Yue Teng watched as she brought over a pot of hot water and placed a large, hat-shaped ceramic bowl of soup noodles on the table. Glancing down, he saw a round, dried noodle cake lying in the bowl—apparently fried, with golden strands coiled into a ring. On top of the noodles was a brown, oily paste flecked with pickled vegetables, alongside half a soft-boiled egg, a scattering of chopped greens, and a handful of minced meat.
"Watch closely, sir!" Tao loved serving instant soup noodles to merchants who had never tried them before. Holding a white, wide-bellied pot with a slender spout in one hand, she lifted the bamboo lid of the noodle bowl with the other, shielding Yue Teng slightly to prevent hot water from splashing onto his clothes.
The boiling water cascaded down like a dragon, sending up plumes of steam. The dried noodles sizzled as they absorbed the heat, and the brown paste melted instantly, releasing flecks of pickled vegetables that floated in the now rich, glossy broth.
Yue Teng tilted his head for a better look.
Once enough water had been poured, the young woman placed the small bamboo lid back on the ceramic bowl in front of him and picked up the pot again, smiling. "Just wait a moment, sir, and you can lift the lid to eat. Once the noodles have loosened, give them a stir with your chopsticks, and they’re ready."
A moment? Yue Teng silently counted the beats in his head. Around the count of two hundred, the young woman with phoenix eyes suddenly pushed aside the curtain from the window connecting the counter to the kitchen and called out, "Sir, it’s ready. Any longer, and the noodles will get too soft—they won’t have the right texture."
Following her instructions, Yue Teng lifted the bamboo lid. As the steam dissipated, he was met with a bowl of fragrant, richly flavored soup noodles. The noodles, greens, and minced meat seemed to come alive in the broth—the shriveled greens unfurled, the meat plumped up, and the noodles, now soaked through, were as tender as if freshly rolled.
Suppressing a surge of irritation toward Xi Feijing, he picked up a bite with his chopsticks. The first mouthful made his eyebrows shoot up in surprise—these rehydrated noodles were just as good as freshly made ones, maybe even more flavorful!
As he ate, he analyzed the dish. The noodles and broth were rich with oil—the noodles had been fried, and the paste was greasy too—but the real star was the aromatic base of the paste, with its tangy, slightly spicy pickled vegetables. The dried greens and meat couldn’t compare to fresh ones, and in the capital, Bianjing, they might not be popular. But on the frontier, where winter made fresh produce scarce, even dried vegetables would be fought over.
When snow blocked the roads, border garrisons suffered through bitter cold and hunger. It wasn’t that the court deliberately withheld military provisions—it was simply impossible to transport enough supplies. Grain could barely reach cities like Youzhou and Yanzhou, let alone the hundred-plus beacon towers along the Great Wall in Fengzhou, deep in the desert.
Winter storms could last half a month, and in harsh years, snow piled waist-high. Supply convoys often got lost, and men and horses froze to death on the way.
Most military rations for the frontier had to be stockpiled months before winter—lightweight, long-lasting foods. Rock-hard, teeth-breaking dried flatbreads were the standard.
On the frontier, survival was the only priority.
No wonder desertions were common. Yue Teng understood—it wasn’t cowardice, but unbearable hardship that drove men to abandon their posts, even if it meant losing their status and becoming fugitives or slaves. By late autumn, Khitan and Jurchen raiders risked crossing into Song territory, desperate for resources from lands just as barren and unforgiving as their own.
During his years in Yanzhou, soldiers rotated annually to the Great Wall garrisons—at least they had the hope of returning home after a year. If men were left indefinitely in those isolated forts, staring at endless desert by day and listening to wolves howl by night, anyone would go mad.
All those years of gnawing on dry bread and melting snow for water—and now he learned hot soup noodles were an option? Yue Teng lifted the bowl and drained the last drop of broth, his face darkening with indignation: Damn you, Xi Feijing, keeping such a treasure to yourself!
His Youzhou troops had probably been eating like kings for ages!
Yue Teng glanced at the menu on the wall, found the price—sixteen coppers per bowl—and tossed the coins onto the table.
When he called to settle the bill, the phoenix-eyed young woman hurried over, cheerfully collected the money, wiped the table, and wished him a good day, inviting him to return.
Outside, the snow had eased, and the overcast sky began to clear, faint sunlight breaking through the clouds. The streets grew lively again—vendors in patched cotton jackets wheeled out their covered carts, teahouses and wine shops reopened their windows, and musicians strummed pipas, singing slow, melodious tunes.
Yue Teng ignored the capital’s bustle. Fuming, he crossed the Golden Beam Bridge toward the Imperial Street, ready to storm the palace and demand justice—how dare Xi Feijing hog such luxuries for Youzhou alone? They were supposed to suffer together! If Xi Feijing was feasting like an emperor, then his Yanzhou troops deserved the same.
As he crossed the bridge, he brushed past a small group.
"Young master, if the house north of Golden Beam Bridge is too far, the only other option is the old residence in Willow West Lane. But it’s twenty years old and doesn’t even have a well—I doubt you’d want it!"
Yao Luoge, wearing a Uyghur-style hat, a fur-lined tunic with a folded collar, and upturned leather boots, jingled with every step—his belt was weighed down by pouches, keys, and even a wooden "Good Fortune" carp keychain engraved with the characters "Shen’s."
Beside him, a tall, slender youth replied softly, "Let’s take a look." Two attendants followed—one older and steady, carrying a leather satchel and leading a horse, the other round and chubby like a tumbleweed, happily munching on a candied hawthorn skewer.
As they passed, Yue Teng’s eyes lingered on the horse—tall, muscular, and a flawless chestnut without a single stray hair. A fine steed indeed. Such horses were rare in Bianjing.
Last year, the Jurchen horses he’d seized had all been sent to the Xi family’s pastures in exchange for sturdy Khitan mounts for Yanzhou.
The Xi family excelled at breeding horses, which was why half the imperial stables were near Youzhou—the grasslands were lush, the climate milder, and relations with the Khitan were less tense than with the Jurchens. The Khitan nobles even adopted Han names and script, making trade easier. Plus, the Xi family had generations of skilled grooms who knew how to raise and refine the finest steeds.
The heritage of aristocratic families can sometimes inspire resentment, yet at other times, one can’t help but admire them.
Writing books, establishing doctrines, passing down knowledge—almost every family has its own specialized skills, honed over generations. The Xi Family excelled in warfare, horse breeding, and staff combat techniques; the Xie Family was renowned for calligraphy, literary compositions, silk weaving, and reeling; the Feng Family gained fame through their annotated edition of Zuo’s Commentary and their mastery of historical records from various dynasties, amassing wealth beyond measure; the Guo Family, whose ancestors once served as court diviners, passed down expertise in astronomy, calendar systems, and celestial observations through the generations.
Yet, if such talents were not employed by the imperial court, even the finest blades would turn inward—no matter how exceptional, they would be doomed to ruin.
Yue Teng appeared rough and straightforward on the surface, but his mind was as sharp as a mirror.
Considering this, it seemed the Xi Family had aligned themselves with the imperial family from the very beginning. Before departing for the distant frontier, Xi Feijing had briefly served as a Taizi Sheren (Crown Prince’s Attendant) in his youth, marking him early as an official of the Eastern Palace. Yet, the Xi Family also sought marriage alliances with the Xie Family, known for their strict and upright household traditions, thus currying favor with both the imperial court and the aristocratic clans. No matter which side prevailed, their family seemed destined to remain unshaken.
The Xi Family’s cunning was hereditary—no wonder Xi Feijing was the same.
Yue Teng arrived at Donghua Gate and pulled out a gleaming golden imperial token from his robe. He had kept one of the tokens bestowed by the emperor, unmelted, specifically for entering and exiting the palace—far more convenient than carrying a lengthy ceremonial tablet.
"Salutations, General Yue!" The guards at the gate clasped their fists and invited him inside, directing him to wait in the duty room behind the gate while another hurried to the inner court to deliver the message.
As Yue Teng’s figure disappeared behind the heavy, brass-nailed doors, Xie Qi and his two companions followed Yao Luoge into the western alley of Willow Lane. Only then did Xie Qi realize that Willow Lane was divided by a waterworks building into two alleys—east and west.
East of the waterworks was the eastern alley where Lady Shen resided, while west of it lay the western alley.
The western alley also followed the qianpu houzhai (shop in front, residence behind) layout, but the streets facing the shops were more secluded—neither near Golden Beam Bridge nor by the Bian River, and the lanes were narrower. Thus, the western alley was far less bustling than its eastern counterpart.
As Xie Qi stepped into the alley, he was met with deep shade from overhanging trees. A few elderly folk, dressed plainly, gathered to gamble with beans or play chess. The rooftops of the houses on either side were overgrown with weeds, moss creeping up the walls. The ground, paved with compacted gravel and dirt, had been soaked by melting snow, making each step slippery. The entire scene exuded an air of aged stillness.
"The western alley was built earlier than the eastern one, so as you can see, the houses are older, and the stone paths are worn. Many have moved away—only five households remain, all elderly. Their children are mostly merchants who seldom return, so the place feels deserted," Yao Luoge explained as he led the way, turning back to address Xie Qi.
"Two houses in the western alley are up for sale—neither is large. One faces northeast with three rooms, the other north with four. Both owners moved to the outer city and want to sell these to buy larger homes there. Though the houses are old, they’ve been cleaned thoroughly before handing the keys to me. If you don’t mind the age, Young Master Xie, I’ll take you to see them."
"I don’t mind. Let’s visit the one closer to the eastern alley first," Xie Qi replied, tilting his head to gaze at the sky, crisscrossed by bamboo poles jutting from the walls. With the recent snowfall, the laundry once hung there had been taken in, leaving only bare poles dusted with unmelted snow, haphazardly stretching overhead.
"Then we’ll go to the one near the waterworks. It’s a good choice—just a few dozen steps from the water source, so even without a well, fetching water is convenient." Yao Luoge unhooked a set of keys from his belt and guided Xie Qi past the chess-playing elders. One old man, watching the game, turned to glance at them. Recognizing Yao Luoge, he called out familiarly, "Yao Luoge, showing houses again?"
"Indeed! I’ll come by for a drink later—off we go!" Yao Luoge waved cheerfully before boasting to Xie Qi, "That’s Ge Shengun, a former Taoist priest who left the order. Now he makes a living writing talismans, telling fortunes, and brewing ‘divine soups’ for rituals. I helped him find his house too. Buying property is a lifelong affair—I deal fairly, never swindle anyone. You see, there’s no alley in the inner city where I’m not known. You’ve come to the right person!"
Xie Qi smiled but said nothing. He had sought out Yao Luoge because Yan Shu mentioned that Lady Shen had bought her shop through him. Xie Qi wasn’t familiar with brokers, but Lady Shen’s judgment was rarely wrong.
The Xie Family had already begun moving. Their mansion was too large to sell quickly, but that didn’t stop Xie Qi’s mother and father from packing their belongings. Today, they would return to Chenzhou with his uncle, grandmother, and younger sister. The rest of the household items would follow in batches.
Only by leaving first could they sever the delusions of his Second and Third Uncles.
Thus, the entire Xie Family was busy. Lady Xi, occupied from dawn till dusk, had no time to oversee her son’s house-hunting. Since Xie Qi had his own ideas, she simply said, "I’ll have Stewardess Xi withdraw two thousand strings of cash for you—buy what you like. As for attendants, Yan Shu and Qiu Hao will stay with you, and I’ll assign Zhou Da’s family as your gatekeepers. That should suffice."
Zhou Da and his wife had a child named Zhou Chuyi. Lady Xi had it all planned out: Qiu Hao would accompany Xie Qi to the academy, Zhou Da would handle the carriage, his wife the cooking, and Zhou Chuyi could keep watch and sweep the courtyard.
As for Yan Shu, Lady Xi had no expectations. His cheerful, playful nature had been indulged out of pity, but over time, she noticed how he lifted Xie Qi’s spirits during bouts of misfortune. With him around, the courtyard was livelier, and Xie Qi happier.
So she let him grow as he pleased.
With his parents, uncle, grandmother, and sister gone, only the Second and Third Branches of the Xie Family remained. Having just finished the academy exams, Xie Qi found staying home dull, enduring his uncles’ and aunts’ veiled jabs. That was why he had eagerly sought out a broker to view houses in Willow Lane’s western alley today.
They soon reached the house near the waterworks. Yao Luoge unlocked the gate, leading them through the backyard into a small, square courtyard—about ten zhang east to west and six zhang north to south (approximately 180.4 square meters). Yan Shu, clutching a candied hawthorn skewer, hopped over the threshold, looking around curiously. "Seems a bit bigger than Lady Shen’s courtyard before she expanded her shop."
Qiu Hao, having tied up the horse, entered and countered offhandedly, "Lady Shen’s place was cluttered with belongings—that’s why it felt smaller. This one’s empty, so of course it seems spacious."
The courtyard was indeed bare, save for patches of weeds. The four rooms opposite were decently sized. Yao Luoge opened each door, releasing a musty odor. Waving a hand before his nose, he said, "Each room measures about twenty-eight chi north to south and seventeen chi east to west (roughly 43 square meters)."
After that, there was only a single passage leading to a door on the left, and ahead was a small street-facing shop. The shop was even smaller, though at least it was roughly square-shaped, measuring about six zhang in length and width. The doors and windows were shut, and the dust inside was thicker. Xie Qi took a glance at the entrance and was immediately choked into sneezing three times in a row.
Yao Luoge scratched his head, somewhat embarrassed. "Properties in the inner city are expensive, and this old residence isn’t in the best location, so it’s harder to sell. To be honest, it’s been vacant for a year, but there’s nothing to be done about it. Nowadays, properties in the outer city are more sought-after—land is cheaper, and most houses there are newly built. Even if they’ve changed hands multiple times, they still sell quickly."
After a pause, he added, "Because this house is old, I didn’t want to bring you here to see it. The one north of Jinliang Bridge is better—only ten years old, practically the newest residence in that area."
Xie Qi shook his head. "Jinliang Bridge North is too far."
Yao Luoge was puzzled. "Too far from where? From Jinliang Bridge North, it’s not far to Imperial Street, Zhou Bridge, Horse Market Street, or the Great Xiangguo Temple."
Yan Shu, who had been carefully biting off the sugary shell of his candied hawthorn stick and letting it melt in his mouth, nodded seriously at Yao Luoge’s confusion. "I also think it’s too far. If we lived there, it’d take a quarter-hour just to walk to Lady Shen’s place for meals. Way too far."
Xie Qi turned his head away and coughed lightly.
He continued looking around. Though the house was old, the beams were still sturdy, likely treated with tung oil mixed with realgar. Even after twenty years, there was no sign of insect damage.
The rest was just a matter of repainting the walls, replacing the roof tiles, and installing new doors and windows. Xie Qi had already made up his mind to buy this property and asked for the price.
Yao Luoge’s eyes flickered, his tone deceptively earnest. "The owner originally wanted 1,500 guan, but after some negotiation—given how old the house is and how the shop’s location isn’t as good as those in West Lane—we settled on 1,300 guan. I’ve already slashed the price myself—this is the lowest offer. What do you think, young master?"
So cheap? Mother had given him more than enough.
Xie Qi was about to agree when Yan Shu suddenly tugged at his sleeve. He looked down, assuming the boy wanted another treat after finishing his candied hawthorn, and was about to tell Qiu Hao to open the small bag he carried, which held three egg yolk pastries—one for each of them.
But Yan Shu just blinked up at him without saying a word.
Xie Qi suddenly understood and swallowed his words. Turning back to Yao Luoge, he said, "Let’s take a look at the other one."
So they went to see the more distant property. It was just as old, with one fewer room, and the price was only 100 guan less.
Xie Qi pretended to hesitate. "Let’s meet again tomorrow at this time in Willow West Lane. I need a night to think it over."
Yao Luoge readily agreed. Buying property was a big decision—few people made up their minds on the spot. Sometimes deals took months to finalize. Good things took time, so he was used to it.
After parting with Yao Luoge, the master and his two servants led their horses through the waterworks and headed straight for Willow East Lane. Only then did Yan Shu, licking the leftover stick of his candied hawthorn, speak up. "Ninth Brother, why not ask Lady Shen about buying the house? She just bought a shop, so she’d know whether the broker’s price is fair or not."
Qiu Hao widened his eyes in exaggerated surprise. "Who knew Yan Shu had brains too?"
Yan Shu, incensed, brandished his bamboo skewer and chased after him.
The two boys ran ahead, playfully bickering, while Xie Qi walked slowly behind, leading the horse by himself. He couldn’t help but wonder—why was he the one holding the reins? Who was the master here?
"Ah, isn’t that Yan Shu? And Qiu Hao… then…"
Xie Qi’s head snapped up. What a coincidence—Lady Shen happened to be returning home in a mule-drawn carriage. She hopped down and spotted Yan Shu and Qiu Hao fooling around in the alley.
If Yan Shu and Qiu Hao were here, then… naturally, she turned her gaze further down the lane. Across the cobblestone path, she saw Xie Qi leading his chestnut horse.
The tall, sturdy horse walked quietly by his side. He wore a lynx-fur cloak against the snow, over a dark blue, narrow-sleeved silk Hu-style robe. Below were gray-blue Hu-style trousers, their cuffs tucked into high leather boots that hugged his calves tightly, making him appear even taller and more upright, like a young poplar tree standing firm in a snowy field.
It had snowed—likely why Ninth Brother was dressed for riding. She rarely saw him in such attire… such…
He walked toward her from the depths of the alley, where the light filtered through in dappled patterns. The snow had just stopped, leaving the lane damp. The sunlight, reflected off the remaining snow, took on a watery shimmer, as if the entire alley were bathed in rippling moonlight.
Cold, pristine, and… so very handsome.
Shen Miao was momentarily spellbound. By the time he was just a dozen steps away, she snapped out of it, flustered. "N-Ninth Brother, why are you coming from West Lane?"
"I… I’m moving out." Xie Qi’s ears were red—whether from the cold or something else. He summarized his family situation briefly. "That’s how it is. From now on, I’ll be living on my own. The academy gave us three days off for the provincial exams, so I came to look at houses. I liked one in West Lane—old, but quiet. The broker asked for 1,300 guan, and I…"
He was about to say it wasn’t too expensive and he was ready to buy, but before he could finish, Shen Miao—who had been nodding along—suddenly raised her hand to cut him off, indignant. "1,300 guan? What a swindler! How dare he demand such an outrageous price? That house isn’t worth more than 800 guan at most! Come on, let’s go give him a piece of our minds!"
Furious on his behalf—more so than if she’d been cheated herself—Shen Miao hadn’t even spent 1,300 guan when expanding her shop. How dare that broker ask for such a high price for an old house in a remote location, taking advantage of Ninth Brother’s naivety and deep pockets… no, taking advantage of his lack of experience!
Without even stepping inside her own home, she told Qiu Hao and Yan Shu to wait in the Shen family courtyard. Then she grabbed Xie Qi’s sleeve and marched off, lips pressed tight, crossing streets and bridges all the way to the real estate broker’s office to confront Yao Luoge.
Xie Qi’s mind was in a daze as he let her drag him along. His thoughts were no longer on the house price—his gaze was fixed on Shen Miao’s hand clutching his sleeve, and he couldn’t help but smile.
But when she turned to speak to him, he quickly schooled his expression into one of confusion and grievance, further fueling Shen Miao’s anger toward Yao Luoge. How dare he exploit someone as kind-hearted as Ninth Brother?
Born into wealth, Ninth Brother had no idea how deceitful people could be. Thank goodness she’d run into him—otherwise, he’d have lost 500 guan! That was 500 guan!
As she lectured him in a low voice about not trusting brokers so easily—how their silver tongues could turn lies into truth—Shen Miao insisted, "Dealing with such smooth talkers, Ninth Brother, you must be more careful in the future."
Xie Qi nodded obediently.
After chatting for a while, Shen Miao grew angry at Yao Luoge again: "This isn’t your fault. It’s that silver-tongued, black-hearted swindler who drove up housing prices recklessly. Ugh! And he even dared to deceive our Ninth Brother!"
Xie Qi stole a glance at her flushed cheeks, now tinged with pink from anger, and at the phrase "our Ninth Brother," which turned him as red as a boiled shrimp, his entire face burning, his eyes practically steaming.
His heart felt like a pot of simmering syrup, bubbling with sweetness.
Having Shen Miao stand up for him—it felt wonderful.
Meanwhile, Yue Teng sat in a side hall of the Funing Palace, speaking to the emperor, who was enjoying roasted duck, about the instant noodle situation: "Why can the soldiers in Youzhou eat noodles while my troops in Yanzhou have to make do with dry flatbread?"
Zhao Boyun waved his hand, hurriedly swallowed the duck meat, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief handed by a eunuch, and patiently explained: "That’s not the case. Young General Xi previously submitted a secret memorial to me about this matter. He mentioned that a wealthy merchant, after tasting the instant noodles in Bianjing, saw a business opportunity and set up a noodle workshop in Youzhou. Coincidentally, Young General Xi had recently... well, let’s say he ‘acquired’ some horses from the Liao people and decided to use the proceeds to purchase a batch of instant noodles as military provisions, asking for my approval. After some consideration, I agreed and told him to go ahead and test whether these noodles truly lived up to their reputation."
Hearing this, Yue Teng’s expression softened.
"I also instructed Young General Xi to keep this quiet. Not only did I not inform you, General Yue, but none of the other regional military governors knew either. The price of these instant noodles is four or five times higher than that of naan bread! The cost of one portion of noodles could buy five naan breads. The finance minister is adamantly opposed to promoting instant noodles in the military, insisting they’re too extravagant and a waste of funds."
Zhao Boyun sighed helplessly, spreading his hands before wrapping another piece of duck meat, dipping it in sweet bean sauce, and popping it into his mouth. He continued:
"Secondly, since these noodles concern military supplies, I had to be cautious. If we were to implement them across all sixteen prefectures of the Yan-Yun region, where would the court find the silver to cover the expense? You know how it is, General Yue—before winter, even my private treasury was so empty you could hear mice scurrying. How could I recklessly make promises? But don’t worry. Now that my coffers are fuller, once Young General Xi returns from his leave, I’ll summon both of you to the palace and ask him directly: How did the soldiers find the noodles? Were they truly as tasty and convenient as claimed? If so, I wouldn’t hesitate to spend half my treasury to buy noodles and build workshops for the troops!"
Yue Teng quickly bowed in gratitude: "On behalf of the frontier soldiers, I thank Your Majesty for your generosity!"
"No need for formalities. Our soldiers are the shields and swords of the Great Song—they deserve to be treated well. Besides..." Ever since confiscating some ill-gotten wealth, Zhao Boyun had become downright extravagant—no longer needing to borrow Minister Wang’s VIP card, he’d already ordered Chief Eunuch Liang to get him a new one. Now he could buy two roasted ducks a day without a second thought.
With a grand wave of his hand, he declared: "Money is no object!"
As evening fell, snow began to drift down sparsely.
After returning from the real estate office, Xie Qi naturally followed Shen Miao back to the Shen residence. Thanks to her sharp bargaining, she’d managed to secure the house for eight hundred guan. The contract would be signed tomorrow—Shen Miao was truly impressive!
Remembering how she’d stood her ground against Yao Luoge for his sake, Xie Qi’s ears turned red as he sat cross-legged in the warm kotatsu, cradling a cup of rose-infused brown sugar ginger tea.
Qilin immediately slinked over and flopped onto his lap.
Shen Miao had gone to the kitchen to stew the goose, and the tea had been poured for him by Tang Er, who mentioned that Shen Miao brewed this drink around the middle of every month—presumably because she loved it.
If Shen Miao loved it, Xie Qi had to try it. Tang Er fetched the cup from the clay pot simmering on the stove, and the first sip sent a fiery trail from his throat straight to his stomach.
How much ginger had she mashed into this?! But after the initial shock, he found himself enjoying it more with each sip.
It was surprisingly good—spicy, sweet, and floral, driving away the winter chill. Perfect for cold days.
But why only around mid-month? Was there some significance to the timing? Xie Qi made a mental note to ask Shen Miao later...
After finishing half the cup, Yan Shu and Qiu Hao bustled in with bowls and chopsticks, setting the table before scurrying back and forth to help serve dishes. Finally, Shen Miao emerged carrying a massive iron pot piled high with food:
"Stewed goose with flatbread—ready to eat!"
The kotatsu table had a removable iron plate in the center, revealing a circular opening where glowing charcoal embers kept the pot simmering steadily.
Today’s goose came with golden cornbread discs stuck to the pot’s edges, their bottoms soaking up the rich broth. Nestled among them were tender chunks of goose, along with green beans, fried tofu, miso, napa cabbage, duck blood, tofu skin, wood ear mushrooms...
The aroma was intoxicating—thick and hearty, refined by the charcoal’s heat.
Xie Qi couldn’t help but swallow hard.
Yan Shu was already drooling, hastily sucking it back in as he stared fixedly at the pot.
Shen Miao returned from the kitchen with warmed barley wine. Surveying the scene—the kids huddled on one side, Tang Er, Fu Xing, and Tao too shy to sit near Xie Qi and crammed together—she realized...
...she’d have to sit beside Ninth Brother, wouldn’t she?
Seeing the empty spot next to Xie Qi, she steeled herself and took the seat. Once settled, she noticed everyone hesitating and urged, "What’s everyone waiting for? Dig in!"
With her encouragement, the group sprang to life, passing dishes and pouring drinks, soon chatting and eating merrily.
"So delicious! I never knew goose could taste this good—even the bones are flavorful!" Tao gnawed on a bone enthusiastically.
"The bread’s amazing—crispy on top, soaked in broth at the bottom. I could eat ten!" Tang Er devoured two pieces in quick succession.
Through the steam, Xie Qi took a bite of goose. The meat was fall-apart tender, richly seasoned, its warmth spreading from his mouth to his stomach to his heart. He turned to say something to Shen Miao—only to find her already looking at him.
Their eyes met abruptly. Both froze, suddenly forgetting what they’d meant to say. Flustered, they glanced away simultaneously.
One pretended to focus on eating; the other casually took a sip of wine. Finally, Xie Qi murmured softly:
"This is nice."
"Yeah," Shen Miao agreed, smiling at the snowflakes dancing beyond the lantern light.
On a silent winter night, gathered around a bubbling pot of stew with dear friends—
This was true happiness. Here and now, poetry lived within the warmth of shared food.
