instructions, telling him to send word home if anything came up or to seek help from Ninth Brother.
Speaking of Ninth Brother, she pointed to a greased paper package inside the grain sack: "I made extra fried yellow croakers. After paying respects to your teacher, take some time to deliver this to Ninth Brother. He’s also in the elite program, so he shouldn’t be far. Ask around later to find him."
Shen Ji nodded. "Sister, you should head back before it gets dark."
Shen Miao agreed and turned to leave. But after just a few steps, the sound of footsteps followed. She turned back to see Shen Ji unable to resist seeing her off. "Sister, take a carriage home," he said, reluctant. "Be careful on the way."
With a soft sigh, Shen Miao smiled and waved. "Go back inside. Greet your roommates properly. Don’t worry about me—in ten days, when you have your break, I’ll come fetch you."
Shen Ji watched his sister’s retreating figure, feeling a pang of loss. But he knew he had to study hard to live up to her expectations. He remembered the promise he’d made to himself: one day, he’d buy her the finest hair ornaments from the goldsmith’s shop!
With renewed determination, he returned to the dormitory and politely introduced himself to his roommates, exchanging names and chatting briefly before they all agreed to visit their teacher together.
Their lecturer, Dr. Zou, had a goatee and a gaunt, stern appearance.
Since classes wouldn’t start until the next day, Dr. Zou merely gave them a brief speech: "Aspiring scholars must set lofty goals, dedicating themselves to self-cultivation, family harmony, governance, and peace. Do not indulge in frivolity, nor shrink from hardship. Among peers, support and encourage one another, respect and yield—do not squabble over trifles." With that, he dismissed them to rest.
After returning to the dormitory, Shen Ji went out alone to ask the sweeping servants where the older students lived. Learning they resided in the eastern wing, he tucked the fried croakers under his arm and set off to find Ninth Brother.
Xie Qi sat by the window, a cat curled in his lap as he leisurely turned a page of his book, stroking the feline absently.
Behind him, Ning Yi sprawled haphazardly on the bed, muttering complaints to himself: "Did the kitchen at Zhuoyin Hall cook with their feet? The soup was watery, the vegetables bland, the rice coarse and hard, and the braised meat reeked of gaminess—it even had pig hairs! Just looking at it killed my appetite, let alone eating it..."
Xie Qi wasn’t listening at all, so the only response Ning Yi got was the kitten’s soft mewling.
Starving, Ning Yi sat up and shuffled over to Xie Qi, teasing the cat half-heartedly. "Xie Qi, how about making me a bowl of goat milk pudding? I’m really—"
Before he could finish, a knock sounded at the door. Ning Yi dragged himself over and opened it. "Who is it?"
In the twilight stood a familiar boy. Ning Yi recognized him instantly and brightened. "Isn’t this Shen Miao’s little brother? What brings you here?"
"My sister asked me to bring fried yellow croakers for Ninth Brother. She just made them today—they’re very fragrant..." Shen Ji held up the greased paper package earnestly.
"Shen Miao truly is a lifesaver!" Ning Yi’s eyes gleamed as he reached for it—only for a slender, elegant hand to snatch the package away.
Grinding his teeth, Ning Yi turned to see Xie Qi, who had been utterly absorbed in his book moments ago. "Weren’t you lost in reading? I talked until my throat dried up and you didn’t hear a word, but the moment Shen Miao’s name comes up, you spring back to life?"
The kitten climbed onto Xie Qi’s shoulders as he ignored Ning Yi, smiling at Shen Ji instead. "Come in and sit. It must’ve been hard finding your way here. Thank your sister for me—what made her think of sending this?"
Shen Ji stepped in cautiously. "My sister’s been experimenting with a new dish—fish roasted then stewed with vegetables. It’s delicious. She ordered so much fish that the vendor gave her extra small ones. Since we couldn’t finish them all, she salted and spiced them, fried them up, and told me to bring some as snacks. She wanted to share some with Ninth Brother too."
So Shen Miao had remembered him. Xie Qi’s eyes softened with a smile as he tucked the package into his robe, blatantly ignoring Ning Yi’s resentful glare.
But Ning Yi was quickly distracted by Shen Ji’s description, swallowing hard. "Did you say Shen Miao has a new dish? Is it good?"
Shen Ji nodded. "Extremely. The fish is tender, the broth rich, and if you add two pieces of instant flatbread to soak up the sauce, it’s even more unforgettable."
Ning Yi’s stomach growled loudly. After Shen Ji left, he shut the door and whispered to Xie Qi and Shang An, "How about the three of us go try that fish tonight?"
Shang An frowned. "How? The academy gates are already locked."
Ning Yi smirked. "We’ll climb the wall, of course!"
Xie Qi scratched the kitten’s chin, silent. He had never skipped classes before, but... the faint aroma of fried fish in his robe tickled his resolve like a feather.
"Putting that aside," Ning Yi said, eyeing Xie Qi meaningfully, "shouldn’t we go support Shen Miao’s business? She even sent you fried fish—don’t you owe her thanks?"
That was reasonable. Finally armed with a proper excuse, Xie Qi straightened his collar where the kitten had tugged it loose and nodded. "You’re right. It’s only proper to return the courtesy. Let’s go."
Shang An suppressed a laugh, shaking his head at the two of them. "If Dr. Feng finds out about this tomorrow, you two better take the blame for me. After all, one of you is here for the food, the other for a person—only I’m the one risking my neck to keep you both company."
"Enough already! Let’s go! We’ll miss it if we don’t hurry!"
