Compared to Yue Teng, who missed out on the fish head tofu soup and had to sulkily follow the palace attendants into the palace to play football with the emperor, Xi Feijing was far luckier.
The moment he climbed over the wall, he was spotted by the Xie family servants sweeping fallen leaves in the courtyard. Shouting, "Thief!" and "You audacious thief, do you even know whose house you're trespassing on?" they bravely charged at him with brooms in hand.
Fortunately, Zheng Neizhi was nearby. Hearing the commotion, he quickly gathered other servants, grabbing whatever was at hand, and rushed over. When he arrived, he saw three men wrestling with the servants—men who looked oddly familiar.
"Stop! Stop! This is a case of family not recognizing family! This is our esteemed uncle!" Zheng Neizhi hastily threw down the door bolt he was holding, spread his arms wide, and stepped in to separate them.
The servants were stunned, immediately ceasing their attack. Upon closer inspection, they realized it was indeed the Xi family uncle, who hadn’t visited in years.
Zheng Neizhi forced a wry smile. "Uncle, if you were coming, why didn’t you send word?"
Xi Feijing leisurely brushed off the dust from his robes, accumulated during his wall-climbing escapade.
Zheng Neizhi immediately felt foolish for asking—after all, this uncle had never given prior notice for any of his previous visits.
"Please, come in quickly!" Zheng Neizhi ushered him inside while simultaneously sending servants to inform the master, Lady Xi, and the matriarch. Word was also sent to the neighboring households. Soon, the entire estate was bustling with servants running in every direction.
Xi Feijing sighed faintly. "This is exactly why I didn’t want to make a fuss."
Zheng Neizhi smiled as he guided Xi Feijing into the inner courtyard. "As the saying goes, among all relatives, the maternal uncle holds the highest honor. You are a distinguished guest, and today is the winter solstice—how could we neglect you? This is only proper."
Though the Song dynasty was relatively liberal, a woman’s influence diminished after marriage. If she faced mistreatment from her husband’s family, her maternal uncle, as the head of her birth family, became her and her children’s strongest ally. This "uncle’s authority" was significant, from royal succession disputes to family inheritance divisions. While brothers and cousins within the same clan often became competitors, an uncle would always stand firmly on his niece or nephew’s side.
Xi Feijing, now a powerful military commander who hadn’t returned to the capital in years, was precisely such an uncle. In more formal households, his arrival might even warrant the opening of the main gate.
As Zheng Neizhi led Xi Feijing past the second gate, Lady Xi received the news and hurried out to greet him. Spotting her elder brother’s tall, familiar figure at the far end of the corridor, her eyes welled up with emotion.
But before her tears could fall, Father Xie, rushing in from the outer courtyard, was already sobbing uncontrollably. His wails echoed down the corridor before he even reached them: "Brother-in-law! It’s really you! You’ve returned!"
Lady Xi’s tears instantly dried up.
Xi Feijing instinctively took a step back, avoiding Father Xie’s enthusiastic lunge.
Father Xie stumbled, nearly falling, but Lady Xi caught his arm just in time. Clutching her sleeve, he sniffled, "Brother-in-law, you mustn’t leave so soon this time! We must drink together for days!"
Xi Feijing pushed him away with distaste, reclaiming his sister’s sleeve. Ignoring Father Xie for the moment, he studied Lady Xi closely before finally smiling in relief. "You look well. The recent troubles didn’t unsettle you too much, did they?"
Lady Xi wasn’t surprised that Xi Feijing seemed to know everything. But with so many ears around, she simply said, "Let’s talk inside."
Once the doors were closed, Lady Xi relaxed. "We owe our current peace to Xie Qi’s sharp instincts. He noticed the impending disaster with the Guo family and warned us in time." She recounted Xie Qi’s actions to Xi Feijing. "Though we lost a fortune, we still have enough to live on. We’ll tighten our belts for now—as long as we’re safe, we can rebuild."
Xi Feijing was both surprised and pleased to hear that Xie Qi had played such a pivotal role. "I never expected the boy to be so perceptive at his age. Where is he? I haven’t seen him."
Father Xie, still sniffling, interjected, "He went to the burial grounds to pay respects to Mr. Xu on behalf of Third Brother."
"Why are you still crying?" Xi Feijing frowned, then grew even more serious at the mention of the Xu family. "We must avoid any association with the Xu family. I’m not heartless—Mr. Xu was wronged, but their downfall wasn’t unwarranted. The Xu clan was too close to the Prince of Jin, and their dealings were exposed during the late emperor’s reign. I can’t elaborate, but our family already suffered once for not knowing the full story. Now that the Xie family has barely escaped disaster, we can’t risk displeasing the emperor again."
Initially, Xi Feijing hadn’t understood why the virtuous Mr. Xu and his family had been executed and barred from ancestral burial, their remains discarded in the public cemetery. But after learning the truth, he realized that even the pitiable had their flaws.
Mr. Xu was innocent, but his family name tied him to their crimes. The late emperor’s wrath couldn’t be undone, and the current emperor couldn’t overturn his predecessor’s decree without causing unrest.
Lady Xi sighed. "I know. But Mr. Xu was kind to Third Brother. His grave is unmarked—no one would recognize Xie Qi paying respects. Besides, this will likely be the last time."
She then revealed the family’s plans. "Since you’re here, I’ll be frank. Chong has resigned from office, and our other relatives in government positions have done the same. The Xie family will withdraw from politics entirely. We intend to sell this conspicuous mansion and return to our ancestral home in Chenzhou, where we can rely on the Cui family for support."
The Cui family had also suffered losses—their official positions were stripped—but like the Xies, they had "confessed" in time. The emperor had shown mercy to these "cooperative" families, leaving them with enough resources to survive.
Xi Feijing pondered this. "A wise decision. But what about Xie Qi? Doesn’t he still need to prepare for the imperial exams?"
Lady Xi replied, "We’ll buy him a small house in the inner city and assign a few servants to look after him. He’s always been independent, and he spends most of his time at the academy anyway."
Xi Feijing nodded. "Retreating now may pave the way for a return to politics in the future." He glanced at Father Xie—nicknamed "Chong" since childhood due to his premature birth and frail health—who had finally stopped weeping.
"My two worthless younger brothers are causing trouble over selling the estate and moving. They’re still dreaming of being reinstated as officials, squabbling endlessly and nearly making Mother ill." Father Xie dabbed his damp eyes with a handkerchief. The Xie family’s struggles weren’t just external—internal strife made the situation even more disheartening.
Father Xie was never adept at handling worldly affairs, and as the eldest sister-in-law, Lady Xi's arguments with the others only left her mired in unpleasantness. In the end, the Xie family matriarch coldly declared, "If you insist on dividing the family, you might as well strangle me first."
While parents lived, dividing the household was unthinkable. The second and third branches of the family couldn’t bear to part with the grand estate, let alone the wealth and land they’d have to surrender. Using the threat of division was nothing short of wishing the matriarch an early death.
The two younger brothers’ unfilial behavior, ganging up to pressure Father Xie, the eldest, left him seething with silent fury. Outnumbered, he and Lady Xi felt isolated—until Xi Feijing arrived like a divine reinforcement. Even as a brother-in-law, Father Xie suddenly felt bolstered, as if he’d found his pillar of support, and was moved to tears.
"Brother-in-law, you must preside over this matter and give those two unfilial wretches a stern rebuke," Father Xie declared indignantly, puffing out his chest. His tone unmistakably implied: Now that my wife’s most formidable brother is here, let’s see if you dare spout nonsense!
When it came to dividing assets and settling disputes, the brothers’ maternal uncles always showed up. And among them, Lady Xi’s brother was undoubtedly the most formidable.
Yet Lady Xi merely remarked coolly, "Once Elder Brother arrives, the servants will surely inform Second and Third Brother. If they’re too cowardly to show their faces, they must know they’re in the wrong—no argument of theirs holds water."
Xi Feijing listened, then smirked. "This matter doesn’t even require my intervention. Pure Blade, you and Chong needn’t bother with them. Let them stir up trouble for a few more days. Once the Guo and Xue families are sentenced to exile and escorted out of the capital, take them to witness it. With such a cautionary tale before their eyes, do you think they’d dare make more noise? They’re too shortsighted. The Xie family has stood for centuries. Though its fortunes have waned, what great clan doesn’t plan in spans of a hundred years? A temporary decline means nothing. Lie low for two or three generations, and the world will be an entirely different place."
The current emperor was in his prime, and after the Prince of Jin incident, his disdain for aristocratic families ran deep. Since their clan lacked the power to remake the sun and moon, they could only endure—waiting for the next emperor, and the one after that. Opportunity would come eventually.
They’d survived the chaos of Huang Chao’s rebellion by hiding in the deep mountains. What was a mere confiscation compared to that? No need for such alarm.
Lady Xi had intended the same and nodded in agreement.
After exchanging a few more words, Xi Feijing relaxed and reverted to his usual carefree self, lazily settling into Father Xie’s rocking chair—reserved for reading—and propping his legs up as he flipped through a storybook.
Seeing him so at ease, Lady Xi knew her brother wouldn’t be leaving today. Smiling, she stepped out to instruct the servants: "Tell Chef Fang to bake a few batches of Madam Shen’s cricket cakes. Has Elder Brother just arrived? After the journey, he must be weary—some pastries will tide him over."
Xi Feijing couldn’t reveal the secret edict and gave a vague acknowledgment. At the mention of Madam Shen, however, he turned his head curiously. "Just how many Madam Shens are there in Bianjing? I’ve heard of several these past few days—Madam Shen the fish-roaster, Madam Shen the Pancake Beauty, Madam Shen the duck specialist, and the one you mentioned in your letter, Madam Shen who makes excellent noodle soup. How can there be so many?"
Lady Xi covered her mouth, laughing. "All those Madam Shens are one and the same. She’s skilled, quick-witted, and can make anything. Though she’s been in Bianjing less than a year, everyone knows her now."
Ah, that explained it.
Xi Feijing mused that this Madam Shen must indeed be remarkable—even the emperor knew of her and craved her roast duck daily.
His interest piqued, he decided he’d have to try her dishes himself.
Wanting a private word with her brother, Lady Xi shooed Father Xie away. "Chong, go hurry the kitchen along. Tell them to prepare a fine feast for tonight to welcome Elder Brother."
"Of course, of course! It’s rare for Brother-in-law to visit. I’ll go at once." Father Xie scrambled to his feet and left.
Only once he was gone did Lady Xi ask after Xi Feijing’s rheumatism. Stationed at the border, he often led small teams on flanking maneuvers, enduring icy conditions year-round. Before thirty, he’d developed rheumatism—but he never complained, so only his closest kin knew.
Instead of answering, Xi Feijing studied his sister. "Pure Blade, what about you? Are you well?"
His sister had shared his talent for martial arts and strategy since childhood. Xi Feijing never underestimated women—hadn’t Princess Pingyang of the previous dynasty held the strategic pass? Why couldn’t the Xi family have its own Xi Erniang? He’d once dreamed of taking his sister to battle, fighting side by side, eating, sleeping, and slaughtering Liao dogs together. What a glorious life that would’ve been!
But during a half-year stay in Bianjing while their father reported to the court, that pretty-faced Xie boy had somehow charmed her away!
How could he not be furious? Yue Teng had a brother to watch his back—he should’ve had a sister! And Pure Blade was a divine weapon forged by Ou Yezi, meant to cleave through unyielding cliffs! How could she be sheathed away?
Lady Xi paused, recalling her brother’s rage when she’d chosen to marry into the Xie family. Smiling, she said, "It’s been twenty years, Elder Brother. Must you still ask? No matter how many times you do, my answer remains: I’m happy. You’ve always regretted it for me, but I love Chong. Marrying him is a decision I’ve never once regretted."
Xi Feijing pursed his lips, unconvinced. Hmph.
Lady Xi shook her head. Life offered countless paths—some led through war and ice, others through gentle breezes. No one could live another’s life or decide what was best for them.
Their conversation turned elsewhere until Xi Feijing noticed the late hour. "Why hasn’t Ninth Brother returned yet? How long does it take to pay respects to Mr. Xu?" He missed his nephew.
Though the boy’s visits to Youzhou always brought misfortunes—falling off horses, choking on food, even needing a dozen amulets before battles—Xi Feijing adored him nonetheless.
After a moment’s thought, Lady Xi chuckled. "I suspect he’s gone to see Madam Shen again. It’s the winter solstice today. Before leaving, he even asked Yan Shu to fetch an embroidered cat-patterned screen. I knew then he’d return late."
Xi Feijing frowned. "What does that mean?"
Suppressing a laugh, Lady Xi sighed. "A grown son is no longer his mother’s own."
Ninth Brother had even blushed while requesting that the little house they meant to buy for him had to be near the Golden Beam Bridge.
No one knows a son like his mother. Xie Qi was currently digging up kudzu roots with Shen Miao.
Before meeting Xie Qi, Shen Miao had joined Uncle Shen’s family in honoring their grandparents and parents. Once the rites ended, the two families had little left to say, and the others departed early.
Sister Xiang and Ji Brother had knelt before their parents’ graves, shedding tears and whispering many words. After wiping their eyes, they diligently cleared the weeds around the tombs with sickles.
While they worked at the back, Shen Miao lit three more incense sticks and poured three cups of wine into the earth, silently praying: Eldest Sister, may your next life be peaceful, joyful, and blessed.
Then she too rose, pulling weeds as she wandered the grounds.
The so-called Zhua'er Yutou was less a hill and more a "former mountain." Historically, the small and large Zhua'er Yutou and Yishan outside Bianjing's outer walls had been gradually flattened over centuries by the relentless flooding of the Yellow River. By the Ming dynasty, these three "mountains" were no taller than the riverbed itself, though they still retained a slight slope—just high enough to be considered a few stories tall, if one squinted.
Bianjing sat low in the landscape, perpetually plagued by floods. A local saying went: "Kaifeng, city upon city, with layers buried underground." The bustling capital of today was built ten meters above the ruins of the Tang dynasty's Bianzhou, which itself had been swallowed by the Yellow River's silt. And Tang Bianzhou? It had been constructed over ten meters above the ruins of the ancient Wei capital, Daliang.
Each flood raised Kaifeng's elevation, until even the three "mountains" vanished entirely. After paying her respects, Shen Miao stood atop this small slope, gazing into the distance, and wondered—how high had these hills once been?
In later years, she had visited Henan without ever realizing Kaifeng had mountains. Now she knew: they lay buried beneath the city's long history.
The passage of time, the shifting earth—it was all right before her eyes. The sensation was surreal.
The green hills were gone, yet through the vast stretch of time, she could still glimpse their silhouette.
Lost in thought, Shen Miao wandered to the boundary between her family's graves and Louzeyuan, the paupers' cemetery. There, behind a collapsed fence, she spotted a horse's tail flicking lazily under a tree to ward off insects.
Peering closer, she recognized the familiar Rolls-Royhorse tethered to a locust tree, its owner nowhere in sight.
Most families buried their dead in their own fields. Aside from the Shen family plots, Zhua'er Yutou was home only to Louzeyuan's countless unclaimed souls—those who had died far from home.
Why would Xie Qi come here? His clan surely had ancestral halls for such rites.
Xie Qi crouched alone in a corner.
As the wind stirred the ashes before him, he lifted his gaze, his expression tinged with melancholy.
The so-called "evidence" Xie Tiao had hidden beneath the floor tiles—he had unearthed and read it. The revelations were harrowing, but the most heartbreaking detail was Xie Tiao's account of how, after his wrist was secretly slashed, he had still gone to collect the bodies of Mr. Xu's family.
Back then, the corpses of Mr. Xu, his wife, and their young daughter had been dumped deep in Louzeyuan, piled carelessly under an old locust tree. No one dared claim them, not even their own kin—the Xu family had been made an example of.
With only one working hand, Xie Tiao had dug for a day and night, carving out a pit to bury them. The daughter, barely ten, had died with her robes stained with vomited blood, lips purple, her wide, innocent eyes forever unclosed. Rigor mortis had set in, and Xie Tiao struggled to lay her gently into the earth. He marked the spot with stones on the tree, too fearful to erect a proper grave.
So Xie Qi had come—not to a mound, but to a patch of bare earth—to burn paper offerings in quiet tribute.
He didn’t even dare light incense.
As the last embers faded, he scattered the ashes and stepped out of Louzeyuan. Just as he reached his horse, before he could untie the reins, he met Shen Miao’s clear, bright eyes.
He froze.
Shen Miao smiled first. "Peace on the winter solstice."
The weight in Xie Qi’s chest lightened. His eyes crinkled as he bowed deeply. "Madam Shen, blessings on the solstice."
She returned the courtesy. "What brings Ninth Brother here?"
"Paying respects to an old friend of my elder brother’s." Xie Qi stepped over the dilapidated fence and noticed the remaining incense in her basket. "Are you here for offerings as well?"
"Yes. My parents and grandparents are buried just beside Louzeyuan. Our family plots are over there." Shen Miao wasn’t ashamed. Her family had always been commoners; it was natural for their graves to border the public cemetery. With only Uncle Shen’s family and hers left, the Shens were few. Perhaps her ancestors had even made friends with ghosts from distant lands down below—they wouldn’t be lonely.
Xie Qi nodded. "Since your family rests here, meeting you is fate. May I light incense for them?"
Shen Miao was about to fetch Sister Xiang and Ji Brother anyway, so she led Xie Qi back. She watched as he lit the incense, his movements reverent. When he bowed, the wind picked up.
His sleeves fluttered like wings, and warmth unfurled in her chest.
Later, the four descended Zhua'er Yutou together.
Sister Xiang and Ji Brother trailed behind, picking flowers and bickering playfully. They had wept at their parents’ graves, leaving their grief buried with them, lighter now.
Shen Miao and Xie Qi walked ahead, speaking softly. She asked after his exams and his family.
"All’s well," Xie Qi said gently. "This year’s questions were simple—I found it smoother than before. The household has been busy, but no troubles arose. I’ve been helping at home, hence my absence. Thank you for your concern."
Simple? Shen Miao blinked. After the exams, her shop had been flooded with weeping scholars complaining of the difficulty. Had Xie Qi guessed the topics?
No matter—it was good news!
She exhaled in relief. "Then all’s well! Fortune favors you."
Xie Qi’s heart warmed, and he was about to ask how she had been when Shen Miao suddenly halted.
She darted toward a shrub, seized a vine, and traced it to a slightly raised root. "Kudzu!"
Kudzu root could be ground into starch for thickening, turned into pudding, or stir-fried with cured meat—versatile and delicious.
She drew a sickle from her belt and began digging. The vine was thick; the root beneath must be sizable.
Xie Qi naturally helped.
Shen Miao worked carefully, starting a foot from the plant to avoid damaging the tuber. After two hours, they unearthed a massive kudzu root—so large it took both hands to hold. Perfect!
Xie Qi insisted on carrying it home for her. There, he retrieved a small embroidered hanging screen from his saddlebag—a delicate piece woven with qilin hair and colored threads, exquisitely crafted by the Xie family’s seamstresses.
Shen Miao accepted it with surprise, nearly unable to put it down—the embroidery was so exquisite that in later times, it would surely cost thousands.
She eagerly told Xie Qi about Qilin the cat’s heroic mouse-catching exploits, but to her surprise, he didn’t seem shocked at all. Instead, his eyes softened as he said, "In the Xie household, it doesn’t just catch mice. It also hunts moths drawn to lanterns, cockroaches, crickets, and even climbs trees to scold birds that steal cherries."
Wow, so Qilin was practically a three-flowered sheriff!
Qilin had already been returned to Shen Miao by Aunt Gu. The cat was squatting in the vegetable patch, relieving itself, but when it spotted Xie Qi at the gate, it shook the mud off its paws and came trotting over with a series of meows. It promptly flopped down at Xie Qi’s feet, rolling onto its back to expose its plump belly, expertly demanding scratches.
Shen Miao crouched down as well to pet the cat, rubbing its fluffy belly. Tilting her head, she asked, "It still likes you best. Now that everything’s settled, will you take it back?"
Xie Qi shook his head, his gaze flickering slightly. "There are still some loose ends at home. It’s better for it to stay with Madam Shen for now." Perhaps he would soon move nearby himself—why bother moving Qilin back and forth?
Afterward, Xie Qi took his leave. Though he would have liked to stay for dinner, it was the Winter Solstice festival, and he needed to return home for the family reunion. Besides, as an outsider, lingering at the Shen household wouldn’t be proper.
Yet, for some reason, his heart was reluctant. With ears tinged pink, he pulled out a folded "Winter-Dispelling Plum Blossom Chart" from his sleeve and handed it to Shen Miao, murmuring softly, "I drew this the other day. When the nine nines pass, peach blossoms will bloom. May Madam Shen have a peaceful winter, with cold fading and spring arriving."
He hadn’t presented it earlier because, truthfully, he had made two copies—secretly hoping to share the winter-counting ritual with Madam Shen.
But an inexplicable nervousness had held him back until this moment, when he finally mustered the courage to offer it, masking his intentions with well-wishes.
Shen Miao didn’t overthink it. She accepted it with a smile and even fished out ten copper coins from her sleeve. "Here, payment for your brushwork."
Xie Qi froze, then couldn’t help but laugh.
Nodding, he plucked the coins one by one from Madam Shen’s palm, each still carrying her warmth, before clasping them tightly in his own hand.
His fingertips brushed against her palm, and the heat from his skin mingled with the lingering warmth on the coins before slowly fading.
At last, Xie Qi mounted his horse, though even astride, his gaze lingered on her. When he spoke again, his voice was warm yet husky:
"I’ll take my leave now."
"It’s cold—Madam Shen should head back first."
Shen Miao nodded but remained standing a while longer, holding the winter-dispelling chart, quietly watching as he rode away. Yet after a short distance, he suddenly reined in his horse, turned back, and waved at her, as if urging her to go inside.
Only after Xie Qi had crossed Jinliang Bridge did she finally turn and step back into the courtyard.
Inside, Sister Xiang was holding Qilin’s front paws, singing a nursery rhyme as the two swayed and twisted in a dance-like motion.
Ji Brother and Chen Chuan were once again poring over the "Song Penal Code." Seeing Chen Chuan’s studious fervor, Shen Miao even considered finding a day to bring a gift of dried meat and formally apprentice him to Lawyer Deng.
Tang Er and Fu Xing were in the kitchen preparing dishes for the evening meal, while Tao was teaching Youyu how to braid her own hair, their shadows stretching long under the lamplight.
Shen Miao placed the winter-dispelling chart in her room and hung Qilin’s embroidered screen above her bed. Her once-sparse chamber instantly felt much cozier.
Clapping her hands, she headed to the kitchen to start cooking.
Tonight was the Winter Solstice reunion feast. Besides wonton soup, how could they not have the Song people’s beloved mutton? Just as later generations would eat dumplings for most holidays, the Song people, even the poorest households, would always carve a few ounces of mutton to mark the occasion.
She had ordered a young lamb. Earlier, while she was out paying respects to her parents, Tang Er had already set up a large cauldron in the yard, boiling water and swiftly slaughtering the sheep with a single knife stroke.
Shen Miao hadn’t witnessed it, but the moment she stepped in, Fu Xing eagerly recounted with animated gestures: "Tang Er was incredible! With just a small dagger, he slit the sheep’s throat in one cut, then opened its belly with another, and started skinning it. It took less than a quarter of an hour to peel off a flawless hide—not a single bloodstain on it, and the ground was spotless too. He’s already taken the hide to dry on the roof, and the mutton’s been portioned, just waiting for Madam Shen to prepare it."
Shen Miao laughed. "Freshly slaughtered and cooked mutton needs little preparation. Today, we’ll follow the Hu people’s way—just some salt and leek flower paste. We’ll eat hand-torn meat and drink sweet rice wine!"
On this Winter Solstice night, gathered around the stove, feasting on meat and wine—
What could be finer?
