Er Hu was bundled up in a thick, coarse cotton quilt, his hefty rear sticking up as he crouched by the small square window of the watchtower. The window was just the right size to frame his big, bearded face.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, piling up on the windowsill, only to be brushed off impatiently by Er Hu. He had been like this since noon, eagerly pressing his face against the window at every distant figure that vaguely resembled Madam Shen, shouting excitedly, "She's here, she's here!"
After several false alarms and a few kicks to the backside from Hu Mazi, he finally settled down.
Though the snowy weather was bitterly cold, it at least reduced the risk of fires. This year, the districts under the other instructors' watch had only seen two small blazes, both quickly extinguished before they could cause major damage—a small mercy in the grand scheme of things.
The watchtower north of the bridge, where Hu Mazi, Zhang Liubao, and Cao Xing were stationed, wasn’t particularly large. Normally, four men were left on duty, while the rest of their brothers were either patrolling the streets, guarding gates, or sent to clear snow on the imperial avenue.
On quiet days, the job wasn’t too grueling—so long as they could endure the cold and hunger, it was still far better than shoveling snow out of the ditches. At the moment, they were gathered around a game of guessing beans, passing the time while waiting for Madam Shen to deliver their meals.
Cao Xing, with a handful of beans hidden behind his back, casually dropped them into a chipped bowl and shook it vigorously on the table. He glanced sideways at Er Hu, then leaned in to tease Hu Mazi and Zhang Liubao: "Hurry up and guess! Loser washes the bowls. Ah, look at Er Hu—having him plastered against the window is a blessing. His face seals it up so tight, not a single draft gets through. The room feels downright cozy!"
Hu Mazi listened to the rattling beans and ventured, "Fifteen!"
Zhang Liubao followed with, "Nine!"
Er Hu pulled his face from the window, the frame leaving a red imprint on his skin. He scratched his backside and called out, "Ten!"
Cao Xing squinted, grinning. "Hu Mazi overshot, Liubao undershot. Guess again!"
Just as Er Hu was about to speak, his eyes caught movement in the distance. He leaped up, pressing his face back to the window and bellowing, "No more games! She’s really here this time—I see her! Madam Shen’s driving a donkey cart!"
No one paid him any mind. Hu Mazi pondered a moment longer and guessed, "Twelve." Then he added to Cao Xing and Zhang Liubao, "In the last hour alone, he’s shouted ‘Madam Shen’s here’ six times. Bound to be wrong again."
Zhang Liubao didn’t even budge. "Fourteen."
Er Hu grew frantic. "She’s really here!" He grabbed Zhang Liubao and yanked him toward the window. "Look for yourself! Isn’t that her? Hurry down—aren’t you the so-called ‘captain’ or whatever?"
Zhang Liubao rubbed his eyes and peered out.
It really was her!
"He’s not lying this time—it’s Madam Shen!" He hastily threw off his quilt and rushed downstairs to fetch the food.
The lower level of the watchtower served as a storage space for firewood, dry rations, clothing, fire hooks, and buckets.
Zhang Liubao deftly dug out their usual bowls and chopsticks from the clutter and stacked them together.
Just then, Shen Miao arrived.
The donkey cart was covered with thick quilts, beneath which a small stove kept the food warm. When the covers were lifted, a wave of fragrant steam wafted out, making Zhang Liubao’s mouth water before he could stop himself.
Six large dishes were neatly arranged, along with two additional basins—one filled with steamed buns, the other with mixed-grain rice.
Following yesterday’s order list, Zhang Liubao handed over the bowls and called out the dishes. Shen Miao, wielding a large ladle, suddenly felt like a cafeteria worker.
She packed each bowl to the brim with rice, pressing it down firmly before topping it with generous scoops of each dish—no skimping here. But as she worked, she noticed a problem: the bowls varied in size. Some were piled high, while others were only half-full.
The mingling of sauces and rice also affected the taste. Over time, this might lead to grumbling about unfair portions.
Shen Miao tucked this observation away, pondering whether to provide uniform tableware next time. Even the cheapest bamboo bowls would add to the cost, though.
If she ran into Instructor Lin later, she’d have to discuss it with him and find a solution.
Once the meals were served, Shen Miao collected the order slips and left behind the next day’s menu before setting off for the next watchtower.
Her route took her from one end to the other, then back again, allowing her to gather all the soldiers’ orders in one go. This way, she could track their preferences—which dishes to prepare more of, which to scale back on—minimizing waste.
She bid Zhang Liubao farewell with a slight bow, patted the donkey, then picked up her umbrella and drove the cart onward.
As Zhang Liubao saw her off, he noticed how unique her donkey cart was. Not only did it have a canopy bearing the "Shen’s Kitchen" emblem, but the donkey itself wore a carefully woven rain hat and a straw cape to shield it from the snow.
Around its neck hung a bell, beneath which dangled a small wooden plaque inscribed with "Beloved Donkey Shen Shilang." Below it, in smaller characters (which he didn’t scrutinize), was likely the address of Shen’s Kitchen.
Zhang Liubao gaped. What kind of donkey was named Shen Shilang?
As the jingling of the bell faded into the distance, Zhang Liubao turned back inside, only to find that no one had come down to collect their food. Annoyed, he yelled up the stairs, "The food’s here! You lot expect me to serve it to you like some nursemaid? Get your lazy backsides down here and fetch it yourselves!"
"Coming, coming!" Er Hu was the first to scramble down, grabbing his own bowl and buns before snatching Hu Mazi’s portion too. Cao Xing cursed, "Why not take mine as well?" Luckily, Zhang Liubao handed him his meal halfway up the stairs.
Finally, the four gathered around the brazier and dug in.
"This braised pork is incredible!"
Er Hu’s first bite was the fragrant, savory steamed pork belly with preserved vegetables.
He stuffed an entire glistening, red-hued slice into his mouth. The fatty layer, still attached to the skin, was melt-in-your-mouth tender, with no trace of greasiness. The lean meat, soaked in the rich, salty-sweet sauce and the umami of the preserved vegetables, grew more flavorful with every chew.
Even the preserved vegetables alone were delicious—unlike pickled cabbage, these had a unique aroma and, after stewing with the pork, had turned velvety and rich, salty with a lingering sweetness. Pouring the sauce over the rice, Er Hu felt he could easily devour three bowls with just this one dish.
"I can’t describe how good these preserved veggies are—just ‘good’ doesn’t cut it. They’re amazing," Er Hu mumbled between mouthfuls.
After a few more bites of meat, he grabbed a chopstickful of vinegar-braised cabbage. After tasting it, he let out an excited noise, pointing at the dish with his chopsticks before swallowing. "The cabbage’s fantastic too!"
"Let me try." Hu Mazi shamelessly snatched a bite from Er Hu’s bowl and nodded in approval.
Indeed, it was crisp, tangy, and refreshing—perfect for whetting the appetite.
Bok choy is a common winter vegetable, and Huma Zi thought he had grown tired of it long ago. Yet the moment this unique sour flavor touched his tongue, the taste was entirely different. The stems crunched crisply between his teeth, while the leaves, soaked in tanginess, were silky and tender. The vinegar, soy sauce, and savory notes clung to the leaves, making each bite refreshingly satisfying.
Then there was the stir-fried winter melon—deceptively plain at first glance but cooked to perfection. The top retained a crisp bite, while the flesh near the core turned soft, sticky, and subtly sweet.
After indulging in rich dishes like braised pork with preserved vegetables, the winter melon offered a clean, lingering aftertaste.
Everything was to his liking! Er Hu ate with such enthusiasm that he even scraped up every last drop of sauce from the bowl.
Huma Zi, too, slumped lazily after finishing his meal, clutching his empty bowl as he savored the memory of the flavors.
That Kung Pao chicken was unbelievably good! No wonder even General Yue Teng loved it! The chicken was tender yet springy, first delivering a mild heat before revealing a subtle sweetness—not too spicy, not too sugary—just enough to highlight the meat’s natural succulence.
There was also a hint of sourness, surely from vinegar, but it didn’t clash at all. Instead, the tang coated the crispy peanuts, making them even more addictive. The carrots and cucumbers, stir-fried to a perfect crunch, had him reaching for bite after bite.
The stir-fried turnip with minced garlic was another delight. Each cube of turnip clung to the pungent garlic, retaining just enough firmness to outshine the usual stewed version. The sharp garlic perfectly balanced the turnip’s mildness.
No matter what he ate, it was delicious. Simple dishes, yet they left him utterly content.
This was Madam Shen’s talent.
She could take the most ordinary ingredients and elevate them far beyond what other eateries offered. No rare delicacies, no exotic spices—just homely cooking, yet the flavors were unmistakably, inexplicably better.
Zhang Liubao wiped his mouth and let out a loud belch, muttering, "Instant noodles are fine, but eating them every day gets old. Today’s hot meal really hit the spot. I feel warmed right down to my fingers and toes."
Cao Xing, meanwhile, ate in focused silence, not even pausing to speak. After finishing, he meticulously picked up every grain of rice that had fallen onto his lap and popped them into his mouth. Only then did he exhale in satisfaction. "I never liked pouring sauce over rice, but Madam Shen’s cooking is so good, I didn’t mind it at all. Even though I’m full, my mouth still craves more—like I could keep eating forever."
Zhang Liubao suddenly remembered the next day’s menu and pulled out the food list. "Madam Shen gave us tomorrow’s options. Let me read them out… Huh, seems different from today’s? First up is Jiangnan-style Three-Cup Chicken Rice, served with steamed egg and pickled cabbage. Wow, does Madam Shen know how to cook southern dishes too? Must’ve learned from traveling merchants. Last time I even saw someone selling tea from Hongzhou. She’s incredible."
"Next is braised pork rice, also with egg and cabbage. Last option is stir-fried garlic stems with cured meat rice, same sides. But there’s also a soup—pickle broth. Which one do you want? I’m going for the Jiangnan chicken. Never tried it before."
"I’ll have the chicken too."
"Braised pork for me—it’s my favorite!"
"Then I’ll take the garlic stems. We can share bites anyway."
The four of them huddled around the menu, their bellies warm and full, yet still debating eagerly. Guard duty no longer felt tedious—not when they had such delicious meals to look forward to.
After delivering the food, Shen Miao ran into Instructor Lin on patrol. She had already devised a solution for the meal containers and, after getting his approval, headed straight to the pottery kiln to order dozens of square plates.
The plates had slightly raised edges and a shallow center, resembling modern stainless-steel trays. She even had the potter add three compartments to keep the dishes and rice separate, preventing flavors from mixing.
From now on, customers could pay a deposit for these plates when ordering. If they canceled their subscription, the deposit would be refunded—no extra packaging fees to complain about.
Shen Miao was already planning to expand her fast-food venture. Eventually, she’d rent a separate shop for it, distinct from her noodle stall. The ideal location would be equidistant from most watchtowers and the Kaifeng government offices. The space wouldn’t need to be large—just enough for bulk orders—so rent shouldn’t be too steep.
Still, she’d include a few tables for walk-in customers, though takeout and group orders would remain the focus.
In a few days, she’d visit Lawyer Deng. With a bit of silver and his connections in the government offices, she hoped he could introduce her to the clerks and help negotiate group meal contracts.
If all went well, after the Lantern Festival, she might expand from supplying the garrison troops to serving the Kaifeng government offices.
That meant hiring more workers. But since she’d need hands for the duck farm come spring anyway, she could tackle both at once.
The fast-food shop would serve homely stir-fries—nothing extraordinary in Song Dynasty cuisine, where such dishes were already common. No need for indentured servants; regular hired help would do.
She’d enlist the help of a local broker to find experienced cooks for the duck farm and the kitchen, plus two delivery boys and an accountant. With these three, her small-scale operation could run smoothly.
Shen Miao didn’t plan to cook at the fast-food shop herself. Instead, she’d oversee the menu and taste-test new dishes before they debuted. The goal wasn’t gourmet perfection but convenience, speed, and affordability—good enough to meet her standards.
She tallied her recent earnings, including profits from banquets, and figured she had enough to cover the startup costs.
Money buried in a cellar wouldn’t grow on its own.
In her past life, whenever she hesitated, her grandfather would say: To learn business, first learn to spend. Only by expanding can wealth multiply.
Of course, one shouldn’t take too big a step either, lest they end up hurting themselves.
Shen Miao felt that she had been quite cautious in her journey so far. The business opportunities she had chosen were all carefully considered. Where there was demand, there would be supply. With the foresight of someone from the future, she had noticed these demands and intended to ride the wave, cultivating customers' dining habits ahead of others.
People are creatures of habit. Once they grow accustomed to a certain restaurant’s flavors, dishes, operational model, or opening hours, they’d instinctively return.
Her group meal model was particularly suited for the overworked laborers of ancient times—craftsmen, artisans, and students confined to academies or private schools with no choice but to eat cafeteria food.
The former had tight schedules and no time to venture out for meals, while the latter, lacking alternatives, would order a few times just to vary their palate.
From the very beginning, Shen Miao had positioned her market precisely—and narrowly. Her fast-food shop wasn’t meant for ordinary diners but specifically for those too busy to spare time.
The Xiang Army was one such group. Though not overly busy, they couldn’t leave their posts and had no canteen. Most were unmarried bachelors, making the demand for group meals enormous.
Then there was the Kaifeng government office. Shen Miao had visited several times while inquiring about Chen Chuan’s abduction case. She observed that the officials were truly swamped, barely able to catch their breath.
Especially the clerks—they were the lowest-ranking and hardest-working. Without official rank and meager salaries, their only way to live decently was through "gifts" from people like Lawyer Deng, which formed their gray income.
But even this iron rice bowl wasn’t easy to hold. Their superiors also expected gifts and entertainment, creating a hierarchy of pressure—one level squeezing the next.
This was all revealed to her by Lawyer Deng during casual conversation.
From her observations, most clerks in the office appeared well-off on the surface, but only a minority brought their own meals or had servants deliver food. Many weren’t that wealthy—some supported families of over a dozen, others had working spouses who took odd jobs to make ends meet, and some even carried the burden of mortgages.
Shen Miao’s fast-food concept was affordable, tasty, and just right. Now was the perfect opportunity—starting with the Xiang Army as a trial, then exploring potential collaboration with the Kaifeng government office.
If successful, she might later approach the Imperial Academy and other offices to discuss business partnerships.
The small dining setup at Piyong Academy, where Ji Ge studied, could also adopt this group meal model. With a dedicated fast-food shop, handling large orders wouldn’t be an issue. Even if the distance was far, meals could be delivered by cart.
With this in mind, Shen Miao figured she might need to buy two donkeys and two food carts. The carts would need to be designed with enclosed compartments to hold large food containers, insulated to keep the meals warm.
This kind of group meal service for office buildings was something she had done in her past life. Back then, it was easy—large foam delivery boxes placed in wheeled canvas carts, transported by truck to the basement, ready to roll. Modern insulation methods were abundant, so there was no worry about food getting cold.
But in the Song Dynasty… Shen Miao decided to consult Old Man Yang, sketch a design, and have him craft a prototype donkey-drawn food cart.
As she led her donkey, Shen Shiyilang, back home, Shen Miao slowly pieced everything together. In truth, this was the same path she had taken to build her fortune in her past life. Now, it was as if she were retracing her own footsteps a thousand years later.
One, two, three, four… Counting them out, she realized there was much to do. Yet, Shen Miao felt invigorated. She loved this feeling—every effort she had ever made was now converging toward her future self. Step by step, she moved forward, making progress day by day.
Every day was a new version of herself. How wonderful.
She worked for herself, so she never found it exhausting, nor did she complain. Every coin she earned was hers alone—what was there to complain about?
Humming a tune—"Hustle is just one word, I’ll only say it once"—she had just reached the entrance of Willow East Alley when she spotted Generals Yue Teng and Xi Feijing again.
This time, they were leading large horses, dressed in cold-weather riding attire—fur cloaks draped over their shoulders and woolen hats, clearly prepared for a long journey.
Hearing the jingle of bells, Yue Teng turned and, upon seeing Shen Miao, gave a slight bow with a smile. "We came for one last taste of Madam Shen’s cooking before setting off."
Xi Feijing, having tied his pitch-black horse (not a single white hair on it) outside the noodle shop, also turned and said amiably, "Madam Shen, forgive us for disturbing you again so soon after the New Year."
Shen Miao glanced at Xi Feijing’s horse and thought, That’s basically a Ferrari. While mentally rebranding the steed, she parked her donkey cart and asked what they’d like to eat.
Yue Teng answered without hesitation, "I’d like tofu again."
Xi Feijing added, "I’ll have lamb."
Shen Miao grinned. "Then I’ll prepare Dongpo tofu—fried golden, stir-fried, then stewed in a small clay pot with torreya nuts. Very fragrant—General Yue, I think you’ll like it. General Xi, how about ‘Bo Xia Gong’ lamb? Perfect for snowy weather like this. A clear broth with just a bit of scallion and radish, kept warm on a stove, with thinly sliced fresh lamb leg dipped in sesame sauce. Delicious."
Mouths watering, both men agreed.
Shen Miao led the two generals inside and invited them to wait while she headed to the kitchen to prepare. Kneeling by the meat basket, she searched for a tender lamb leg to slice.
In the shop, Yue Teng sat patiently, while Xi Feijing noticed his hand had gotten dirty while tying his horse—a black smudge. Fastidious, he tried wiping it with a handkerchief but couldn’t get it clean. Approaching the counter, he asked, "Madam Shen, may I borrow some water to wash my hands?"
Shen Miao, already busy heating water and slicing lamb, looked up. "General Xi, please feel free to step into the backyard."
She then called out to Tao, who was organizing silk threads in the yard. "Tao, could you prepare a basin of warm water for our guest to wash his hands?"
Tao quickly set down her basket. "Coming!"
Xi Feijing murmured, "My apologies for the intrusion," and lifted the curtain to enter Shen Miao’s backyard.
He glanced around curiously.
The small courtyard was neatly kept. The snow hadn’t been fully cleared—perhaps intentionally left for play—as a row of snowmen, big and small, lined the vegetable patch.
His gaze swept over the walls, where hats, brooms, and dustpans hung in an unusually orderly fashion. Madam Shen’s organizational habits seemed different from most, yet the tidy rows of hooks and nails were oddly satisfying to look at.
In the corner stood a makeshift donkey shed. The donkey that had pulled the cart earlier now leisurely chewed on wheat straw, a name tag hanging around its neck.
Turning back, he noticed a frozen pond nearby, its edges still dusted with snow. A wooden sign stood beside it, reading: "Frogs are hibernating. See you in spring."
He couldn’t help but smile to himself.
In the courtyard, two dogs were making mischief—one curled up on the veranda by the heated floor, cradling a plump cat in its front paws while diligently grooming it, while the other chased after chickens relentlessly.
A bit odd. Xi Feijing frowned at the smaller dog, puzzled as to why it was so fixated on biting the chickens’ rear ends. What was so appealing about a chicken’s behind?
Just as he found the dog’s behavior strange, the sound of children’s voices reached his ears from behind. Turning his head, he spotted a little girl in a red padded jacket and a boy of similar age hiding behind a nearby pillar, whispering conspiratorially.
The two wore serious expressions, deep in discussion.
Xi Feijing, ever the mischief-maker himself, leaned against the pillar and stretched his ears shamelessly, eager to eavesdrop on their childish scheming.
The plump little girl lowered her voice and said, “Chen Chuan, Liu Douhua and Gou Er have the numbers on their side, and our useless older brother has already ‘fallen in battle.’ If we want to win, you’ll have to listen to me. Later, I’ll go out and lure them in. You stay hidden here, and when they walk past, wait until they’ve taken a few steps before pulling the rope to trip them. Then I’ll charge in and finish them off. Got it?”
The little boy nodded. “Got it.”
Xi Feijing immediately understood—these two were playing a game of “commanding troops in battle.” The realization piqued his interest.
With that, the little girl tiptoed to a more conspicuous hiding spot—behind the chicken coop, her back to the courtyard gate, deliberately letting half her head peek out.
Before long, two sneaky figures appeared at the back gate, undoubtedly the aforementioned Liu Douhua and Gou Er. The two boys cautiously peeked inside, spotted the little girl’s hiding place, and exchanged triumphant glances, thinking they had the upper hand. Eagerly, they rushed forward to capture her.
But they didn’t notice the rope buried in the snow by Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan. At the perfect moment, Chen Chuan yanked the rope hard, sending Liu Douhua and Gou Er tumbling face-first into the snow with a loud thud.
Seizing the opportunity, Sister Xiang dashed out and, before they could recover, pinned them down with her chubby little body, shouting to Chen Chuan, “Chen Chuan, come help!”
Trapped beneath her, Liu Douhua and Gou Er flailed helplessly, unable to break free from her iron grip.
Then, Sister Xiang pretended to slash at Gou Er with an invisible blade and declared, “Gou Er has ‘fallen in battle’!” But instead of doing the same to Liu Douhua, she “captured” him, whispering a few instructions.
Reluctantly, Liu Douhua played along, standing by the gate and shouting, “Zeng Biti! We’ve caught Sister Xiang! Come help!”
The last remaining boy—Zeng Biti, with a perpetual trail of snot under his nose—took the bait and rushed over eagerly.
Xi Feijing watched as the little girl, against all odds, outmaneuvered her opponents and claimed victory.
So this was the Sister Xiang that Ninth Brother often spoke of—likely Madam Shen’s younger sister.
Xi Feijing’s heart swelled with admiration. At such a young age, with no formal training, she’s already applying military tactics in play…
The defeated children hung their heads and reluctantly handed over their pockets of candy as tribute. Sister Xiang, overjoyed, clutched two handfuls of sweets and skipped back, generously sharing them with Chen Chuan.
Xi Feijing, having just washed his hands with water from Tao, crouched down and asked Sister Xiang warmly, “Little one, are you Madam Shen’s sister?”
Mouth full of candy, Sister Xiang turned her head and answered brightly, “Yes!”
Xi Feijing smiled. “Who were you pretending to be just now?”
Sister Xiang lifted her chin proudly. “Hua Mulan! I’m a woman general.” She pointed at Chen Chuan beside her. “Chen Chuan is my personal guard.”
Chen Chuan, cheeks bulging with candy, nodded in agreement—he didn’t care what role he played, as long as he was on Sister Xiang’s team. Liu Douhua’s side was always losing, after all.
He hated losing.
Xi Feijing chuckled. “And what’s your name?”
Sister Xiang’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “My sister said I shouldn’t tell strangers my name or take anything from them. Why are you in our house? What are you doing here?”
Branded a suspicious character, Xi Feijing burst into laughter. He pointed at her hands. “Then may I see your palms? They look quite broad, and your feet aren’t short either.”
Despite her chubby, bundled-up appearance, she ran remarkably fast—definitely promising material.
But Sister Xiang only grew more wary. “No! My sister said a young lady’s hands shouldn’t be shown to just anyone, especially boys! How rude of you to ask in someone else’s home!”
Xi Feijing laughed so hard he nearly choked. “Alright, alright.” Once he caught his breath, he asked, “When Ninth Brother returns, would you like to learn the Xi family’s staff techniques from him? After the New Year, he can teach you. How does that sound?”
Sister Xiang blinked in confusion, momentarily forgetting her indignation. “You know Ninth Brother? How do you know him?”
Xi Feijing nodded. “Of course. Half of his staff skills were learned from me.”
Still puzzled, Sister Xiang asked, “But why do you want me to learn?”
Xi Feijing countered, “Don’t you want to be a woman general?”
Tilting her head, she asked, “If I learn, can I become one?”
Xi Feijing grinned. “Not immediately, but it’ll help you defend yourself and stay strong. When you’re older, if you still want to be a general, have Ninth Brother send word to Youzhou, and I’ll arrange for someone to fetch you.”
Since he knew Ninth Brother, he probably wasn’t a bad person.
Sister Xiang considered this seriously before replying, “Alright. But I don’t know if I can learn. My brother says I can’t even climb a tree—I might not have any talent.”
“Your brother’s judgment is off. I think you’re quite talented—brave and sharp-minded.” Xi Feijing studied her clever, spirited expression, reminded of his own daughters when they were young.
He chuckled softly. “Give it a try. Our families will be one sooner or later anyway. It won’t hurt to learn.”
Just then, Shen Miao emerged from the kitchen carrying a pot and called out to him, “General Xi, why are you chatting with the children? The hotpot is ready.”
Xi Feijing brushed the snow off his knees and stood up, his gaze soft as he said to Sister Xiang, "Then I’ll be on my way, little general. Perhaps… we’ll meet again someday."
Sister Xiang hugged her candies and nodded, then suddenly looked up and asked, "Where is Youzhou? What if I decide to become a female general, but you forget about me? How will I find you then? Should I ask Ninth Brother?"
Xi Feijing thought for a moment, then simply pulled out a small jade-carved dagger from his sleeve and handed it to her. "This isn’t worth much, but you can keep it. Since you’re still young, give it to your elder sister for safekeeping—don’t lose it. No need to take it out often. If you still want to be a general someday, then bring it out. Consider it my token to you."
The jade dagger was no longer than half a palm, with the characters "Xi Feijing" engraved on the hilt. Sister Xiang held it carefully, studying it for a long while, though she only recognized one of the three characters—"Fei." A little embarrassed, she scratched her head.
"Then it’s settled. Train hard, and grow up well."
With a gentle smile, Xi Feijing flicked his sleeves and strolled back to the front to enjoy his mutton hotpot.
