The moment he took a bite, the pancake was incredibly crispy, cooked to perfection!
The flaky crust crumbled between his lips and teeth, but to his surprise, it wasn’t bland—it had a natural savory taste, rich yet not greasy.
Before he could even savor it fully, the fried chicken and crispy fried dough inside, coated in a smooth, slightly sweet milky-white sauce, burst with flavor.
The crunch combined with the slight sweetness and a hint of acidity, intensifying the rich taste of the meat.
Then, fresh and crisp spring greens followed, like a cool breeze on a hot day, balancing out the heaviness of the meat and egg with a refreshing touch.
By the time Xie Chi snapped out of his daze, he was already licking his fingers.
Instinctively, he glanced at his attendants.
They were eating even faster than he was, stuffing their mouths like starving wolves.
Their cheeks were bulging, their lips smeared with sauce as they licked at them eagerly.
Xie Chi suddenly felt a pang of regret—he should have kept three pancakes for himself.
He considered sending someone to chase after the servant who had taken the extra pancakes home, but that would be embarrassing.
Instead, he turned to instruct them to buy two more—only to see the young woman behind the stall looking slightly apologetic.
“…Oh no, it’s my first day here, and I wasn’t sure how many to make. I only prepared fifty portions to test the waters, but I didn’t expect them to sell out so quickly. I’ll make more tomorrow.”
Even Shen Miao hadn’t expected her food to sell this fast.
Even the ten or so grilled sausages she had made—priced at three wen for one, or five wen for two—were gone before she had even started selling pancakes.
She had offered one for free sampling, but the rest had sold out quickly.
The sausages were skewered on bamboo sticks and carefully scored before being pan-fried on the griddle.
A drizzle of hot oil turned them golden brown and crispy, the edges curling up beautifully.
Once slathered in sauce and seared until slightly charred and crispy, their fragrance filled the air, wafting down the street.
Since the sausages were cheaper than the pancakes—only three wen for a whole skewer—they easily tempted passersby into trying one.
Some curious customers even asked her how she managed to prepare pork so well, eliminating any unpleasant odors.
But Shen Miao couldn’t just give away her secret—after all, she still planned to open a noodle shop!
She simply smiled warmly and said, “Come back tomorrow! I’ll be here every day, so you won’t miss out.”
Some people even asked her specifically what time she’d be back so they could come early and wait.
As the crowd dispersed, Shen Miao began tidying up.
She stacked the empty bowls and dishes, poured the used oil from frying the sausages back into a food container, tied everything into a neat bundle, and slung it over her arm.
She closed the large umbrella and carried it on her shoulder, while the stools and stoves were stacked on the table so she could carry them all at once.
It was heavy, but not impossible to manage.
In her past life, Shen Miao had always been strong—after all, running a restaurant meant waking up early and hauling entire carts of produce, which was even heavier.
Even before that, in the Rong family, she had been responsible for all the housework.
She was no longer the pampered girl she once was.
And besides, when traveling from Jinling to Bianjing, there had been times when she couldn’t afford to hire porters, and she had carried her own luggage.
Still… maybe she should invest in a sturdy carrying pole.
The plump tea vendor, who had initially felt a bit envious of Shen Miao’s booming business, eventually benefited as well.
Many customers who bought pancakes also purchased her tea.
Shen Miao had even given her a complimentary vegetable pancake, so now she was all smiles and even helped her pack up.
She playfully raised an eyebrow and asked, “You’re not waiting for someone to pick you up?”
Shen Miao shook her head with a grin.
“No need. I’m not some delicate flower. This is nothing.”
Just as she was about to lift her load, two children ran up from the bridge entrance.
Ji Ge dashed forward, grabbing the large umbrella and taking the bundle off her arm.
He even lifted both stoves with one hand, while Xiang Jie carried the stools.
In an instant, Shen Miao was left with just the table.
“How did you two get here?”
Shen Miao smiled, genuinely touched.
“Ji Ge, you’re carrying too much. Give me one of the stoves.”
“I figured you’d almost be sold out by now, so we came over,” Ji Ge said confidently.
He had kept count of how many pancake skins she had prepared the night before and knew that with her skills, there was no way they wouldn’t sell.
After finishing the house chores, he had watched the craftsmen complete the stove and earth oven, then decided to come find her.
“I can carry it. Oh, by the way, He Daizho said the earth oven needs five to eight days to dry before we can use it.”
“That won’t do—I’ll take one of the stoves.” Shen Miao firmly took one from him.
“Did you make sure to take care of He Daizhao and his workers? They worked hard today. Did you give them water?”
“Don’t worry, I did! I even helped pass them chisels while they worked.”
Shen Miao smiled.
Ji Ge was quite clever—and thoughtful, too.
The three of them walked back home together, chatting and laughing.
Only the plump tea vendor stood there in the wind, utterly bewildered—Shen Miao didn’t look a day over sixteen or seventeen, so how could she have two such grown-up children?
Xie Residence, Bell and Drum Alley, West of Daxiangguo Temple.
Xie Qi was sitting at his desk under the south window, reading a book.
Meanwhile, Yan Shu, holding a small bucket, was watering the banana plants beneath the window.
He looked up and noticed that his Jiu Ge’er (Ninth Brother) was holding his book upside down, staring blankly at it as if he were deeply engrossed.
Yan Shu sighed heavily like an old man.
Everything had seemed fine when they first disembarked and made their way toward Chenzhou—aside from losing money twice, taking the wrong road three times, and flipping their cart once.
Despite these mishaps, Yan Shu and Xie Qi had still managed to arrive at the residence of Xie Qi’s uncle, Cui Sicao.
Cui Sicao and his wife had hosted a grand banquet for Xie Qi, but during the feast, they suddenly broke into uncontrollable sobs.
They lamented that Xie Qi’s cousin was gravely ill and likely would not recover, so they asked Xie Qi to take back the betrothal gifts and return to Bianjing.
They promised to visit in person later to formally annul the engagement.
Given the circumstances, Xie Qi knew it was only proper to withdraw.
However, out of both courtesy and concern, he wished to see his cousin one last time.
Cui Sicao, looking pained, shook his head.
“She has contracted a terrible illness. It’s best you don’t see her. She’s recuperating in a secluded courtyard.”
His aunt was beside herself with grief, wailing, “She was simply not blessed! Oh, my poor child!”
Xie Qi felt that something was amiss, but his aunt’s sorrow seemed too genuine to be an act.
With no other option, he carefully checked and packed up the six betrothal gifts according to custom, then sent a letter back to his family.
However, that night, as he lay in his room at the Cui residence, he found himself unable to sleep.
His mind was restless.
From the way his aunt spoke, it was clear that his cousin’s illness was not a minor one.
But if she were truly so sick, why had she never sought medical treatment in Bianjing?
After all, it was only a few days’ ride away on horseback.
And if they had already decided to call off the engagement, why had they kept it a secret before the betrothal gifts were formally exchanged?
The Cui family was a well-established noble house in Chenzhou.
They would never handle such matters improperly.
Unable to shake his unease, Xie Qi threw on a robe and got up.
He dragged a drowsy Yan Shu outside to admire the moon, hoping that the fresh night air would clear his thoughts.
As he wandered through the pavilions and corridors of the Cui estate, he found himself drawn deeper into its garden.
The lush foliage and towering trees cast deep shadows, and the moonlight filtering through the leaves made the place seem eerily desolate.
Just as he was about to turn back, he noticed flickering lights and chaotic movement beyond the courtyard wall.
Straining his ears, he suddenly caught the sound of sobbing and desperate pleading:
“No, no! Father, I know I was wrong! Please, don’t—ah! Mother, save me! Please, save—”
The voice was abruptly cut off, as if something had muffled it.
Only muffled, choked sobs remained.
“Gag her!” came the furious voice of Cui Sicao, his tone filled with both anger and shame.
“You disgraceful fool! If you dared to do something so shameless, then you should have expected this outcome!”
There was a brief pause before he continued, his voice seething with rage.
“If not for your deception—using your mother’s love to trick us into letting you visit the estate before your engagement, claiming you wanted to enjoy your last days of freedom—how could we have remained ignorant until now?
And to think you planned to elope with a lowly servant? You have no regard for your parents, for the Cui family’s reputation, for my standing as an official, or for your sisters’ future prospects! Why, then, should anyone care for your life?! We raised an ungrateful wretch!”
Xie Qi and Yan Shu exchanged a glance.
Using the cover of a large tree, they quickly climbed onto the courtyard wall.
Peering over, they realized that the building beyond was the Cui family’s ancestral hall.
The figures inside were hidden from view, but they could see the dim candlelight casting shifting shadows on the wooden lattice windows.
At night, candle shadows always appeared unnaturally large, twisting into grotesque shapes on the walls like towering giants with elongated limbs.
Against the dense blackness of the night, the flickering light and shifting silhouettes created an eerie, unsettling scene—one that made Xie Qi’s heart pound in alarm.