Before long, the tenth day of the first lunar month had passed.
As dawn broke, the wooden shutters of Kang’s Noodle Shop were taken down, and a gust of cold wind rushed in. Shopkeeper Kang instinctively tightened his cotton-padded robe around himself. Leaning against the doorframe, he gazed wistfully at the already bustling streets.
With the Lantern Festival approaching, lanterns were being hung across the markets of Bianjing. Along the Imperial Street, bamboo and timber were being transported, and craftsmen worked tirelessly day and night to erect a towering lantern mountain—sixteen zhang high and three hundred sixty-five paces wide. Once completed, it would be adorned with colorful silk and thousands of lanterns, a dazzling spectacle of gold and jade.
Yet Shopkeeper Kang felt little enthusiasm for the festivities this year.
He fetched a dustpan and broom from the back and began sweeping the snow off the front steps. Peddlers laden with lanterns passed by, their shoulder poles creaking under the weight. Mischievous children, already out and about, tossed firecrackers onto the ground, where they popped with sharp cracks.
With every sweep of his broom, Shopkeeper Kang heard the sizzle and bang of fireworks. Groups of children, laughing like frolicking lambs, dashed past him.
After finishing his task, he straightened up and returned to the quiet, empty shop. Standing for a moment, he wiped down the counter and tables. Since the Lantern Festival hadn’t yet passed, most of his staff and cooks were unwilling to return to work, leaving him to handle these chores alone.
Just then, Chef Wang, yawning and draped in a tie-dyed shoulder bag, turned the corner. Seeing the shop open, he quickened his pace. Upon entering, he found Shopkeeper Kang toiling away by himself.
Even the burly man’s silk-clad figure seemed lonely.
Chef Wang hurried over and took the rag from Shopkeeper Kang’s hands. Glancing at his gloomy expression, he couldn’t help but ask, “Boss, why’d you call me back so early this year? The Lantern Festival hasn’t even arrived yet.”
In previous years, work only resumed after the festival—sometimes even days later. Chef Wang, being the closest of Kang’s five cooks, lived right in the inner city. When Shopkeeper Kang had come to fetch him, he’d agreed, figuring he had nothing pressing at home and could earn some extra silver.
But he was genuinely puzzled. While starting early meant more pay for him, who would come to eat during this time of visiting relatives and friends?
Shopkeeper Kang sighed. “You think I want this?”
He didn’t.
Chef Wang was baffled. “Boss, what’s that supposed to mean? If you don’t want to open for business yet, just take a few more days off. It’s your shop—you decide when to work. It’s not like someone’s holding a knife to your throat, forcing you to open, right?”
Shopkeeper Kang rolled his eyes and pointed to his ears. “Who says no one is? Listen.”
Chef Wang fell silent and strained his ears.
The streets had grown livelier as the day brightened and the snow stopped. The sounds of storytellers and singers drifted from the entertainment quarters. Chef Wang heard nothing unusual. “What?”
“Listen carefully. Do you hear bells?” Shopkeeper Kang walked to the doorway.
Chef Wang followed and listened again.
This time, he caught it—a faint, rhythmic jingling. Before he could ask what the bells meant, Shopkeeper Kang weakly gestured outside. “There. See for yourself.”
Following the crisp chime, a strangely decorated donkey cart pulled up, driven by an ordinary-looking man in servant’s attire.
The donkey itself was unremarkable—a chestnut-colored beast—but its owner clearly had eccentric tastes. The animal wore a specially made brown cloth cap embroidered with peony patterns in golden thread, with the characters “Eleventh” stitched in a corner.
Around its neck was a matching triangular scarf, beneath which hung a large name-tagged bell—the source of the jingling.
The whole ensemble made the donkey look like a dignified gentleman—or rather, a donkey masquerading as a man.
What a waste of effort. Chef Wang’s eye twitched.
But that wasn’t all. The cart itself resembled a large wooden box—a two-wheeled flatbed enclosed on all sides with tightly fitted panels and a lid that could be lifted by handles.
At the back were slots for a parasol and a banner. The parasol was painted with blue-and-white porcelain bowls piled high with colorful dishes, while the fluttering banner bore the words “Shen’s Quick Eats” in bold characters.
The cart’s sides were carved with the slogan “Delicious and Affordable, Only at Shen’s Quick Eats,” painted in bright red lacquer. Between the jingling bell, the peculiar donkey, the eye-catching banners, and the unique cart, it was impossible to look away. Chef Wang stood rooted, staring until the cart passed by.
Only then did he snap out of it and turn to Shopkeeper Kang’s ashen face. “Is that… Shen’s Noodle Shop’s cart?”
Shopkeeper Kang nodded silently.
Chef Wang, who knew a few characters, frowned. “What’s this ‘Quick Eats’ thing?”
Shopkeeper Kang exhaled heavily. “It’s a long story…” With a world-weary expression, he motioned for Chef Wang to follow him inside. “Come, I’ll explain.”
Once seated on wooden benches, Shopkeeper Kang dropped a bombshell: “Ever since the first day of the New Year, Shen Miao hasn’t taken a single day off. She’s been busy with this new ‘Quick Eats’ group meal business.”
No break at all? Chef Wang was stunned.
New Year’s—the biggest holiday—and she didn’t close shop?
“Honestly, the group meals are just simple stir-fries, nothing special. At first, she only supplied the local garrison, offering cheaper meals than other eateries. She handled both cooking and delivery near the North Bridge watchtower, even taking over errand work from idlers. Before long, word spread, and even the drill instructor from the state bridge came looking for her. Now she’s juggling both locations. And just a few days ago, as soon as the brokers reopened after the holiday, she went straight to Yao Luoge to rent a new shop.”
Chef Wang finally understood. The business sounded promising—many people found hiring messengers for food delivery both troublesome and expensive. But this Shen Miao… He couldn’t help but admire her. Ever since the grilled fish incident last summer, she’d been relentless.
Back then, Shopkeeper Kang had tried to undermine her, only to end up worse off himself.
Later, Kang Ji also wanted to imitate Shen Ji's innovative strategies, but in the end, their efforts ended in dismal failure, becoming nothing more than a laughable attempt at copying. Nowadays, Kang Ji also offers VIP cards, but very few customers apply for them, and even fewer bother to store dishes in advance. The root of the problem lies in the fact that Kang Ji lacks both the irreplaceable culinary skills of Madam Shen and a signature dish that could captivate customers and become an instant hit. As a result, their promotional efforts could never achieve the same success as Shen Ji.
Even in winter, when grilled fish was no longer available, Madam Shen introduced roasted duck, which continued to sell like hotcakes. Nowadays, it seemed more people were storing ducks in advance than fish, especially since the duck supply was limited daily. If customers couldn’t get their hands on it that day, they’d pay to reserve it for the next—because Madam Shen had a knack for sweet-talking her patrons, often saying, "You’re a distinguished platinum member of Shen Ji, so of course you get priority."
This made the card-carrying duck enthusiasts feel a notch above everyone else, strutting around with their chests puffed out and heads held high.
Rumors had it that she had even purchased ten acres of pond land in the suburbs to raise her own ducks.
While the duck farm was still under construction, she was already busy opening a new branch, this time focusing on fast food. Chef Wang shook his head in disbelief—how on earth did her mind work? It was as if she operated on a completely different wavelength from ordinary people, churning out one fresh idea after another, and somehow making every single one of them a success.
But upon further reflection, Chef Wang wasn’t entirely surprised by Madam Shen’s foray into fast food. Perhaps she had already envisioned this when she first introduced instant noodle soup, testing whether the capital had an appetite for such convenient fare. She must have realized there was a market for it, saved up the capital, and immediately put her plans into action. Now that the fast-food shop was up and running, it seemed like just another step in a long-term strategy.
Once he figured it out, Chef Wang and Shopkeeper Kang both sighed in unison.
After a moment of silence, Shopkeeper Kang spoke with a tinge of regret, "I have a relative who works as a clerk in the yamen—my niece’s husband’s cousin. He came to the shop for a meal recently and mentioned that Madam Shen’s fast food is even being delivered to the yamen now. They say Prefect Wang often buys Shen Ji’s roasted duck to share with everyone there. There are even rumors that her duck was served at this year’s imperial New Year’s Eve banquet. With Madam Shen now in the good graces of the imperial family and the nobility, it’s impossible for small fry like us to compete. From now on, business at Kang Ji will only get harder. This shop is leased, after all—if things keep going this way, I might have to shut down and return to my hometown."
Chef Wang was shocked. "How did it come to this? Weren’t we still doing decent business before the New Year?" Though, admittedly, it was nothing compared to before Shen Ji opened.
But Shopkeeper Kang wasn’t optimistic. "Shen Ji isn’t like Fan Lou—Fan Lou is beyond reach, a place for the wealthy and powerful. Shen Ji operates in the same market as us, catering to ordinary folks just like we do. And both our shops specialize in noodle dishes. Since we can’t compete, it’s only natural that we’ll decline. You don’t handle the books, so you don’t know—I went over the accounts for the past six months, and after deducting rent, wages, and ingredient costs, there’s barely anything left. That’s why I’m saying this. Since you happened to come early today at my invitation, I thought I’d speak my mind. With fewer and fewer customers, I won’t need as many chefs or staff. After the Lantern Festival, I’ll likely have to let two cooks and a few workers go."
Chef Wang felt a pang of sorrow. Though Shopkeeper Kang had said this to his face, implying he wouldn’t be dismissed, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. If Kang Ji continued to decline, he might have to find a new employer sooner or later.
His heart grew heavy at the thought.
"There’s nothing we can do—if we can’t compete, we can’t compete. If Madam Shen weren’t our rival, I’d genuinely admire her. A woman, and a divorced one at that, achieving so much is no small feat. On top of that, she’s incredibly skilled and never rests on her laurels, working harder than anyone I know. What can I do?"
They couldn’t match her culinary skills, and they certainly couldn’t outwork her.
He had to admit defeat.
With a resigned shake of his head, Shopkeeper Kang patted Chef Wang’s shoulder. "Enough of this. Go to the kitchen and prep some dishes. Let’s just hope some customers show up today."
But Chef Wang didn’t move. After a moment’s hesitation, he tugged at Shopkeeper Kang’s sleeve. "Wait, Shopkeeper."
Shopkeeper Kang turned back. "What is it?"
"Have you ever considered following Shen Ji’s lead and venturing into fast food?" Chef Wang cut straight to the point. "Business is slow, but we have chefs and staff. Why not try fast food too? You know people in the workshops, don’t you? If Madam Shen has already secured contracts with the army and the yamen, we won’t compete with her there. No matter how well her fast-food shop does, she can’t possibly cover the entire capital. If she handles this district, we can focus on others. That way, we won’t have to shut down."
Shopkeeper Kang was taken aback. "Would that really work? What if Madam Shen comes after us?"
Chef Wang didn’t see an issue. "It’s not like we’re stealing secret recipes or family heirlooms. Sure, copying her makes us look unoriginal, but sooner or later, other shops will follow her lead. If not us, someone else will. Why starve just to preserve our pride? While Madam Shen is still getting started, we should seize the opportunity. Once her new branches open and she hires more staff, it’ll be too late for us to get a piece of the pie."
Shopkeeper Kang pondered this and found it reasonable. Gripping Chef Wang’s hand excitedly, he said, "You’re a clever one! Thank goodness for you. I’ll go ask around at the silk workshop today."
With that, Shopkeeper Kang hurried back inside to grab his hat and change into presentable clothes before rushing off.
Chef Wang watched him leave and let out a sigh of relief. He hoped Shopkeeper Kang’s last-ditch effort would pay off. He had been at Kang Ji for so long that he’d grown accustomed to it—he didn’t want to find a new employer.
Shen Miao had no idea that copycats were already emerging. At the moment, she was with Yao Luoge, scouting locations for a new shop.
This time, they chose a street between Imperial Avenue and Golden Beam Bridge—convenient for deliveries north to the Kaifeng Prefecture yamen and south to the army watchtowers.
But she had anticipated the imitation from the very beginning.
Fast food couldn’t be monopolized; it was bound to become an industry, especially in a commercially thriving dynasty like theirs. So she wasn’t worried. After all, excelling in bulk catering wasn’t as easy as it seemed.
At first glance, bulk catering might appear simple—just cooking and delivering meals. But the real challenge lay in meticulous, thoughtful service. The true value wasn’t just in how delicious the food was (though taste still mattered), but in the overall "customer experience."
Because bulk catering served a niche market—a precisely targeted demographic.
Good food could win their stomachs, but attention to detail could win their hearts.
Outsiders might assume her success came effortlessly—just hire someone, cook some dishes, and deliver them. But in reality, she had carefully planned every step, ensuring no detail was overlooked.
Moreover, even she was just starting out, feeling her way across the river, unsure of what the future held. In her past life, she had stumbled into pitfalls and learned from experience. If group meals weren’t done well, the losses could be severe, potentially dragging her into a deep financial hole.
This was why Shen Miao, the moment she noticed the issue with the tableware, immediately sought to make changes.
The presentation of the meal boxes was crucial for fast food as well. After gaining a reputation among the Xiang Army troops, she promptly teamed up with Lawyer Deng to send gifts to several high-ranking officials in the Kaifeng government offices, securing their approval. The official, maintaining his bureaucratic air, looked down on Shen Miao with condescension, stroking his beard as he repeatedly emphasized, "This is only out of respect for Lawyer Deng. Though I’ve heard of Madam Shen’s reputation, I must still remind you—your food must be clean. If it’s sloppy or unappetizing, you won’t be allowed to supply it here anymore."
Shen Miao smiled and curtsied, assuring him there was no need to worry.
She then took the opportunity to upgrade the meal boxes to their second generation—deepening the ceramic plates, designing a compartment on the far left for spoons and chopsticks, followed by a round slot for eggs and a square one for meat. In the middle, she added a tiny square compartment for dipping sauces, pickles, or other small side dishes. The largest compartment was reserved for rice, with two equally sized slots above it for vegetable dishes.
She also requested the pottery kiln to use white clay, resulting in plates that were clean and elegant. The second-generation plates were initially trialed in government offices and entertainment districts, tailored specifically for these demographics, and they quickly became a hit.
When the official later saw the pristine white ceramic plates Shen Miao delivered—neatly compartmentalized, with balanced meat and vegetable portions, and dishes that were visually appealing and aromatic—he couldn’t find a single fault.
Though minor officials might be frugal in private, they still cared about appearances in public. Catering to their sense of superiority—"maidservants by fate but noble ladies by taste"—was key to winning their favor.
Additionally, Shen Miao now offered customized dishes, frequently asking the Xiang Army troops and minor officials what they’d like to eat. The combination of high-end, refined meal boxes and personalized menus perfectly suited the needs of ancient government offices.
Beyond the government offices, Shen Miao also set her sights on the largest entertainment district near Jinliang Bridge. Many performers—singers and storytellers—were in need of this kind of "backstage catering."
While the most popular actors had maids to attend to them, a significant number of lesser-known performers, exhausted from daily performances, would greatly appreciate having meals delivered to them.
Shen Miao multitasked, mulling over these matters while following Yao Luoge to inspect several shops, all of which she found too expensive. The shops along Imperial Street were even pricier than those near Jinliang Bridge!
It seemed that regardless of time or place, capital cities always had intimidating costs for goods and property.
"Do you have any smaller shops?" Shen Miao asked after some thought. "They don’t need to be so large."
This stumped Yao Luoge. He stood still for a moment before suddenly recalling a place that might fit Shen Miao’s requirements. Turning to her, he asked, "Would Madam Shen mind sharing a shop with someone else? One shopkeeper’s business isn’t doing well, so he wants to rent out half the space. He’s divided the shop with wooden boards, even splitting the kitchen into two sections. This way, you’d only need to pay half the rent."
Wasn’t this just like modern co-renting practices? Shen Miao thought it sounded promising. "Let’s go take a look."
The two hurried toward Imperial Street. From a distance, Yao Luoge pointed out the location. Shen Miao stood on tiptoe to get a better look—the shop was in a prime spot, remarkably close to the East Gate of the imperial palace and just a few hundred steps from the Kaifeng government offices, though it was farther from Jinliang Bridge.
Shen Miao gazed at the palace gates. This was the first time she’d been so close to the imperial grounds. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have come here. She and Yao Luoge weaved through a crowd of craftsmen transporting bamboo and timber—the center of Imperial Street was being prepared for the Ao Mountain Lantern Festival, leaving the area strewn with bamboo and ropes, making it rather chaotic.
"Here we are, Madam Shen. Come inside and take a look," Yao Luoge said, leading the way.
Curious, Shen Miao stepped in.
While she was inspecting the shop, deep within the palace, the aroma of roasted duck wafted through the Hall of Eternal Peace, the residence of the Empress Dowager.
The Empress Dowager, well-preserved and appearing no older than forty despite being in her fifties, was a stunning beauty. Even with age, traces of her youthful charm remained, particularly in her eyes, which resembled autumn waters.
Inside the hall, a faint scent of roses rose from the jade incense burner. Palace maids stood silently on either side of the doors, while layers of beaded curtains obscured the Empress Dowager’s seated figure at the far end.
Dressed in casual attire and wearing only a few pearl hairpins in her coiled dragon bun, she sat leisurely in a sandalwood armchair, watching as a maid prepared a duck wrap for her.
"Add a thin strip of hawthorn jelly," she instructed. "No scallions."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the maid replied, bowing. Using chopsticks, she placed slices of duck meat, crispy skin, cucumber, and hawthorn jelly onto a paper-thin pancake, rolled it up, and carefully folded the opening underneath. Holding it aloft, she knelt and presented the roasted duck to the Empress Dowager.
The Empress Dowager took the plate, maintaining her poised posture as she picked up the wrap with chopsticks and ate it slowly.
The roasted duck was delicious, though eating it was somewhat messy and inelegant.
Since becoming Empress Dowager, she had been meticulous about her health, adhering to a light diet and avoiding overeating. She rarely consumed meat, often meditating before meals.
Everything changed after this year’s palace banquet.
Emperor Zhao Boyun had gifted each attending minister an extra plate of roasted duck—a small serving, just enough for three wraps, with no seconds allowed.
A plate had also been placed before the Empress Dowager. Initially, she had found it too greasy and hesitated to try it. But the Emperor, seated nearby, ate with such relish that the aroma teased her senses, lingering in the air.
Glancing at the throne, she saw Zhao Boyun devouring his meal as if he could swallow his own tongue. Against her better judgment, she had the maid prepare a wrap for her to taste.
To her surprise, she ended up finishing the entire plate.
She was astonished—it had been years since she’d enjoyed meat this much.
Halfway through his meal, Zhao Boyun turned and noticed the Empress Dowager’s empty plate, equally shocked. Later, when he secretly sent Liang Qian to buy more roasted duck, he instructed him to get an extra half duck daily as an offering to the Empress Dowager.
"Mother doesn’t usually eat meat, so half should be enough. Any more would go to waste," he reasoned.
And so, today, the Empress Dowager found herself savoring the half duck sent by the Emperor.
Far from growing tired of it, she only grew fonder of the dish.
Especially after Zhao Boyun, during his morning visit, had enthusiastically explained how Madam Shen had refined the recipe, even suggesting pairing it with hawthorn jelly.
The Empress Dowager had initially thought that the combination of salty and sweet flavors would taste strange, but under Zhao Boyun's encouragement, she tried it and found it surprisingly delicious—exceptionally refreshing and rich. The duck meat and the sweet-sour taste of hawthorn didn’t clash at all; instead, they seemed like a match made in heaven, an absolute perfection.
After swallowing the last piece of roast duck, the Empress Dowager rinsed her mouth contentedly and wiped her lips with a handkerchief offered by a palace maid. Noticing her trusted eunuch hesitating nearby, she motioned for him to approach while dismissing the others.
"Speak. Have you uncovered the background of the Shen family’s business?"
Though she knew the Emperor must have already investigated Shen Miao’s roast duck shop and deemed it safe before indulging, the Empress Dowager preferred to have everything under her control. Thus, she had sent her own people to dig deeper.
Unexpectedly, while Shen Miao herself was clean, the investigation revealed old ties to her former husband.
After the eunuch quietly relayed the details about Shen Miao’s deceased parents, he retreated a few steps.
Her expression grew distant as she murmured, "So, her parents were among the small vendors implicated in the Xu Family case three years ago? What a coincidence..."
"Indeed. Back then, the ruthless official Jiang Cong, acting on the late Emperor’s secret order, executed Xu Sheng’s entire family. But he bungled the operation, leaving traces that Xie Qi relentlessly pursued. To cover up, Jiang Cong resorted to further schemes. Yet this time, the Marquis of Lejiang bungled it even worse—his men caused a public disturbance by recklessly galloping through the streets, killing innocent bystanders. The late Emperor was so furious he coughed up blood in front of the imperial physicians, and his health deteriorated further afterward," the eunuch whispered.
The Empress Dowager’s eyes flickered. She knew all this. At the time, Prince Jin had grown impatient, and the late Emperor, overwhelmed, had no choice but to hastily condemn the Xu Family while sparing the Marquis of Lejiang. Only the reckless horsemen were imprisoned, dismissed as an accident caused by spooked horses—a vague resolution to hush the matter.
The late Emperor had been forced into it. Since Prince Jin’s consort was from the Xu Family, the Xu Family naturally backed him, granting him the favor of powerful noble clans. And Prince Jin was a master of diplomacy, weaving close ties with many influential families, all eager to support him as heir.
The late Emperor had no legitimate sons, and Prince Jin, the eldest, was born to Concubine Xue, a noblewoman. But the late Emperor refused to bow to aristocratic pressure. Throughout his reign, imperial authority had been stifled by factional infighting among the nobility.
Defying all opposition, he had entrusted Zhao Boyun to the Empress Dowager’s care, fabricating a "legitimate heir" status for him. This "choosing the younger over the elder" decision sparked outrage among court officials, who repeatedly petitioned for its reversal.
From the moment he ascended the throne, the late Emperor had waged war against the nobility. On his deathbed, he resorted to bloodshed to crush their arrogance, ensuring they wouldn’t dare rebel again.
Targeting the Xu Family also weakened Prince Jin—a two-birds-one-stone strategy. They say even tigers spare their cubs, but in the imperial family, there is no such thing as father and son... The Empress Dowager shuddered at the memory of the bloodshed during Prince Jin’s rebellion.
Yet the plan worked. If only her ex-husband hadn’t been such a fool, botching the operation and leaving evidence—dragging other innocents down with him.
The late Emperor had been furious, ready to harshly punish the Xie Family as well. But Concubine Xie preempted him by taking her own life. The rest of the Xie Family, recognizing the peril, swiftly demonstrated their loyalty through retreat and submission.
Thinking of Concubine Xie, the Empress Dowager sighed inwardly. "She was so beautiful and gentle, yet resolute and sharp—the first to grasp the late Emperor’s intentions and sacrifice herself for her family. Truly admirable."
Pausing, she glanced at the empty roast duck plate and mused, "The current Emperor is much like his father." Both shared that imperial coldness.
Then her thoughts turned to the Marquis of Lejiang, her ex-husband—a persistent stain on her life, short-sighted and dim-witted, clinging to her like an inescapable blemish.
Back then, the late Emperor had deliberately kept him around, propping him up... Now, the Emperor followed suit—neither exonerating the Xu Family nor punishing the Marquis. Was this also a move to keep leverage over her?
She had raised Zhao Boyun for five years, from age eleven to sixteen, even surviving life-and-death trials together. But once a man sits on that throne, no matter how filial he appears, he ceases to be her son. She dared not truly regard him as one.
He was the Emperor.
Fingering her prayer beads with a smile, the Empress Dowager felt a chill in her heart.
Thankfully, she had never placed her trust in men.
The Emperor had grown up. Earlier this year, he secretly recalled Generals Yue and Xi—a clear signal. At the palace banquet, the two armored generals flanking him sent a shockwave through the court.
The Yue Family was a given, but the Xi Family wasn’t part of the old aristocracy either. They had risen under the late Emperor’s reign, handed over as a precious asset to the new Emperor. Once scorned by the Xu, Xue, Guo, and Jiang clans as "lowborn military upstarts," the Xi Family lacked the pedigree the nobility prized.
The Empress Dowager’s eyes darkened at the thought of the deposed Empress Guo. The Emperor treated her with filial piety, yet... while wary of the nobility, wasn’t he equally wary of maternal relatives?
Otherwise, why would the current Imperial Consort be a courtesan with no family ties?
Perhaps it was time to revisit the past.
Even if the Xu Family’s case remained closed, the wronged commoners deserved justice.
Once a wife sold off by her husband, a lowly maidservant, an insignificant concubine... she had clawed her way to this position through countless trials. The Marquis of Lejiang’s blunder could not become her downfall.
Lowering her gaze, the Empress Dowager slowly turned her prayer beads, lost in thought.
While the snow in Bianjing had cleared, a fine drizzle fell over Chenzhou.
Xie Qi and Shiyiniang stood beneath the eaves of a small roadside inn, sheltering from the rain. Shiyiniang nibbled on a sesame sugar cake, her rounder face tilted upward as she watched the rain fall in delicate strands. She chatted idly with Xie Qi while waiting for their family’s carriage.
Taking another bite, she couldn’t help but glance at the assortment of goods behind her brother: dried Chenzhou cattail stems, daylily stems from Huaiyang, pungent Chenzhou garlic... Beyond these local delicacies, there were also two crates of Chenzhou black pottery, "dark as lacquer, glossy as a mirror."
That wasn’t all. Xie Qi had even bought a crate of "clay dogs," children’s toys shaped like animals, completing the entire zodiac.
And with the Lantern Festival approaching, he had purchased two more crates of Chenzhou lanterns.
Reportedly, Zhou Da had even driven the cart to their livestock estate to fetch two Huai Mountain oxen, along with a skilled herdsman to tend to them on the journey.
Elder Brother Xie Qi also gave Zhou Da detailed instructions—they must pick one male and one female cow, so that Shen Miao could raise them near the duck farm with the help of the servants. Soon, they would produce milk and multiply, plowing the fields for Shen Miao while she and her younger siblings could enjoy fresh milk.
Why go through all this trouble? Shiyiniang remembered how her elder brother had explained it: One day, while accompanying Shen Miao to the market to buy groceries, they came across a farmer selling cow’s milk on the street. Shen Miao had glanced at it but didn’t approach, murmuring to herself that the milk was too expensive—otherwise, she could have made milk tea.
He had tucked those words into his heart. Now that the opportunity had come, he could finally bring her two cows.
Indeed, this mountain of goods piled high was all meant for Shen Miao.
Shiyiniang took another bite of her sugar cake and suddenly recalled what their second aunt often said.
Auntie always claimed that daughters were fickle—once married, their hearts belonged to their in-laws. Whether that was true or not hardly mattered, since Auntie rarely spoke sense anyway. It was best taken as a joke.
But then… why did it seem the opposite was true for Elder Brother? Xie Qi wasn’t even officially involved with Shen Miao yet, and already he was itching to haul everything he owned over to her.
Even during the New Year visit home, his mind was elsewhere. When asked to set off fireworks together, he just stared blankly at the tiny sparkler in his hand—his body might have been in Chenzhou, but his spirit had wandered off to who-knows-where. In the end, he didn’t even notice when it burned his fingers.
Shiyiniang shook her head inwardly and took another bite of her cake before turning to Xie Qi, who had once again drifted into silent reverie. "Elder Brother, are you really not spending the Lantern Festival at home?"
Xie Qi snapped back to attention and nodded. "Mother has already agreed. I’ll set out once Zhou Da returns. Later, Zhou Er will come to fetch you, so go home on your own."
Shiyiniang pouted.
If you asked her, it was the sons who were the fickle ones.
