"Tide ebbs at midnight—ships cast off!" [Note 1]
Though the third watch's clappers had sounded, the bustling docks outside Tongjin Gate near Chenliu remained ablaze with lantern light and clamorous activity. Thousands of goat-horn lanterns swayed from mast tops, illuminating the night-time harbor as bright as day.
"Salt ships from eastern Zhejiang arriving—"
"Grain barges from Huainan Circuit docking—"
"Tribute vessels from Liangzhe and Jinghu Circuits—"
Government ships and merchant vessels jostled prow-to-stern, their iron-clad bows slowly parting the waters. As they neared the towering bluestone quays of the canal port, the splashing of weed-draped anchors plunging into the river grew ever louder.
Aunt Li and Li Tiaozi were hauling bamboo duck cages up to the deck in repeated trips.
Their grain barge was also preparing to dock.
Among the arriving vessels, one grain transport stood tallest—a ten-zhang-long firwood ship riding so low that its waterline nearly met the shore. This was the vessel carrying Aunt Li and Li Tiaozi.
Behind it glided an official tribute ship with gilded dragon-head prow, its mast hung with crimson palace lanterns and vermilion rails swathed in yellow silk—the most eye-catching spectacle in the harbor. [Note 2]
"Ah, this old back's giving out again," groaned Aunt Li after several trips, her spine refusing to straighten. Li Tiaozi, ever considerate, urged her: "Rest here—I'll handle the rest."
For weeks aboard, Aunt Li had tended the ducks single-handedly, even patrolling at night with a candleholder against thieves, losing countless hours of sleep.
As Li Tiaozi returned for more cages, Aunt Li massaged her aching waist and gazed across the glittering river.
Lantern light danced on dark waters.
Her mind wandered. This journey had broadened her horizons—Jinling's splendor surpassed even Bianjing! The Qinhuai River teemed with pleasure boats, their oars and music weaving endless melodies.
They'd visited Wuyi Alley and Zhuque Bridge specially. At the alley's mouth, a blind minstrel sang of "Six Dynasties' tales drowned in spring waves." Though the lyrics escaped her, the tune lingered sweetly.
And the food! Crab-eye soup, elm-cake coins, pre-rain Yuhua tea, water chestnut porridge, honey-pickled cherry blossoms... Initially, Aunt Li and Li Tiaozi resolved to economize—after all, they couldn't squander Eldest Sister Shen's silver recklessly...
Yet the fragrant street vendors proved irresistible. They'd caved, sampling delicacies like the "Interlinked Winter Treat"—hawkers stretching malt sugar into gossamer threads to wrap around fried dough twists, forming a nine-link puzzle eaten with ivory chopsticks. The sugar strands stretched spider-silk thin without breaking.
Sharing just one piece, the sweetness melting down their throats had made them think instantly of Gou'er—he'd never tasted such marvels.
Then came the roast goose—Jinling's version smoked with pine flames and cumin, its crackling skin glazed with osmanthus honey. That first bite convinced Aunt Li that Eldest Sister Shen's famed roast duck must derive from this technique. No wonder her skills shone—Jinling was a trove of undiscovered flavors!
The southern climate stayed mild too. Sitting at "Zhang's Fresh Catch" near Zhuque Bridge, eating translucent sashimi thin as cicada wings, even the early spring breeze felt gentle.
Jinling's maritime trade brought encounters with yellow-haired, green-eyed Persians hawking imported looking-glasses, spyglasses, and vibrantly patterned carpets. Their foreign babble fascinated Aunt Li—a born gossip who found her eyes overwhelmed by novelties within days.
How she wished for three brains and eight eyes to memorize every sight for bragging rights back home!
Alas, they'd only spared half a day's leisure. After procuring ducks and portable souvenirs—Yuhua stones, tea cakes—they'd embarked on the return voyage.
A month's rocking waves nearly shook Jinling's wonders from memory. Aboard ship, Aunt Li lived duck-tending—eyes open or shut.
Her mind echoed with quacks.
Now, leaning against the gunwale, she watched shirtless men leap into the river with triple-strand hemp ropes across their backs. Their work chants rose as they strained forward, Bian River's chill waters soaking the leather aprons guarding their groins, clinging to corded stomach muscles.
Most Song canal boats had flat bottoms—without trackers hauling lines, neither departure nor docking was possible.
Though the Emperor had invested heavily in expanding ship locks, human sinew remained indispensable.
These men formed the blood-and-flesh waterways underpinning the empire's thriving canal trade.
Aunt Li averted her eyes uncomfortably. The trackers' shoulder pads had worn through, ropes biting into raw flesh.
Rumor said fifty-four tracker camps housing thirty thousand men encircled Bianjing. In the late Emperor's reign, daily wages were a meager thirty coins; now, drawing from the imperial privy purse, each earned eighty.
A small mercy.
Elsewhere, stevedores balanced shoulder poles, already scrambling onto gangplanks before mooring. "Need porters, master?" they shouted. "Twenty coins per load—dry as bone!"
Their daring made Aunt Li's pulse race.
"Suicidal fools!" A canal officer brandishing an "Inspector" lantern yanked the men back by their poles. "Fall in now, and ships'll grind you to paste—don't expect burial!"
"Won't dare again!" The porters bowed apologetically but kept toe-tipping, poised to swarm any docking vessel.
Used to such scenes, the Harbor Office clerks and canal guards shook their heads wearily. Their leader's yawn spread through the group as they passed beneath the golden plaque inscribed "Canals Bear the Realm"—said to be Emperor Taizong Zhao Weizheng's own calligraphy.
At the quay, black-robed clerks tapped iron rulers against hulls, announcing: "Huainan grain barge—three hundred liao capacity (approx. 18 tons)—berth at Pier Bing!" The ruler clanged against the copper plate riveted to each government vessel.
Every Song transport ship bore these plates—the lifeline of canal logistics.
After verifying the prow's engraved "Huainan-Jiangzhe-Jinghu Transport Commission" matched records, the clerk blew his neck horn. Shore patrolmen swiftly encircled the area.
Their faces bore the tattooed character "grain," and they carried bows and arrows with swords at their waists—these were the overseers assigned to monitor every grain barge's unloading crew, ensuring no one stole or smuggled away the government grain.
The unloading began swiftly on the boat. Though an official vessel reserved for the imperial court had arrived shortly before, the dock still prioritized Aunt Li and Li Tiaozi’s ship.
The Song Dynasty’s canal transport system was highly regulated. Earlier, the officials on board had explained the hierarchy: aside from the yellow-flagged ships carrying urgent military provisions or disaster relief grain, green-flagged grain barges took precedence, followed by white-flagged salt ships, and only then came the vermilion-flagged tribute vessels.
"As written in the Baoyuan Canal Regulations, unless it’s an urgent military dispatch, grain is the foundation of the state, and salt the necessity of the people. When these two types of barges arrive, all other cargo ships must yield. The emperor, loving his subjects as his own children, recently prioritized a large shipment of grain to the capital, leaving tribute vessels stranded at Chenliu Dock for seven full days."
The canal officer puffed out his chest, visibly proud to be assigned to a grain barge.
Aunt Li finally understood why they had been delayed for two days at Caizhou—a fleet of yellow-flagged military supply ships had arrived, horns blaring, cutting ahead of them into the port. To make way, they had been forced to drift on the river for two extra days.
But… Aunt Li faintly recalled that things hadn’t been like this during the previous emperor’s reign. She remembered one year when tribute ships from a vassal state entered Bianjing, and the commoners lining the shores had to kneel and kowtow. But she knew better than to voice such thoughts and simply nodded, keeping her opinions to herself.
Li Tiaozi finally managed to haul all the ducklings onto the deck. Letting out a sigh, he stood beside Aunt Li, scanning their surroundings.
When they had first boarded, the grain barge had been empty, and their journey had been lighthearted. The dock had been relaxed, with boatmen and canal officers idly picking their teeth, gambling with beans. A friendly clerk had accompanied them, and they had never encountered these stern, armed figures before.
Now, looking down from the deck, both of them felt an inexplicable chill of fear.
Over six hundred ducklings chirped and scurried in their cages. After a long silence, Aunt Li clutched her chest and whispered, "Why is it so frightening down there? They even have bows and arrows."
Li Tiaozi forced a calm tone. "It’s fine. They’re just doing their duty. Besides, we have Canal Official Tong on board. When Eldest Sister Shen saw us off, he was so courteous to her. He’s been diligent the whole journey—without him, who knows how many of our ducks would’ve died? He’ll help us."
The thought of Canal Official Tong eased Aunt Li’s nerves slightly.
For their six hundred ducklings, the official had even set up a temporary bamboo shelter at the stern, neatly arranging twenty green-woven baskets filled with husks brought from Jinling.
Every day at the third watch, when the night watchman’s clapper sounded, Aunt Li would rise first to mix bran with minced snail meat into a paste, feeding each cage one by one. For water, she used reed stalks fashioned into troughs, propped between the cages.
The daily feeding and watering took considerable effort.
After a month on the river, the ducks couldn’t stay cooped up forever. Gathering her courage, Aunt Li approached Canal Official Tong, who, far from dismissing her request, had the crew set up bamboo fencing at the stern. This allowed her to let the ducks out to stretch their legs in the sunlight each day.
At night, they were returned to their cages and carried into the hold.
Though the journey had been exhausting, thanks to Canal Official Tong’s help, only thirty of the original seven hundred ducks had perished. The rest were thriving. She had even tied red strings around each duck’s leg to prevent loss or theft.
Luckily, no one dared steal from a government barge.
After waiting for an hour, their feet sore, Aunt Li finally spotted Canal Official Tong hurrying over, trailed by tattooed boatmen who helped unload the ducks.
Once ashore, a yawning clerk from the Dock Inspection Bureau stepped forward to check their documents. Canal Official Tong promptly handed over the permit stamped with Jinling’s tax office seal and discreetly slipped a handful of coins into the clerk’s sleeve. "Please do us a favor, sir. These live goods are under imperial orders and must be settled overnight."
Aunt Li and Li Tiaozi stood behind them, not daring to breathe loudly.
"The higher-ups have already instructed us," the clerk stammered, hastily returning the coins. After verifying the seal, he waved them through. "I wouldn’t dare delay your business, sir."
So the emperor truly valued these ducks—even the dock clerks knew about it. Canal Official Tong grew even more conscientious. Nodding, he turned to the boatmen. "Load them onto the carts."
By midnight, the last cage of ducks was finally secured. Aunt Li and Li Tiaozi effusively thanked Canal Official Tong before boarding the cart. Aunt Li then negotiated with the carter he had arranged, insisting they head straight to Eldest Sister Shen’s suburban fields instead of detouring through the inner city.
Better to avoid jostling the ducks twice.
Li Tiaozi fretted, "What if the duck farm’s shelters aren’t ready yet?"
Aunt Li scoffed. "They’ve been half-built since last year—how could they still be unfinished? Don’t you know Eldest Sister Shen? She’s never one to dawdle."
"Then where will we sleep?"
"We’ll manage at the farm for tonight. Tomorrow morning, you’ll go back to inform Eldest Sister Shen. I’ll stay and watch the ducks."
When it came to the ducks, Li Tiaozi usually deferred to Aunt Li. Yawning, he agreed. "Alright, let’s do that."
Clutching the duck cages, they squeezed in among the six hundred ducks, swaying on the cart until drowsiness overtook them.
Having spent so long on the boat, neither Aunt Li nor Li Tiaozi realized their second day in Bianjing coincided with the Bathing the Buddha Festival on the eighth day of the fourth month. At dawn, the city was already bustling beyond measure.
The pair had arrived at the duck farm overnight and sighed in relief at the sight of the newly erected walls—everything was ready!
Other areas were locked, but the duck shed, built months earlier, was accessible. Aunt Li, who had visited multiple times, still had the key. They settled the ducks inside and spent a restless night there, still in their travel clothes.
At daybreak, she urged Li Tiaozi to hurry back to the inner city and inform Eldest Sister Shen.
But before he could even enter, he found himself stuck in a traffic jam.
Shen Miao, meanwhile, remained unaware of their return.
By the third watch, the morning sun had just crept over the eaves of the Shen family’s courtyard. With her sleeves tied back, she had already been busy in the kitchen for some time—today, Ninth Brother was returning to the academy.
Coinciding with the Bathing the Buddha Festival, tradition dictated eating lotus-scented Buddhist cakes for peace and prosperity. Determined to send him off with a proper meal, she had risen early to prepare them.
The cakes were a laborious task. Shen Miao had begun gathering ingredients days prior.
She bent over to scoop out the glutinous rice that had been soaking since last night from the earthen jar. The rice had been steeped for six hours straight, and now, when pressed between her fingers, it dissolved into a milky paste. For this particular cake, the rice needed to soak to this exact consistency—only then would the finished product turn out soft and sticky. After draining the rice, she began grinding it bit by bit into a fine slurry.
The Lotus Buddha-Incense Cake demanded three parts ingredients and seven parts skill: the meticulously pounded rice paste was sifted multiple times before being mixed with locust flower honey, flour, and citron powder, then kneaded into a dough. Small portions were pinched off, each pressed with a lotus-shaped mold to imprint delicate floral patterns before being carefully wrapped in lotus leaves.
The bamboo steamer required three layers of cloth at the bottom, each separated by sandalwood chips to prevent the cakes from turning soggy from the steam. After a fierce boil for half a quarter-hour, a sprinkle of osmanthus powder was added before reducing to a gentle simmer.
While waiting for the cakes to steam, Shen Miao wasn’t idle—she turned to frying scallion pancakes. Today’s breakfast would be pancakes paired with fresh tofu pudding bought from Aunt Liu’s bean shop.
It had been made just before dawn and was still warm.
Once the pancakes were done, Shen Miao started on the tofu pudding toppings. The savory version typically included wood ear mushrooms, cilantro, peanuts, and scallions, all bound together with a thick sauce of soy sauce, salt, and starch slurry, then drizzled with chili oil for an extra kick.
Since she had no chili oil, Shen Miao substituted with fermented leek flower paste instead.
For the sweet version, she prepared a syrup by caramelizing brown sugar with minced ginger, then straining out the ginger. When serving, two spoonfuls of white sugar and one of the syrup made for a delightful mix—warm and comforting, especially during menstruation, when a bowl of hot sweet tofu pudding could ease cramps and chase away the chill in one’s limbs.
Shen Miao had no strong preferences in the great tofu pudding debate—she happily swung between sweet and savory. Rumor had it there was even a spicy version out there, turning the north-south divide into a three-way battle, a testament to China’s vast culinary diversity.
By the time she finished the toppings, the Lotus Buddha-Incense Cakes were ready. As she lifted the steamer lid, the morning light streamed through the lattice window, illuminating eighteen jade-like cakes nestled among emerald leaves. Sunlight caught the honeyed glaze seeping into the lotus patterns, making them gleam as fragrantly as they looked.
For the final touch, Shen Miao took a chopstick and gently dabbed a dot of red yeast rice paste onto the center of each cake.
Tradition dictated that the first batch be offered to the Bodhisattva, so Shen Miao carried a small altar table into the courtyard and arranged it properly.
Just as she placed the offering, familiar footsteps sounded at the gate. She looked up to see Xie Qi leading his donkey, laden with bedding and a book chest, while Yan Shu trailed behind, yawning.
Before even stepping inside, Yan Shu’s nose twitched, and he bounded in with a grin. "Aunt Shen, I smell pancakes and tofu!"
"Help yourself—they’re on the stove," Shen Miao said, ruffling his round little head. "The pancakes are fresh off the pan, so be careful. There’s both sweet and savory tofu pudding—pick whichever you like."
Yan Shu cheered, promptly forgetting Xie Qi as he dashed to the kitchen.
While Shen Miao spoke to the boy, Xie Qi lingered outside, fussing with the donkey’s tether. Only after Yan Shu disappeared inside did he finally let go of the rope, lips pressed tight as he stepped forward, wordlessly grabbing Shen Miao’s wrist and pulling her into a secluded alley.
She arched a brow but let him lead.
Willow East Alley had a narrow dead end—a gap barely wide enough for one person, its moss-clad walls damp and slick.
Shards of sunlight filtered through the low eaves, and the breeze carried distant chants and conch-shell horns. Xie Qi’s neck was flushed, a sheen of sweat glistening as his Adam’s apple bobbed, stirring the faint scent of cedar from his robes.
Pinned against the slippery brick, Shen Miao tilted her face up, barely suppressing a smirk.
Ninth Brother was the type who needed a push.
Yesterday’s peck in the washroom had left her unfazed—he’d dragged her back like a man marching to his doom, only to lick her once, puppy-like, before recoiling as if scalded, tumbling into the water basin in a fluster.
Dripping wet and dumbstruck, he’d looked so pitiful she’d almost felt guilty, as though she were some villain accosting a maiden.
He’d avoided her all day after that. At dinner, Yan Shu had mumbled through a full mouth, "Ninth Brother’s just lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Says he’s not hungry."
Shen Miao hadn’t pressed.
She’d played along, busying herself with the shop, catering orders, and even advising Yu Wushi at the fast-food stall.
But she’d known.
He was leaving today. A man of his refinement wouldn’t vanish without a word, even if the sky fell. So she’d risen early to make the cakes, certain he’d come.
And she’d been right.
That was why, even as Xie Qi pressed her against the wall, her eyes sparkled with smugness.
"A-Miao, I..."
His murmur brushed her lips, his trembling lashes grazing her nose as the distant conch horns and sutras made her ears burn.
Xie Qi leaned in. The cool mint of his tooth powder lingered on her mouth, but the moment their lips touched, his breath turned ragged. His calloused hands hovered at her waist, fingers shaking where they skimmed her plain ruqun.
Yet he just... stayed there, frozen.
A realization struck her: Did he think this chaste press of lips counted as a kiss?
A vein throbbed at her temple. Closing her eyes, she prepared to show him what a real kiss was—
But the warmth vanished before she could act.
"I... I have to go to the academy." Xie Qi stumbled back, his ears crimson. Shen Miao sighed, catching the frantic rise of his throat above his bamboo-buttoned collar.
This fool.
"Forgive me." Misreading her silence, he buried his burning face in her neck, voice thick with remorse. "I’ve disgraced the sages’ teachings... The betrothal rites aren’t even complete, yet I’ve dishonored you twice now."
Shen Miao stood rigid, staring blankly.
A peck... counted as dishonor?
"But thinking of returning to the academy, I..." His voice trailed off, muffled against her skin.
Daybreak hadn’t even faded, and already he missed her.
That unfinished sentence melted her resolve.
He was so tall, yet he hunched his back, pressing the tip of his nose into the hollow of her collarbone. His warm breath scorched her shoulder, but he stubbornly refused to straighten up.
Well, that was just the kind of person he was.
For him, even a little closeness was the most rebellious thing he could imagine, wasn’t it? Shen Miao sighed helplessly and raised her hand to ruffle the back of his head. Her fingers brushed through his hair, and she noticed how surprisingly soft and fine it felt—almost like stroking the fur of a qilin.
"Alright, I’m not angry," she reassured him, kneading the nape of his neck soothingly. "I steamed some Buddha’s Delight cakes for you. Have a couple before you head to the academy, or you’ll be late and risk a scolding from Mr. Feng." She coaxed him further, "When you come back for the Dragon Boat Festival break, I’ll make you a big, savory sticky rice dumpling."
Still, he didn’t move.
Shen Miao thought for a moment, then adopted a more serious tone. "Lift your head. There’s something I want to tell you. Hurry up, or Yan Shu will come looking for you soon."
At last, he slowly raised his head.
Seizing the moment, Shen Miao flashed a mischievous grin and whispered breathily into his ear, "About what you called ‘taking liberties’—I actually have a different interpretation."
A short while later, Shen Miao leaned against the doorframe of her courtyard, arms crossed, watching with amusement as Xie Qi and Yan Shu led their donkey away.
"Zhou Da said Qiu Hao is already waiting at the academy…" Yan Shu, now well-fed, kept turning his head to glance at Xie Qi, who was clutching the Buddha’s Delight cakes and walking with an awkward, stiff gait. His clear, puzzled voice drifted back on the wind: "Ninth Brother, why is there a bite mark on your neck?"
The question made Xie Qi’s ears burn crimson, and he nearly knocked over a roadside fruit stall in his fluster.
Shen Miao couldn’t help but laugh.
Humming a tune, she turned to go back inside and steam another batch of Buddha’s Delight cakes for Sister Xiang and the others who were still asleep.
But before she could step through the gate, she suddenly heard an excited, urgent call from behind her: "Eldest Sister Shen! Eldest Sister Shen! Aunt Li and I are back!"
