On the day of the Dragon Boat Festival, Tao got up early to dress up everyone in the household—humans and animals alike—in "festival attire."
She started with the children, stuffing each of them into a "Five Poisons" vest—a bright yellow belly wrap embroidered with centipedes, snakes, scorpions, geckos, and toads. Though garish, these vests were a Song Dynasty tradition, and nearly every child wore one during the festival.
Sister Xiang and Chen Chuan, still too young to be self-conscious, obediently put theirs on under Tao’s watchful gaze. Only Ji Brother resisted, his face scrunched in disgust as he clutched the yellow vest thrust into his hands.
"It’s for good luck, and no one will even see it!" Tao narrowed her phoenix eyes and planted herself firmly in front of his door. "Hurry up and put it on. No going out until you do."
With no other choice, Ji Brother shut the door tight, drew the curtains, and reluctantly wriggled into the vest. When he finally emerged, looking thoroughly miserable, Tao still wouldn’t budge until he lifted his outer robe to show her the yellow ties peeking out from beneath.
"Much better," she said, satisfied, before darting off to chase down the cats, dogs, donkey, and ox, intent on adorning them with red talismans.
Ge Shengun, a frequent visitor from West Lane who often came for noodles, had supplied plenty of these charms—each one hand-painted with vermillion ink on green paper, featuring an image of Zhong Kui on the front and mysterious incantations on the back, stamped with the Three Pure Ones’ seal.
Beaming, Ge Shengun delivered the talismans and bought a stack of fish noodles before leaving—he’d already made several strings of cash selling these charms the past few days. He’d also brought a few Taoist guardian portraits to ward off evil, instructing they be pasted on the doors.
Tang Er, a bowl of paste clenched between his teeth, was already stretching on tiptoe to stick one up, gripping the corners of the portrait.
Out of breath from chasing Qilin—a cat with a penchant for scaling walls—Tao finally caught the feline and, while cradling it, checked Tang Er’s work. "It’s crooked. A little more to the left."
Then she settled under a tree, first tying a "Five Poisons" cape around Qilin’s neck before fastening a red talisman to it.
Lei Ting, Eleventh Young Master, and Shierniang received the same treatment, though Eleventh Young Master got an extra toad-shaped hat—the only one who tolerated headwear. Lei Ting and Qilin would claw off anything placed on their heads, and Shierniang had once thrown hers off so violently she’d twisted her neck, spending days as a lopsided ox until Wen Shiqiniang the vet treated her with acupuncture.
The three chickens and Zhuifeng had been sent to guard the duck farm, so Tao entrusted their tiny festival outfits to Aunt Li to deliver.
Zhuifeng had taken to duck-herding with gusto, chasing the birds so relentlessly they’d flap frantically into the pond to escape. Aunt Li joked that some ducks had even developed leg muscles from all the running.
The little white rooster, meanwhile, was thrilled—with so many hens and no competition, he’d eagerly try to join them at dusk, only to be promptly pecked out of their coop.
Once the animals were decked out, Sister Xiang, Chen Chuan, and Ji Brother finished washing up. Tao called Sister Xiang over first, braiding her hair into twin buns and wrapping them with green ribbons dyed in mugwort. Fresh mugwort sprigs were tucked into the base of the buns, their tips dangling two "Five Poisons" coins tied securely. Chen Chuan and Ji Brother wore mugwort-dyed hats with dangling tassels, tiny bells at the ends, and five-colored threads and mugwort branches woven along the sides.
When Aunt Nian arrived with Youyu, even she wasn’t spared Tao’s festive zeal.
Youyu, the most compliant of all, sat patiently through the adornments, even yawning widely at one point.
Leaning against the doorframe, Aunt Nian watched as her daughter’s hair was twisted into two round buns and tied with bright ribbons. Then she hitched the Shen family’s oxcart and headed to the fast-food shop on Imperial Street—today’s catering orders had surged, and she still had deliveries to make.
Aunt Nian and Ding Wushi didn’t mind the extra work; business was booming, after all. They’d be more worried if things slowed down. Madam Shen, however, seemed guilty about them working through the holiday and insisted on paying triple wages, calling it "holiday compensation."
After Shierniang was hitched to Aunt Nian’s cart and led away, Tao took realgar wine and cinnabar to paint a "king" character on each person’s forehead.
Ji Brother’s protests failed, and when Xie Qi arrived with Yan Shu, they found him listlessly feeding the donkey, a resigned "Wang" stamped on his brow.
"Yan Shu! Haven’t seen you in days—come here!"
Tao’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, and she immediately dragged him over for a festive makeover.
Father Xie had arrived abruptly, wanting to "travel incognito," so he’d brought no attendants. Ninth Brother had assigned Yan Shu to assist him instead. The boy had been running ragged these past days, helping Father Xie shop for betrothal gifts, leaving early and returning late. Now, dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he’d noticeably thinned.
Upon another glance, he seemed to have lost two more teeth, his words whistling through the gap: "Sister Tao, what are we doing?"
"Madam Shen mentioned yesterday that she wanted to watch the dragon boats. Today is the Dragon Boat Festival, and we must wear mugwort charms to ward off the five poisons before heading out. That’s why I’m fixing your headscarf now!" Tao chuckled as she combed Yan Shu’s hair, her eyes darting subtly toward Xie Qi.
Ninth Brother had clearly known about the dragon boat outing in advance—he was already dressed for the occasion. Instead of a crown, his hair was tied high with two long, multicolored silk ribbons that cascaded down his back. He wore a blue gauze robe embroidered with waves and mountain motifs, layered over a white underrobe subtly stitched with silver-threaded patterns of the five poisons, shimmering faintly in the sunlight. A hollow mugwort ball dangled from his waist.
Tao, sharp-eyed as ever, noticed something peculiar: the ribbons in Ninth Brother’s hair looked suspiciously like the ones Madam Shen had clumsily braided the other day. Madam Shen was no skilled seamstress—even her five-colored threads were loosely woven and unmistakable.
But Tao said nothing, merely pursing her lips in silent understanding.
When Shen Miao finally emerged with her hair styled, Tao could hardly suppress her grin—Madam Shen had opted for the latest fashion, a tilted bun secured with a white jade hairpin and an additional peachwood calamus charm shaped like a tiny sword. The charm’s tassel was woven from the same five-colored threads as Ninth Brother’s ribbons.
This had to be a secret gift from Madam Shen to Ninth Brother yesterday while they were boiling zongzi in the kitchen!
Shen Miao’s outfit today was also in shades of mugwort green—a short jacket with a magpie-tail collar and a madder-red cotton skirt. Her waist was cinched with a net-like sash of five-colored threads, adorned with bells, poison-coin charms, peach pits, and sachets. Yet, despite the clutter, Tao immediately spotted the identical mugwort ball hanging from her waist.
Her smile widened.
So… Madam Shen had given Ninth Brother her handwoven ribbons, and in return, he’d gifted her this mugwort charm?
Satisfied, Tao handed the remaining two red spirit talismans to Tang Er and Fuxing. "Hang these on yourselves," she said before humming a tune and retreating to her room to get ready.
Shen Miao silently brushed her teeth and splashed her face with water. Her gaze landed on the ribbons in Xie Qi’s hair, and she couldn’t help but smile.
Noticing her amusement, Xie Qi’s ears flushed pink. He ducked his head and stepped forward, bending to pet Qilin, who was rubbing against his legs. As he scooped the cat into his arms, the colorful ribbons slipped over his shoulder and draped across his chest.
The mugwort ball at his waist swayed with the movement.
Today, Xie Qi’s belt was tightly fastened, accentuating the sharp taper from his broad shoulders and chest down to his narrow waist.
Shen Miao’s eyes lingered on that cinched waistline, suddenly recalling last night in the steamy kitchen, where their murmured discussion about "flirtation" had somehow led to her hands gripping his waist in a daze.
She hastily dunked her face back into the basin. The icy well water shocked her thoughts blank.
When she resurfaced, she dried her face with a cloth and regained her usual composure, rolling up her sleeves with a cheerful tone. "Shall we have five-colored rice dumplings for breakfast today? After eating, we’ll close the shop and all go watch the dragon boats. Aunt Gu reserved us a good spot by the river teahouse. She wants us to cheer for Second Brother Gu and Uncle Gu—they were both drafted by the Neighborhood Chief to race today."
Sister Xiang piped up instantly, "Then I’ll borrow a cymbal from Liu Douhua’s family! We’ll out-cheer everyone!"
With that, she dashed off.
Chen Chuan chased after her. "Grab a drum too! Bao’s family has a hand drum!"
"Eh?" Yan Shu looked around, hastily steadying his headscarf, not wanting to be left behind. "Wait for me!"
The children noisily stormed out of the courtyard, soon followed by the sound of them knocking on Liu Douhua’s door. Xie Qi sat on the veranda, absentmindedly kneading Qilin’s chubby face while his gaze trailed Shen Miao as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Qilin’s face was squished one moment, stretched flat the next.
"Meow!" The cat frantically pawed at Xie Qi’s arm in protest.
Snapping out of his daze, Xie Qi guiltily smoothed Qilin’s ruffled fur. "Sorry, sorry. I was… distracted. Did I hurt you?" He kissed the cat’s forehead apologetically.
Qilin finally quieted but wriggled free, leaping onto Xie Qi’s shoulder before hopping onto his head. There, it perched with its rear facing forward, batting playfully at the ribbons dangling behind him.
Tao emerged, now adorned with a mugwort charm and rouge, and glanced around the empty courtyard. "Where’s Master Xie?"
"My father left early this morning for Chenzhou to fetch the betrothal gifts."
Tao brightened. "Wonderful! Does that mean we just need to pick an auspicious date to finalize the engagement?"
"Mn." Xie Qi’s ears twitched slightly. He lowered his eyes and resumed idly stroking Qilin’s tail, which draped over his vision.
"I was wondering why the sparrows were chirping so much today—it must have been heralding this joyous occasion! How wonderful, now that you two are engaged..." Tao didn't finish her sentence, but the gleeful smile on her face betrayed her thoughts: Ahhh, now Madam Shen and Ninth Brother won’t have to hide their affection anymore! This is great—soon she’ll get to see all the sweet moments to her heart’s content!
And once they’re engaged, how far off can the wedding be? She’d already made up her mind to eavesdrop outside their chamber on the wedding night...
Humming cheerfully, Tao skipped off to tend to the shop out front.
Xie Qi had no idea that Tao had already brainstormed over a dozen names for his and Madam Shen’s future children. Absently playing with Qilin’s tail, he gazed longingly toward the kitchen. He wanted to follow Shen Miao inside to help tend the fire, but just yesterday, she’d complained that he wasn’t as skilled as Youyu—nearly boiling the water in the earthen pot dry.
Besides... he was a little afraid to go in.
Yesterday, after sitting on the low stool by the stove, his legs had gone numb, and it took him ages to stand up again.
Yet... he still yearned to be near Madam Shen, even if it meant just sitting quietly, without speaking or... "misbehaving."
No—no more thoughts of misbehaving! Who indulges in that every single day?!
Xie Qi scolded himself inwardly, but his heart prickled as if ants were nibbling at it. He pressed Qilin’s tail against his gradually warming face with both hands.
Meanwhile, Shen Miao strode into the kitchen with an air of composure.
But as soon as she crossed the threshold, her eyes landed on that stool by the stove. She quickly averted her gaze, only to spot the leftover zongzi—sticky rice dumplings wrapped in bamboo leaves—hanging by a string under the window. The rich aroma of the meat-filled dumplings wafted through the air, pulling her mind back to yesterday’s dusk.
She swallowed reflexively.
Why was she so nervous?
Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside her distractions and focused on kneading dough for the five-colored noodles.
This was actually a special cold noodle dish for the Dragon Boat Festival, originating from the Song Dynasty. It wasn’t particularly difficult, just tedious to prepare the five different colored doughs.
First, she had to extract colored juices from various ingredients: orange-red from carrot shreds squeezed through cheesecloth, green from spinach blanched and pounded in a mortar, yellow from the buttery broth of boiled millet, and black from soaked black beans ground into a dark slurry. The fifth color was simply the natural white of wheat flour.
After dividing the flour into five portions, she mixed each with its respective juice, adding salt and oil before kneading them into smooth doughs. Once rested, she rolled them into thin noodles. The broth for the dish was a chilled plum soup—simmered with dried plums, red dates, hawthorn, dried tangerine peel, and monk fruit until it turned a clear amber, then sweetened with honey after cooling.
She had prepared the plum soup the day before, sealing it and leaving it in a cool spot overnight. Now, it was perfectly chilled.
The final step was to boil the noodles, rinse them in cold water, and arrange them neatly in porcelain bowls chilled with well water. She then poured the cold plum soup over them.
The golden broth cradled the vibrant noodles, topped with a freshly washed hollyhock blossom. The dish was refreshingly sweet and tart, nourishing to the body—like eating an icy dessert.
This tradition of eating sweet noodles during the Dragon Boat Festival had largely faded in later generations, but it still held significance here. According to traditional medicine, the humid spring weather bred dampness and heat in the body, and this dish served as both a festive treat and a remedy.
Even without the noodles, the plum soup alone was delicious—soothing to the throat and aiding digestion.
Shen Miao decided to add it to the shop’s spring menu, asking Mei Sanniang to supply it regularly.
As she finished garnishing the noodles, she heard Sister Xiang’s voice in the courtyard: "Ninth Brother, why aren’t you running with me today?"
Xie Qi stammered, "My legs... aren’t feeling well. I’ll join you tomorrow."
Sister Xiang pressed, "What happened? Did you fall or twist your ankle?"
He hemmed and hawed before mumbling, "Uh... something like that..."
Shen Miao’s face burned.
Yesterday, as the kitchen window bathed in the honeyed glow of sunset, the heat inside had been stifling. Beads of sweat glistened on Xie Qi’s brow beneath his dark eyebrows. With the fading daylight behind him and the flickering stove fire ahead, he was enveloped in a hazy golden aura.
Through that glow, he had leaned toward her.
She hadn’t pulled away, only watched him intently—the way the light traced the edge of his nose, how the dusk illuminated the tiny mole on his neck.
Outside, Ji Brother and Sister Xiang had been noisily chasing each other around the courtyard, their bowls and spoons clinking as they fought over the last plums in their soup.
Xie Qi had held his breath, pausing for what felt like an eternity before slowly closing the distance between them.
Getting closer, their breaths mingled until Shen Miao’s eyelashes brushed against his cheekbone. Just then, a crackling sound from the firewood in the stove startled Xie Qi, causing his nose to bump clumsily against her face.
He retreated, covering his nose, looking utterly embarrassed.
"And you said you’d learned how!" Shen Miao was both exasperated and amused, unable to hold back a laugh. The more she tried to stifle it, the harder it became, until a giggle escaped.
But her laughter seemed to provoke Xie Qi.
In the next moment, a damp, nervous palm cradled the back of Shen Miao’s head, turning her face firmly toward him. This time, Xie Qi finally found the corner of her lips.
He pulled her close, his warm lips soft as fine satin.
Shen Miao didn’t close her eyes or pull away. She watched quietly—the shadow cast by his dark lashes, the flush creeping up his cheeks.
Her heart melted like sugar simmering over a gentle flame.
After brushing her lips, he withdrew slightly, then tentatively nuzzled her flushed cheek with his nose. Cupping her face, he opened his eyes to meet her gaze.
The firelight turned both their eyes amber. His lashes fluttered as he stared at her, as if gauging her reaction.
Shen Miao simply reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear.
The second time, he didn’t hesitate. His lips met hers with certainty, closing his eyes as he captured her upper lip.
Their breaths quickened, tongues lightly touching. In the flickering firelight, their shadows merged into one.
The scent of burning pine mingled with the fragrance of zongzi leaves. Comforted by the aroma, Shen Miao closed her eyes and tilted her chin up in response.
The last sliver of orange light from the window faded, replaced by thick steam rising from the bamboo steamer.
Xie Qi’s palm against the back of her head burned. When the long, deep kiss ended, their noses still touched, their ragged breaths intertwining.
Afterward, Shen Miao felt dazed.
All she remembered was how he kissed her again and again—like an overjoyed child, unable to hide his exhilaration.
"Ah Miao," he murmured against her lips.
Other times, he simply gazed at her with tender obsession, his eyes glistening like dew under the firelight and steam.
Dusk swallowed the last traces of daylight, leaving only the occasional spark from the stove to illuminate their entwined figures. When they finally parted, the glow painted Xie Qi’s flushed jaw and Shen Miao’s glistening lips in flickering gold.
"I really…"
"Like you so much."
"So much, so much."
In the haze of twilight, he whispered these words over and over, his love spilling unrestrained. But then, like an affectionate puppy, he’d nuzzle her nose or gently nip her lips.
He was feverish—his body, his heart, even his palms and lips burned. Shen Miao, too, lost her composure, surrendering to his kisses until she was utterly consumed.
Even now, the memory made her cheeks warm.
Shen Miao silently scooped another ladle of water to wash her face.
Later, the coins in the clay pot stopped clinking—the zongzi were done. By then, she and Xie Qi had been sitting stiffly on the bench for a long while. Seizing the excuse, she stood to check if the zongzi were ready.
Xie Qi mumbled an acknowledgment but didn’t move.
Of course. Predictably.
His legs had gone numb.
Remembering this, Shen Miao listened to his conversation with Sister Xiang and guessed: Ninth Brother’s legs must still be asleep… Biting back a laugh, she steadied herself before carrying out bowls of five-color rice dumplings, along with assorted cooked zongzi for everyone to share.
Yesterday, the aunts had gathered at her home to make jujube zongzi, sweet bean zongzi, plain zongzi, and alkaline rice zongzi. Shen Miao had traded some of her savory meat zongzi, so now her pantry held both sweet and salty varieties.
Each person received a bowl of five-color dumplings. The zongzi were generously sized—one per person was enough to fill them.
Sister Xiang wasn’t fond of the rice dumplings, so she finished her plum soup and devoured her zongzi with gusto. She and Chen Chuan were staunch supporters of the meat-filled ones. But Ji Brother, unusually, showed little enthusiasm—he preferred Aunt Gu’s plain zongzi dipped in sugar, easily polishing off three in one go.
Yan Shu, as always, enjoyed everything. He ate an alkaline zongzi with honey and a meat zongzi, then exclaimed to Shen Miao, "Madam Shen, this is my first time trying savory zongzi! They’re delicious—so rich and satisfying."
Shen Miao ruffled his hair. "Come by anytime. I made plenty."
I remember in my past life, my family would make zongzi in large batches—so many that we couldn’t finish them all during the Dragon Boat Festival. We’d freeze the extras and boil them every now and then, enjoying them for a long time. In the south, zongzi are a common sight at breakfast stalls year-round, becoming a staple rather than a seasonal treat like mooncakes, which only appear once a year. Eating them outside the festival isn’t unusual at all.
After breakfast, we had to hurry to see the dragon boats, or else the bridges would soon be too crowded to cross.
Aunt Gu had already arrived early and was waiting in a riverside tea shed.
The willow trees along the Bian River swayed in the warm breeze, their emerald waves rippling under the sun. Shen Miao packed a pouch full of snacks and led a lively group out the door.
As soon as they reached the entrance of the teahouse by the river, Sister Xiang spotted Liu Douhua inside. The children cheered and dashed in, with Fuxing and Tang Er quickly following—the place was packed, and they couldn’t risk losing track of the little ones.
Tao also hurried inside, catching a glimpse of the short broker Yabao amid the crowd. She hoped to seize the chance to ask if he had any news from her mother.
Shen Miao and Xie Qi, however, lingered behind alone.
The entrance was a jostle of bodies, their arms brushing as the current of people pushed them forward.
Shen Miao hesitated for a moment, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach for Xie Qi’s hand—but before she could act, he suddenly grasped hers first.
Her head snapped up to look at him.
But he didn’t meet her gaze, keeping his eyes fixed ahead with an air of solemn duty as he shielded her through the throng.
Shen Miao smiled to herself, curling her fingers to return the hold.
They made their way to the tea shed’s illegally constructed terrace, which offered an up-close view of the dragon boats.
Aunt Gu was already surrounded by children and neighbors from the alley. Just as Shen Miao and Xie Qi were about to join them, the urgent jingling of keys and a voice calling out interrupted: “Madam Shen! Madam Shen! Wait—please, wait!”
