Spring flavors are abundant—fragrant Chinese toon, bamboo shoots, and cotton vegetable greens—but one delicacy is absolutely indispensable. In her past life, Shen Miao had heard the saying: "Pea shoots are the heart's delight of Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan."
The Sichuan and Chongqing regions seem particularly fond of pea shoots. However, Shen Miao's Sichuan friend usually refers to them as "pea tips." As a true Sichuan native, the only clear broth hotpot she loves is "pea tip hotpot." Even without hotpot, simply blanching pea tips in plain water with a pinch of salt and a few drops of sesame oil preserves their crisp, sweet freshness.
One bite is so delicious it could "make your eyebrows dance," and even the blanching water is said to taste wonderful.
Shen Miao, however, prefers dipping pea tips into a bubbling beef or lamb hotpot. The tender leaves, coated in the rich, savory animal fats, complement the meat perfectly. Each bite is fragrant and silky, as if the pea tips dissolve the greasiness of the meat, allowing her to devour two extra plates effortlessly.
In short, pea tips seem delightful no matter how they're prepared.
There are a few perfect times to enjoy them: early spring-sown spring peas, autumn peas sown in early August and harvested in September, and winter peas sown in October for November harvests.
However, due to limited cultivation techniques, winter pea shoots are still rare in the frigid climate of Bianjing during this era.
The Song Dynasty people also eat pea shoots, commonly in soups, mixed with tofu, or even stuffed into buns—though using them in hotpot is less common.
Pea shoots grow quickly, reaching four to five inches in about a month. At this stage, the tender buds and emerald-green leaves must be harvested immediately; any delay disqualifies them as "pea tips." Once they flower, they become tough and fibrous, better left to grow peas instead.
Thanks to her friend, Shen Miao has become an expert in identifying the finest pea tips.
A cold wind howls through the streets, fluttering the shop banners. Bundled in a thick cotton coat and a fur hat, Shen Miao tucks her hands into her sleeves, squatting beside Xie Qi—similarly dressed—in front of a vegetable vendor's stall.
Their eyes are fixed on the baskets of vibrant green pea shoots, freshly picked and laid out for sale.
After a rare stretch of clear weather, the spring chill returned abruptly. A night of rain and wind froze Bianjing into an icy block, forcing everyone to dig out their winter clothes again. Shen Miao had been awakened multiple times by the damp cold and, unable to sleep, decided to visit the morning market early.
To her surprise, as soon as she stepped out, she spotted a head peeking over her courtyard wall. "Good morning, Madam Shen," the voice called.
Shen Miao looked up to see Xie Qi perched atop her wall.
Being tall certainly had its advantages. Her wall stood at five chi and seven cun (1.8 meters), yet he towered over it even barefoot. With a little effort, he could probably vault right in.
"Aren’t you afraid of splinters?" Shen Miao hurried to open the gate, ushering him inside. "Why are you up so early?"
"My father... spent the whole night composing silly rhymes in his sleep. It kept me awake, so I got up," Xie Qi grumbled, wrapped in a thick fur cloak.
Shen Miao stifled a laugh.
Ever since Father Xie visited the shop for a bowl of toon-infused noodles, he had naturally settled into the small house on Ninth Brother’s West Lane.
Unfortunately, the West Lane residence had few rooms, barely enough for the usual household, let alone extra space for guests. It wouldn’t do to house Father Xie in the servants' quarters, so now father and son were forced to share a room.
Father Xie had come under Lady Xi’s instructions to oversee the betrothal rites for his son. He’d even brought the marriage proposal documents!
Most importantly, he wanted to meet his son’s beloved—a girl from the common streets. The whole family had apparently met her except him, and this exclusion had left him sulking for days.
"All of you! Keeping me in the dark! Am I not Ninth Brother’s father? Why wasn’t I told of such an important matter? You all enjoyed yourselves while treating me like a fool." He was on the verge of tears.
His anger stemmed only from being the last to know, not from any disdain over the mismatch in status.
This, too, was within Lady Xi’s expectations.
Long ago, before the pride of noble clans had been humbled, "A-Chong" (Father Xie) had defied scorn and mockery to marry her, the daughter of a rough military officer.
Now, as she tallied accounts on her abacus, Lady Xi soothed him with practiced ease: "Why take it so hard, my lord? This wasn’t about hiding things from you—it was about entrusting you with the crucial task of arranging the betrothal rites. As Ninth Brother’s father, who else could shoulder such responsibility but you?"
Upon hearing this, Father Xie’s melancholy instantly dissipated: "So that’s how it is! Don’t worry, Pure Jun, I’ll take care of this matter! There’s no time to waste—tomorrow… no, today, I’ll set off for the capital to find Ninth Brother the finest matchmaker!"
And just like that, he rushed off to Bianjing in his usual whirlwind manner.
He didn’t even send a letter ahead to his son. Upon arrival, he even asked Madam Ning to keep it a secret, not revealing who the head of the Xie family was, and sneaked into the noodle shop to eat soup noodles in disguise.
For this, he dressed in newly tailored robes from the family seamstress, trimmed his beard, and put on the air of a refined and dignified gentleman.
Father Xie made his grand entrance at Shen’s Noodle Shop, where the moment he stepped inside, he spotted his son’s calligraphy and paintings. He examined them thoroughly, offering his earnest critique.
The Xie family’s poetry was renowned for its purity and elegance, and while their calligraphy wasn’t as famous as the Wang family’s, it had a distinctive style of its own.
Xie Qi’s brushwork was naturally exceptional.
Especially these pieces displayed in the shop—perhaps written with heartfelt emotion—they exuded an extraordinary tenderness and affection, making anyone who saw them smile involuntarily. No wonder the family, sooner or later, had all discerned Ninth Brother’s feelings.
After seeing these works, who wouldn’t understand?
Father Xie’s heart rippled with quiet amusement as he finished admiring them—such boldness, utterly unguarded.
Ah, youth.
This made him gladly accept the cramped, modest lodging without complaint. He even clapped Ninth Brother on the shoulder and declared, "No need to prepare another room! Ever since you grew up, we’ve rarely had the chance to talk late into the night or share a bed. This is perfect."
As it turned out, Father Xie slept soundly, but Xie Qi suffered.
"Your father even composes poetry in his dreams." Judging by appearances alone, one would never guess—this elegant, refined gentleman hid a temperament entirely unlike his outward demeanor.
Shen Miao couldn’t hold back her laughter, shoulders shaking. "They say Li Bai could compose three hundred poems while drunk, but even he couldn’t rival Uncle Xie’s talent for dreaming up verses."
Xie Qi gave her a helpless look.
The eye drops Yan Shu had bought proved quite effective. After three or four days of use, Xie Qi’s eyes were no longer swollen or teary, though the rims remained faintly red, as if rubbed raw. Now, without a word, he simply fixed those red-tinged eyes on her, his gaze naturally carrying a hint of grievance.
Shen Miao’s heart skipped a beat under his stare, and she hastily swallowed her laughter. "I’ll go heat up the congee."
She hurried off.
The rest of the household was still fast asleep, and even Yan Shu hadn’t risen yet. The two of them ate a simple breakfast of warm congee and side dishes, and since it was still early, they headed out together to buy groceries.
Unexpectedly, just a few steps outside, they stumbled upon the first harvest of spring pea shoots.
In Bianjing, pea shoots were planted in late February, and by now, they were at their most tender—so delicate that even the stems at the base snapped with the slightest pinch, meaning the entire shoot was fresh and didn’t require trimming.
Shen Miao handled them with utmost care while weighing them, as the shoots were so tender they seemed to weep moisture, easily broken if mishandled. After carefully selecting the freshest ones, she bought the vendor’s entire stock for the day.
Better to stock up—they could enjoy some at home, serve pea shoot noodles at the shop, and use the rest for the afternoon’s communal meal.
This season’s leeks were also at their prime, delicious when pan-fried with taro. Just yesterday, many clerks from the government offices had ordered leek-and-taro stir-fry with cured sausage rice. Shen Miao had been pondering what soup to pair with it, but now, the rich, savory sausage rice would go perfectly with a light pea shoot and tofu soup.
Xie Qi carried two large baskets, while Shen Miao held two smaller ones.
Together, they made their way home through the chilly morning dew.
Xie Qi remained silent the entire way—perhaps due to his sore eyes and lack of sleep, he seemed quiet and dazed. Shen Miao stole glances at him, noticing how he struggled to keep his eyelids open, nearly sleepwalking from exhaustion.
Once home, Shen Miao handed Qilin to him and gently urged him to rest: "Since your room’s been taken by Uncle Xie, why not nap in Ji Brother’s room? It’s still early—look, even Yan Shu hasn’t arrived yet. He’s definitely still asleep. Let Qilin keep you company for a proper nap."
Xie Qi, now holding the cat, was firmly ushered into the room by Shen Miao.
He sat down on the bed in a daze.
"The bedding in Ji Brother’s room has been washed since he left. Rest easy." Shen Miao rolled down the window curtains and, before closing the door, added sternly, "Go to sleep. Don’t come out before you’ve slept a full two hours."
Xie Qi, cradling Qilin, smiled helplessly, his gaze tenderly following her as he softly replied, "As you wish."
Shen Miao shut the door and turned around to find Tao hugging a pillar in the corridor, silently grinning at her. Shen Miao flicked her forehead lightly. "Stop giggling and go open the shop."
"Alright, alright, I'm going right now." Tao covered her forehead with her hand but laughed even more heartily, skipping off to open the shop.
The sound of wooden panels being taken down one by one marked the start of another ordinary day at Shen Miao's Noodle Shop.
Aunt Nian and Youyu arrived shortly after.
With them came Ding Wushi, a man as sturdy as a small mountain. According to Tao, he was Liu Doukou's betrothed.
A couple of days ago, Ding Wushi had come for a trial shift. The moment Shen Miao saw his burly figure, half her worries melted away. Though slightly shorter than Ninth Brother, Ding Wushi was twice as broad, his massive frame nearly blocking the kitchen doorway when he stood there.
True to his build, he handled woks and spatulas with effortless ease.
Liu Doukou, unable to rest easy, had accompanied him that day and whispered to Shen Miao, "Sister, Wushi used to work as a kitchen hand at Kang's Eatery. But Kang's has been struggling—they let go of a few cooks and servers shortly after the New Year, and Wushi was one of them."
"But it wasn’t because of poor skills or any mistake," she quickly added. "He was the youngest and not much of a schemer, so they cut him loose. Kang’s only kept two senior chefs." Liu Doukou continued, "Sister, did you know Kang’s also does bulk meals for workshops and kilns? But Wushi says their business isn’t as thriving as rumors claim. They’re barely scraping by and probably won’t last much longer."
Shen Miao nodded slightly.
She’d already heard about Kang’s venture into bulk meals.
But Kang’s seemed to cut corners too aggressively. Shen Miao had once overheard hired laborers grumbling—even some from the local government—that Kang’s vegetables arrived overcooked and yellowed, some dishes reduced to mush. Others complained about shoddy trays and monotonous menus.
Since her own business remained unaffected—now handling 150 meal orders daily—Shen Miao paid it little mind.
After sampling a few of Ding Wushi’s dishes that day, she hired him on the spot. He met all her criteria for a fast-food cook: strong, decent culinary skills, honest, and diligent. Most remarkably, Ding Wushi was fastidious about cleanliness.
Though not the quickest, his habit of wiping down the stove as he worked instantly won Shen Miao over—she adored tidy cooks like him.
Many chefs cooked well but left kitchens in chaos: vegetable scraps, bloody water, and greasy residues splattered everywhere, pots crusted with grime. In an era without health inspectors, maintaining such hygiene was rare and commendable.
The half-shop on Imperial Street was now fully renovated, and the blacksmith was set to deliver the cookware today. Shen Miao planned to take Ding Wushi, Aunt Nian, and two deliverymen to move ingredients and seasonings to the new location. If all went well during the trial run, bulk meals would be prepared there from then on.
Shen Miao would visit daily, briefing Ding Wushi the night before on menu specifics—like adding a pinch of salt and oil to boiling water for vibrant green vegetables, or a dash of vinegar and oil to rice for extra fluffiness.
Details made all the difference. Though her shop lacked exotic dishes, its consistent quality stemmed from these little tricks. Every homely dish on Shen Miao’s menu had its own culinary secret.
While Tang Er and Fu Xing handled the morning sale of sweet porridge, stuffed pancakes, and roast duck—tasks requiring no input from her—Shen Miao hitched Eleventh Young Master to the cart. Together with Ding Wushi, they loaded the day’s bulk meal supplies.
Pea shoots, too delicate to be crushed, were carried in baskets by hand.
Once Ding Wushi secured the crates of meat and vegetables, he naturally took the reins, guiding the donkey forward.
Today, Eleventh Young Master sported a new hat: a wide-brimmed cowboy-style cap with upturned edges and a chin strap, woven by Tao from wheat straw based on Shen Miao’s design. A little red scarf adorned his neck, and the usual bell jingled merrily.
The dashing cowboy donkey set off with the cart in high spirits.
Shen Miao’s rented half-shop had undergone a dramatic transformation. Previously a venison vendor’s space, its walls and floors were once caked in years of grime and grease.
After partitioning with wooden panels, Yao Luoge had the former owner scrub it down, but traces of meaty odors lingered. Shen Miao spent days deep-cleaning, then hired Cai the Tiler to repaint the walls and lay polished floor tiles, finally making it presentable.
Although it was only rented, Shen Miao still laid down bricks. Her fast-food shop was close to the government office, so she didn’t want it to look too crude. If the clerks happened to wander by and discovered that their daily meals were being prepared in such a grubby kitchen, they’d surely be displeased.
She aimed for cleanliness, beauty, and an inviting aroma—something that would make passersby nod in approval, unable to find fault. When it came to home-style dishes, meticulous care and attention were essential—that was the key to retaining customers. If she neglected these details just because the dishes were simple, her shop could easily be replaced.
Shen Miao had also consulted Cai the Tiler, who assured her that if she didn’t renew the lease later, the bricks could still be pried up and taken away. Most bricks at this time were made of stone and rammed earth, not as fragile or difficult to remove as the ceramic tiles of later eras.
Upon entering the shop, the narrow front area held three small tables. Like Shen’s original establishment, a half-wall counter separated the front from the kitchen, meaning most of the space was dedicated to cooking.
The newly built stove was also a connected range, similar to Shen’s, with an extra-large fire pit designed for a massive wok, alongside two water boilers. In essence, this kitchen was a scaled-down version of Shen’s original.
Shen Miao stepped inside, nodded in satisfaction, and began organizing the pots, pans, vegetables, fruits, grains, and seasonings she had brought, sorting everything into its proper place.
After another trip to haul in firewood, they worked tirelessly for half a day before everything was ready.
With preparations complete, Shen Miao stood to the side, watching Ding Wushi cook the main dishes.
First, the cured sausage and taro were steamed together, while rice was cooked in an oil-brushed clay pot. Then came the stir-fried dishes.
For the stir-fried taro with chives, the most crucial step was not overcooking the chives—otherwise, they’d lose their fragrance and turn tough. So, the chives would be added only after the taro was steamed.
The steamed taro was taken out, sliced while still slightly firm, then mashed in the wok with a spatula, leaving some texture rather than turning it into mush.
Next, oil was heated, and the taro was stir-fried with spicy Chinese prickly ash, pickled ginger, salt, soy sauce, and cumin until dry. The fire was then reduced to a simmer, letting the taro slowly crisp until it carried a hint of toasted aroma.
In the meantime, the chives and coriander were swiftly chopped into tiny pieces.
"Use a sharp knife, and don’t let the juices seep out onto the board—if all the flavor leaks, the chives won’t taste good later," Shen Miao reminded. Ding Wushi, already sweating nervously, wiped his brow with the cloth around his neck after finishing the chopping.
By then, the taro in the wok was perfectly crisped. The chives and coriander were tossed in, stirred evenly, and then the fire was turned off.
The cured sausage rice was prepared almost like clay pot rice—sliced sausage was arranged in a spiral over the steamed rice, a few eggs cracked in the middle, and the large clay lid was replaced to let it continue cooking.
Then came the seasoning sauce: two spoonfuls of soy sauce, cooled boiled water, a spoon of sugar, and a dash of shrimp paste for umami. Once mixed, it was poured over the rice just as the eggs reached a soft-set stage.
Finally, the pea shoot soup—quick and simple.
"Wushi, fry garlic slices until fragrant, then pan-fry tofu until lightly golden. Add water, bring to a boil, season with salt, and once it boils again, toss in the pea shoots. Finish with scallions and serve," Shen Miao instructed, watching his every move.
Ding Wushi struggled to keep up with her directions. This was his first day preparing group meals—he couldn’t afford to mess up!
This soup was the same for every meal set, so a large batch was made. Once ready, it was portioned into small clay jars, sealed with double-layered lids—an extra strip of clay around the rim made them spill-proof.
Then came the remaining dishes: minced pork with eggplant, shredded pork in garlic sauce, and poached chicken.
Ding Wushi worked so hard his spatula nearly sparked from speed. By the end, his arms trembled from exhaustion, but finally, all the meals were ready. Aunt Nian and two regular delivery men immediately stepped in to help pack everything before loading the ox and donkey carts to deliver meals to the entertainment district, government offices, and watchtowers.
Ding Wushi collapsed onto a nearby stool, panting and wiping sweat. Though accustomed to kitchen chores, his arms ached from the effort.
"You’ve worked hard, Wushi. The rush only lasts a short while each day—the rest of the time, you and Aunt Nian can prep ingredients at a steady pace. As promised to Liu Doukou, your monthly pay will be three and a half strings of cash. Like all Shen’s employees, you’ll get a yearly raise. How does that sound? If you agree, this shop will be under your management."
Ding Wushi nodded emphatically. "I’ll do it."
Back at Kang’s place, he’d earned less as a kitchen assistant, worked even harder, and still had to curry favor with the senior chef—buying him tobacco just to earn a few good words in front of the boss. Here at Shen’s, he could take charge of the wok without groveling. Now, the fast-food shop had just him, Aunt Nian, and two delivery men—simple and straightforward. No more bowing to the old chef’s whims.
For the first time, he felt grateful for being fired.
"Then it's settled. You can rest for a while, and once the kitchen is cleaned up later, you can head home. Here’s the key to the shop. Starting tomorrow, I’ll have the farmers deliver their produce here, so make sure you come early to open up and receive the goods." Shen Miao gave a few more instructions before handing over the key.
On his first day, Ding Wushi worked efficiently. If he kept at it for a few more days, he’d surely get the hang of it. Shen Miao thought to herself.
Ding Wushi clutched the key, feeling immense gratitude toward Shen Miao.
With that, Shen Miao prepared to return home.
Today was the first day, so she had stayed longer to supervise. Once Ding Wushi became more familiar with the tasks, she wouldn’t need to wait around anymore. She’d just drop by for a quick check each day.
Ding Wushi escorted Shen Miao to the shop entrance before turning back with renewed energy to sweep and clean. Madam Shen had even mentioned that his monthly wages would increase every year—who knew the workers at Shen’s shop enjoyed such benefits? At Kang’s place, his pay had never budged… He mused to himself that if this were true, he’d soon save enough to build a stable life with Liu Doukou.
With this thought, Ding Wushi scrubbed the stove and swept the floor with even more vigor, a simple, contented smile spreading across his face.
At the government office, Zhang Yushan was already waiting with his chopsticks and tray, eager for today’s meal.
When the bells of Shen’s donkey cart chimed in the distance, he and Li Ya dashed out in a flash, securing the first spot in line.
More and more people at the office had started ordering meals, so speed was key if you wanted to eat early.
Pleased with his prime position, Zhang Yushan turned to Li Ya and asked, "What did you order today?"
Li Ya replied, "Pan-fried taro with leeks and cured sausage rice."
Zhang Yushan nodded. "Same here."
As they spoke, the delivery man pulled the donkey cart to the entrance and lifted the quilt covering the food. The first thing revealed was a wooden tub of cured sausage rice. One of the servers scooped a generous portion onto Zhang Yushan’s tray, the steam carrying the rich aroma of rice, the savory fat of the sausages, and the toasty scent of crispy crust.
"Would you like some crust, sir? Today’s batch has plenty."
Zhang Yushan inhaled deeply and nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! Give me a piece."
So, he received an extra golden-brown, fragrant piece of rice crust. Satisfied, he watched as the server ladled a heaping spoonful of pan-fried taro with leeks onto his tray—the taro glistening golden, coated with bright green leek segments, and emitting a faintly spicy aroma.
Next, he crouched to retrieve his soup from the small earthenware jars in the cart.
He quickly announced his name: "Zhang Yushan. The jar’s lid is carved with my name—it’s the dark brown one."
The server found it promptly. The jar had straw handles on either side, so Zhang Yushan balanced his tray in one hand and carried the jar with the other, stepping aside to wait for Li Ya before they both hurried into the back courtyard.
There was a long corridor where the lower-ranking clerks often sat to eat.
The two chose a warm, sheltered spot. As soon as Li Ya lifted the lid of his jar, the fresh fragrance of pea shoots hit them like a wave. "Pea shoot soup!" Li Ya exclaimed. "I love pea shoots!"
Zhang Yushan chuckled. "Shen’s shop always has something seasonal. A few days ago, there was stir-fried eggs with Chinese toon leaves, then cottonweed cakes, and now pea shoots. Every bite captures the freshness of spring—nothing missed. Even home-cooked meals aren’t this well-rounded."
"True. The daily menu is always something to look forward to, and they never repeat dishes too soon."
"I wish they’d bring back that chopped pepper fish head. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water. Last time, I wrote about it in the suggestion book Shen’s shop hung outside our office. I wonder when Madam Shen will make it again… Oh, this soup is divine!" Zhang Yushan took a sip and swayed his head in delight.
Li Ya also found the soup exquisite, finishing half the bowl before starting on the dishes. "These pea shoots are so tender. Madam Shen uses only the freshest ingredients. Unlike… hmph, as if we wouldn’t notice the difference."
The corridor gradually filled with people, the air thick with the mingling aromas of various dishes. Zhang Yushan stirred his rice, letting every grain soak up the glossy red fat from the sausages. He took a bite—the rice, infused with the savory essence of the sausages, was soft yet flavorful, making him close his eyes in satisfaction.
The rice crust was heavenly too. He should’ve asked for an extra piece.
Between mouthfuls, he responded to Li Ya, "If it weren’t for Shen’s food, I might not have known the difference. But ever since I tasted that lamb so tender it seemed to dance on my tongue, I’ve learned what’s truly good and what’s not."
Li Ya nodded, shoveling a big spoonful of sausage rice into his mouth. His eyes lit up instantly.
"I just realized how well the sausage rice pairs with pea shoots!" Li Ya alternated between soup and rice, cheeks bulging. "Can you taste how silky these pea shoots are? Almost like tofu. So well done."
Zhang Yushan nibbled on the crispy rice crust, its savory aroma of cured sausage mingling with the smoky fragrance of toasted grains, making it utterly irresistible. "Indeed, it’s remarkable how such simple, humble ingredients can be transformed into something so delicious. This crust is fantastic—want me to break off a piece for you to try?"
"Absolutely, hand me a piece! I forgot to ask that idle fellow for some earlier… You’re right, though. It’s all about the quality of the ingredients and perfect control of the heat," Li Ya replied between mouthfuls of rice, eagerly reaching for the crust while analyzing its merits.
The two shared the crispy treat cheerfully, exchanging a knowing smile. "Even if Clerk Jia gives me a hard time later, I won’t feel so bad now that my stomach’s content," Zhang Yushan mused. Amid their busy duties, a warm, convenient meal like this made even their usually detestable superior seem less unbearable.
Li Ya chuckled and shook his head. "Count yourself lucky. I still have to accompany Judge Lan to examine a corpse fished out of the river."
Zhang Yushan, easily spooked, shuddered and waved his hands. "Stop right there, or I’ll lose my appetite."
Li Ya burst into laughter. He was long accustomed to discussing gruesome cases over meals.
Meanwhile, at the Shen residence, Shen Miao returned to find her noodle shop running smoothly as usual. Every night, she prepared fixed toppings, minced meat garnishes, and fried sauce in advance. Even when she was away, Fu Xing could knead the dough and serve the noodles with these toppings, ensuring business went uninterrupted.
When she arrived, only a few customers were seated, already enjoying their meals. After a quick inspection of the kitchen revealed nothing needing her attention, she retreated to the backyard. Her gaze instinctively drifted toward Ji Brother’s room—why was the door still closed?
Was Ninth Brother still asleep?
She asked Sister Xiang, who was playing a game of tag with a calf in the yard. The girl, mid-chase, called out, "Haven’t seen Ninth Brother come out! Only noticed Yan Shu stopping by earlier, but then Father Xie called him away to run an errand."
Shen Miao frowned. He’d been sleeping far too long—perhaps she should check on him.
Approaching the door, she found the curtain drawn, blocking her view. Not wanting to barge in unannounced, she pressed her ear against the wood, listening for any movement.
Suddenly, the door swung open from the inside. Caught off guard, Shen Miao stumbled forward—
And collided straight into Xie Qi’s chest.
Though he instinctively wrapped his arms around her to steady her, the impact still left her nose throbbing from the collision.
For a moment, both stood frozen in stunned silence.
