When only two dumplings remained on the plate, Yue Teng couldn’t bring himself to finish them hastily. Earlier, he had been devouring them one after another, but now he slowed down, taking small bites and savoring each half before swallowing.
This slower pace allowed him to uncover the secret behind Madam Shen’s delicious dumplings. These weren’t made for sale—it was New Year’s Eve, after all—so the filling was especially generous. As he bit into one, the thin, tender wrapper revealed a hearty mix of pork and pickled cabbage heart.
Curious, he picked out a few strands of the pickled cabbage and noticed something unusual. There were no tough stems, no outer leaves, nor any roots—only the finest, most tender parts of the cabbage had been used.
Yue Teng was a connoisseur of sour-filled dumplings and had sampled them from countless shops in Bianjing. The key to a good sour filling, he knew, lay in the pickled cabbage. If the cabbage was poorly fermented, the dumplings would taste off.
Most dumpling shops either bought their pickled cabbage or made it themselves, but regardless of the source, they typically used whole cabbages, resulting in fillings that inevitably included fibrous stems and tough leaves.
But today’s filling was different. Madam Shen seemed to have stripped the cabbage down to its crispest, most succulent core before fermenting it. The result was a filling rich with tender, translucent strands of pale yellow cabbage heart—tangy, refreshing, and perfectly balanced.
And it wasn’t just the cabbage. Madam Shen’s dumplings were plump and round, stuffed with a mix of pre-cooked and raw minced pork, along with crispy lardons and glass noodles. The rich, meaty flavors melded beautifully with the bright acidity of the cabbage.
Even the wrappers were exceptional—thin as wonton skins, yet sturdy enough to hold their shape in boiling water, with not a single tear or doughy lump in sight.
Reluctantly, Yue Teng finished the last dumpling. In Yanzhou, where winters were harsh and vegetables scarce, his wife, Li E, also knew how to make the most of cabbage, often pickling it for sour dumplings. She, too, was an expert at crafting them.
This year, however, he had been summoned back to the capital in secret, leaving his family behind. The New Year felt incomplete without them.
He wondered how Li E and the children were celebrating in Yanzhou. His three mischievous sons—the kind who’d tear the roof off if left unattended—were probably out sledding with the dogs in the snow.
Last year, he had been the one leading the adventure. They started on gentle slopes, but when his eldest complained it was too tame, Yue Teng rallied the troops and charged up a steep hill with the dog sled.
Their ascent was full of bravado.
The descent, however, ended with all four of them—dogs included—tumbling head over heels, bruised and battered.
When they returned home in such a state, Li E was furious, brandishing a rolling pin at him. "I asked you to watch the children, not turn them into casualties!" she scolded. "Next time, don’t bother!"
Wincing under her blows, Yue Teng tried to defend himself. "It was the sled’s fault—it wasn’t sturdy enough!"
Li E scoffed, gripping the rolling pin. "Oh, so today it’s the sled? And what about yesterday? When Third Brother wanted to play snowballs, you made one the size of a basin and hurled it straight at his face? You buried him in the snow! He’s your own son, not some stray you picked up on the roadside!"
Yue Teng laughed sheepishly, raising his hands in surrender. "I won’t do it again! I promise!"
Their youngest was a chubby little boy, and Li E always worried he’d catch cold. She bundled him up in seven layers—undershirts, vests, padded jackets, even three pairs of pants—until he waddled like a duck, barely able to bend his knees. It was comical to watch.
Yue Teng had only meant to tease him, but his strength got the better of him. The snowball knocked the boy flat, leaving him sputtering and wailing. Li E, of course, arrived just in time to give Yue Teng another earful.
After that, she banished him to the barracks for two months, declaring him "the greatest menace at home" and unfit to be left alone with the children. The day he returned with his bedding slung over his shoulder, his soldiers couldn’t hide their smirks.
"Look, the general’s been kicked out again," they whispered.
He shot them a glare, and they snapped to attention, but the stifled laughter still followed him down the hall.
Now, staring at the empty plate, Yue Teng’s thoughts drifted back to Yanzhou.
Bianjing had its charms, but it could never compare to home. The capital was crowded with people and officials, and the politics were exhausting. He had already made up his mind—he’d leave on the second day of the New Year. No, scratch that—the third.
Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed Xi Feijing strolling around the shop. The man paused before a painting of roasted duck, then moved on to another depicting instant noodles. By the time he circled back, his eyes were alight with amusement.
Xi Feijing had accompanied his younger sister back to Chenzhou, where they stayed at the Xie family’s ancestral home for a few days. He made sure to put the arrogant uncles in their place before ensuring his sister’s household was settled. Only then did he return to the capital.
Before leaving, he had asked Chunjun why their ninth brother was so determined to move to that shabby little house near Golden Beam Bridge.
Chunjun had only smiled mysteriously. "Why don’t you see for yourself when you get back?"
Now, Xi Feijing understood.
The heart of a young man cannot hide even the slightest emotion—everything is laid bare.
Yet since Chunjun seemed quite pleased by it, he might as well pretend not to notice. Xi Feijing shook his head with a smile and returned to sit across from Yue Teng, who was still silently staring out at the heavy snowfall. Waving a hand in front of his face, Xi Feijing teased, "Missing your wife, aren’t you? Longing to return to Yanzhou?" His laughter always carried a hint of slyness, perhaps due to his fox-like narrow eyes and deep-set gaze, sharp as a blade. "When do you plan to leave?"
"The second day of the new year," Yue Teng answered without hesitation.
Xi Feijing wasn’t surprised. Unlike him, Yue Teng had no close relatives left in Bianjing apart from a married niece—his entire family was in Yanzhou. Naturally, he wouldn’t want to linger here.
"Then I’ll depart the same day," Xi Feijing said. Though reluctant to part with his sister’s family, if Yue Teng left and he stayed, wouldn’t he risk being cornered by Prince Lu? That simply wouldn’t do.
Besides, he missed his wife and daughters too.
A few days prior, taking advantage of the year-end sales as merchants exchanged silver for goods before returning home, the two had spent two whole days combing through Bianjing’s goldsmith shops, cosmetic stores, and tailor shops.
Yue Teng had been restrained, buying only a few items for his wife, Li E.
Li E and Yue Teng had met during the chaos of war. Frugal by nature, she rarely indulged in adornments—a jar of mutton fat ointment could last her a year. Staring dizzily at the dazzling array of cosmetics in the capital’s shops, Yue Teng could only recognize "eyebrow pencils," "lip tints," and "face powders."
Xi Feijing, however, was far more knowledgeable. From kohl sticks to rose creams and almond pastes, there wasn’t a product he didn’t recognize. His wife, Madam Yao, was a renowned beauty in Youzhou, famous for her love of finery. Her greatest joys in life were jewelry, clothes, and cosmetics.
She had also blessed him with two equally vivacious and beauty-loving daughters.
Clutching the shopping list Madam Yao had pressed into his hands before his departure, Xi Feijing scoured shop after shop, spending most of the silver bestowed by the imperial court. He returned with a cartload of the latest fabrics, jewelry, and cosmetics—all tributes to the ladies of his household.
Before his journey, Madam Yao had slipped a letter into his embrace with great tenderness, urging him to open it only after leaving the city. He had assumed it was a love letter, brimming with sweet nothings and heartfelt confessions. His heart had been steeped in honey all the way, warmed by the thought.
That night at the post station, he eagerly unfolded the letter—only for his smile to freeze at the first line.
The entire letter read:
"From Zhang Gulao’s Cosmetic Shop in Xiuyi Alley’s north, purchase ten boxes of rouge in shades of Pomegranate Blush, Grand Spring Red, Petite Spring Red, and Dewdrop;
From the Wang Family’s Rouge Shop, buy thirteen boxes of brocade rouge, Jade Maiden Peach Blossom Powder, Pearl Powder, and Rose Rouge Paste, plus two boxes of White Aconite Cream for the wife of General Yunhui;
From Jinpi Silk Shop, acquire hairpin pouches, embroidered sachets, and lotus-shaped purses; from the Wang Family’s Luoming Silk Shop, purchase the Ten-Thousand-Flower Pouch and the Mother-of-Pearl-Inlaid Flint Pouch… If you fail to bring these back, don’t bother coming home!"
He hadn’t finished reading before silently folding the letter and tucking it away, wiping away a bitter tear.
Yue Teng couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of Xi Feijing’s cart full of women’s finery—his own luggage had been so overstuffed with his family’s demands that he’d had to split it into two bundles, awkwardly strapped to his attendant’s horse.
Rumor had it that when Xi Feijing returned home on leave from the military camp, he obediently played dress-up doll for his daughters, letting them paint his face and fuss over him.
Thinking of their families, both men’s expressions softened like ice thawing under spring sun. The conversation flowed more easily, their hearts at ease.
Even the heavy snowfall on this New Year’s Eve no longer seemed unbearable, nor did the impending palace banquet feel as tedious.
The imperial feast boasted over a hundred dishes, but none were particularly delicious—especially since, before sitting down to eat, they’d have to endure the grand exorcism ritual, the awards ceremony, and the tribute presentations from foreign envoys. They’d be lucky not to freeze stiff.
At least Shen Miao’s shop was still open today.
The rich aroma of fish stew wafted from the kitchen, growing stronger by the minute. Xi Feijing grinned. "That fish-head tofu soup you’ve been craving is finally ready."
As if on cue, the curtain to the back room was lifted by Shen Miao, who emerged carrying a large lidded clay pot. Behind her, Ji Brother followed with a small tabletop stove, already lit with two pieces of glowing charcoal.
Shen Miao instructed Ji Brother to set the stove on the table before placing the pot atop it. "Stewing it like this in winter makes it even more delicious," she said with a smile, lifting the lid.
A cloud of fragrant steam billowed out. Inside the pot, the milky-white broth simmered gently, its surface dotted with tender cubes of tofu. The plump silver carp head, split in two and fried to a golden crisp, lay nestled in the bubbling soup, its flesh now fall-apart tender.
Yue Teng couldn’t stop swallowing.
Shen Miao brought out two large bowls of rice from the kitchen: "This soup is delicious on its own or paired with rice. If you pour the rice into the pot, it’ll turn into a savory fish congee in no time—equally delightful."
By now, Xi Feijing regarded Shen Miao with the affectionate warmth reserved for family. As he accepted the bowl, he smiled and praised, "Madam Shen, you’re truly capable. We’ve troubled you today, especially during the New Year when you ought to be resting."
Shen Miao chuckled. "It’s no trouble at all. I was preparing festive dishes anyway—this was just a small addition." After a pause, she added, "I keep my shop open even during the New Year. If you enjoy the food, feel free to visit again."
Xi Feijing was surprised. "Madam Shen, you don’t take a break even in the first month?"
The capital’s New Year customs differed from other places. Merchants and travelers had left the city, and imperial decree mandated a seven-day holiday for major festivals like New Year’s Day, Cold Food Festival, Winter Solstice, Tianqing Festival, and Lantern Festival. Government offices, private schools, and academies all suspended operations during these periods.
As a result, officials of all ranks could rest from the first day of the year until after the Lantern Festival. Those from out of town would return home, while local officials would visit friends and family. The common folk followed suit, with most businesses remaining closed until the Lantern Festival.
Truth be told, the Song Dynasty had an abundance of holidays. There were five major festivals with seven-day breaks, seven three-day holidays, and twenty-one single-day observances—totaling 113 days off annually, not counting regular monthly breaks. And best of all, no make-up workdays!
During the New Year, shops selling lanterns, fireworks, pastries, and fresh flowers thrived. But for eateries like Shen Miao’s, even if they stayed open, business was scarce.
Every household had leftovers. According to Aunt Gu, families cooked so lavishly for the New Year’s Eve feast that a single pot of braised pork with bamboo shoots and mushrooms could last from the first day of the year until the seventh.
With so many social visits and feasts at relatives’ and friends’ homes, who had time to eat out? The only exception was roast duck—easy to take away, visually appealing, and delicious hot or cold—which sold out daily.
Shen Miao smiled faintly. "My household is small, so we can’t afford such long breaks."
Some wealthy families spent the entire month hosting New Year gatherings, but for someone like Shen Miao—without parents or in-laws—once New Year’s Eve and the first morning passed, she had nothing but free time. Staying idle until the Lantern Festival would surely drive her mad.
So, even with few customers, she planned to take on banquet catering jobs. Idle hands were wasted time, and she might as well cook for others.
Besides, she had been mulling over a fresh idea inspired by Ji Brother, though it was still half-formed and not yet ready for action.
Xi Feijing sipped the soup, savoring its rich, savory flavor. Even as someone who rarely ate fish, he found this broth exceptional—tender meat and a broth so fragrant it left no fishy aftertaste. No wonder Chunjun had taken a liking to Madam Shen.
Chunjun adored clever, capable women—full of vitality, strong yet slender, with a healthy glow about them.
Yue Teng, meanwhile, paid no attention to the conversation between Xi Feijing and Shen Miao.
His world had narrowed to the pot of fish soup he’d been craving. A steaming sip sent warmth cascading down his throat, the aroma seeping into his very soul—thick, smooth, and bursting with umami.
The tofu was silken, so delicate it trembled on the chopsticks, melting like cream in his mouth alongside the broth. It was so delicious it felt like his eyebrows might float away.
Yue Teng drank two bowls in bliss before turning to the fish. The flesh near the gills was the tenderest, almost translucent and infused with flavor, dissolving on the tongue with barely a chew. The fish brain, scooped gently with a spoon, was as soft as tofu pudding, rich and delicate. And the cheeks—thick yet tender, soaked through with broth—were pure delight.
This fish head tofu soup was best enjoyed fresh in the shop. Taking it home would only leave it lukewarm, the tofu soggy and the broth tinged with a faint off-flavor. Reheating it would never capture the original magic.
No wonder he’d dreamed of it since leaving the Jade Garden, making three trips to Shen’s shop just for a taste. It was worth every effort!
Even after returning to Yanzhou, he doubted he’d forget this soup’s exquisite flavor.
By the last spoonful, Yue Teng was sighing wistfully.
Xi Feijing, who rarely ate fish due to its smell, had only managed one bowl. Yet even he acknowledged the soup’s merits—so rich and flavorful that even when it cooled slightly, the fishiness remained faint.
Before he knew it, he’d emptied his bowl.
The two men had filled their stomachs to contentment beforehand and, glancing up at the sky, realized it was time to enter the palace. They both picked up their cloaks and settled the bill. Having inconvenienced their host for the day, Xi Feijing and Yue Teng each left a silver ingot on the table.
"Madam Shen, we truly appreciate your hospitality today," they said with a slight bow. "May the new year bring you peace and every wish fulfilled."
Shen Miao waved her hands dismissively, insisting it was nothing. In truth, she hadn’t gone to much trouble—just fried the fish, poured hot water over it, added tofu, and let it simmer. Fish soup was a quick and simple dish for her. As for the dumplings, they had been prepared earlier and only needed boiling.
She saw them to the door before turning back inside.
The two silver ingots left by the generals on the table were also five taels each. Who would have thought she’d land such a lucrative order on the last day of the year?
Shen Miao was quite pleased, but the sight of the ingots reminded her of the one previously given by the imperial household, and she couldn’t help grumbling inwardly: Look at that—even the generals are more generous than the emperor.
As she tidied the tables and chairs, a mounted garrison soldier arrived through the snow. Shen Miao recognized him—it was Instructor Lin, who had come to her shop before for instant noodle soup. Despite his fierce and intimidating appearance, he was remarkably considerate of his subordinates.
And here he was again, braving the snow to buy instant noodle soup for his men.
Though the Song Dynasty had many holidays, garrison soldiers responsible for firefighting and guarding the city gates were excluded from such breaks. The bigger the festival, the busier they became. The same went for bailiffs guarding government offices, warehouse clerks, night watchmen, and other minor officials—they worked year-round, always on call.
With everyone else on holiday, the shop had been deserted for days. Yet Instructor Lin came daily, buying baskets of instant noodle soup. After days of this, his face had broken out in fiery sores from the heatiness.
Shen Miao couldn’t help but laugh and sigh at the sight of the large and small pustules on his chin and forehead. "Instructor Lin, why not try something else to eat? If you keep this up, your throat will catch fire too."
He knocked the snow off his bamboo hat by the door and gave a wry smile. "The watchtower in Yongkang Ward can’t be left unmanned for a moment, and the ward gates require three shifts day and night. If they don’t eat this noodle soup, they’ll have to make do with dry biscuits. At least the soup keeps them warm."
Being a garrison soldier might seem prestigious, but it was grueling work.
At this moment, the idea Shen Miao had been mulling over for a long time resurfaced. Tentatively, she asked, "This humble one has a clumsy idea—one that could ensure your dozens of men get hot meals every day. Would Instructor Lin care to hear me out?"
Shen Miao planned to launch a Song Dynasty-style meal subscription service during the slow business days of the new year. She would prepare six dishes daily, with separate pricing for meat and vegetables, allowing the soldiers to mix and match—all-vegetable, all-meat, two meat dishes with one vegetable, or one meat with two vegetables.
This way, they’d eat both nutritiously and deliciously.
Since the garrison soldiers couldn’t leave their posts, she could deliver the meals using her long-idle food cart. Instructor Lin was responsible for Yongkang Ward near Jinliang Bridge, which had two ward gates and seven watchtowers. With charcoal in the cart to keep the food warm, pushing it around the area wouldn’t be too far.
The idea had first struck her when Ji Brother complained about the terrible, subpar meals at the Imperial Academy’s dining hall. But back then, she’d been too busy expanding the shop, perfecting roast duck, and planning a duck farm to spare the effort. Now, with time on her hands, the idea returned.
Originally, she had intended to set up a small dining service for the Imperial Academy, collaborating with Shopkeeper Zhou—his Orchid Heart Bookstore was close to the academy and could serve as the venue. That way, Ji Brother would eat well, and she’d earn extra income.
Though the academy dining plan hadn’t materialized yet, the meal subscription for the garrison soldiers could now take priority. Instructor Lin’s eyes lit up. "How exactly would this subscription work?"
He then inquired in detail about pricing. Shen Miao had already calculated it—since it was a bulk order, cooking dozens of meals at once would naturally allow for discounts compared to individual sales.
After careful consideration, an all-vegetable meal would cost just sixteen coins, one meat with two vegetables twenty coins, and two meat dishes with one vegetable twenty-four coins. Given the harsh winter, even vegetable prices weren’t particularly low.
Additionally, utensils had to be brought by the soldiers themselves. The delivery and charcoal heating fee totaled twenty coins, which would be split evenly among each meal.
As for the subscription method—the soldiers would place their orders a day in advance based on Shen Miao’s menu, paying upfront and keeping a receipt. The next day, the meals would be prepared and delivered punctually according to the pre-orders.
"Therefore, Instructor Lin should also recommend someone to take on the role of 'meal coordinator.' This person should ideally be literate and responsible for finalizing the lunchbox menus with the brothers, then assisting with distribution once the meals are delivered. This way, we can save time and minimize mistakes," Shen Miao explained clearly and eloquently, and Instructor Lin grasped the idea.
In the past, if they wanted to treat the brothers to a proper meal, they’d have to hire a street idler to run to the shops and buy food. The cost of hiring such a runner was at least ten coppers for short distances and over twenty for longer ones—not to mention the additional expense of the food itself. Ordering even a few times a month was already too costly to bear.
But now, Madam Shen had eliminated the need for runners altogether. Her cooking was so exceptional, with a rotating menu of delicious dishes, that it was more than enough to entice everyone. On top of that, she even delivered! And the prices were reasonable.
Instructor Lin agreed immediately, his usually stern face softening into a warm expression. He eagerly asked, "When can we start receiving the meals? Would the second day of the new year be possible? Most of my men are bachelors—they don’t have to accompany their wives back to their parents' homes. If they could enjoy a good meal that day, it’d be a real comfort."
Shen Miao had nothing else to do anyway. With Ji Brother away, the days had become strangely dull, and she often found herself lost in thought, wondering what he was up to. The more she dwelled on it, the more she felt she couldn’t just idle around.
Besides, she had nowhere to go for New Year’s visits—just a quick round of greetings to the neighbors in the alley would suffice.
Moreover, cooking for twenty-odd people wasn’t a problem. She was confident she could handle it alone in half an hour, and another half hour for delivery wouldn’t disrupt anything.
She could still go out to enjoy herself after delivering the meals. The entertainment district was bustling day and night with plays, puppet shows, storytelling, and acrobatics—she’d even heard there was a monkey that could do arithmetic!
Shen Miao had already made her plans.
Tonight, she’d give Tang Er, Fu Xing, and Tao their year-end bonuses and holiday allowances. Tomorrow, she’d set aside a few strings of cash for them to spend freely.
They could take Ji Brother and the others to watch ice football at Golden Ming Pond, then head to the entertainment district for performances and plays—a carefree day of fun!
As for her, she’d handle the trial run of the lunchbox service herself. In her past life, whenever she launched a new project, she always followed the entire process to identify areas for improvement.
The New Year break was seven full days for the staff, but she only needed three and a half days off. Once she finalized the menu with Instructor Lin, she’d join the others in the entertainment district for a celebratory feast—a well-deserved treat for everyone, herself included.
So she agreed without hesitation: "That works. On New Year’s Day, I’ll bring the menu first thing in the morning. Once you and the brothers have chosen the dishes, I’ll start cooking in the afternoon of the second day after I return from errands and deliver before dusk."
And so it was settled!
On New Year’s Day, Bianjing was alive with festivity—lanterns and decorations everywhere, the ground littered with spent firecrackers and firework remnants. Children darted through the streets clutching sugar figurines, candied hawthorns, and firecrackers, while every household hung red cloth and set up offering tables, filling the air with the smoky incense of the season—a scent unique to the New Year.
The weather was splendid, and Shopkeeper Kang, dressed in new clothes and a fresh hat, cheerfully wished everyone a happy new year as he crossed Golden Beam Bridge on his way to visit an old friend.
But fate had other plans.
Right in his path was Madam Shen from Shen’s Kitchen, driving a donkey cart loaded with winter melon, cabbage, and spinach—where she’d sourced fresh vegetables during the holiday, he had no idea. Who sold vegetables on New Year’s Day?
Wait—why did she need so much produce?
A ridiculous thought struck Shopkeeper Kang, and his heart sank.
No… no way. Madam Shen couldn’t possibly be open for business on New Year’s Day, could she? Who would even come?
Couldn’t she just take one day off?
As he watched her pass by, his eyes nearly welled up with aggrieved tears.
