A cart full of people jostled together on the flatbed ox cart, swaying slowly as it departed the city.
Autumn scenery is indeed best appreciated in the north, where all four seasons are distinct. But when it comes to surviving winter, life was undoubtedly easier in the south during the Song Dynasty, where central heating was nonexistent. Regions like Jiangnan and Lingnan remained lush and green year-round, with flowers blooming even in winter, warm as spring—especially in Lingnan, where one might still be wearing light clothes, sleeping on bamboo mats, swatting mosquitoes, and eating chilled melons this time of year.
Naturally, it was also harder to experience the subtle shift of autumn signaled by a single falling leaf.
Shen Miao sat on the ox cart as it slowly emerged from the outer city gate, rolling onto the post road. The view suddenly opened up before her—a vast sky with wispy clouds, golden fields stretching across the countryside, and trees painted in autumn hues. The road was carpeted with fallen yellow leaves. Here and there, branches heavy with bright red persimmons peeked over courtyard walls, the little fruits hanging like festive lanterns, delightfully charming.
Further along, the post road was flanked entirely by wheat fields. Farmers bustled about, sowing winter wheat. Having just harvested in the eighth month, they now hurried to plant anew. This was the busiest season for farming families—men and women alike toiled in the fields, and even children had no time to idle.
Barefoot children scampered along the paths, their clothes hitched up as they darted about, picking up stones and pulling weeds for their families. Some carried seed bags on their backs, helping their parents scatter the grains.
Not all were so dutiful, though. In a nearby field left fallow after harvest, tall haystacks stood scattered—likely meant for burning as fertilizer. One mischievous boy kept climbing up and sliding down with a whoosh, covering himself in bits of straw, his bottom surely sore from the tumbles, yet he grinned widely.
His joy was short-lived. His furious mother stormed over, yanked him by the ear, and pinned him across her lap for a sound spanking: "Ya little rascal! We’re busy as bees, and here ya are, monkeyin’ around like a wild thing! Keep wreckin’ the haystacks, and I’ll tan yer hide good, ya hear?!"
The boy howled like a stuck pig: "Ma! Dear Ma! I won’t do it again!"
Shen Miao watched, both amused and pained. Though the days and nights had grown chilly, most of the working adults and children wore summer tunics, many still barefoot—save for some younger women in straw sandals. Men, children, and even elderly women stood barefoot in the fields.
Looking closer, she noticed a farmer sowing wheat, his skin bronzed by the sun, his body glistening with sweat under the autumn sun.
Perhaps, she consoled herself, the light clothing wasn’t just frugality—hard labor kept them warm enough to ignore the cold.
Sister Xiang, too, craned her neck to watch the spectacle. Seeing the boy get spanked, she winced sympathetically, muttering, "Ouch, ouch." Shen Miao stifled a laugh—given the chance, Sister Xiang would absolutely climb a haystack and slide down just the same!
Beside Sister Xiang, Chen Chuan sat squeezed on the swaying cart, eyes closed as he quietly recited passages from The Song Penal Code under his breath.
Shen Miao was a hypocrite in this regard. She had ended up buying the two law books Lawyer Deng had copied out, even setting herself a study schedule—memorize ten statutes each night before bed, and she’d finish in under two months! A perfect plan… until she opened the first page and, within minutes, her eyelids grew heavy, sleep crashing over her like a wave.
And she slept so well.
She’d analyzed herself deeply: It wasn’t her fault. The dense, unpunctuated traditional characters, written vertically from right to left, were a struggle. Even after transmigrating, her ingrained habit of reading horizontal, simplified text sabotaged her, making her slower than a native Song Dynasty reader.
Take Ji Brother, Sister Xiang, or Chen Chuan—they learned characters far faster. A blank slate, they didn’t need to "mentally translate" like she did.
And the law was just dry.
After multiple attempts—each ending with her face-planted into the book—she’d barely progressed past the first page in months.
How tragic.
Ironically, while her deliberate efforts bore no fruit, Chen Chuan had flourished by sheer accident.
Once, he’d seen Shen Miao grimacing over the book, forcing herself to study, and curiously peeked over. What could be so dreadful it made Sister Shen’s face twist like pickled cabbage?
To his surprise, he was hooked. Now he borrowed the book daily, poring over it even if much remained beyond his grasp.
Shen Miao was thrilled to offload it onto him.
Chen Chuan had been self-studying for a while. At first, his limited literacy meant jotting down unfamiliar characters to ask Shen Miao later. If even she didn’t recognize a traditional character, he’d meticulously copy it, noting the page and statute, then wait for Ji Brother’s return to teach him. He’d annotate the meaning and pronunciation beside it.
His discipline was remarkable.
Take the character "鬭" (dòu). When Chen Chuan first encountered it, he noted: Pronounced like "bean." From "Statutes on Brawling." Means "to fight," as in "cockfighting" or "two tigers battling."
He’d started while his leg was still braced—immobility made perfect reading conditions. By now, he’d compiled his own "Chen Chuan Dictionary."
Sister Xiang, thanks to his companionship, had also learned more characters than expected for her playful, restless nature.
Now she could muddle through The Thousand-Character Classic without halting every other word (where a single four-character line might have three unknowns circled).
With Ji Brother’s occasional days off from work to tutor him, Chen Chuan had even begun memorizing legal statutes.
Shen Miao wondered if his interest stemmed from their visits to the yamen. Once his leg healed, she took him whenever possible to inquire: Any leads on the traffickers who’d abducted him? Any clues to his origins? Had anyone come searching? Each trip ended in disappointment.
Lawyer Deng confided quietly: The Kaifeng yamen was drowning in cases. Not only was Chen Chuan’s abduction unresolved, but even the disappearances during the Lotus Festival remained uninvestigated. After a few rushed inquiries, the constables—eager to tidy their year-end performance records—quietly closed them as "drownings," brushing them under the rug.
A classic trick of cunning old clerks to deceive superiors and victims alike.
Shen Miao could only sigh.
Beside Chen Chuan, Yan Shu had dozed off listening to his recitation, head lolling on his shoulder, soft snores escaping.
Meanwhile, Ji Brother leaned out from beside Yan Shu, chatting with Third Bai, the cart driver.
It turned out that Third Bai’s family was the "wealthiest" in their small village. Father Bai had started with nothing but a tattered straw mat, weaving straw mats and shoes before eventually becoming a silk merchant in Bianjing—a truly legendary rise. Ji Brother listened to this rags-to-riches tale with great interest and even climbed onto the carriage shaft to sit beside Third Bai.
Today, the flatbed cart was packed with three adults—Shen Miao, Xie Qi, and Tang Er—and four children: Sister Xiang, Ji Brother, Chen Chuan, and Yan Shu. The cart was so crowded there wasn’t an inch of space to spare. Poor Xie Qi, being tall, couldn’t even stretch his legs and had to tuck them awkwardly against his chest, sitting in an almost comically prim posture.
Tao, Fu Xing, and Youyu stayed behind at the shop to keep business running as usual. Shen Miao had suggested they all take the day off and close up, but Tao refused. Ever since she learned that Shen Miao calculated wages based on "commissions"—how many bowls of soup noodles, jugs of wine, or roasted fish and ducks they sold—she became utterly obsessed with making money. Closing the shop was out of the question! Even if Shen Miao wasn’t there, Tao would still sell roasted ducks.
Fu Xing, too, wanted to stay. He was obsessed with perfecting his duck-roasting technique, practicing spinning the skewer with one hand to speed up the process. He was on the verge of mastering this skill and couldn’t afford to lose momentum. Since they were staying, Youyu also came to work as usual, taking care of the two dogs in the meantime.
This arrangement worked out well—otherwise, Third Bai’s ox cart wouldn’t have been able to fit everyone.
Bored during the ride, Shen Miao’s mind wandered until she noticed Xie Qi’s uncomfortable posture. She subtly shifted to the side to give the poor tall man a bit more space.
But the moment she moved, Xie Qi adjusted his legs and closed the gap again, leaving no room between them.
Shen Miao lowered her gaze, staring at her hand resting beside her—and Xie Qi’s slender, slightly curled fingers, just an inch away.
After a silent pause, she looked up at him.
He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the distant mountains, trees, and reeds by the stream, seemingly lost in the autumn scenery.
If not for his stiff posture, his neck rigid as if he had a crick, and his ears burning red, Shen Miao might have believed he was just stretching his legs after sitting too long.
Her heart swirled with emotions—some joy, but mostly confusion and unease.
She was a twice-married woman with three children. Xie Qi was exceptional in every way—how could he possibly be blind enough to develop feelings for her? Truthfully… she had sensed hints of it before.
Today, squeezed so close together, the jostling of the cart on the rough dirt road made their shoulders brush, sleeves graze, and elbows bump.
It was impossible not to notice. Xie Qi wasn’t subtle, and she had always been more perceptive than most.
But what about her?
Shen Miao couldn’t help but ask herself—had she fallen for him? Or hadn’t she?
After turning the question over in her mind, she couldn’t find a clear answer. Only one thing was certain—she still wanted to earn money, expand her shop, and pursue her passions before anything else.
Even in the Song Dynasty, this desire burned brightly in her heart like an unextinguished lamp.
There was another reason, too.
After inheriting the original Shen Miao’s memories, marriage and romance left her cold and fearful. Even if her heart fluttered momentarily, it quickly cooled, leaving no room for hope.
She knew all too well how miserable "Eldest Sister Shen" had been in the Rong family. She remembered how Rong Dalang had once doted on her—bringing umbrellas when it rained, flowers when it was sunny, even teaching her to write her name by tracing characters with tea-dipped fingers on the table.
Those memories were vivid, never fading.
But after marriage, Granny Rong feigned illness, forcing her daughter-in-law to wait on her day and night while Rong Dalang "tended to his mother" in her room.
Later, when Shen Miao’s parents died unexpectedly, Eldest Sister Shen returned to Jinling after the funeral, separated from her siblings, and collapsed from grief. Weak and in mourning, she was left alone while Rong Dalang used her dowry to secure a position at the Mingzhou Prefecture School, too excited to return home.
From then on, he found new ambitions and rarely came back.
What followed was even worse—under Granny Rong’s cruelty, Eldest Sister Shen lived a life worse than death. The contrast between his pre-marriage affection and post-marriage neglect was so stark it made Shen Miao tremble with fury.
Of course, she knew Xie Qi was nothing like Rong Dalang. Her disappointment wasn’t directed at him. This was more like a scar left by Eldest Sister Shen—a constant warning not to act impulsively, not to make mistakes, not to give herself away too easily.
It wasn’t about anyone else. The barrier she needed to overcome was Eldest Sister Shen’s lingering trauma.
Shen Miao took a deep breath, forcing the bitter memories away. She tilted her head up, gazing at the boundless sky until her heart settled.
For now, she decided, she would pretend not to know. Perhaps one day, she’d have an answer—for herself, and for Xie Qi.
Unaware that his terrible acting had already been exposed—his burning ears betraying him completely—Xie Qi cursed his own heart, which pounded so violently he feared it might leap out of his chest.
Just keep beating louder, why don’t you? No one could outdo you, you restless, undisciplined, hopeless thing!
He nearly pressed a hand to his chest to stifle the frantic rhythm.
While Xie Qi was in turmoil, Shen Miao had already moved on. Leaning against the cart railing, she let the cool autumn breeze wash over her and asked Third Bai, "What kind of sheep did your family prepare? A lamb or a full-grown one? For the whole roasted sheep, do you prefer it plain, spicy, or savory…?"
Third Bai flicked the reins lightly against the ox’s rump and grinned. "Today’s sheep is a Xingqing Prefecture Tan sheep I specially bought from the butcher—a yearling, fifty pounds, top quality. As for flavor, Mistress Shen, you decide. My father splurged and bought an ounce of pepper for this—he’ll hand it to you later, all to be used on the roast!"
Shen Miao pondered. "Such fine meat is best enjoyed plain—just salt, cumin, and a touch of pepper to bring out its natural sweetness. Heavy seasoning would mask the flavor. Let’s keep it simple."
"I’ll trust you completely, Mistress Shen! No—my whole family trusts you!"
Third Bai was a devoted admirer of Shen Miao’s cooking, a loyal customer since her "hand-grilled flatbread" days. He’d tried every new dish at Shen’s Eatery without fail!
Not only that, he repeatedly bought honey bean puff buns, steamed dumplings, instant soup noodles, braised meat, grilled fish, and roasted duck to send back to the Bai family village for his elderly parents, who had retired to their old home. His parents praised every single dish, and later even frequently sent the family’s hired laborers to drive a donkey cart to Bianjing City to buy more—each time filling an entire cart. If not for the fact that grilled fish and roasted duck didn’t keep well, they would have happily stocked up on them like the instant soup noodles, buying bags upon bags to store at home.
Even Shen Miao’s homemade pickled vegetables and bamboo shoots weren’t spared. Once, while eating soup noodles at the front shop, Third Bai suddenly caught a whiff of an intensely sour aroma wafting from the backyard—so pungent it made his mouth water. He couldn’t sit still. Wasn’t this his father’s favorite? Swallowing his pride, he bought two jars from Madam Shen to send back to his parents for pairing with porridge.
Within two days, Father and Mother Bai had emptied one jar and were already asking Third Bai for more. But where was he supposed to get it? Those were made for personal consumption! He couldn’t even bring himself to go back and ask again.
When Father Bai heard that his son had invited Shen Miao—the one who knew how to make grilled fish and roasted duck—to prepare a whole roasted lamb for the wedding, he was so delighted that he ate with more appetite these past few days, walked with more vigor, and even climbed up to the granary to sun the grain without any back pain or leg aches.
Ever since tasting Shen’s cooking, his appetite had improved. There wasn’t a single dish from Shen’s shop that he didn’t love. Just Shen Miao’s braised meat alone could make him devour three large buns or two to three bowls of rice in one sitting, followed by some roasted duck.
Originally a rather gaunt old man, he had now plumped up like fermented dough, round and soft.
Chenliu Town was about twenty li from Bianjing City—a two-hour trip by ox cart. By the time they arrived in town, it was already past noon, and another half-hour was spent traveling from the town to the village. Shen Miao’s legs and backside had gone numb from the long ride.
At the village entrance, they could already see the lively and festive decorations at Second Bai’s house from afar. Second Bai’s home was a spacious five-room tiled house, with red cloth draped over the courtyard walls and gates. Inside, the doors, windows, tables, and chairs were adorned with double-happiness characters, and red lanterns hung every few steps.
Third Bai quickly drove the cart inside. The moment Shen Miao and the others stepped down, they were warmly surrounded by the Bai family, handed tea, and showered with wedding candies and roasted beans—much to the delight of Sister Xiang and Yan Shu!
Both of them ended up with pockets full, and when they exchanged glances, they covered their mouths to stifle giggles. The two little gluttons would have their fill of snacks today.
The front courtyard was set up with banquet tables, and more tables were arranged outside the gate. In the backyard, a blue cloth canopy sheltered several earthen stoves, smoke and steam rising as village aunties rolled up their sleeves to chop and cook. The entire backyard was packed with baskets of vegetables, meat, fruits, and fresh fish swimming in water vats, occasionally leaping and splashing water everywhere. In the corner stood over a dozen jars of wine, their rich, intoxicating aroma wafting through the air.
The most eye-catching, of course, was the fully dressed lamb laid out on the butcher’s block.
In the front courtyard, the bride was still getting ready in her room. Later, at dusk, when the groom arrived, her family would playfully block the door, chasing him with cotton sticks—a lively and amusing tradition.
In the Song Dynasty, the bride’s family banquet wouldn’t start until after dusk, once the bride had left for her new home. Shen Miao glanced at the sky—now was the perfect time to begin preparations.
Third Bai called over a few young Bai girls to take Sister Xiang, Ji Brother, Chen Chuan, and Yan Shu out to pick pomegranates. The children dashed off like wild horses freed from their reins, baskets swinging excitedly.
Sister Xiang even thumped her chest and boasted to the Bai girls, "I’m the best at climbing trees! I’ll go up, and you all catch them below."
Ji Brother immediately exposed her: "Oh please, last time, someone tried to climb a tree to pick osmanthus flowers—clutching the trunk with both hands, kicking their legs, butt sticking out, face red with effort—and still couldn’t get up…"
"That was Liu Douhua, not me!" Sister Xiang flushed and whispered in defense, "Brother, stop talking, or else… or else Liu Douhua will get embarrassed."
Ji Brother choked on his own spit and coughed the whole way.
Tang Er naturally stayed by Shen Miao’s side to assist, while Third Bai enthusiastically invited Xie Qi inside for tea. Yet, less than fifteen minutes later, as Shen Miao was preparing spices like Sichuan pepper, fennel, cumin, dried ginger, and cardamom, Xie Qi suddenly fled the house in disarray.
She blinked at him in confusion.
Xie Qi struggled to explain, his voice strained: "The room was full of aunties… They surrounded me, demanding if I was betrothed, all wanting to marry their daughters to me." He paused, still shaken. "They… they even touched my hands!"
Shen Miao laughed so hard her knife trembled. Xie Qi, dressed in plain, unremarkable cloth, was mistaken by the Bai family and villagers as an ordinary commoner like Shen Miao. With his striking looks, he naturally drew admiration. But as a refined scholar from an elite family, he had never encountered such aggressive matchmaking before.
Thrown into the midst of rural aunties, he was practically devoured alive.
Xie Qi looked at Shen Miao with wounded accusation, but she only laughed harder, tears forming in her eyes. Was it really that funny?
"Sorry… sorry…" Shen Miao wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, stifling giggles. "Ninth Brother, you’d better stay by my side and play the role of a kitchen helper. Otherwise, those aunties might eat you alive—" She burst into laughter again before finishing.
Xie Qi pressed his lips together but still asked, aggrieved, "What does a kitchen helper do?"
Now it was Shen Miao’s turn to be stumped. What task could she assign to the pampered Ninth Brother, who had never lifted a finger in the kitchen? Scanning the area, she had a sudden idea. She handed him a large stone mortar and pestle, pointing at the chopped spices on the table. With an upward glance, she smiled. "Could Ninth Brother grind these into powder?"
Xie Qi took it and obediently got to work.
Meanwhile, Shen Miao focused on preparing the lamb. Roasted whole lamb had existed since the Han Dynasty, with records in The Essential Techniques for the Welfare of the People detailing the method: "For roasted lamb, clean the meat, soak it in Sichuan pepper water, rub with salt and seasoning, then skewer and roast over fire." By the Tang Dynasty, it had become a staple of the famed "Tail-Burning Banquet."
Given the Song people’s fondness for lamb, it was no surprise that roasted whole lamb was considered a prestigious dish for lavish weddings.
Shen Miao had Tang Er flip the lamb over. She mixed fine salt, light soy sauce, cumin, and a precious pinch of pepper, then reached into the lamb’s cavity, rubbing the seasoning blend thoroughly into the meat, repeating the process several times to ensure the flavors penetrated deep.
Next came the wood preparation. The firewood had to burn steadily until the flames were even and smokeless before the lamb could be skewered and mounted on the rotisserie. Tang Er quickly secured it tightly with iron hooks and ropes, then slowly turned the spit—similar to roasting duck, ensuring even heat distribution.
As the lamb roasted, the outer fat gradually melted, sizzling and dripping onto the coals, sending up fragrant flames. At this point, a long-handled brush was needed to baste the lamb repeatedly with oil and honey, keeping the meat moist, enhancing its color, and preventing charring.
The lamb had to be roasted slowly—one must never rush this process. It required constant attention to the fire, with the true skill lying in the unseen details, all dependent on keen eyes and experience. Shen Miao instructed Tang Er to rotate the spit even slower until the skin turned golden-red, the meat tender and separating from the bone, and the aroma rich and pervasive—a sign it was nearly done.
The moment the lamb was ready, it drew a crowd of onlookers.
Xie Qi’s freshly pounded spice blend finally came into use. He poured hot oil over it to release its fragrance, then mixed in minced garlic, aromatic vinegar, and shredded scallions to create a dipping sauce. Shen Miao chose not to pour the seasoning directly over the lamb, considering everyone’s tastes might differ. Instead, she served the sauce separately—those who wanted extra flavor could dip, while others could enjoy the lamb’s natural richness.
The roasted lamb smelled divine, so enticing that even the aunties busy with other dishes paused their work to circle the glistening roast, admiring and inhaling deeply. "So fragrant!"
"Perfectly roasted—look at that sizzling juice!"
"My, this young lady may be small, but her roasting skills are mighty impressive!"
Shen Miao laughed at their unreserved praise.
By now, evening had fallen. While Shen Miao had been absorbed in roasting the lamb, the lively wedding festivities outside had reached their peak. The groom, chased and playfully beaten by the Bai family, had scattered copper coins as "toll money" before finally whisking the bride away.
Next came the "farewell banquet" for relatives and friends of the bride’s family. Several strong men from the Bai family carried the whole roasted lamb to the center of the banquet, first displaying it for the guests—a show of the bride’s family’s prosperity.
Once everyone had admired it, Tang Er stepped forward to carve the lamb into neat slices. His knife skills were exceptional. Wielding a slender, crescent-shaped blade, he first separated the limbs, then divided the ribs and spine, swiftly transforming the lamb into thin, evenly arranged slices on plates.
Sister Xiang and the others returned, bouncing with excitement, their pockets stuffed with pomegranates. Upon hearing the bride had already left in the sedan chair, they groaned in dismay, "If only we’d come back earlier! We missed seeing the bride!"
Shen Miao hadn’t seen her either, but then again, they hadn’t come here for the bride.
Third Bai had arranged a table for Shen Miao’s group in the front courtyard, sheltered from the wind. Shen Miao gathered her family around the table, settling in for a proper feast of Song Dynasty countryside fare—
Cold dishes of vinegar-marinated peanuts and celery, followed by the first hot dish: fried tofu with bamboo shoots and wood ear mushrooms (a symbol of wealth and fortune), braised pig’s head, roasted chicken, steamed fish, bamboo shoot stew with pork, vegetable porridge, and finally, desserts—sticky rice cakes dipped in sugar and sweet longan-red date soup.
The village banquet lacked the refinement of Bianjing’s restaurants, but its rustic charm had its own appeal.
Take the vegetable porridge, for instance—chopped greens and wild herbs simmered with rice flour and water until thick, seasoned lightly with salt and sesame oil. The result was a clean, fresh vegetable flavor.
Shen Miao quite liked it. It reminded her of a light, simple dough-drop soup, refreshing and satisfying. She imagined the vegetables had been plucked from the fields just hours before cooking, still crisp and vibrant.
The sticky rice cakes were perfectly pounded—soft, chewy, and stretchy. Dipped in crushed peanut sugar, they melted in the mouth with sweet, nutty richness.
When the sliced roast lamb was served, guests craned their necks for a look. Shen Miao’s table happened to be next to the main one, where Father Bai, Eldest Bai, Second Bai, and Third Bai sat with their families.
Second Bai, who had been weeping over his daughter’s marriage, forgot his tears the moment the lamb’s aroma hit him. His chopsticks shot out instinctively, clashing with Father Bai’s.
Father Bai bellowed, "Ungrateful child!"
Second Bai sheepishly withdrew his chopsticks, watching as his father claimed the juiciest leg meat.
Soon, he stopped crying altogether, too busy competing with his father and brothers for the lamb. Shen Miao’s roast was so irresistible that every other dish paled in comparison. The Bai family wasn’t alone—relatives all around were eating in stunned silence.
Second Bai thought to himself, No wonder they specially invited this chef from Bianjing. Her skills surpass even seasoned masters—truly exceptional!
Guests offering toasts couldn’t help but praise the lamb. Second Bai, cheeks flushed from wine, puffed out his chest proudly and said to Third Bai, "You’ve outdone yourself, bringing Shen Miao here. Now the whole village knows my daughter’s wedding feast was the finest!"
Third Bai, mouth too full of succulent lamb to reply, could only nod vigorously.
The moment the lamb hit the table, its aroma had shot straight into his nostrils, making his stomach growl. One bite, and—heavens above! The skin was crispy and golden, crackling like fried dough twists, while the meat inside was tender, juicy, and utterly devoid of gaminess. Dipped in the sauce, the flavors soared, warming him from tongue to heart.
Third Bai marveled silently. He’d delivered tea to Shen Miao earlier and seen her roasting process—nothing unusual. Yet the result was extraordinary. How?
After the feast, Third Bai offered Shen Miao an extra goose as a gift, while Father Bai added another string of cash, muttering, "Whatever Shen Miao cooks, her touch is unmatched. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant."
Shen Miao accepted with a smile.
Night had fallen, and the three-hour journey back was impractical, so the group stayed overnight at the Bai household.
Third Bai had prepared clean rooms with freshly sunned bedding. Shen Miao shared a room with Sister Xiang, while Xie Qi, Chen Chuan, and Ji Brother squeezed into another. Tang Er bunked with Yan Shu.
The next morning, Third Bai sent his wife to ask, "If you’re not in a hurry, Shen Miao, would you like to explore our village before leaving? We’ve three rivers, plenty of lakes and ponds—quite scenic."
Lakes? Ponds? Intrigued, Shen Miao agreed.
Outside, dawn was just breaking, the light pale and soft. Sister Xiang still slept like a flipping pancake, so Shen Miao let her rest.
After tying up her hair and washing, Shen Miao pushed open the window halfway with a wooden rod—and froze.
Xie Qi stood in the courtyard, dressed in a fitted martial arts outfit, practicing with a weapon. He seemed to be demonstrating staff techniques, though without an actual staff—instead, he wielded one of the Bai family’s flat carrying poles.
At first glance, it looked comical, but a second look revealed genuine skill. The pole whirled through the air with fierce precision, cutting sharp gusts of wind.
Xie Qi knows martial arts? Shen Miao crouched by the window, watching in surprise. Usually, he wore loose scholarly robes, spoke with measured grace, and exuded bookish refinement. Who knew he was also a warrior?
He shifted his stance with fluid movements, the carrying pole following his body—sometimes thrusting, sometimes sweeping, sometimes slashing or grazing. The wind caught his clothes, lifting the hem of his tight-fitting garment to reveal a glimpse of his toned abdomen.
Oh my.
Look not at what is improper, look not at what is improper.
Shen Miao’s face flushed red. She wanted to crouch down and stop watching, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she leaned against the windowsill, covering her eyes with her hands—only to peek through the gaps between her fingers, her gaze fixed intently on the scene.
In her mind, she silently appraised:
What a lean waist, not an ounce of excess fat. The muscles clung tautly to his frame, the lines firm and defined. When he exerted himself, the contours of his abs became even more pronounced. Who would’ve thought Ninth Brother was so impressive?
But soon, as he moved, the glimpse of his waist disappeared beneath the falling fabric of his clothes.
This wind—why couldn’t it blow just a little higher…?
As he finished his practice, strands of hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. A few stuck to his cheeks, giving him an air quite different from his usual neat and composed self. Now, he looked every bit the bright, spirited young man.
She stared, dazed.
Xie Qi wiped his sweat and turned to call for Yan Shu to fetch fresh clothes. Shen Miao, flustered, quickly crouched down.
Only after Xie Qi had entered the house and the courtyard was empty did she stand up again, pretending nothing had happened. She splashed water on her slightly burning face just as Third Bai’s wife came in with breakfast.
But the children were still asleep, and even Tang Er was snoring away.
So Shen Miao ate alone with Xie Qi.
Xie Qi held a plain white steamed bun, glancing subtly at her from the side.
Why did Madam Shen seem so nervous and quiet today? And why was her face so red?
Did she not sleep well?
Sensing Xie Qi’s discreet scrutiny, Shen Miao hurriedly finished her bun in a few bites and suggested going out for a stroll with Third Bai’s wife. But Xie Qi stood as well, straightening his collar.
“I’ll accompany Madam Shen,” he said.
Shen Miao: “...” She agreed, though guiltily.
Fortunately, after just a few steps, the scenery of Bai Village’s fields distracted her from her thoughts of abs. Beauty aside, she noticed Bai Village truly had many ponds and mulberry trees. The terrain was flat, with slight slopes that easily formed ponds. Along the river, one could spot a pond every few steps.
Some ponds were even connected to large stretches of unclaimed wasteland, left completely untended. Thick green algae floated on the water’s surface, while reeds and calamus grew densely along the banks. The fields, too, were overrun with weeds.
Such fertile land by the river and ponds—why was no one farming it? Shen Miao felt a pang of suspicion. She walked a little further, shielding her eyes with her hand as she surveyed the area. Several acres seemed abandoned.
Third Bai’s wife, noticing Shen Miao’s keen interest, quickly explained, “This land was uncovered when the officials ordered a survey of the fields. It used to be Lord Guo’s hidden land, but now it’s been seized as government property. However… the people of Bai Village fear Lord Guo and dare not buy it from the authorities to farm. So it’s been left like this. His family is ruthless. If Madam Shen wishes to buy land, it’s better to look elsewhere.”
Shen Miao asked curiously, “Why? Who is this Lord Guo?”
It was Xie Qi who answered after a brief silence. “He’s from the Yingchuan Guo clan—the family of the deposed Empress Guo.”
