The snow-covered sky cast an intense brightness through the mulberry-bark paper windows.
The deep winter sunlight seemed to struggle free from the thick darkness of night. The sun stretched its arms in a lazy yawn, brightening from the grayish-blue edge of the horizon, spreading slowly. Even in her dreams, Shen Miao, curled under thick quilts, could sense the light gradually intensifying on her eyelids until it became piercing.
As soon as dawn broke, she woke up right on time.
Yesterday was New Year's Eve. The family had feasted on eight grand braised dishes, sweet and sour fish, four-joy meatballs, stir-fried rice cakes, and stayed up playing dominoes to welcome the New Year. They had lasted until the third watch of the night, setting off firecrackers to greet the God of Wealth before finally going to bed.
Yawning, she got up to wash and dress.
Today was the first day of the new year, so she adorned herself more elaborately than usual. She wore a new peach-red cotton jacket embroidered with auspicious cranes, its collar and sleeves trimmed with rabbit fur. Beneath it was a pleated crimson skirt with two flowing ribbons. Her hair was styled in a "heart-knot" updo, pinned with two hairpins—the jade one gifted by Ji Brother at the top, and below it, a double-stranded pearl and peach blossom hairpin. Tiny velvet flowers dotted the rest of her hairdo.
At the back of her head, she tucked in a peachwood comb. Since autumn, it had become fashionable among young ladies in the market to wear combs as hair ornaments.
She darkened her brows, powdered her face, and dabbed on lip color—done.
The kitchen still had leftovers from last night’s feast, so breakfast was simple: reheated braised pork with fermented tofu, millet porridge, and blanched tofu dipped in garlic sauce. With so much rich food during the New Year, it was best not to overload her stomach with grease first thing in the morning.
By the time Shen Miao finished breakfast, Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan were only just waking up. They had stayed up too late the night before, and the constant fireworks and firecrackers outside had made it hard for anyone to sleep soundly. But that was the essence of the New Year—the air thick with the scent of gunpowder, the wind carrying the festive clamor.
Even in dreams, the crackling of firecrackers seemed to echo.
The New Year was loud and joyous.
Shen Miao first dragged the drowsy Sister Xiang over to style her hair into two flower-bud buns, each adorned with tiny red lantern hairpins. The crimson tassels dangled by her ears, swaying adorably with every movement.
Ji Brother was left to comb his own hair—he had learned to tie it up properly after attending the academy. Once done, he helped Chen Chuan with his.
Shen Miao reminded them to change into their New Year outfits before heading out to greet the neighbors. She then retrieved the food list Ji Brother had drawn up the day before, stuffed a handful of lucky money into her brand-new fan-shaped cloth bag, and slung it over her shoulder with delight.
She had spotted this bag while passing a clothing shop on an errand. The base was reinforced with a small piece of leather, while the body was made of a muted water-red fabric. The three-finger-wide strap was embroidered with intricate diamond and auspicious patterns. The bag itself was adorned with delicate motifs in pale brown-red, olive green, vermilion, and deep blue silk threads—cloud-like designs at the ends, dogwood patterns above and below, and longevity motifs on the sides.
The craftsmanship was exquisite, with different embroidery techniques blending seamlessly into a smooth surface. Even the clasp was made of tiny pearls arranged into a fan shape. The price? Over three hundred coins.
She hadn’t bought it that day.
Two days later, she passed by the shop again and hesitated before leaving once more. Another two days after that, she finally marched in, haggled the price down by fifty coins, and bought it.
Truly, if something caught her eye at first glance, no amount of deliberation would stop her from eventually buying it.
And she didn’t regret it. Though small, the bag could easily hold a fire striker, loose silver, coins, and keys without losing its shape, thanks to the sturdy leather base. Lightweight and stylish, it was perfect for daily wear.
It was the New Year, after all—a perfectly justifiable reason to treat herself to a pretty bag.
Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan were dressed in the red cotton outfits made by A’Tao, one wearing a lion dance hat, the other a tiger-head cap. Their clothes were embroidered with colorful birds, flowers, and fish, making them look like two plump, moving dumplings in their thick winter padding.
Unable to resist, Shen Miao mixed cinnabar with water, dipped a fine brush into it, and painted a red dot on each of their foreheads. She then handed them each a fish-shaped lantern with an upturned tail. Standing side by side in bewildered innocence, they looked utterly adorable.
She couldn’t help but pull them into a tight hug, ruffling them affectionately.
Ji Brother, witnessing his younger siblings being turned into New Year’s poster children, immediately adopted a stance of defiance, insisting on wearing his plain blue robe embroidered with sacred flowers instead.
Shen Miao reluctantly let him have his way.
Older children just weren’t as fun to play with as little ones.
She led the three of them down the street, starting with Aunt Gu’s house, wishing everyone prosperity and handing out strings of lucky money to the children they met. Of course, Ji Brother and the others received gifts in return, but Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan, with their festive outfits, were the clear favorites.
At every home, uncles and aunties would smother the two little ones with hugs, stuffing their pockets with fried rice, peanut candies, and oranges. Before they’d even visited half the neighbors, the children were so laden with treats they could barely walk.
With their clothes bulging with sweets, Shen Miao had to send Ji Brother back home to fetch a cloth bag for the haul.
Their final stop was Gu Dalang’s oil shop.
To her surprise, the Gu household was unusually lively—they had just bought a horse! Neighbors crowded the courtyard, some squatting to inspect the hooves, others trying to pry open its mouth to check its teeth, and one even lifting its tail to examine its hindquarters.
The poor animal looked ready to kick.
Shen Miao first greeted Gu Dalang and his family for the New Year, then handed out lucky money to the twins: "Happy New Year, Bao and Di!"
"Happy New Year, Sister Shen!" Bao and Di chirped, dipping into a curtsy—though Di clumsily copied his sister, earning an exasperated stomp from Bao. "You’re doing it wrong again!"
Di scratched his head, baffled.
Shen Miao crouched down, smiling at them. Dressed in matching red cotton outfits with plum-blossom buttons, they stood beside Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan like two pairs of differently sized New Year’s poster children—utterly charming.
Gu Dalang brought tea and instructed Bao and Di to take Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan inside to pick candies and sesame treats.
The Gu family was easily the wealthiest in the neighborhood—after all, they dealt in oil, and as the saying went, they were "dripping with riches." The table inside was laden not just with oranges and dates but even rare cherries, alongside a dozen varieties of candies that immediately captivated the children.
Though Gu Dalang urged them to help themselves freely, Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan first looked up at Shen Miao for permission.
Holding her teacup, Shen Miao smiled and nodded. "Go ahead, but don’t eat too much—you’ll get sore throats."
"Got it!"
Only then did they cheerfully grab the twins’ hands and dash into the hall to pick their treats.
The children circled the table, deliberating carefully. Sister Xiang declared she wanted "dripping crisps" (a milk-based candy), while Chen Chuan opted for "sugar-stuffed foxnuts" (hollowed-out gorgon fruits filled with sugar and soaked in honey). They even promised to swap bites later.
To everyone's surprise, Bao generously said, "No need to choose—grab a handful of both! Eat with both hands!"
Shen Miao almost turned to scold them for eating too much candy. Though Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan visited the Gu household daily, and it was the New Year, so there was no need to stand on ceremony, she worried about their teeth—both were at the age of losing baby teeth, and she feared cavities.
Gu Dalang saw right through her concern and chuckled, "It's the first day of the new year—let the children have their fun. How much candy do they usually eat anyway? Indulging them for a few days won’t hurt."
Shen Miao thought about it and agreed. Today, she’d let them be.
Curious, she stepped forward to examine the new horse the Gu family had bought.
Naturally, it wasn’t the equivalent of Ji Brother’s "Rolls-Royce" of horses—just a plain, sturdy draft horse meant for hauling goods.
But still, it was a horse!
This one had a dappled gray coat and stood only a head taller than a donkey. Draft horses were built like this: large heads, short necks, deep chests, and thick, sturdy legs. They weren’t fast, but they were cheaper than fine-bred horses, hardier against illness, and thrived on simple feed.
Most importantly, they could traverse rough terrain with ease, carrying heavy loads steadily and reliably.
Fascinated, Shen Miao reached out to touch the coarse mane and turned to ask, "This is really nice. When did you buy it? What happened to your donkey?"
She remembered Gu Dalang’s donkey well. It had been a fine beast—a Guanzhong donkey, one of the largest and strongest breeds, excellent for pulling carts and carrying loads.
Among donkeys, it was top-tier.
Gu Dalang affectionately patted the horse’s head. "Just a few days ago, before the livestock market closed for the year. Prices drop around the New Year, so I saved a few strings of cash. A donkey can’t match a horse’s strength, and even though this draft horse isn’t as fast as a thoroughbred, it’s still much quicker than a donkey. I’ve set up an oil-pressing workshop outside the city and need to travel back and forth daily—had to get a horse. As for the donkey, I’ll probably sell it come spring."
Shen Miao had guessed as much—that was why she’d asked. She immediately followed up, "How about selling it to me instead?"
She’d been wanting a donkey for a while.
Gu Dalang was delighted! Without hesitation, he led her to see the animal.
When he’d gone to buy the horse, he’d considered trading in the donkey to offset the cost. But none of the horse traders at the market had agreed—either refusing outright or offering insultingly low prices.
At year’s end, traders were desperate for ready cash to return home for the holidays. Taking a donkey in partial payment meant extra effort to resell it later—something they couldn’t be bothered with now.
Besides, his donkey was a prime specimen—three years old, in its prime, strong and healthy, with all the classic traits of a fine donkey. Before buying the horse, Gu Dalang had doted on it. Letting it go for a pittance would’ve been unbearable.
But now that he had a horse, keeping the donkey was just a waste of space and money.
Shen Miao’s offer couldn’t have been more perfect. As a neighbor and friend, he trusted her completely. Selling the donkey sooner would also save him on feed.
Leading her to the backyard, Gu Dalang pointed to the glossy-coated, robust chestnut donkey in the thatched shed and spoke almost nostalgically: "I paid a full five thousand coppers for this one. Trained it myself over two years—now it plows, grinds, pulls carts, carries loads, no problem at all. People say donkeys are stubborn, but this one’s as gentle as a mule."
He lifted the donkey’s tail to show her. "See? The mane and tail hairs are white. The experts say this is the best kind—can even sire red mules if bred with a horse!"
With a playful wink, he added, "Once you buy it, bring it back to mate with my horse someday. If we get a mule, I’ll give you one for free!"
Shen Miao laughed. "I’ll hold you to that—no backing out!"
"Of course!"
She circled the donkey, inspecting it closely. The Gu family had often used it to haul oil and sesame through the alleys, and she’d seen it grinding at the millstone tirelessly for hours.
Truthfully, she’d coveted this well-behaved donkey for a long time.
Such docile, obedient donkeys were rare.
Earlier, when she’d considered buying one, she’d visited the livestock market. But after seeing Gu Dalang’s donkey, none of the untrained ones there could compare.
Some were too lively, bolting the moment you loosened the reins. Others were skittish, prone to kicking. A few were downright obstinate, bucking riders off immediately. And then there were the comical ones—side-eyeing people while farting constantly.
As for mules, Shen Miao wasn’t keen. They couldn’t reproduce, required better feed than donkeys, and fell sick more easily. While most donkeys were temperamental, among horses, mules, donkeys, and oxen—the common "transport animals"—they were the most economical and low-maintenance.
Gently stroking the donkey as it chewed hay, Shen Miao met its large, liquid-dark eyes. Its sleek coat gleamed, and her heart was set. She asked directly, "Dalang, how much for this donkey?"
After a brief pause, he smiled. "We’re neighbors—I won’t overcharge you. But don’t make me lose too much either. I paid five thousand coppers—how about four thousand eight hundred? I raised it like a son for two years since it was a yearling. Consider the difference as my gift—not a single extra copper."
The price was fair. A donkey this exceptional and well-trained would easily cost six thousand coppers elsewhere. Since Gu Dalang was already giving her a discount, Shen Miao didn’t haggle further and agreed at once.
Though he’d planned to sell the donkey, now that the moment had come, Gu Dalang felt a pang of reluctance. Wrapping his plump arms around the donkey’s furry head, he sighed deeply. "From now on, you’ll live in luxury with Mistress Shen. I’ve found you a good home—this way, I’ve done right by you."
Strangely perceptive, the donkey tilted its head and nuzzled his arm.
It nearly brought tears to Gu Dalang’s eyes.
Quickly tilting his head back, he waved at Shen Miao. "No more—take it away before I change my mind!"
She had gone out to pay New Year’s visits. Who’d have thought she’d return leading a donkey?
Upon returning home, she first delivered the silver payment for the donkey to Gu Dalang. When she circled back, her shop was already bustling with visitors coming to offer New Year's greetings! The manager and clerks of Taifeng Grain Store, Zheng the Butcher who sold pork, Niu Dachui the mutton vendor, Yu Xun from the fish stall, and even the small vegetable peddlers Shen Miao frequently bought from had all dropped by.
Shen Miao hurriedly welcomed them warmly, serving tea, offering snacks, and making conversation. The lively atmosphere lasted until nearly noon before the crowd gradually dispersed. Only then did Shen Miao find a free moment to tuck the food menu into her sleeve and head toward the watchtower north of the bridge where Instructor Lin was stationed.
Though the curfew had long been abolished and the city gates of Bianjing dismantled, the watchtowers flanking them remained. Later, as the inner city grew increasingly crowded, the imperial court ordered additional watchtowers near the Great Xiangguo Temple and along the Bian River. These areas were densely packed with shops—taverns, teahouses, eateries, and workshops—where fires could easily spread. Placing watchtowers here allowed for early detection and swift containment.
Back then, the Shen family residence had also been spared from disaster thanks to these watchtowers. Otherwise, the flames might have engulfed entire streets, leading to uncontrollable devastation.
Instructor Lin commanded a unit of about a hundred men, rotating shifts every three days. Each watchtower was staffed by four to six guards.
From a distance, the watchtowers—taller than ordinary houses—stood like sentinels in the snow, their stone bases buried beneath the white blanket. The second floor housed the observation deck, a compact but orderly space.
The garrison soldiers huddled around a small brazier, its charcoal crackling and popping. Thick quilts lay haphazardly nearby, ready to be wrapped around them during the frigid nights they spent dozing in the tower.
Beneath a small square window, a wooden shelf held various signaling tools. Polished horns and gongs gleamed, alongside neatly arranged colored signal flags.
Every hour, the soldiers exchanged flag signals with neighboring towers—blue for safety, red for fire, and yellow for emergencies requiring backup.
Hu Mazi, bundled in a quilt, nodded off like a pecking chicken. Beside him, the brawny Er Hu, his face flushed from the icy wind, rubbed his bleary eyes and grumbled, "This damned weather—snowing like it's free. Staring at it makes my eyes glaze over. I’m dead tired; I’m gonna nap."
The two had stood guard all night. After all, it was New Year’s Eve, and fireworks had lit up the sky nonstop. They hadn’t dared blink, fearing stray sparks might ignite the rooftops.
Having endured the sleepless night, Hu Mazi was still forcing himself to stay awake. "Don’t sleep yet! Didn’t the instructor say Shen Miao would bring the food menu soon? He told us to pick what we want. He’s treating us to the first meal—hot dishes and rice!"
Right—yesterday, the instructor had announced they’d soon have hot meals! Er Hu scrambled up from the floor. "How could I forget such good news? Is she here yet?"
Being a garrison soldier was tough work. Most recruits came from villages or neighboring prefectures, far from their families. Without wives or kin nearby to deliver meals, they had no choice but to endure. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be salivating like this.
Hu Mazi craned his neck toward the window. "Not yet—wait! There she is! That’s Shen Miao!"
Shen Miao was easy to spot, even in a crowd. His drowsiness vanished instantly, replaced by eager anticipation. Before she even reached them, he was already swallowing hard, reminiscing, "Last summer, I had grilled fish at Shen’s shop. The flavor was unforgettable—I still dream about it!"
Unfortunately, winter made ingredients scarce, and some side dishes were unavailable, so the grilled fish had been taken off the menu.
They didn’t wait long before Zhang Liubao, the guard on duty below, came clomping up the stairs with a palm-sized slip of paper covered in writing.
As the only literate one among them, Zhang read aloud: "Kung Pao Chicken—chicken stir-fried with peanuts, carrots, and cucumbers; vinegar-braised cabbage... preserved vegetable braised pork... stir-fried winter melon... braised pork ribs... garlic mustard greens... Pick three. Three vegetarian dishes cost 16 coppers, one meat and two veggies 20 coppers, two meats and one veggie 24 coppers."
Hu Mazi pondered. "Then I’ll take Kung Pao Chicken, braised pork ribs, and mustard greens."
Er Hu’s eyes gleamed with cunning. "I’ll get the preserved vegetable pork, vinegar cabbage, and winter melon." He nudged Hu Mazi. "Hey, if we share, we’ll get to try six different dishes!"
Hu Mazi nodded approvingly.
Zhang Liubao acknowledged, "Got it. No payment this time—the instructor’s covering it." With that, he clomped back downstairs.
Hu Mazi and Er Hu exchanged glances. Was it really this simple? Would they actually get hot meals tomorrow? And these dishes—none seemed to be on Shen’s usual menu. Who knew how they’d taste?
Still, both had eaten Shen’s noodle soups and other dishes multiple times and had full confidence in her skills. They didn’t doubt the food would be delicious. Excited, they launched into a debate about why Kung Pao Chicken was called "Kung Pao."
"Kung Pao—isn’t that an official title, like ‘Defender of the Crown Prince’?" Hu Mazi stroked his chin. "Could it be named after General Yue? Maybe he loved this dish?"
Many young soldiers like Hu Mazi had enlisted after hearing tales of General Yue reclaiming three cities and rushing to Bianjing’s rescue. So at the mention of "Kung Pao," he immediately thought of him. Wasn’t General Yue the Defender of the Crown Prince?
"But I remember General Yue preferred tofu, didn’t he? Last time the emperor hosted him, there was a whole tofu banquet."
"Who cares what chicken it is? It’ll be delicious. I can’t wait for tomorrow—just hearing the names makes me hungry."
Their drowsiness now gone, they huddled together, chatting about Shen’s roasted duck, grilled fish, mutton soup, and noodle dishes until their stomachs growled. Finally, they gave in and made instant noodles to curb their cravings.
On the second day of the New Year, Shen Miao first prepared a simple luncheon for the Feng family’s bridal homecoming. By the time she returned home, it was only half-past one in the afternoon.
After tidying up, she began preparing the boxed meals.
Of the six dishes, only the braised pork ribs and preserved vegetable pork required lengthy preparation. The preserved pork had been prepped the day before, needing only steaming. So, Shen Miao started with the time-consuming ribs. She chopped them into even segments, washed away blood and odors with her "three-step method," then heated oil in a wok until it smoked. In went the ribs all at once.
Amidst the sizzling sounds, she swiftly flipped the ribs with a spatula until both sides turned golden brown and the skin crisped slightly. Then she fetched scallions, ginger, and garlic, chopped them into large chunks, and tossed them into the wok to stir-fry with the ribs. Once the aromatics released their fragrance, she added star anise, cinnamon, bay leaves, and other spices, drizzled in liquor, poured soy sauce for color, and continued stir-frying until every rib was evenly coated in the rich sauce.
By now, the aroma was already irresistible.
Finally, she added a ladle of water to submerge the ribs, covered the wok, and brought it to a boil over high heat before reducing to a simmer. The ribs stewed for about an hour until the meat turned tender and the sauce thickened.
While waiting for the ribs, Shen Miao fired up two more woks. In one, she stacked steamers to braise pork belly, steam buns, and cook mixed-grain rice. In the other, she prepared Kung Pao chicken. She diced the chicken into cube-sized pieces, chopped extra scallions, ginger, and garlic in advance, and set them aside.
Next, she fried a handful of peanuts over low heat until crispy, then set them aside. Quickly, she mixed a sauce in a bowl—vinegar, soy sauce, sugar, rice wine, and starch, diluted with half a bowl of water—and stirred until smooth.
With the wok hot and oil shimmering, she stir-fried the chicken and diced carrots until the meat changed color, then pushed them to the side to sauté the minced scallions, ginger, and garlic. As soon as their fragrance bloomed, she poured in the sauce, brought it to a vigorous boil until thickened, and finally tossed in the crispy peanuts, coating everything evenly. The dish was done.
The glossy sauce clung to the tender chicken, while the peanuts added a satisfying crunch. Sweet, sour, and spicy—it was the perfect accompaniment to rice.
Next came stir-fried winter melon slices and vinegar-glazed cabbage. With both woks working in tandem, she sautéed scallions, ginger, and garlic in each, then stir-fried the vegetables over high heat. Including prep time, both dishes were ready in under fifteen minutes.
Winter meals heavy on roasted meats could easily cause heatiness, so these light, refreshing vegetable dishes helped balance the body and soothe digestion.
The garlic-infused turnip dish followed the same principle. Peeled and thinly sliced, the turnip was stir-fried with minced garlic, spicy Sichuan pepper, and pickled ginger until fragrant. Soy sauce, salt, and other seasonings completed the dish. The frozen turnip developed a subtle sweetness, and its aroma—spicy and savory—rivaled even the meat dishes, making it another rice-stealing star.
All three vegetable dishes were simple and quick. By the time she finished stir-frying, the ribs, braised pork belly, and staples were ready.
Shen Miao transferred the six dishes into large bowls, then lifted them one by one with steady hands onto a small food cart. She bent down to light the stove beneath the cart and draped a quilt over it for insulation.
With everything set, she led out the well-behaved secondhand donkey she’d bought from the Gu family.
Unlike carts, which depreciated with use, a well-kept secondhand donkey could be far more valuable than a new one. This donkey, for instance, was exceptionally obedient—compared not just to others, but even to Ji Brother’s donkey, which famously produced fifteen pounds of dung a day.
At the thought, Shen Miao smiled and pulled a handful of beans from her pocket, waving them before the donkey. Its nostrils twitched eagerly as it nudged forward, devouring the beans in seconds before affectionately rubbing its head against her hand.
Quite the charmer. Shen Miao patted its head approvingly and murmured, "You’ll have to work hard today, Shen Shilang."
The name was Sister Xiang’s doing. Excluding Tang Er, Fuxing, A Tao, and Youyu, and counting the Shen household’s four humans, two dogs, three chickens, and one cat, this donkey ranked eleventh. Since it was male, the name stuck.
Sister Xiang had gained another little brother.
Shen Shilang docilely let her lead and hitch him to the cart. A gentle pat on his back, and he set off.
With Shen Shilang pulling the cart, Shen Miao’s load lightened considerably. Hands free, she walked briskly beside the cart, feeling no exhaustion despite the day’s labor. Along the way, she even chatted with the donkey now and then.
Though they didn’t share a language, it hardly hindered their conversation.
As they approached the north end of Jinliang Bridge, their reflections shimmered side by side on the Bian River’s surface. A sudden realization struck Shen Miao: In this world, she was practically someone with a house (and a donkey-drawn cart)!
