The sun sank behind the western mountains, and dusk settled over the land.
In the bamboo grove behind the Piyong Academy, night insects chirped, and the mountain wind rustled through the leaves, stirring a soft, whispering sound.
Feng Yuan sat in his bamboo hut, lost in thought, his frustration mounting until he suddenly slapped his thigh with a sharp smack, crushing an audacious mosquito with striped legs.
He was agonizing over how to proceed with the half-written book in his hands, his fingers unconsciously scratching at the swelling bite on his leg. First, he pressed his nail into the bump, carving a cross, then, as the itch worsened, he dug deeper, etching a crisscross pattern.
But the more he thought, the more tangled his mind became—a mess of confusion—while his leg continued to itch relentlessly.
With a long sigh, he resigned himself to standing up and stepping onto the rear veranda, intending to make himself a quick bowl of instant soup noodles. Whenever his thoughts clogged, a bowl of noodles eaten while pondering under the rustling bamboo breeze always seemed to clear his mind. Over time, it had become a habit.
Yet today, after rummaging through the food basket delivered by his servant, he found it empty—completely finished!
Feng Yuan pinched a few damp, stale crumbs between his fingers and chewed them half-heartedly, finding no comfort in their soggy texture. His thoughts drifted back to the lavish birthday banquet his family had hosted recently, and he couldn’t help smacking his lips at the memory.
That night, after indulging in such a feast, he had returned to his bamboo hut with sudden clarity, his brush flying across the page as if guided by divine inspiration. In a single night, he had written thousands of words—an exhilarating experience he still recalled with satisfaction.
Glancing at the darkening sky, he wavered: Perhaps… under the bright moon and gentle breeze, he should venture out to Shen’s Noodle Shop?
Once the idea took hold, Feng Yuan boldly stepped out of his hut, pausing only to kick awake his snoring, teeth-grinding attendant sprawled on the veranda. "Feng Liu, up! We’re going down the mountain."
Feng Liu blinked groggily, wiping drool from his mouth before scrambling to his feet to follow his master. "It’s already dark, and the academy gates are locked. Where are we going, young master?"
"For noodles."
Feng Yuan strode ahead with purpose. The academy’s outer wall, built into the mountainside, stood higher here, its base reinforced with piled stones—making it easy enough to climb over.
The moon hung high, casting a silver glow over the ground as it illuminated the figures of master and servant struggling over the wall. Feng Liu crouched below, heaving Feng Yuan upward. Tucking his robes into his belt, Feng Yuan hauled himself onto the wall’s edge, only to hesitate when he looked down at the daunting drop.
Just as he wavered, rustling sounds came from another section of the wall, obscured by thick foliage. At first, he thought it was a wildcat—until three familiar heads popped into view one after another through the branches.
Moonlight revealed their faces, and the four of them stared at each other across the wall, too stunned to speak.
Silence reigned over Piyong Academy that night.
Ning Yi, ever the seasoned truant, was the first to recover. Awkwardly plucking a stray leaf from his hair, he muttered to Xie Qi, "I’ve snuck out countless times, but this is the first time I’ve been caught. Should’ve known better than to invite you—your luck’s always been terrible."
Xie Qi retorted in a whisper, "Be grateful we didn’t fall and break our legs."
Shang An rubbed his forehead. "Stop bickering. Master Feng is glaring at us."
Ning Yi immediately plastered on a bright smile. "Master Feng, what brings you out on such a long night?"
Feng Yuan scowled. "I should be asking you that!" He turned to Xie Qi, his beard quivering with dismay. "Even you, Xie Qi? How could you stoop to this?"
Xie Qi averted his eyes guiltily, pretending to admire the exceptionally clear moonlight.
"Out with it—where are the three of you going?"
Shang An sighed, his expression turning solemn.
As the most eloquent of the trio, he launched into a well-reasoned defense, starting with the dismal state of the academy’s dining hall. The food was bland, and by afternoon, only cold leftovers from breakfast remained. "One look kills the appetite; eating it is pure torment. Once the gates lock at night, students are trapped inside, with no chance to seek better meals elsewhere. Burdened by rigorous studies, we’re already mentally exhausted—must we also endure hunger?" His voice grew mournful, his eyes sorrowful, and Feng Yuan, momentarily forgetting these boys came from wealthy families, felt a pang of sympathy.
Then Shang An straightened, his tone grave.
"We know this is improper, but hunger leaves us no choice. Master Feng, Piyong Academy is an imperial institution—shouldn’t the dining hall, which feeds hundreds of students, be held to higher standards? Students bring their own rice and flour, yet after the kitchen prepares it, fine grains turn to husks. Isn’t this embezzlement? Rumor has it that because this is an imperial academy, the kitchen staff—unchanged since the academy’s founding—face no consequences for poor cooking, nor rewards for good work. No one takes responsibility, and corruption festers. We’re just students, powerless to speak up. We only hope you, Master Feng, can petition the headmaster to investigate. If this injustice is resolved, we won’t need to sneak over walls anymore—we can focus on our studies."
Ning Yi’s eyes widened in admiration. Truly, Shang An, the "Iron Quill," could spin even their gluttonous escapade into a righteous cause!
Now emboldened, Ning Yi squared his shoulders and nudged Xie Qi, who hastily adopted an indignant expression.
"Master Feng," Xie Qi added solemnly, "the faculty dine in the Guangbo Hall, so they’ve never noticed the dining hall’s tricks. Most students here are from humble backgrounds, here to study hard and secure official posts. They dare not make trouble, and the wealthy families simply send their own meals. That’s why these parasites grow bolder."
Privately, Xie Qi recalled that the dining hall’s overseer was the brother-in-law of one of the academy’s deans.
Feng Yuan, hot-tempered and righteous, smacked the wall in outrage. "Such corruption exists? Tomorrow, I’ll speak to the headmaster myself—this will be investigated!"
Though the Feng family held no political power, their wealth was considerable. Much of Piyong Academy’s infrastructure had been funded by Feng donations, earning Feng Yuan an imperial commendation for his "public-spirited generosity"—a not-so-subtle nudge to keep donating.
That was also why he had his own secluded bamboo retreat in the mountains.
While others feared the brother-in-law of the academy's head, Feng Yuan did not. Faced with the officials' hidden malice, the Xie family chose to abandon their eldest son—"better to avoid trouble than invite it." But after losing their own son, the Feng family took a different path: buying lives with money.
First, the Fengs used their wealth to open the gates of Marquis Lejiang's estate. Then, through the marquis, they filled the imperial treasury via the dowager empress's hands. Though promotions were out of reach, at least appearances were maintained.
Yet this was merely a temporary fix—a stopgap measure. Mountains of gold and silver would eventually deplete. What then? Feng Yuan sighed, resigning himself to muddling through, living for the moment.
Xie Qi and his two friends exchanged glances, never expecting their truancy to yield such an unexpected boon. Feng Yuan was a principled man, not one for empty promises. If he said he'd do something, he meant it.
But as the cool breeze brushed against him atop the wall, Feng Yuan's momentarily clouded mind cleared. Wait—something wasn't right. These rascals! They'd actually dared to use him as an excuse! Starving? As if the constant stream of servants at their homes were mere decorations!
Yet what could he do? These were his students. Most lecturers at the academy taught a dozen or more pupils, but Feng Yuan, proud and disdainful of dullards, insisted on instructing only Xie Qi, Shang An, and Ning Yi. The academy head could hardly object—after all, the Feng family was the institution's primary benefactor.
In these times, the bond between teacher and student was akin to that of father and son. So, with a resigned sigh, Feng Yuan cast them a sidelong glance and asked dryly, "Fine. I'll let this truancy slide—just this once. Now, where exactly are you planning to 'fill your bellies'?"
"Master, have you not heard? Shen's Noodle Shop has introduced a new dish—rumored to be exquisite. We merely wished to sample it," Ning Yi chimed in eagerly. "Master, you're so refined—were you admiring the moon from the wall? If you're free, why not join us?"
Feng Yuan coughed lightly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he stroked his beard and acquiesced.
Thus, the truant party grew to four—teacher and students, plus a cat. Xie Qi, squeezed into Feng Yuan's carriage with his two mischievous friends, cradled the sleeping kitten against his chest, only its tiny head peeking out from his robes as they raced toward Shen's Noodle Shop.
Upon reaching Willow East Lane in the inner city, they realized just how popular Shen's was that night.
Before they even reached the entrance, the clamor of the crowd greeted them. The shop was packed, both inside and out, with rows of stools lining the street. Patrons clutching bamboo tokens waited their turn, while two burly men—clearly hired for the occasion—dressed in comically festive attire, bellowed announcements. One blew a horn while the other shouted, "Table thirteen! Who's at table thirteen? Your turn! Shen's calls you to feast! Hurry—miss your slot, and the next group takes it!"
Squeezing through the throng, the quartet saw that not only had extra tables been set up outside, but the backyard and even the alleyway now accommodated four or five more. Diners sat eagerly, awaiting their meals.
Aunt Gu weaved through the crowd with clay stoves, helping Shen Miao serve dishes. Aunt Nian bustled about, clearing bowls and replenishing charcoal. Little Sister Xiang, nimble in her apron, darted between tables, memorizing orders before sprinting back to the counter to relay them: "Sister, one more fermented black bean fish! Two crispy-skinned fish! With scallions and garlic, light on the spice!"
In the kitchen, Shen Miao worked calmly, frying fish in three pans simultaneously. Youyu scrubbed dishes with such vigor it seemed the gourd fiber might spark. Chen Chuan, though wheelchair-bound, wasn't idle either, ferrying charcoal from the woodshed in a wicker basket on his lap.
Just then, Aunt Gu passed Xie Qi's group with a steaming platter of fish for a street-side table.
Ning Yi peeked and nearly drooled.
The fish, golden and glistening, bore perfect grill marks. Topped with peppercorns, minced garlic, and scallions, it sat atop a bed of vegetables, its spicy aroma tantalizing. Nearby, a diner took a bite and exclaimed, "Worth the wait! The meat's so tender—it melts!"
Unable to resist, Ning Yi dragged Shang An off to fetch their queue token.
Only Xie Qi lingered, his gaze drifting through the smoky haze toward the counter. Behind the lifted curtain, Shen Miao's figure flickered in and out of view amid the steam.
Suddenly, Sister Xiang's voice rang out: "Uncle! You haven't paid!"
She chased a middle-aged man trying to slip away but stumbled, saved only by Aunt Nian's quick reflexes.
Standing near the entrance, Xie Qi acted without hesitation—he seized the man's arm and yanked him back.
The man, seeing only a young, scholarly-looking fellow, snarled, "Let go! Do you know who I—ow! Ow! Fine, fine, I'll pay!"
Xie Qi twisted his arm effortlessly, while Ning Yi added a kick for good measure. "Your 'grandson' says pay up. How shameless—dining and dashing!"
Cowed by the crowd's stares and the scholar's surprising strength, the man fumbled out his coins and fled, covering his face.
With the kitten still nestled in his robes, Xie Qi handed the money to Sister Xiang, patting her head. "Here, keep it safe. You're becoming quite the little manager."
Recognizing him, she beamed. "Brother Xie! You came! How's Yan Shu?"
"Doing well. Last time Qiu Hao fetched clothes, he said Yan Shu went fishing and to temple fairs with Eleventh Sister and Grandmother—living better than me. Next holiday, come with your sister to the Xie family banquet. You can play with him then." He couldn't resist tweaking one of her round little buns.
"Brother Xie, it's crowded up front. Let me take you to the back. Are you here for the fish too?" Sister Xiang whispered, offering her hand to lead him through the rear entrance.
Xie Qi, however, did not move. He shook his head and said, "No need. It's crowded now, and many are still waiting outside. If we cut ahead, it might upset others. Thank you for your kindness, but we’ve already taken our queue number and will wait our turn. It’s better not to cause any trouble for your elder sister."
Sister Xiang thought for a moment and gave up on the idea. She then whispered to Xie Qi, "Then I’ll go back to work. Brother Xie, please sit and wait for a while. My sister had someone buy ten pounds of sunflower seeds and brewed a large bucket of tea for those waiting. If you get bored, you can snack on some."
Xie Qi smiled. "Thank you. Go ahead—no need to fuss over me."
With that, Sister Xiang skipped away to help take orders again.
Over on the other side, Ning Yi had already taken a bamboo queue number and asked the man greeting customers at the entrance. He was told they’d likely have to wait for four or five more tables—about half an hour. But the aroma of grilled fish filled the air, and Ning Yi couldn’t bring himself to leave. Feng Yuan, maintaining his dignified demeanor as a senior, sniffed the air but didn’t move either. Shang An chuckled and sat down on a small stool by the door.
Xie Qi, deep in thought, stepped out but didn’t sit. Instead, he handed the cat in his arms to Ning Yi and deftly retrieved a set of miniature writing tools—paper, brush, and inkstick—from Shang An’s pocket. Rolling up his sleeves, he said, "Waiting idly is dull. Sister Xiang is young and might be taken advantage of. I’ll go help Madam Shen with the payments."
Shang An, who always carried writing tools to jot down ideas, winced at the loss. "That’s Xue Tao paper!"
But Xie Qi had already turned and entered the shop, tossing back, "I’ll have Qiu Hao buy you two feet of it later!"
Shen Miao, completely unaware of the commotion outside, was fully absorbed in cooking fish.
Having advertised extensively during the day, she had anticipated the evening rush. After sending Ji Brother off, she had mobilized all her connections, calling in every favor to gather helpers. She had even forced Aunt Nian and Aunt Gu to accept a hundred coins each as payment—otherwise, they would have refused.
The two men greeting customers at the door were the same ones who had helped with the daytime promotions. Seeing their reliability, Shen Miao hired them for the evening as well, paying fifty coins each.
She had also borrowed extra tables and chairs from neighbors, bought sunflower seeds, brewed tea, and labeled each table with numbers using paste—drawing from her modern-day restaurant experience to prepare as thoroughly as possible.
As expected, as soon as dusk fell, customers began streaming in.
From then on, she had been working nonstop. Within just an hour, the fish she had prepared earlier were nearly gone. Realizing she had only about ten left, she sent Sister Xiang running to the fishmonger to have another batch cleaned and delivered, quickly marinating them to avoid running out.
A short while later, she finished another grilled fish, drizzled it with hot oil, and placed it on the counter by the window. Just as she was about to call Aunt Gu to serve it, she noticed several peach-colored, gold-flecked slips of paper on the counter.
Picking them up, she recognized the elegant, flowing handwriting:
"Table Seven: Crispy peppercorn grilled fish, extra spicy, no cilantro, two pots of cypress-leaf wine."
"Table Ten: Fermented black bean grilled fish, double portion of noodles, one pot of wheat wine."
"Table Fourteen: Crispy peppercorn grilled fish, one portion of noodles, extra pickled ginger, three pots of wheat wine."
Shen Miao froze for a moment before lifting her gaze and quickly spotting the tall figure in the crowd. Still dressed in his academy’s wide-sleeved robe, he had transformed into a waiter for her shop, trailing behind Sister Xiang with pen and paper in hand, jotting down orders. With a smile, he extended his hand and said, "Grilled fish is ninety-eight coins, noodles two coins, wheat wine eighteen coins—that’s one hundred eighteen coins total. Please pay first."
After collecting the money, he dropped it into Sister Xiang’s little shoulder bag and moved to the next table. With Xie Qi’s help, Sister Xiang grew even more confident, strutting ahead as if she had a powerful backer, no longer intimidated by difficult customers.
Shen Miao lowered her eyes, tucking the slips of paper into her apron one by one, as if storing away the warmth they carried deep in her heart. Then she turned back to her work.
After another busy stretch, Shen Miao hurriedly asked someone to count the remaining customers waiting outside. The kitchen was running low on fish, and they couldn’t take any more orders.
Fortunately, it was late, and though the shop was still packed, the crowd outside had thinned. Aunt Gu quickly went out to instruct the men at the door to turn away new arrivals, advising them to come back early the next day.
When the last table was finally served, Shen Miao let out a sigh of relief and removed her apron.
She had intended to thank Xie Qi, but the shop was now filled only with the last group of enthusiastic diners, and he was nowhere in sight.
Sister Xiang, however, knew. She trotted over, tugged at Shen Miao’s sleeve to make her bend down, and cupped her chubby little hand around her ear to whisper, "Brother Xie and his friends left after eating. He said..."
"The grilled fish was delicious, and the fried fish too. Shen Qilin loved it."
Sister Xiang tilted her head in confusion. "Who’s Shen Qilin?"
Shen Miao’s cheeks suddenly burned. "I... I don’t know," she stammered.
Ever perceptive, Sister Xiang frowned and probed, "Elder Sister, why is your face red?"
"It’s the lantern light!"
Using the excuse of cleaning the kitchen, Shen Miao fled in embarrassment.
For the next several days, thanks to the grilled fish’s explosive popularity, Shen Miao slept in until mid-morning. She no longer had time to sell mutton soup and steamed buns for breakfast, only opening her shop at noon to leisurely marinate fish and prepare ingredients.
As she chopped vegetables, she pondered her future business model.
At this rate, she couldn’t manage both morning and evening markets without expanding or hiring more help. After just three days of selling grilled fish, she had already netted over thirty strings of cash—not only from the fish itself but also from the accompanying alcohol and side dishes, which significantly boosted her revenue.
However, she expected the numbers to gradually stabilize. The initial surge was due to the novelty of the dish, but eventually, the customer flow would settle at a steady level—still more than enough.
Once things calmed down, the evenings wouldn’t be as hectic as they had been these past few days. But the reputation of "Shen’s Grill" had already been cemented by the grilled fish, giving her a standout signature dish. Even so, the dinner rush would remain substantial, and with just herself, Youyu, and Sister Xiang, it was impossible to handle alone.
Sister Xiang was still young and could only handle small tasks like clearing tables, wiping them down, and sweeping.
Youyu was a kitchen helper, and given her unique circumstances, she was already tied up with chores—keeping the fire going alone took up most of her time, leaving her no opportunity to help in the front.
The grilled fish was particularly heavy with its hot stove, and Sister Xiang couldn’t move it alone. Shen Miao estimated that she might need two people—one to serve dishes and take orders, and another to handle payments and accounting. Ji Brother had previously taken on the latter role, and he was quite skilled at calculations.
However, apart from the evening market rush, the daytime crowd was sparse, so she wouldn’t need as many hands if she gave up the morning market.
After some thought, Shen Miao decided to discuss the matter with Aunt Gu. The previous day, Aunt Gu had come to help and handled everything with ease. The Gu family’s winery had the opposite schedule—busy during the day but quiet in the evenings, with few customers coming specifically to buy wine.
With Gu Tusu managing the shop, Aunt Gu mostly stayed at home doing chores, often with time to spare.
The discussion about Aunt Gu helping out long-term went smoothly. She even admitted sheepishly, "If you hadn’t come, I would’ve sought you out myself."
Yesterday, after just an hour and a half of assisting Shen Miao, she had earned a hundred coins—the same as what a laborer made in a full day at the docks. The idea of earning extra money while doing light work close to home appealed to her. With this additional income, saving up for her second son’s wedding would be much easier.
The two quickly reached an agreement.
As for the accounting role, it had to be someone trustworthy, so Shen Miao needed to think carefully.
On her way back from the Gu residence, her gaze lingered hesitantly on Chen Chuan and Sister Xiang. With Ji Brother away, Sister Xiang had been helping her these past few days and seemed to have matured suddenly.
In the courtyard, Chen Chuan sat in his wheelchair while Sister Xiang perched on a stool beside him, the two of them tracing characters in the dirt with sticks. Both dogs lay at their feet, tails lazily swaying.
Lately, the children had become unusually diligent in practicing writing. They used Ji Brother’s old practice sheets as reference, copying the characters stroke by stroke. Whenever they encountered an unfamiliar character, they asked Shen Miao for its pronunciation and meaning before practicing on their own.
Children had sharp memories and learned quickly. On their own, they managed to pick up over a dozen characters a day.
Initially, Shen Miao had considered keeping Sister Xiang by her side, teaching her all her culinary skills. But after seeing how eagerly the girl had taken to learning to write, she changed her mind.
She realized she shouldn’t dictate Sister Xiang’s future. Even though the girl was young, her initiative to learn showed she already had a vague sense of what she wanted. Shen Miao decided to respect that.
Today seemed like the perfect opportunity.
She half-closed the courtyard gate and walked over to stand behind the children, waiting until they finished writing a character before speaking softly, "Sister Xiang, Xiao Chuan, I have something to ask you both."
Pulling up a stool, she sat down to meet them at eye level.
"Sister Xiang, have you ever thought about what you’d like to do in the future?" Shen Miao rested her arms on her knees, looking at the girl. "Do you want to learn cooking from me? Or study? Or something else?"
Sister Xiang hesitated, her voice tinged with doubt and insecurity. "Can girls even study? Aunt Li says only boys can read. She says men who study can become officials, accountants, or clerks. But for girls, it’s useless because we’ll just get married anyway."
Shen Miao frowned. She guessed Sister Xiang must have heard this from Aunt Li’s sharp tongue while playing with Li Gou'er.
After a moment of thought, she kept her displeasure hidden and gently probed, "What do you think, though? Is studying useful for girls?"
Sister Xiang lowered her head, silent for a long while before looking up again. The usually playful girl suddenly wore a serious expression. "I think Aunt Li is wrong. Studying has nothing to do with marriage."
"Exactly. Learning to read and write has nothing to do with marriage."
Shen Miao smiled, patting her head. "As women, our lives aren’t just about marriage, husbands, or children. Mom and Dad didn’t bring you into this world just to make you someone’s wife or mother. A woman’s greatest pride isn’t marrying well—it’s having her own aspirations and the power to shape her destiny. No one is born just to get married."
She met Sister Xiang’s gaze firmly. "Whether you understand this now or not, remember it. Men and women alike only have one life. Time treats everyone equally, so you must decide for yourself how to live it."
Her voice softened but remained resolute. "If you want to marry, then marry. If not, live for yourself. I’d love for you to study, learn skills—not to make you a better bride, but so you’ll have the courage and means to choose your own path."
Sister Xiang nodded, still processing, while Chen Chuan remained deep in thought.
Seeing they needed time to reflect, Shen Miao left them to their thoughts.
Unlike in later eras, there was no structured nine-year education system. Children had to choose their paths early, shaping the rest of their lives.
The first choice was a lifelong imprint, so it mattered deeply. Let them ponder it now—young children understood preferences and values, even if they couldn’t articulate them like adults.
Shen Miao moved to the vegetable patch, cutting fresh chives for lunch. Maybe chive dumplings today?
Lost in the joy of cooking, she didn’t notice the figure lingering outside the back gate.
Feng Qiniang had hesitated for days before finally deciding to visit Shen’s shop discreetly, bringing only one maidservant. She was desperate to understand why Ninth Brother treated Shen Miao differently. Was it her beauty? Her cooking? Neither seemed like reasons he’d favor a woman.
Gathering courage, she came to investigate.
But today, the shop was empty. She circled to the backyard, finding the gate slightly ajar. Just as she raised her hand to knock, Shen Miao’s words to her sister drifted through, leaving her stunned—and in tears.
Her mother was arranging a marriage for her, but not to the Xie family.
Torn between an unknown future husband and the pain of not marrying Ninth Brother, these words struck her like a slap—or like a new path appearing over a cliff.
Now she understood.
Why Ninth Brother saw Shen Miao differently.
