Hearing those words, Shen Miao’s heart clenched—she hadn’t expected her younger siblings’ situation to be even worse than she imagined!
Now, as she looked at the three women before her, she felt a deeper sense of gratitude.
Grasping their hands tightly, she sincerely said:
“Thank you, Aunt Gu, Aunt Li, Aunt Fang, for taking care of my brother and sister. Once I’ve settled down, I will personally visit each of you to express my thanks!”
Aunt Gu, the most enthusiastic of the three, waved her hand dismissively.
“We’ve been neighbors for years—no need for thanks! Hurry and check on Ji Ge’er and Xiang Jie. I’ll have Gu Er carry your luggage—don’t worry about it.”
After thanking them again, Shen Miao entrusted her belongings to Aunt Gu and hurried toward the narrow, cluttered alley leading to her old home.
Yangliu East Alley was actually the backstreet of Yanqiu Fang’s southern district in Bianjing.
Most homes here had front and back entrances—
The front doors faced the bustling marketplace, often converted into storefronts.
The back doors opened into the alley, used for daily living.
Halfway there, Shen Miao spotted it immediately—
A burnt ruin, the walls blackened with soot, half the roof collapsed, and the outer wall missing a large section, with charred debris scattered all over the ground.
This was her home.
Her uncle’s wife had written in her letter, saying “the fire wasn’t too bad.”
Not too bad? The place was nearly gone!
Luckily, fire prevention in Bianjing was strict.
From her memories, Shen Miao knew that in the city:
Every 300 paces, there was a military patrol station with five night guards.
Each street had brick watchtowers, manned at all times.
Below the towers, a hundred garrison troops were stationed.
If a fire broke out, these soldiers would rush over with water buckets, ladders, axes, and fire hooks.
It was probably thanks to them that the fire hadn’t spread further—otherwise, her family would have owed compensation to the entire neighborhood, making things even worse.
But there was no time to dwell on the past.
Right now, her main concern was her younger siblings.
She stepped over the rubble, her footing unsteady.
The charred wooden planks and broken tiles were damp, as if it had rained recently.
The air still carried a faint, acrid smell of burnt wood, adding to the desolate scene.
After only a few steps, she heard—
A suppressed, weak cough.
And the soft, muffled cries of a young girl.
Shen Miao pushed open a door that was nothing more than a burnt wooden frame, entering what seemed to be a storage area.
Inside, rows of shattered wine jars lined the walls, leading toward a single intact room—
The kitchen.
Since the Shen family had run a noodle shop, the kitchen had been built sturdily, with brick walls and a stone stove.
Even though the fire had scorched it, the structure remained mostly intact—the only surviving part of the house.
To the right of the kitchen, a small, charred doorway led to the shopfront.
Peering through it, Shen Miao could see collapsed cabinets, broken tables, and scattered debris.
She would deal with that later.
For now, she stepped over the blackened threshold, following the sounds of crying.
Inside, the room was dim, with the smell of damp straw and medicinal herbs in the air.
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness—
It was not as bad as she had feared.
The roof had a gaping hole.
But the walls and stove were still standing, though blackened by soot and fire scars.
Behind the stove, a thin straw mat was laid out, covered with a quilt and pillow.
The bedding was old but freshly laundered, likely donated by a kind neighbor.
Beneath the blanket, a small, trembling figure sobbed softly.
Shen Miao stepped forward and saw—
A boy, about nine years old, leaning weakly against the wall.
His long, unkempt hair fell over his pale face, his cheeks flushed with fever.
Despite being sick, he gently patted the little girl curled in his arms, trying to comfort her.
The girl had cried herself to sleep, yet even in her dreams, she wept silently, her tears rolling down her face.
Shen Miao froze.
Her feet felt heavy, unable to move forward.
But the sick boy noticed her first.
His bloodshot eyes lifted, staring at her in confusion.
For a moment, his fever-clouded mind struggled to recognize her.
Then, something clicked.
His brows furrowed, and he pressed his lips together, looking away without saying a word.
Shen Miao stepped closer, reaching out to check his fever—
But the boy jerked his head away, avoiding her touch.
His gaze turned sharp and defiant as he glared at her.
“Why are you here?”
His voice was hoarse, yet filled with anger.
Shen Miao didn’t respond immediately.
Ignoring his attempts to dodge, she firmly pressed her palm to his forehead.
Scorching heat.
His fever burned against her hand, like a fire consuming him from the inside.
Her heart clenched.
She softened her voice.
“Ji Ge’er, you’ve suffered so much.”
“But Elder Sister is back now.”
“I won’t leave again.”
At those words—
All the defiance in Shen Ji’s eyes crumbled.
A wave of emotion surged through him, leaving him utterly defenseless.
His throat tightened, and his nose burned with suppressed tears.
His eyes welled up, but he stubbornly refused to cry, forcing them wide open.
Yet, the more he tried to hold back, the redder his eyes became.
Shen Miao let out a silent sigh in her heart.
In the deepest part of the original owner’s memories, the heart-wrenching cries of her orphaned younger siblings lingered.
Out of cowardice, she had not dared to resist her mother-in-law and had cruelly abandoned the two children at her uncle’s house.
As she was about to board the carriage, little Xiang Jie, only three years old and still dressed in mourning clothes, clung tightly to the hem of her skirt, crying desperately, “A-Jie, don’t go! A-Jie, don’t go!”
In the end, Uncle Shen forcibly pried Xiang Jie’s tiny fingers apart and carried her away.
Even in his arms, she kicked and struggled, trying to break free and run back to her sister.
She cried so hard that she lost her breath, her voice turning hoarse.
At first, Ji Ge did not cry.
But the moment the original owner boarded the carriage, he suddenly broke free from his uncle’s grasp and ran after it with all his might.
He didn’t call out—just like today—his eyes filled with unshed tears, reddened and stubborn as he kept running and running.
When he could no longer keep up, a heart-wrenching cry finally echoed in the wind: “A-Jie!”
The original owner hadn’t dared to look back.
Sitting in the carriage, she wept silently.
That cry haunted her, leaving her restless and unable to find peace even in the Rong family’s household.
Though she constantly sent letters and gifts to Bianjing, she could never ease the guilt weighing on her heart.
Now that Shen Miao had taken her place and was standing before these two children, the remorse that wasn’t originally hers, yet had always lingered, finally dissipated like smoke in the wind.
She bent down and lifted Xiang Jie from Ji Ge’s arms onto her back.
The little girl, still sobbing in her sleep, surprisingly didn’t wake up.
Instead, the moment she lay on Shen Miao’s back, she slept even more soundly.
Ji Ge only watched in silence.
“Can you still walk? A-Jie will take you to Physician Zhao’s house to get more medicine.”
Shen Miao adjusted Xiang Jie on her back and reached out to take Ji Ge’s hand.
Ji Ge, following her words, struggled to stand up against the wall.
His body swayed slightly, and Shen Miao quickly moved to support him, but he dodged her.
Taking two deep breaths, he then asked coldly, “Why did you come back?”
Shen Miao had never seen such a stubborn child in either of her lifetimes.
Despite his age, he was sharp and guarded beyond his years.
She had no way to hide the fact that she had been divorced, so she simply explained in a few short sentences, saying lightly,
“The Rong family is greedy and despicable. If they want to cast me aside, so be it. These past few years, I’ve regretted my choices. Now, it’s all for the best—I’m no longer tied to them and can come back to take care of you.”
She hadn’t expected Ji Ge, whom she assumed resented her deeply, to listen to her explanation and then turn red with anger.
He suddenly burst out with crude street language, scolding, “That damn Rong family dared to humiliate you? Those spineless, filthy bastards!”
He was so furious that he started coughing violently.
When he finally caught his breath, his tone turned ice-cold, his hatred for the Rong family burning, “They knew you had no parents, and I was too young—no one could stand up for you!
If only I had been born earlier, I would have gone to Jinling myself and broken that Rong Dalang’s damn legs!”
Shen Miao only smiled. “So, you finally admit I’m your A-Jie?”
Ji Ge’s expression froze, then he let out a snort and turned away stubbornly.
“Let’s go. I’ll take you to get your medicine.”
Shen Miao carried Xiang Jie on her back and firmly took Ji Ge’s hand, leading the three of them through the maze of alleys to Physician Zhao’s clinic.
Physician Zhao’s family descended from imperial physicians, and the plaque hanging above their door—”A Flourishing Apricot Grove”—was personally gifted by the late emperor.
They specialized in pediatrics and gynecology, possessing deep-rooted expertise, making them one of the most renowned medical establishments in Bianjing.
However, due to their high consultation fees, commoners only sought their services in dire emergencies.
Compared to the overcrowded “Yang Family Clinic”, which was packed with people, Physician Zhao’s clinic had only a few women holding children while waiting for their prescriptions.
The old doctor with a white beard was resting his chin in his hand, basking in the warm spring sunlight, looking as if he might doze off at any moment.
Shen Miao’s perspective differed from that of the people in this era.
She believed that small illnesses should be treated early; letting them drag on until they turned severe would only lead to greater suffering and higher costs.
Especially for children, illness should never be endured.
Fortunately, Ji Ge’s condition was only a mild cold.
After a thorough diagnosis, the old physician assured them that it was nothing serious.
He prescribed five days’ worth of herbal medicine and a three-day supply of licorice-platycodon syrup for cough relief—already brewed and stored in bamboo flasks, looking remarkably like modern cough syrup.
Additionally, he provided three sets of fever-reducing herbal plasters to be applied to the Yongquan acupoint on the soles of Ji Ge’s feet. Shen Miao immediately felt relieved.
The doctor applied two plasters to Ji Ge’s feet on the spot.
Shen Miao also took the opportunity to learn the exact location of the Yongquan acupoint.
Since the plasters needed to be changed once a day, knowing how to apply them meant she wouldn’t have to make a daily trip back.
After collecting the medicine, the three of them retraced their steps home.
At some point during the journey, Xiang Jie, still asleep on Shen Miao’s back, had fallen into an even deeper sleep, now snoring softly.
Shen Miao asked, “Xiang Jie is sleeping so much. Could something be wrong?”
At her words, Ji Ge lowered his head, his expression darkening.
“Yesterday, I had a high fever. Xiang Jie stayed up all night crying while taking care of me. She didn’t dare close her eyes, afraid that I… might die too.”
Shen Miao was silent for a long moment, then adjusted Xiang Jie higher on her back, gritting her teeth in anger. “Once you’re better, I’m going to Uncle’s house to demand justice!”
For once, Ji Ge showed a hint of childishness, sulking, “I never want to step into that house again.”
He continued, his voice bitter, “After you left for Jinling, Uncle and Aunt kept trying to take ownership of our family’s shop, saying that I was too young and would need money for my education.
They claimed the shop would be useless to me and should be given to them so they could ‘manage it well’ and ‘take care of Xiang Jie and me for life.’”
“I refused. They got so angry.”
“Then, the shop burned down. Aunt lost her rental income, and she started treating us even worse. From then on, she only ever spoke to us with cold insults.”
Shen Miao clenched her jaw.
She had expected this.
The original owner had realized something was wrong when her uncle’s family started demanding money.
No matter how much Madam Rong scolded her, she had insisted on bringing her siblings to Jinling—perhaps because she had sensed what was happening.
Unfortunately, she never got the chance.
The Rong family had forced her into illness, leaving her bedridden.
The Shen family’s soup cake shop was in a prime location—not as bustling as Hongqiao, but just two streets from the palace.
The area near Jinliang Bridge was filled with government officials, and Daxiangguo Temple was only one street away.
In modern times, this would be like owning a shop right across from Chang’an Avenue in Beijing—how could it not be valuable?
The Shen family had once been wealthy.
Shen Miao’s grandfather had built his fortune from nothing, acquiring four shops.
When he passed, Uncle Shen, as the eldest son, inherited one shop in the inner city, one in the outer city, farmland in the countryside, and two chests of silver.
Shen Miao’s father, as the second son, also received two shops, one in the inner city and one in the outer city, though they were smaller.
One of these shops was the very soup cake shop that had burned down; the other, in the outer city, had already been sold years ago to save up for Shen Miao’s dowry.
While Shen Miao’s parents were still alive, Uncle Shen’s family had never envied them, as they were already better off—earning rent from the countryside and running the largest grain shop in the outer city.
Though they weren’t making a fortune overnight, they were still bringing in half a gold coin daily.
But now that Shen Miao’s parents were gone, and with only two daughters (who didn’t count under inheritance laws) and a young son who hadn’t yet come of age, Uncle Shen’s family grew greedy.
According to Song dynasty law, if Ji Ge were to die, the property would naturally fall into Uncle Shen’s hands.
But who would have thought that, despite his young age, Ji Ge would be so sharp-witted?
Unlike the original owner, who was soft-hearted and easy to manipulate, he was difficult to control.
No wonder Uncle Shen’s family became frustrated and threw the two children out.
Ji Ge had downplayed their suffering with the phrase “cold words and harsh looks”, but after three years of living under someone else’s roof, they must have endured untold hardships.
“Don’t be afraid,” Shen Miao reassured, tightening her grip on Ji Ge’s hand.
“A-Jie has been through this ordeal and finally sees things clearly. I won’t let you suffer anymore.”
Then she smiled. “Come, A-Jie will make you some dough ball soup. You’re still recovering, and plain porridge alone won’t be nutritious enough. Dough ball soup is warm and filling—just what you need.”
Ji Ge didn’t speak.
Instead, he stole a quiet glance at Shen Miao from the corner of his eye.
How could he not know what kind of person his sister was?
If A-Jie hadn’t been so kind and soft-hearted, he wouldn’t have grown up with such a cautious nature himself.
But this time, when A-Jie returned, her once hesitant and anxious gaze had changed.
Now, her eyes shone with unwavering determination—so much so that he almost felt like he could rely on her.
Yet, he quickly shoved aside that moment of weakness and swore to himself:
Now that A-Jie had returned from the Rong family, there would undoubtedly be gossip.
That only meant he had to stand strong.
Meanwhile, Shen Miao, unaware of Ji Ge’s maturing thoughts, continued to murmur softly, “I passed through Caizhou earlier and bought a purple yam. There’s still some left… but my luggage is at Aunt Gu’s house.
Oh, right, we need to buy firewood and kitchen utensils too. The key to making dough ball soup is controlling the heat…”
“What… dough ball soup?”
A wet sensation suddenly brushed the back of her neck.
Startled, Shen Miao turned around—only to see Xiang Jie, who had been sleeping soundly, suddenly lift her little head.
Still drowsy, she wiped away the drool at the corner of her mouth.
Shen Miao chuckled. Was her little sister… a foodie?