Shen Miao's method of making leek pockets was the most time-efficient—no scalded dough, no fermentation needed. The outer layer would turn golden and crispy when pan-fried, while the inside remained soft and tender. She scooped two ladlefuls of wheat flour from the sack, added a pinch of salt, and stirred with chopsticks. Then, she poured in slightly less cold water than the amount of flour, mixing continuously until it formed a crumbly dough. This dough was softer than what was used for steamed buns. She covered it with a bamboo lid and let it rest for fifteen minutes.
The filling was simple too. She washed the leeks, patted them dry, and chopped them finely. Then, she added scrambled eggs that had been cooled, along with some "silver-thread rice noodles"—a Song Dynasty term for glass noodles, the kind used in dishes like pork stew with noodles. The people of the Song Dynasty seemed fond of giving elegant names to even the most ordinary foods.
She mixed everything with chopsticks, seasoning it with salt and sesame oil, then added a dash of soy sauce and dried shrimp paste for umami—substitutes for MSG and oyster sauce, which hadn’t been invented yet. Finally, she sprinkled in some homemade "Southern Virtue Spice Blend," a mix of star anise, Sichuan peppercorns, dried ginger, cinnamon, salt, and fennel seeds. She had made plenty of this seasoning—it worked well in grilled fish marinades too, adding depth and warmth.
By then, the dough had rested. She rolled it into a long strip, divided it into small portions, dusted them with flour, and shaped them into smooth balls. After rolling each into a thin wrapper, she piled the vibrant green leek filling onto it, folded the edges inward, and pinched them shut into a crescent shape. She brushed a preheated griddle with oil and pan-fried the pockets over low heat until both sides turned golden brown and the aroma of leeks wafted through the air.
Once done, Shen Miao took one for herself, blowing on it before taking a bite.
The outer layer was crisp, shattering at the slightest touch of teeth. Inside, the filling burst forth—bright green leeks, juicy but not soggy, fluffy scrambled eggs, and chewy glass noodles soaked in savory juices. Shen Miao nodded in satisfaction. Leeks and eggs were indeed a perfect pairing, each enhancing the other’s fragrance.
She brought out a small basket of leek pockets for Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan. "Here, eat up—still hot!"
Sister Xiang didn’t care about the heat and took a bite immediately. Normally, she wasn’t fond of leeks, disliking their pungent smell when stir-fried. But this was different. The aroma alone made her mouth water. The crispy wrapper held a generous filling, and the thin crust made a satisfying crunch. The leeks were fragrant without any sharpness, tender yet crisp, balanced by the eggs and noodles. She devoured three in one go, only to notice Chen Chuan quietly finishing two beside her.
The two sat in the courtyard, eating with gusto, when Liu Douhua happened to pass by. She fetched two bowls of silken tofu pudding from home to trade. Sister Xiang nudged Chen Chuan out through the back door, and soon the three children sat side by side on the steps of Shen Miao’s backyard, alternating bites of leek pockets with spoonfuls of soft tofu pudding, too absorbed to speak.
Li Gou'er, returning from school, spotted his friends enjoying their feast in the alley. He dashed home, tossed his book bag aside, and raided Aunt Li’s hidden candy jar on top of the cabinet. Grabbing a handful of crispy flower candies, he bundled them in his shirt and ran back to trade with Sister Xiang and Liu Douhua.
Sister Xiang accepted the candies, splitting half with Chen Chuan before handing Li Gou'er a leek pocket. "Here, this is the ‘moon cake’ my sister made. Smells good, doesn’t it?"
Shen Miao hadn’t specified a name for these leek pockets, so Sister Xiang coined one herself—they looked like golden crescents, after all. Moon cakes it was!
Liu Douhua ran home too, returning with a brimming bowl of tofu pudding. She carefully carried it over to Li Gou'er. "Here, trade you for three candies."
Now the four children sat in a row, swinging their legs (Chen Chuan could only swing one), enjoying the cool breeze, savoring the leek-filled "moon cakes," sipping silky tofu pudding, and occasionally popping a sweet candy into their mouths. It was pure bliss.
After her fifth leek pocket, Sister Xiang let out a satisfied burp and tilted her head as Liu Douhua boasted about her older brother and sister-in-law opening a new tofu shop in the outer city. "My mother says the old shop in East Willow Lane will be mine when I grow up. I’ll learn to make tofu, take in a live-in husband, and never suffer in someone else’s household."
The dog, Chasing Wind, slipped out from the yard, drawn by the smell. Chen Chuan noticed and broke off a piece of his wrapper to feed it. The dog obediently lay by his wheelchair, licking its paws after finishing the treat.
"I’ll start learning to make tofu next year," Liu Douhua declared proudly.
Sister Xiang felt a pang of envy. "You’re already learning a trade?" Earlier, her sister had asked what she wanted to do, and she’d been stumped. She didn’t know what she was good at.
Liu Douhua tilted her head. "Of course. What else would I do? Aren’t you going to learn to make noodles from your sister?"
In this world, children usually followed their parents’ trades unless they studied hard and passed the imperial exams—then the whole family’s fate could change.
"My sister says I can do whatever I want. I don’t have to learn noodles. I could study or learn to write—it’s up to me." Sister Xiang sipped the last of her tofu pudding, mumbling to herself, "I love eating good food, but I don’t think I like cooking it. I don’t want to make tofu, brew wine, press oil, sell charcoal or firewood, or fix porcelain. Ugh… I don’t like anything. What am I supposed to do?"
Li Gou'er, mouth full of leek pocket, chimed in, "You like playing. And you like cutting hair."
Sister Xiang shot him a glare. "Don’t you play too? Aunt Li found you a strict tutor, and yesterday I heard you crying about not wanting to go to school!"
"You cried? Over school? Drink cold water, shame on you!" Liu Douhua joined in the teasing.
Li Gou'er flushed red and begged Sister Xiang to stop.
She dropped it, but her little head was full of big worries. Propping her chin on her hand, she sighed and turned to Chen Chuan. "What about you?" But she answered for him, "Oh, I know—you just want to go home. Asking you is pointless."
Chen Chuan stayed silent the whole time. After finishing his tofu pudding, he held the bowl and gazed quietly at the plump sparrow preening on the Gu family’s wall. Unlike Sister Xiang, he didn’t seem troubled—as if he already knew his path.
Gu Tusu wheeled out several large wine jars through the back gate and spotted the four kids sitting there, bits of leek stuck to their faces, earnestly discussing life’s big questions. Amused, he shook his head, shooed the sparrow off the wall, wiped his sweat with the towel around his neck, and pushed his cart away to make deliveries.
The wine he was delivering was for the Wei family's pastry shop. They had recently hired a new pastry chef and introduced a line of wine-filled cakes, which had become quite popular, helping them overcome their previous slump in business. They had also placed a large order for sweet plum wine from the Gu family, clearly gearing up for a major expansion. As he pushed the cart of wine past, he happened to walk by the Shen family's noodle shop.
Without thinking, he glanced inside and was surprised to see a young woman dressed in bright, elegant clothing eating noodles at this hour. Stranger still, she was crying as she ate, tears streaming down her chin.
Gu Tusu didn’t linger. After a brief look, he walked on, puzzled.
Eldest Sister’s noodles were indeed delicious, but… had this young lady been starving? Were they so good they moved her to tears?
Shen Miao hadn’t noticed the crying customer. After preparing the noodles for the shop’s only patron and telling her to enjoy the meal, she retreated to the backyard, hands on her hips, scanning the area—time for a deep clean!
On a day like this, with clear blue skies and bright sunshine, Shen Miao wouldn’t waste a second. Seizing the free time, she stripped all the bedding, washed it, and hung it out to dry on clotheslines stretched across the courtyard. She also unclogged the kitchen sink’s drain, scrubbed the chicken coop and dog kennel, and even hosed down the stone-paved courtyard path.
Now that she no longer had to rise early for the morning market, Youyu arrived later than usual. Delivered by Aunt Nian, she found Shen Miao with her hair tied up and sleeves rolled high, in the midst of a cleaning frenzy, having already used up an entire vat of water. Without even finishing the leek pancake handed to her, Youyu immediately grabbed a shoulder pole to fetch another load of water.
This girl seemed to have a compulsive need to carry water.
After thoroughly cleaning the courtyard, Shen Miao spotted Sister Xiang pushing Chen Chuan back home. Without hesitation, she dragged Sister Xiang over for a wash—she hadn’t washed her hair in five or six days. Shen Miao undid her braids and used homemade soap to scrub her scalp.
Sister Xiang feared nothing—except hair washing.
Now caught in Shen Miao’s grasp, she had no choice but to squat down, bending low and covering her eyes and nose with a cloth in trepidation.
“What’s so scary about washing hair? Lower your head—here comes the water!” Shen Miao scooped up a gourdful of sun-warmed water and poured it straight over her head without mercy.
Sister Xiang let out a yelp, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut, pressing the cloth tightly to her face—last time, her sister had gotten water up her nose, nearly choking her!
Shen Miao lathered soap in her hands, working up a thick foam before scrubbing it into Sister Xiang’s hair. Glancing over, she noticed Chen Chuan’s slightly grown-out buzz cut. Since she was already washing one child, she might as well wash two, so she pulled him over too.
Since his legs couldn’t get wet, she covered them with oilcloth. His injuries were healing well—the old physician had said he no longer needed daily visits or medicine. Now, it was just a matter of resting until the splints could be removed.
Half an hour later, Aunt Gu arrived early to help and froze in the doorway at the sight—Sister Xiang, Chen Chuan, and even the dogs Thunder and Gale sat damp and dazed under the sun, fur and hair drying in the breeze as laundry flapped around them.
If chickens could be washed, they’d have met the same fate.
Aunt Gu shook her head in disbelief.
A moment later, she heard movement behind her and turned to see Youyu, huffing and puffing, tirelessly making trip after trip to fetch water.
Aunt Gu: “…”
The Shen household’s work ethic terrified her.
Inside the kitchen, the counter was covered with clay pots for grilled fish. Despite spending the morning cleaning, Shen Miao had already prepped most of the side dishes, neatly sorted and portioned into the pots.
“Aunt Gu, why are you here so early?” Shen Miao asked briskly as she arranged cucumber strips into a pot.
Aunt Gu picked up a handful of shredded cabbage and began layering it in. “No point sitting idle at home. Might as well come help early. I’ve taken your money—how could I just clock in and out on the dot every day?”
Shen Miao smiled sweetly. “Aunt Gu, you’re the best.”
Aunt Gu chuckled but chided her, “You, though—why not rest at noon?”
“I’ve been sleeping in lately, so I’m well-rested. Besides, cleaning up the house doesn’t tire me—I enjoy it!” In her past life, Shen Miao had been the type to relieve stress by deep-cleaning or organizing. Seeing everything neat and tidy gave her an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.
And just like that, the stress vanished.
Aunt Gu couldn’t persuade her otherwise, so she focused on helping prep the ingredients. Halfway through, Sister Xiang—her hair still steaming from the sun—poked her head in and announced, “Eldest Sister, Grandpa Yang’s here with the new tables and stools!”
Shen Miao paused to inspect the furniture. Since adding grilled fish to the menu, the shop’s original seating had become insufficient, forcing her to borrow extra tables and chairs from Aunt Gu and neighbors daily. Realizing this wasn’t sustainable, she had commissioned a new batch from Old Man Yang.
Working overtime with his apprentice, Old Man Yang had rushed to finish the order, knowing Shen Miao needed it urgently.
Though Shen Miao loved haggling, she was also his biggest client. Ever since building her cart, renovating her house, and crafting various furnishings, his once-struggling carpentry business had flourished. Her innovative designs attracted many imitators, bringing him more orders.
So when she bargained, Old Man Yang grumbled but still gave her discounts. Others, however, got no such leniency. He’d learned to hold firm—if a customer pushed too hard, he’d only concede twice. Otherwise, they’d take advantage, and the deal would fall through. More often than not, those who walked away eventually came back.
The new tables and stools were made to Shen Miao’s specifications, each engraved with a table number and the characters “Shen Ji” on the legs, highlighted in bright red lacquer.
Shen Miao ran her hand over the smooth, evenly lacquered surfaces and praised Old Man Yang sincerely as she paid him, “Grandpa, your craftsmanship keeps getting better. These are perfect.”
But Old Man Yang misread her tone and tensed. “I already rounded down the price—no more freebies!”
Most customers haggled over a couple of coins—say, knocking two off 282 to make it 280. But Shen Miao? She had the audacity to ask for 82 off.
Who in their right mind would round down by eighty-two coins? Was that even considered small change? Old Man Yang initially couldn't believe he’d been such a fool, but later, he found himself playing the fool countless more times.
Shen Miao suppressed a laugh as she handed him half a string of coins. "I was genuinely praising you, not asking for extras. Look how scared you are. Here—this is the agreed amount, not a single coin short."
Then, pointing down the alley, she added, "By the way, the Liu family from the tofu shop is opening a new store in the outer city. They mentioned needing new tables, chairs, and furniture. When they came to me, I recommended you. You can head straight to them later."
Glancing around to ensure no one was listening, Shen Miao lowered her voice. "Aunt Liu also asked how much I paid for the furniture. I quoted the price you usually give outsiders. When you go, negotiate with them directly—whatever you agree on is between you two. I won’t interfere."
Since both parties were acquaintances, telling the Lius she’d gotten a discount would reflect poorly on Old Man Yang. But helping him inflate the price would weigh on her conscience. Letting them settle it themselves was the fairest solution.
Only then did Old Man Yang’s face brighten. After helping Shen Miao arrange the furniture, he headed straight to the Liu residence.
Shen Miao watched him disappear into the Liu household, then turned her gaze thoughtfully toward the vacant shop next door—formerly a soap merchant’s, now long abandoned. Recently, a broker had brought potential buyers, explaining that the owner owed a mountain of debt to Xingguo Temple and was forced to sell.
Yet, despite Shen Miao’s return, the place remained unsold.
In Bianjing City, land was worth its weight in gold. A prime inner-city shop could fetch three thousand guan, while those along the Imperial Street commanded astronomical prices of twenty thousand guan. No wonder Shen Miao’s uncle and aunt, who already owned two shops and lived comfortably, had coveted her family’s noodle shop and hesitated to return the deed.
Three thousand guan equated to three thousand taels of silver—or roughly four to five hundred taels of gold, depending on the year’s exchange rate. Such sums were beyond most commoners, even many officials, unless they came from wealthy families.
The shop next door was smaller than Shen Miao’s, so its asking price wasn’t as steep. When the Lius were scouting locations for their new tofu shop, they’d inquired about it. Initially listed at two thousand guan, the desperate owner—threatened by Xingguo Temple’s debt collectors—had slashed the price to fifteen hundred guan, fearing he’d have to jump into the Bian River if it didn’t sell.
Fifteen hundred guan was still steep. The Lius opted for the outer city, where shops cost half as much. Shen Miao, too, had been tempted. She’d crunched the numbers but ultimately held back.
Expanding had long been on her mind. Her current shop could barely fit five or six tables. Even with three more outside, it wasn’t enough. Recently, she’d resorted to setting up tables in the backyard and alley—a stopgap measure at best.
If she kept encroaching on public space, the neighbors would eventually complain. Rather than invite trouble, she considered merging with the vacant shop next door. A combined space would be roomier, accommodating more customers without cluttering the alley.
Alternatively, she could lease a larger shop elsewhere. But having just built a reputation in Willow East Alley, relocating seemed unwise. Plus, owning her shop meant no rent—a significant cost saving.
The dilemma remained: either take on debt to buy the neighboring shop and become an ancient mortgage slave, or move elsewhere, rent out her current shop, and start fresh in a larger space.
Beyond finances, staffing was another hurdle. With her small shop, she managed as head cook, Youyu as helper, and Aunt Gu as server. But scaling up would require at least a head cook, an assistant, two helpers, and two servers—adding three more hires and higher costs.
So, what to do? Seize the opportunity and leap forward, or play it safe and stay put?
Lost in thought, Shen Miao returned to the kitchen, burdened for the first time since arriving here.
Meanwhile, Shen Ji, after days at the academy, stared at his bowl of gray, husk-laden porridge, unable to bring himself to eat.
Every meal at Piyong Academy tasted like Manager Zhou’s slop, leaving him equally vexed.
He distinctly remembered his sister packing refined flour and hulled rice—how had it turned into this? He nearly stormed the kitchen to investigate.
"I can’t take it anymore. I’m starving," Hai Ge’er groaned, plopping down beside him with his tray. "How can the academy kitchen be worse than my mother’s cooking? It’s inedible! No wonder everyone here complains about the food."
Shen Ji, still wary of Hai Ge’er after their past, had avoided him. Yet they kept crossing paths—first when submitting their grain rations, then every mealtime. Strange.
Still, they were cousins sharing the same academy. Ignoring him felt too harsh.
Shen Ji’s dormmates were decent—no overly competitive or petty types. He got along well with them.
Hai Ge’er, however, was stuck in the "Ding" dorm, where students studied relentlessly, even reciting texts in the bathroom. One fanatic copied Du Fu’s poems daily, then ate the paper, hoping to absorb the poet’s genius.
Hai Ge’er, who loathed studying and only cared about food, found himself isolated. His family’s middling status meant no one curried favor, and his laziness drew disdain.
So, he latched onto Shen Ji, ingratiating himself at every chance.
Shen Ji, now secure with his sister’s support, felt a flicker of tolerance. He stopped shooing Hai Ge’er away, and slowly, their relationship thawed.
Now, Hai Ge'er lay weakly across the table, his stomach utterly empty, his insides in full rebellion. Unable to bear it any longer, he whispered a suggestion to Shen Ji: "Why don’t we follow those scholars' example… hire a couple of errand runners with silver coins to fetch us some food from outside?"
Shen Ji lifted his eyelids slightly. "Sending them even once would cost at least twenty coppers—far too expensive." Though his elder sister had given him plenty of money, he had been frugal with it in the academy. Every coin was hard-earned by her—how could he dare splurge so recklessly?
He wondered how his elder sister and Sister Xiang were doing lately. How was business at the shop? Were they overworking themselves?
"My treat!" Hai Ge'er perked up eagerly. "Have you read that essay by Student Ning from the First Division? It’s being copied and passed around everywhere in the academy! He wrote about eating grilled fish—how delicious it was, even with illustrations! Just reading it made me drool through two handkerchiefs!"
Shen Ji glanced at him, lips twitching. "Grilled fish?"
"Exactly! Student Ning wrote: 'Strolling through the night market, a tantalizing aroma suddenly wafts by… A clay pot filled with assorted vegetables, a large fish nestled in the center, with a small stove placed beneath, glowing embers within. When the broth bubbles like pearls, the fish slowly bathes in the simmering liquid. Soon, the skin crisps fragrantly, the flesh tenderizes. Gather two or three friends, eating as it stews—its fragrance, a blend of spice, heat, umami, and richness, intoxicating beyond words…'"
Shen Ji smirked. "You even memorized it."
"So? Tonight, I’ll treat you to this very dish—no need for you to spend a single coin. The errand runners can’t enter the academy, so they’ll pass it over the back mountain wall. We’ll eat there before heading back." Hai Ge'er clasped his hands pleadingly. "Just keep me company this once. Our division’s instructor has a fiery temper—I’m afraid sneaking out to eat will earn me a beating. But you’re from the First Division. With you there, we might escape punishment. Please?"
Shen Ji pondered, then asked curiously, "But if it’s delivered all the way from the inner city, won’t it be cold by then? How would we eat it?"
"Ah! How’d you know it’s from the inner city? So you’ve heard of it too!" Hai Ge'er, clearly having done his research, explained, "For an extra ten coppers, you get the clay pot. The shop packs the pre-seared fish and veggies inside, with the broth in bamboo tubes. Once the runners deliver it, we just heat it on a small stove, pour in the broth, and wait for it to boil. The scholars from the Second Division have already tried it!"
So that’s how it worked. His elder sister really was clever.
Shen Ji stroked his chin and agreed.
Hai Ge'er immediately dumped his watery gruel into the slop bucket, buzzing with excitement as he dragged Shen Ji out of the dining hall, chattering nonstop about food:
"The inner city has so much more to offer—you must’ve tried all these delicacies! After all, you brought instant noodles on the exam day, while I only learned about such wonders later. Oh, and I’ve heard there’s new stuff too—mini steamed buns, Yanzhou-style fried sauce noodles, steamed noodles… Ugh, my mouth waters just thinking about it! But my parents only go to the inner city to collect rent. Earlier, they dragged me to the countryside for half a month to gather grain, then tossed me right back into this prison the moment we returned to Bianjing City! I missed out on everything! Otherwise, I’d have devoured every last bite—instant noodles, mini buns, fried sauce noodles—I’d eat my way down the street!"
He spoke with grand fervor, saliva practically flying, his plump cheeks trembling with excitement as if swearing some solemn vow.
Shen Ji stared at him like he was an idiot.
When people talked about these foods, did he only listen to how delicious they were—completely missing the shop names? Or did he think there were so many people surnamed Shen that it never crossed his mind these might be his own family’s creations?
Seriously, was it possible—just maybe—that every single one of these dishes was invented by his elder sister?
