Entering the cabin, Shen Miao washed a sand pear and took a bite. The sourness made her face scrunch up, but having gone so long without fruit, she endured the tartness and ate several. Later, she indulged further by soaking them in a bit of lightly salted water—the salt enhanced the flavor, turning the sourness into a pleasant sweet-and-sour taste.
She couldn’t help but reflect inwardly: Though she had never met this Xie Qi, or Xie Ninth Brother, before, this simple meal and shared fruit had made one thing abundantly clear—the difference between a well-bred, respectable scholar and her former husband, a man who had sought nothing but to live off women and take shortcuts in life, was like night and day.
The rest of the journey passed uneventfully, the days slipping by in a blur. Over ten days later, at dawn, Shen Miao—having switched from boat to carriage—stood before the Shangshan Gate, a scene immortalized in the Along the River During the Qingming Festival painting.
When she had changed carriages in Caizhou, she had hired a donkey cart, and now she perched on its shafts, gazing up in a daze at the bustling spectacle of the Great Song capital.
After handing over a few copper coins to the guards at the gate and having her travel permit inspected, Shen Miao entered the city without issue. As she approached the gate, she craned her neck in awe—what towering walls! The gate passage had to be at least eight or nine meters high! And so thick—she estimated the cart had traveled over six zhang (roughly eighteen meters) before finally emerging on the other side.
No wonder, in her past life when she studied history, the Liao and Jin armies had often met their match when facing such fortified cities. Walls this thick would be nearly impossible to breach, even with siege engines.
Moving further in, Shen Miao saw colorful pavilions, soaring rainbow bridges, and tavern banners fluttering high above. As she continued, she even stumbled upon a caravan laden with goods!
Along the River During the Qingming Festival truly was a masterpiece of realism. It was as if she had stepped into the painting itself, becoming part of the vibrant streets of Bianjing. The inner city was so crowded that when crossing a bridge, the carter had to dismount and lead the donkey cart step by step through the dense throng of people.
Even the donkey grew restless from the press of bodies.
Pedestrians and vendors jostled about, the streets lined with shops of every kind. Particularly at intersections and alleyways, merchants extended their low display cabinets right into the road to attract customers.
Shen Miao chuckled inwardly: So "occupying public space for business" was a time-honored tradition.
Kaifeng was crisscrossed by rivers like the Bian and Huimin, making the "bridge markets" and "riverside markets" the liveliest spots. The entire riverbank was packed with shops, many of which had their fronts wide open to the street while their backs extended over the water on stilted platforms. Shen Miao observed with amusement—this must be the ancient precursor to modern "unauthorized constructions."
The bridge markets were even more dynamic, with vendors setting up stalls along the broad bridge spans, known as "floating shops," while others erected more permanent stalls under makeshift awnings.
Shen Miao craned her neck, studying the bridge market stalls most intently. She had no idea how badly her parents’ shop had been burned down, and with little money to her name, selling food at a small stall seemed her best bet to save up.
But after surveying the scene, her confidence wavered. Bianjing had every imaginable product in abundance, and food was no exception. Unless her skills were exceptional or she offered something truly novel, she might end up with no customers at all!
Just as they were about to leave the bridge, Shen Miao spotted a peddler whose entire body was adorned with trinkets. She quickly asked the carter to stop and hopped down to pick out two bamboo pinwheels.
The peddler, smooth-tongued and eager, demonstrated the toys while praising, "You’ve got a fine eye, madam! These pinwheels are two for one wen, made from aged Fengyang bamboo—durable, waterproof, and unbreakable. They’ll last ages!"
After some deliberation, Shen Miao chose one painted with a little snake and another with a horse, thinking of her younger siblings’ zodiac signs. The edges of each blade were polished smooth, safe for children’s hands. Even at such a low price, the craftsmanship was impressive—Shen Miao was thoroughly impressed.
The carter chimed in with a smile, "Returning from a visit to your family, madam? Even on a trip, you don’t forget to bring little gifts for your children. Such devotion—your household is surely blessed."
"Your kind words are much appreciated," Shen Miao replied with a smile, offering no further explanation as she climbed back onto the cart.
After another two ke of slow, congested progress, the carter finally let out a relieved sigh, wiping his sweaty brow with the cloth around his neck. "Madam Shen, we’ve reached Jinliang Bridge."
Shen Miao paid him, and he helped unload her two trunks at the mouth of a lane behind the bridge. The alley was lined with tall weeping willows, earning it the name Willow East Lane.
It was also where her younger self had grown up.
Yet Shen Miao felt no sense of security here. After careful consideration during the journey, she decided to first visit the Shen Family Noodle Shop to assess the damage, then gather information from the neighbors. Only once she had a clearer picture would she fetch her younger siblings from her uncle’s house.
No sooner had she stepped down, laden with bundles, than the group of women chatting and embroidering under the willow trees at the lane’s entrance turned to stare. Shen Miao had been married for three years and hadn’t returned since her parents’ funeral. The plump, fair-skinned girl of fifteen, once doted on by her family, was now gaunt and worn. The women gaped for a long moment, too hesitant to call out.
But Shen Miao noticed them. Drawing on her predecessor’s memories, she quickly identified them—Aunt Gu, Aunt Li, and Aunt Fang. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, dabbed fiercely at her eyes until they reddened, and burst into sobs. "Aunt Gu, Aunt Li, Aunt Fang—it’s me, Shen Miao! You watched me grow up—how could you not recognize me now?"
She covered her face with the handkerchief and wept.
The three women rushed over at once, clutching her hands and weeping in turn, their voices overlapping in a flurry of concern:
"Oh, child, we hardly dared believe it was you! You’re as thin as a reed! You should’ve sent word—Aunt Gu would’ve had Second Brother Gu fetch you from the city gates!"
"Thank heavens you’ve come back! Your house—half of it’s burned down! That ‘dear’ uncle of yours came by twice, heard it’d cost forty or fifty guan to fix, and vanished for good!"
"And hurry home! Ji Brother and Sister Xiang—your aunt drove them out with a broom! The poor dears have been huddling in that drafty, leaky ruin, surviving on the neighbors’ charity!"
"Worse yet—Ji Brother fell ill just days ago, burning up like a furnace! Uncle Gu carried him to the physician in the dead of night. Two doses of medicine later, he finally woke, but he’s still too weak to rise!"
