By noon, the shop had visibly quieted down.
Apart from her—who never napped—and Ji Brother, who needed to report to the academy, the rest of the native Song dynasty folks in the household, drowsy from the charcoal warmth, had all retreated indoors for their midday rest.
At this moment, a gentle breeze stirred the shadows of sunlight, scattering patches of light across the small courtyard. The bare branches of the osmanthus tree, once frozen by snow, had sprouted new leaves, and tiny wildflowers peeked out from the cracks between the bricks. In the sunniest corner of the southeast courtyard, Shen Miao had arranged two old low tables into a makeshift bed, covering them with a reed mat. Both the cat and the dog had, as if by unspoken agreement, sprawled there to bask in the warmth.
Bathed in the abundant, melting sunlight, Qilin lay stretched out, belly-up, elongating into a long strip of cat. Even Zhuifeng, whose fur had been dulled by rolling in the dirt, now looked freshly groomed, each strand distinct and fluffy under the sun’s touch.
Shen Miao stepped inside to pack Ji Brother’s belongings for the academy. As she passed through the courtyard, she glanced at the lazily sunbathing pets. The winter had been too cold—she hadn’t bathed the dog in months. Lei Ting, being black, didn’t show the dirt much, but Zhuifeng was another story. She’d grown so accustomed to seeing the gray-furred Zhuifeng that it took her a moment to remember—wait, wasn’t this dog supposed to be cream-colored?
Back when he was just a pup, Zhuifeng had been as plump and sweet as a molten custard bun, wagging his tiny tail and trotting at people’s heels, even playfully nipping at their pant legs. He’d been utterly endearing.
Now, that adorable image was long gone, replaced by a giant, grimy mess.
Her fingers itched. She narrowed her eyes—she’d give that dog a bath later.
Zhuifeng, who had been lying on his side, snoring and drooling a small puddle, suddenly shivered for no reason and inched further into the sunlight.
Shen Miao entered Ji Brother’s room, where he had already neatly packed his bundle. She handed him three large loaves of bread wrapped in oiled paper, tucking them into the top layer of his luggage. "Did you pack enough spare clothes? And an extra pair of shoes? Oh, and did you remember the purple soap Aunt Gu gave you? As the weather warms up, the mosquitoes will get worse. Washing with that soap will help keep them from biting."
"Got it, got it all," Shen Ji replied, stuffing his odds and ends into a shoulder bag and fastening it securely. He looked up with a smile. "Don’t worry about me, elder sister. I can take care of myself."
Shen Miao chuckled as she tied the bundle tightly, testing its weight in her hands. "I’m not worried about you. You’re the least of my concerns in this family."
Shen Ji lowered his head with a bashful smile, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. "Elder sister, I’d like to buy some instant noodles and cured sausages from home. If Second Brother Tang has time later, could you ask him to deliver them to the academy for me?"
Shen Miao frowned. "Why ‘buy’? We’re family. I’ve already packed some for you."
"It’s not for me… Don’t be upset when you hear this." Shen Ji glanced at her cautiously, rubbing his nose sheepishly. "Last year, you gave me extra noodles to share with my classmates, but I didn’t give them away—I sold them. The two portable stoves you gave me? I used them to cook instant noodles for sale. Boiling them in a small pot makes them way more fragrant than just pouring hot water. Plain noodles go for eighteen coppers, and with sausage and cabbage, it’s twenty. Who’d have thought my little business would be so popular?"
Shen Miao stared at him, wide-eyed. With his thick brows and well-behaved demeanor, she’d never have guessed he’d turn into a dorm-room noodle vendor. Still, she asked, "Twenty coppers? Isn’t that a bit steep?"
Relieved she wasn’t scolding him, Shen Ji eagerly explained. "Most of my classmates come from well-off families. Twenty coppers to them is less than the cost of a decent brush. And since we can’t leave the academy easily, good food is hard to come by. Elder sister, you wouldn’t believe it—some of them may not be rich enough to bring servants, but they can’t even boil water, make their beds, or hang mosquito nets. So when I sell them a bowl of noodles for twenty coppers, they think it’s a bargain. I don’t even have to advertise. If they’re hungry, they’ll come to me. It’s just a side hustle between studies."
He hurried to clarify—he hadn’t neglected his schoolwork.
Now Shen Miao understood. No wonder Shen Ji had been able to afford so many mutton pies before the New Year, treating the whole family—humans, cats, and dogs alike. This kid had a sharp business mind.
Truly a child of the Shen family.
Suppressing a laugh, she crooked a finger and whispered, "So how much have you saved up?"
"Nothing compared to you, elder sister," Shen Ji grinned, holding up two fingers. "Two strings of cash."
Not bad at all.
"Alright then, hand over the money, and I’ll get you a batch of noodles." Shen Miao held out her palm without ceremony. Shen Ji promptly fished out a string of coins from his inner pocket and placed it in her hand.
She weighed the coins, amused. Who’d have thought boiling instant noodles in a dorm could turn a profit? Couldn’t they just boil water themselves or borrow a stove?
"Elder sister, someone as capable as you wouldn’t understand. The academy workload is heavy. By the time classes end, most of us are too exhausted to do anything. Some even eat meals on their beds, too lazy to move. They’d rather pay for ready-made food."
Shen Ji, noticing her confusion, explained with a smile.
As he spoke, he turned and rummaged under his pillow, pulling out a silver bracelet adorned with intertwining vines. He pressed it into Shen Miao’s hand, suddenly meeting her gaze. "Elder sister, I meant to give this to you as a New Year’s gift, but I only bought one. I didn’t want Sister Xiang to feel left out, so I held off. When you first returned from Jinling, all you had was that worn-out silver hairpin. Back then, I promised myself I’d save up to buy you finer jewelry. One day, my elder sister would flaunt a head full of pearls and jade like everyone else. This is the first piece. There’ll be more."
The money for this bracelet had come from copying books for classmates, selling noodles, and skimping on his own meals and expenses.
He’d saved for a long, long time.
Watching Shen Miao’s stunned expression, he smiled slowly. "Even though you’re far more capable than me, and our family isn’t struggling like before, this is my promise to you—and to myself. This is just the first. There’ll be more in the future."
Many, many more.
From the start, he’d wanted to save up for a full set of hair ornaments for her. That wish hadn’t changed.
His eyes flickered to the white jade hairpin in her bun—the one Ninth Brother had given her. But Ninth Brother was Ninth Brother, and he was himself. Even if Shen Miao married Ninth Brother someday and wanted for nothing, he’d still buy her jewelry.
Shen Miao stared at the gleaming silver bracelet in her palm, momentarily speechless.
Only when someone called for "Shen Erlang" at the courtyard gate did she snap out of her daze.
She felt an inexplicable sourness in her heart and lightly punched Ji Brother’s arm. "Why did you go and buy these for no reason? You’re still so young—no need to worry about your elder sister. Do I look like someone who’d hesitate to spend money on jewelry? I just don’t care for it, otherwise I’d have bought a whole chestful by now. And if I wore all those pearls and jade in my hair, strutting about the streets, I’d either get robbed or strain my neck from the weight!"
Shen Ji grabbed the heavy bundle and grinned. "I don’t care. I’m buying them for you anyway. I’m leaving now, Elder Sister. No need to see me off—go rest inside, it’s midday."
With that, he dashed off.
After running several steps out the door, he suddenly turned back, threw his arms around Shen Miao in a tight hug, then bolted out of the courtyard without another word. After greeting Father Meng, who was waiting with the cart, he climbed onto the mule-drawn carriage parked at the gate.
"Where’s your homework? Let me take a look—I still can’t solve one of the problems," said Meng Honghe, already seated in the carriage. His round, heavy crystal glasses slid down his nose as he pleaded, but when he caught sight of Shen Miao—Ji Brother’s gentle and lovely elder sister—seeing them off, he quickly straightened up, adjusted his glasses, and gave a polite salute from the carriage. "Goodbye, Elder Sister Shen. We’re off now."
Father Meng nodded at her as well.
Clutching the bracelet, Shen Miao only managed to say, "Take care on the road."
As the carriage rolled away, sunlight cascaded down the cramped, low eaves. Ji Brother squinted against the glare, waved at her one last time, and then the carriage turned the corner at the bridge and disappeared.
Shen Miao looked down and slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. Her wrist was slender, and even with the clasp tightened to its smallest setting, the bracelet still dangled loosely. But she held her arm up to the sunlight, admiring it for a long while before finally sliding it up to her forearm and covering it with her sleeve.
Back in the courtyard, she wasted no time in washing the dogs.
Lei Ting was relatively easy to bathe—he sat there looking utterly resigned as she scrubbed him into a lather, then combed him thoroughly, rinsing away a flood of dirty water and loose fur. Shen Miao hadn’t realized how filthy he was until now; it just hadn’t been obvious before.
Once clean, his black fur gleamed brilliantly.
Zhuifeng, however, was another story. He stood on his hind legs, paws against the wall, yelping with every splash of water until the quiet courtyard echoed with his barks. Worried about disturbing the neighbors, Shen Miao quickly clamped a hand over his snout. "Stop that! You’re making a racket!"
The moment she let go, he resumed his low, mournful whining.
Even after she finally rinsed him and started combing his fur, he had the nerve to bare his teeth and growl at her. Shen Miao smacked his snout in warning. "Keep it up, and you’re skipping dinner tonight."
That cleared his head instantly. He smacked his lips meekly and didn’t dare cause any more trouble.
With both dogs clean, she mopped the courtyard using the leftover dirty water. Only after finishing all this did she scoop Qilin into her arms and settle down in the shop.
A few customers came by for braised meat, bought what they needed, and left.
Bored out of her mind, Shen Miao had started counting passersby when she suddenly spotted Yan Shu hurrying out of the alley, a small cloth bag slung over his shoulder.
"Yan Shu, where are you off to?" she called, stroking the drowsy cat in her lap.
Hearing her, Yan Shu turned and, recognizing Shen Miao, quickly approached with a polite bow. "I’m going to buy eye medicine for Ninth Brother. His eyelids suddenly started itching badly, and when I checked, the corners of his eyes were completely red. If we delay, they might swell up."
"How did that happen? He was fine this morning," Shen Miao frowned.
But Yan Shu remained calm, gripping the straps of his bag. "Don’t worry, Madam Shen—it’s nothing serious. It’s probably just the spring pollen. The same thing happened last year—his eyes got itchy after exposure to pollen, but a couple of days of eye drops from Madam Zhao’s clinic fixed it right up."
"Then hurry along," Shen Miao said, standing and setting Qilin down before brushing off the cat hair. "But that means Ninth Brother’s alone at home? I’ll go check on him."
"He’s still napping," Yan Shu replied, but he handed her the house keys anyway, grinning. "Well, if you’ve got the time, would you mind keeping an eye on him for me? I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes."
Shen Miao stared at the keys in her hand, torn between laughter and exasperation. "You didn’t lock him inside, did you?"
"What else could I do? What if a thief broke in while I was gone? You don’t know this, Madam Shen, but Ninth Brother attracts thieves like nobody’s business. Once, when we stayed at an inn, out of all the rooms, ours was the only one robbed!" Yan Shu scratched his head sheepishly—he really had locked Ninth Brother in.
"Why didn’t you come ask me for help earlier?" Shen Miao chuckled, waving him off. "Go on, then. I’ll head over now."
Yan Shu stuck out his tongue. "The academy students are starting soon, so Ninth Brother keeps telling me not to bother you with every little thing once he’s back in school."
Shen Miao sighed and shooed him away. "Go, go."
With a grin, Yan Shu dashed off.
Shen Miao glanced down at the keys in her hand, gave them a squeeze, and headed toward West Alley.
Passing under the dappled shadows cast by clotheslines strung between houses, she unlocked the gate to Xie Qi’s courtyard. Unlike her own lively home, his yard was starkly empty—just two thin hemp ropes stretched between bamboo poles for drying clothes, and behind them, a lone cherry tree.
She closed the gate behind her and stepped into the silent house.
Ninth Brother’s room was just as simple. Pushing the door open gently, she was met with a folding screen. To the left stood a chess table with cushions, a half-finished game still laid out. To the right was a desk piled high with books, brushes of varying sizes hanging from a rack, and a brush holder stuffed with painting brushes.
A scroll tube and wastepaper basket sat beside the desk.
Beyond the screen was the bed—a plain ebony frame with undyed curtains half-drawn. His wide-sleeved outer robe hung on a wooden stand nearby.
The window was covered with a green gauze and a reed blind, casting the room in a dim, underwater-like glow. Slivers of light seeped through the woven reeds, rippling like water in the faint afternoon breeze.
Xie Qi lay bundled in silk quilts, fast asleep in the shifting spring light.
A small stool stood by the bed—likely where Yan Shu had sat—and on the footrest lay a half-eaten plate of cricket cakes and a sketchbook filled with drawings.
Shen Miao found the illustrated book familiar. Sitting on a stool, she picked it up and realized it was a silk-bound folding book filled entirely with paintings. Judging by the style, it was likely drawn by Ninth Brother for Yan Shu. He had illustrated several fables for the boy—one scene per painting—including "The Sun Parable," "The Child Who Feared No Tiger," "The Oil Peddler," and "The Myna Mimicking Speech." The paintings were quite charming, with brief captions in ink on the right or left side of each image, though even without reading, one could guess the story.
It had the feel of a later-era comic strip.
For a child like Yan Shu, who couldn’t read, this silk-bound picture book must have been a treasure. The outer cover was carefully wrapped, showing signs of daily handling—the edges slightly frayed—yet not a single page was damaged.
Shen Miao smiled as she carefully flipped through it before placing it back where it belonged.
Dust motes floated in the slanted rays of light filtering through the window. With nothing else to do, Shen Miao rested her chin on her palm, quietly watching Xie Qi as he slept.
His head was slightly tilted, the wrinkled sleeping robe bunched up around him, the collar slipping open to reveal the clean lines of his jaw and neck, with a hint of collarbone beneath his throat.
Shen Miao suddenly noticed a faint, tiny mole on Ninth Brother’s Adam’s apple—so small it was easily overlooked.
For some reason, she found herself staring at that little mole for a long time.
The gradually fading light, along with the shadow of the ice-cracked window lattice, fell across his closed eyes. His cheeks and ears glowed under the light, while dense shadows pooled beneath his lashes and along the bridge of his nose.
Lower still.
His lips were slightly moist, a soft shade of red, with a gentle, rounded curve that exuded tenderness.
Her gaze flitted away from his lips in a fluster. The fingers propping her chin curled unconsciously, and she instinctively softened her breath in the deepening dusk.
Yet her eyes wandered upward again, helplessly tracing the length of his lashes over and over.
Luckily, Yan Shu soon tiptoed in, breaking her trance.
Shen Miao quickly stood up, exchanging a glance with the boy. Rubbing her slightly numb legs, she hurried out as quietly as she could.
As if she had never been there!
She patted her chest in relief as she left.
Only after watching Shen Miao depart did Yan Shu turn around, hanging his small cloth bag high on a hook. Then, pulling out a tiny gourd-shaped glass bottle from his pocket, he muttered to himself, "The physician said two drops, twice a day…"
He repeated the dosage in his head, afraid of forgetting or mixing it up. Just as he was reciting it under his breath, he spun around—
"Good heavens!" He nearly jumped out of his skin, clutching the nearby clothes rack for dear life. "Ninth Brother! You’re awake? Since when? Why didn’t you say anything? You scared me half to death!"
Still gripping the glass bottle tightly, Yan Shu nearly dropped the newly purchased eye drops in shock when he saw Xie Qi’s open eyes.
Xie Qi stared blankly at the bed canopy, dazed, as if he hadn’t heard Yan Shu at all.
"Are you still half-asleep?" Yan Shu cautiously released the rack, leaning in for a closer look. "Your eyelids were already red when I left…" But now, his face was flushed all the way down his neck, even his arms tinged pink.
How strange. Pollen allergies had never been this severe before.
Shen Miao hurried back home, where Tao and the others were already up.
Sister Xiang was outside in the alley, skipping rope with Liu Douhua, their braids bouncing with each jump.
Chen Chuan paced the courtyard, book in hand, reciting passages under his breath.
Youyu crouched beside their donkey, teasing it with half a carrot, cooing nonsense.
Niu Sanshi was cleaning the shed, spreading freshly cut hay inside.
Everyone was busy. Clearing her throat, Shen Miao stepped into the kitchen, pretending nothing had happened. Several baskets filled the space—the farmers had already delivered the day’s fresh produce. Through Third Bai’s connections, she had struck deals with several households in Bai Village for daily deliveries, cutting costs compared to buying from market vendors.
It kept her catering expenses perfectly manageable.
Tang Er and Fu Xing stood at the table, chopping vegetables with rhythmic thuds. Tang Er paused mid-cut when Shen Miao entered, nodding toward the baskets. "Madam, the farmers sent an extra basket of toon shoots today—freshly picked, they said. I thought they looked tender, so I gave them a few extra coins."
"Good. They work hard for their earnings; we shouldn’t take their goods for free." Shaking off the lingering haze of distraction (and the image of Ninth Brother), Shen Miao lifted the basket for a closer look.
Inside were young toon shoots, their wavy-edged leaves tinged red, tender and fragrant.
This was the perfect season for toon shoots.
"Let’s have toon shoots today, then." The rich aroma tempted her. "Tell the farmers to bring more tomorrow—as much as they can gather. We’ll feature toon shoot noodles at the shop for a while."
"Got it." Tang Er resumed chopping, portioning the prepared vegetables into large bowls.
Beyond the regular staples and signature dishes, seasonal specialties were a highlight at Shen Miao’s shop. Spring brought toon shoots and noodles; soon, bamboo shoots, asparagus, and pea tips would follow. Summer featured spicy crayfish, grilled fish, and fresh shrimp noodles. Autumn called for lamb, lotus root, radish, and chestnuts, while winter meant hot pots of all kinds.
As the two helped with prep, Shen Miao rolled up her sleeves to cook the day’s quick meals.
Just as they finished packing the food into carts, the deliverymen—a loafer and Aunt Nian—were already waiting in the shop, sipping tea. Aunt Nian handed Shen Miao a bag of peanuts. "I boiled and sun-dried these myself. They won’t irritate your throat."
"These look delicious. Thank you, Auntie." Shen Miao smiled warmly, then turned to call Youyu out for a chat.
But Aunt Nian waved her off, hopping onto the oxcart. "No need, let her work. I’ll be off—don’t want to delay your deliveries."
Patting Shierniang’s broad head, Shen Miao urged her to take care.
Back at the shop, customers soon streamed in. After the morning rush, Shen Miao grabbed three steamed buns and a bowl of mutton soup, heading to her half-finished shop on Imperial Street to check on the stove construction and deliver lunch to the tilers.
The craftsmen working on the stove had been recommended by Artisan He, who was now busy at Shen Miao’s duck farm and had passed the job to his fellow tilers.
The tiler Artisan He had found, Cai the Tiler, worked swiftly but spoke little—unless spoken to, he remained silent. Each time, Shen Miao had to take the initiative to ask how the work was progressing, whether he needed more silver or if anything else was required. After several inquiries, he finally stammered, "Could I... have one more steamed bun with each meal?"
The wheat-flour buns Shen Miao made were as large as two palms pressed together. She had been bringing two buns and a bowl of soup, thinking it sufficient, but Cai the Tiler had a hearty appetite and hadn’t dared to speak up, enduring hunger for days. Today, Shen Miao remembered to bring an extra one.
Just as she was about to leave, she noticed Liu Doukou hesitating near the shop entrance. With a basket hooked over her arm, Shen Miao greeted her, "Doukou, it’s been a while."
The eldest sister recognized Liu Doukou—she was a few years younger, and they had played together as children, though their bond wasn’t deep since Doukou was often away from Bianjing.
Liu Doukou quickly plastered on a smile and stepped forward. "Elder Sister Shen, are you hiring? My mother said you’re looking for a cook."
"Yes, but I need someone strong and sturdy, with decent culinary skills. Do you know anyone suitable?" A flicker of hope rose in Shen Miao’s heart—she had been struggling to find a cook, and even the matchmaker hadn’t sent word yet.
Liu Doukou blushed and nodded. "It’s... it’s my..."
Shen Miao blinked, puzzled.
Gritting her teeth, Liu Doukou spilled everything in one breath: "My family can’t afford my dowry. Ding Dalang and I agreed—since both families are poor, we’ll forgo the betrothal gifts and dowry. He’ll come to Bianjing to work, and we’ll build our lives together."
In these times, marrying without a dowry was a great humiliation. Liu Doukou’s eyes reddened with shame, but she pressed on, "Do you remember Ding Dalang, Elder Sister Shen? His father used to sell wontons on Jinliang Bridge. Now, their stall is by the city gate. He’s always been tall—now he’s over five chi four cun—and strong from helping with the wonton stall."
Shen Miao searched the corners of her memory, vaguely recalling a figure, but the image remained unclear. She shook her head. "I don’t remember well. Why not have him come by tomorrow for a tryout?"
Liu Doukou’s face lit up, and she nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! I’ll make sure he comes early."
Shen Miao smiled, then suddenly remembered the gossip Sister Xiang and Li Gou'er had shared that morning. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Did your grandmother let you return willingly?"
Liu Doukou’s expression turned complicated, a mix of sorrow and self-mockery in her eyes. "Yes, she’s old now, with little time left. She finally had a change of heart and let me come back. I don’t have to be the blade my grandmother used to torment my mother anymore..."
Shen Miao patted her shoulder reassuringly. "It’s alright. Your parents have missed you. Even without a dowry, your life will improve once you’re married."
Only then did Liu Doukou’s eyes brighten. She covered her mouth with a giggle. "Elder Sister Shen, you’re getting betrothed too, aren’t you? I’ve heard! That Xie family gentleman is so handsome—a perfect match for you."
A sudden image flashed through Shen Miao’s mind—a slender neck bathed in light, the Adam’s apple with a tiny mole that trembled with each breath...
Her face flushed instantly, and she coughed lightly. "Let’s not talk about me."
Liu Doukou stifled a laugh, thanked Shen Miao again, and bid her farewell politely, apologizing for taking up her time. Shen Miao exchanged a few pleasantries in return.
Watching Liu Doukou’s retreating figure, Shen Miao thought, Isn’t Doukou’s temperament quite good?
But no sooner had the thought formed than an ear-splitting roar erupted from the alley: "Liu Douhua! Whose short jacket are you wearing? You little thief, you went through my chest again, didn’t you? Come here! Let go of Sister Xiang—don’t hide behind her, or I’ll beat you senseless!"
"Mother! Mother! Come quick! Elder Sister is about to hit someone again!"
Shen Miao: "..." Spoke too soon.
She silently carried her basket across the bridge, running into Instructor Lin and his men passing over Jinliang Bridge. Shen Miao smiled and greeted him from afar.
To her surprise, Instructor Lin frowned and approached, speaking in a low voice. "Madam Shen, be cautious. The yamen seems to be reinvestigating the runaway horse case from three years ago. I’ve been ordered to track down the witnesses listed in the old records. I’m not sure what the higher-ups are thinking... but your shop’s address and your parents’ and siblings’ names were on that record."
Shen Miao was puzzled. Hadn’t the case been ruled an accident back then? A mere dozen taels of silver had settled it hastily—why reopen it now?
"Thank you for the warning, Instructor Lin. I’ll be careful." Shen Miao bowed slightly.
Instructor Lin nodded, pressed a hand to the sword at his waist, and strode off.
Standing at the bridge’s edge, Shen Miao fell into thought—Why dredge up an old case now? Have the higher-ups finally seen the light and realized it was a miscarriage of justice?
Ah, never mind.
With a sigh, she headed toward Imperial Street.
Common folk like her had no power to influence such matters—sometimes that realization was bitterly sad. People like her were mere droplets in a raging torrent, tossed about by the waves. If the authorities called it an injustice, it was an injustice; if they ordered a retrial, so be it. As a victim’s family member, she was utterly powerless.
Justice, in the face of those who wielded power, was worthless.
While Shen Miao was out, a distinguished guest arrived at the Shen family shop. Tao, Tang Er, Fu Xing, Sister Xiang, and Chen Chuan stood in a row, gaping dumbfounded at the person before them.
"Madam Ning, you’re not here for lamb soup today?"
Bianjing’s most sought-after matchmaker, Madam Ning, struggled to keep hold of a live goose with its legs bound, its wings flapping wildly. Between efforts to restrain it, she answered, "No soup today! I’m here on behalf of the Xie family to perform the betrothal rites!"
"Where is your mistress?"
