“Mrs. Lin,” Manager Zhang said, a smile appearing on his face as he saw her approach, “over these past two days, the entire caravan has had the chance to sample your cooking, and your skill with wheat-based dishes, in particular, truly shows remarkable ingenuity.”
“You flatter me, Manager,” Lin Wu said quickly, bending her knees in a slight bow, her voice tense and formal. “You and the master have traveled far and wide—there’s no delicacy from land or sea you haven’t tasted. My humble cooking is merely meant to keep everyone fed; I only hope it doesn’t disappoint.”
“No need to be so modest, Mrs. Lin,” Manager Zhang said, setting aside pleasantries and getting to the point. “That taro-stuffed pastry from this morning’s breakfast was soft and gently sweet, and it greatly pleased the master. He believes the elders at the household would adore it as well. That’s why I’ve called you here—to ask whether you’d be willing to sell us the recipe for this filling. The master has said it will be used strictly within the household, never shared outside, and certainly won’t interfere with your own future business.”
Hearing this, Lin Wu felt a wave of relief—so that was all it was. She promptly replied, “The taro filling is quite simple to make. I imagine the two assistant cooks would pick it up after watching me a couple of times. I’ll find some time in the next few days to walk them through it carefully and make sure they’ve got it down.”
“That won’t do,” Manager Zhang said, waving his hand. “Our caravan operates on the principle of doing business fairly. Since it’s your craft, we can’t simply take it for nothing. Even if the recipe is simple, it’s still your property. By standard market practice, we’ll offer one string of copper coins for the taro filling recipe. What do you think, ma’am?”
Lin Wu was taken aback—for such a simple filling, that price was more than generous. She tried to decline. “This… how could I accept this? It’s just an ordinary filling…”
“No need to refuse, Mrs. Lin.” Manager Zhang then instructed Xiao Zhao to fetch the bookkeeper to draw up a contract.
“I’m deeply grateful to the master and the manager for their kindness,” Lin Wu quickly thanked them.
While waiting for the bookkeeper, she thoughtfully added a few more details: “Manager, since we’re out on the road and supplies are limited, this filling can only be made to this standard for now. But if it’s made at the main residence later, adding a little cow’s milk and stirring it in would make the flavor even more fragrant and smooth. However, one must be careful—some people have delicate stomachs and can’t tolerate cow’s milk. It may cause diarrhea, so it’s best to ask ahead of time.”
Xiao Zhao, standing nearby, couldn’t help chiming in with praise: “Sister Lin, you really devote your whole heart to food—you’ve thought it all through!”
Lin Wu gave an awkward smile. “Brother Zhao, you’re too kind. It’s just that when Jingniang was little, she was frail and had a poor appetite—so thin she looked like a little cat. I was so worried that I had no choice but to rack my brains for soft, easy-to-swallow foods she’d actually eat. That’s how I stumbled into these little tricks.”
“I can see Jingniang’s cheeks are rosy now, and her appetite is excellent,” Xiao Zhao chuckled.
“That’s true,” Lin Wu said, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “Raising a child safely to adulthood is no easy feat—but it’s also the greatest blessing.”
After carefully tucking away the contract and the silver, Lin Wu made her way back along the path she’d come.
The moment she reached the wagons, Li Sanniang, who had been barely able to contain her curiosity, rushed over with a few of the kitchen helpers, all talking at once:
“Mrs. Lin, what did Manager Zhang call you over for? Was it something urgent?”
“Did something go wrong with the breakfast?”
Lin Wu answered in a light tone: “Thank you all for worrying. It was nothing urgent—the master just found this morning’s taro filling soft and agreeable, so he had the manager ask me for the method in detail. He’s thinking of having the cooks at the Lingzhou estate make it for the elders to enjoy.”
“I see!” Li Sanniang exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face as well. “That taro filling really was cleverly done! The master is truly a filial man—even while traveling far from home, he still thinks of his elders back at the house. That kind of character is rare!”
“Indeed,” Lin Wu agreed, feeling somewhat relieved inside.
“That’s why they say the Jincheng Caravan is one of the finest out there!” one of the kitchen helpers chimed in, puffing out his chest with pride. “The master is benevolent, the manager is fair-minded—plenty of people would kill for a position here and can’t even find a way in!”
“That’s right!” Li Sanniang nodded wholeheartedly, patting Lin Wu’s arm. “This time, we’ve really gotten lucky!”
Lingzhou, a residence roughly three li from the canal shipping docks.
This was the Shen family’s country estate in Lingzhou, set back from the city, close to the canal docks and the southern trade route—convenient for transport yet secluded from the bustle.
From the outside, it looked no different from any prosperous household, but the inside told another story.
Past the ornamental screen wall, the front courtyard opened wide. A flat, even stable yard was flanked by a row of storehouses with thick walls and tightly shut doors, neat and orderly, currently holding bolts of silk from Huzhou and rare treasures gathered from Nanya.
These precious goods were only stopping here briefly before being repacked and handed over to the Jingcheng Caravan of the Fang family in the capital, to be transported over the final three hundred li of official road into Beijing.
Passing through the front courtyard and the flower gate, one entered the inner garden, where the scenery was entirely different.
A winding corridor stretched forward, dotted with a few cold-hardy shrubs, and a channel of running water fed a clear pond through a rockery. Though autumn had deepened and the outskirts of Lingzhou had grown bleak, this courtyard stubbornly retained a touch of southern elegance.
But time and season could not be defied—the pond water already carried a faint chill.
Shen Guanting stood by the pond, tall and graceful.
He wore a plain pale-blue long robe, which, against the robes of servants who had already donned padded jackets, made him look strikingly thin and unadorned. Yet his posture showed no hint of shivering, and he appeared even more composed and resolute amid the desolation.
“Young Master,” a servant boy stepped forward and reported in a low voice, “Third Master Fang’s caravan has departed from Wu Cang County.”
“Mm.” Shen Guanting gave a slight nod at the news.
His features were handsome, his brow carrying a gentle scholarly air. He was idly tossing fish feed into the pond with a casual flick of his wrist, long lashes lowered as he watched the koi fight over the morsels, his demeanor relaxed.
Shen Guanting had accompanied his grandfather Shen Zhongming to Lingzhou over half a month ago.
Though his grandfather was past fifty, he remained full of vigor. However, he had long since stopped treading near the capital, focusing in recent years on managing the trade route from Huzhou to Nanya. That route was considered fraught with peril by outsiders—pestilent mists, barbaric lands, dangers lurking at every turn. But as the saying goes, great wealth is won through great risk. Through years of effort, the Shen family navigated it with ease, and their caravan, the Zhiyun, had earned a fearsome reputation along the Nanya trade road.
As for this northern journey, it came at a time when a new emperor had just taken the throne, and the capital was seething with undercurrents. The finest brocade they’d brought from Huzhou, along with the rarities gathered from Nanya, had become prized commodities for nobles and officials looking to curry favor or pay tribute upward.
And precisely because this shipment was so priceless, the old master Shen Zhongming had personally come along to oversee it.
However, how much of his grandfather’s mind was truly on the goods was still anyone’s guess, as far as Shen Guanting was concerned.
“Young Master, you really can’t feed the fish any more,” the servant boy said, peering at the pond. Several koi had eaten their bellies so round they could barely swim. And truly, Lingzhou was an odd place. The old master reported to the tea stall every day without fail, sitting for most of the day, drinking until his belly sloshed with tea.
The eldest young master, on the other hand, came to this pond every single day like clockwork, feeding the fish with great enthusiasm—morning and evening alike—until he'd practically stuffed those koi into round little barrels. Still, the eldest young master was clever: for all his feeding, it was the fish bellies that grew plump and round, never his own waistline.
Shen Guanting didn't seem to mind. He patted the lingering crumbs of fish feed from his hands. "I hear these are koi unique to Huzhou. Seems they've taken quite easily to Lingzhou's fare, even far from their native waters."
His gaze fell on the huddled mass of round, fat koi, and he continued in a slow, idle tone, as if speaking to himself: "Look at them—no cares in the world, only minding the meal in front of them."
Even the koi in the pond weren't safe from the clever Shen Guanting's sharp-tongued remarks.
"I suppose fish aren't that picky," the young servant said with a chuckle, scratching his head. "Their feed isn't like human food with all its varieties. White congee and plain rice—aren't they the same whether you're in Lingzhou or Huzhou?"
"Far from it," Shen Guanting replied with a vague, ambiguous note. Whether his "far from it" referred to the greedy fat koi before him, or to Lingzhou itself, or to something else entirely, was anyone's guess. He said no more, turning to stroll slowly toward the pavilion.
As he walked, the seemingly plain pale-blue robe he wore caught the sunlight and revealed a faint sheen of leaf-vein patterns woven into the fabric—simple and unassuming from a distance, but exquisite and refined up close.
He leaned against the railing and sat down. "Coming from Wucang County, it'll take at least five or six days. Seems Grandfather will have to linger here a while longer. Where has he gone off to amuse himself today?"
"The old master just came back from the tea stall on the corner," the servant said, a note of helplessness in his voice. "It's strange, really. When the old master first arrived in Lingzhou, he found fault with everything—the weather too dry, the trees too bare, the food too salty—and yet he's taken a peculiar liking to those rough tea leaves and shabby stools." He couldn't understand it. The old master could sleep on a boulder in the wilderness without complaint, yet here in bustling Lingzhou, he was finicky about everything.
A flicker of something stirred in Shen Guanting's eyes at this. He rose and made his way toward the tea hall.
"Guanting, you've come just in time," Shen Zhongming said, setting down his teacup the moment his eldest grandson entered. "I took a stroll down East Street just now and spotted a food stall from Huzhou—selling that shredded cabbage and tofu soup. The stall owner's craft is authentic, the broth clear and fresh. It tastes just like home! Far better than these greasy, salty Lingzhou dishes!"
Shen Guanting noticed his grandfather held nothing but a cup of tea in his hands—the words "just in time" seemed to come from nowhere. "Thank you, Grandfather, for thinking of me. If you happen to pick up a bowl next time, I'd be much obliged."
"What do you know? This kind of soup has to be eaten squatting by the stall, bowl in hand, piping hot! You spend all day cooped up in this house. Would it kill you to take a walk through the streets?" Shen Zhongming was short on reasoning but long on bluster when facing his eldest grandson's sly remarks.
"How could I ever match Grandfather's ease? Off to the tea stall to listen to storytellers and gossip, or wandering about in search of a taste of home—you seem more at leisure here than you ever were in Huzhou." Shen Guanting lifted his robe and sat down, taking a shallow sip of tea.
"And what else is there to do? Sit around with my thumb up my backside!" Shen Zhongming set his tea bowl down with a clatter. "That Fang boy won't be here for another five or six days—dragging his feet. Those people in the capital never get anything done promptly."
"Now, you're doing Third Uncle Fang a disservice," Shen Guanting said, lounging lazily against the back of his chair. "The capital is in quite a stir these days. On one hand, the new emperor's ascension brings celebration across the land—drums and gongs everywhere. On the other, old ministers are falling from power—homes confiscated, exiles dispatched. I hear the Eastern Palace caught fire a few days ago, burned clean to the ground, and the Daoist master declared it 'heavenly light cleansing the dust' to bolster the new emperor's might. With all that excitement, can you blame Uncle for wanting to take a few extra looks before setting out?"
Shen Zhongming lifted his gaze and shot his grandson a meaningful glance. "You, who never step foot outside your own door, somehow know more than I do, and I'm at the tea stall every day."
"That hardly requires any special effort to learn. Even my younger brother, all the way back in Huzhou, must know by now. And I thought Grandfather was spending his days at the tea stall out of a fondness for that rough brew—turns out he was there to listen to the excitement," Shen Guanting said in a calm tone, then pivoted: "After all, that Duke Gu... he was quite the old rival of yours."
Shen Zhongming fell silent for a moment at this, then sighed quietly. "Yes... an old rival, indeed."
He had left the court more than a decade ago, pouring himself entirely into the family business, with his sons and grandsons all taking up commerce—long since cut off from the world of officialdom. Now, hearing news of old acquaintances was no different than the common folk at the tea stall, treating each upheaval in the court as nothing more than idle talk to pass the time.
"That young Grand Tutor was a close adviser to the Crown Prince and bore the brunt of the punishment. Duke Gu, as the Crown Prince's in-law, could hardly escape either. Both of them, along with their adult sons, have already been executed. The remaining family members are still in prison, soon to be exiled a thousand li away..." Shen Guanting's voice trailed off as his gaze shifted slowly from his teacup to his grandfather across from him. "The question is whether they'll be sent to the northern frontier... or to Nanya in the south."
"North or south, both are over five thousand li away. The group is mostly made of old men, women, and children—more than half will die along the road. How many will even survive to reach their destination?" Shen Zhongming shook his head. "Whichever road they take, it's a road to the Yellow Springs. No difference in the end."
Shen Guanting's fingertip traced the warm rim of his cup, his expression undisturbed, as if he'd merely mentioned it in passing: "North or south, either way, they're territories where the Shen family is well acquainted."
