Shen Miao strolled through the streets, observing her surroundings.
This version of the Song Dynasty had not yet been deeply influenced by Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism, nor was it burdened by national humiliation and hatred from foreign invasions.
Women’s status was not much different from that of the Tang Dynasty.
A married woman like herself, making a living in the marketplace, could go out alone without even needing to wear a veiled hat.
The night market near the Shen family home at Jinliang Bridge was not as bustling as Maxing Street, but it had everything one might need.
She first sought out the elderly carpenter, Yang, whom Gu Tusu had mentioned, and after explaining her purpose, she followed him to his home.
Old Yang had been a carpenter for decades.
He lived with a few apprentices, and his courtyard was filled with various types of wood, while his house was packed with finished wooden furniture.
Holding a candlestick, Shen Miao pretended to inspect the goods, first asking about the wood and then the prices.
After gauging the old carpenter’s temperament, she discreetly ran her fingers over the thick layer of dust on the furniture.
It seemed that Old Yang hadn’t had a customer in a long time; otherwise, he wouldn’t have so much unsold stock.
Seizing the opportunity, Shen Miao picked out the furniture she wanted and immediately haggled fiercely.
In the end, she managed to bring down the total price from 580 wen to 400 wen and even got three sitting stools, two wooden basins, and a set of wooden bowls thrown in for free.
She ordered three of the cheapest poplar wood beds, a walnut square table with four matching benches, a two-tiered double-door cabinet, and a writing desk with a waist support.
None of them carved, only coated with a clear or black lacquer, emphasizing durability over aesthetics.
To finalize the deal, Shen Miao found a middleman to draft a contract, paid half the amount upfront, and specifically wrote in the agreement that the furniture would be delivered the next morning with installation included, as well as a one-year free repair service.
Old Yang’s heart bled at this transaction, but he had taken out a loan to buy the wood.
If he didn’t sell off his stock soon, the monks from Xingguo Temple who had lent him the money would come knocking for repayment.
Well, so be it.
This Madam Shen had bought a lot and promised to introduce more customers in the future.
Earning less was better than not selling at all…
Still, as he pressed his seal on the contract, he couldn’t help but shake his head in amazement at Shen Miao.
“Madam, your tongue is truly formidable—you could probably talk the dead back to life!”
Even the middleman chuckled, pointing at the contract.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you, Old Yang, throw in so many extras and agree to a full year of repairs.”
Then, turning to the old carpenter, he added, “But it’s actually a great idea. This Madam is shrewd—you shouldn’t just focus on short-term gains. If you start offering this service with all your furniture, you’ll never lack buyers.”
Shen Miao also smiled.
“Exactly! And for coming up with such a great idea, shouldn’t you knock off another twenty wen for me?”
Old Yang nearly jumped up in alarm, waving his hands frantically.
“No way, no way! If I lower the price any further, my family, along with my three apprentices and our dog, will have to survive on the northwest wind!”
Shen Miao and the middleman burst into laughter.
Now, she had secured beds, a dining table, chairs, cabinets, and a study desk for Ji Ge—all in one trip and at a bargain price.
Feeling satisfied, she left.
Next, she wandered around Jinliang Bridge and stopped at a stall run by a plump woman selling “fragrant drinks.”
She bought a bowl of tea soup for two wen and casually inquired about how the market was regulated.
As expected, the stalls here weren’t just taken over by whoever got there first.
Vendors had to rent space from the “Street Administration Office” and pay fees to the city patrol officers.
Unauthorized street vendors who occupied space without permission would be punished under the “Song Penal Code,” which stated:
“Anyone encroaching on streets, alleys, or pathways shall be caned seventy times.”
“See those four wooden markers?” the plump woman pointed out.
“You can only set up a stall within those boundaries. The bridge also has designated areas and numbered signs. If you don’t follow the rules, you’ll get seventy canings!”
She added with a shudder, “And if you leave any filth behind, you’ll get sixty canings!”
They also talked about the rental fees for bridge stalls.
It was quite affordable: a small vendor with just a wheelbarrow or a few baskets paid only ten wen per month.
Larger stalls with thatched roofs and wooden posts cost thirty wen per month.
Though it seemed like a lot, the Song Dynasty had a booming commercial economy.
Street vendors who paid rent didn’t need to pay additional taxes, and even shop owners only had to pay a combined 5% tax—2% for “passage tax” (import duty) and 3% for “transaction tax.”
If there was a disaster year, essential goods like grain, iron farming tools, and livestock were exempt from tax.
However, salt and iron remained government monopolies—commoners couldn’t sell them.
Shen Miao recalled reading somewhere that during the reign of Emperor Renzong, commercial taxes accounted for only 12% of national revenue but still brought in over 19 million guan (strings of coins).
This single commercial tax exceeded the best total tax revenues of both the Ming and Qing Dynasties.
And that was despite the Song Dynasty constantly paying massive tributes to foreign states, whether they won or lost wars.
But the Song Dynasty she had transmigrated into was peaceful, with no such tribute payments.
The common people were wealthier!
Having grasped the situation, Shen Miao thanked the plump woman and left the bridge.
On the other side, she bought three cotton quilts and three sets of rough cotton bedding from a cotton shop, arranging for the cotton worker to fluff them by the next day.
She planned to return the bedding borrowed from the Gu family after washing it—it wouldn’t be right to keep taking advantage of them.
She also purchased two bolts of coarse cloth from a fabric shop: one was blue with flowing water patterns, and the other was pale yellow with woven floral designs.
She bought some needles and thread as well, intending to make clothes for Ji Ge and Xiang Jie.
The original owner of her body had been a cherished daughter, never having done much manual labor.
She had only occasionally helped in her family’s shop, spending most of her time doing embroidery.
Shen Miao wasn’t sure if she had inherited the original owner’s embroidery skills, but since she had memories of how to stitch flowers and make shirts, jackets, shoes, and hats, she figured she might as well give it a try.
More importantly, after spending the whole day at the Shen residence, she hadn’t seen any clothing or luggage for Ji Ge and Xiang Jie.
They hadn’t even changed clothes—they both smelled a little musty.
They must have been thrown out with nothing.
At this thought, Shen Miao felt a surge of anger.
Tomorrow, once everything was settled at home, Shen Miao absolutely had to take a cart to the outer city and vent her frustrations at her Uncle Shen’s house!
With this thought in mind, she headed to the pottery shop and ordered two large water jars, two small clay stoves, two griddles, a wide-mouthed, round-bellied earthen oven, and several stacks of the cheapest earthenware bowls.
Finally, the most important purchase was a “tu cart” (a simple cart made of wood and earth materials).
Today, Gu Erlang had used a single-wheeled tu cart to help her transport goods.
It could be pushed by hand or harnessed to livestock, carrying both cargo and passengers.
It was highly versatile, able to traverse mountain paths, alleys, and even narrow field ridges with ease.
However, Shen Miao wanted to modify one—she envisioned a cart with wheels, a sail, and a sunshade.
A single-wheel cart required too much physical effort, while a two-wheeled version was more stable.
Unfortunately, when she inquired at several cart-making workshops, their quotes were quite expensive.
After wandering around for a while, she eventually found herself back at Old Yang’s workshop—the same carpenter who had made her furniture.
Old Yang was squatting by his doorway, planing a new piece of wood, shavings piling up around him.
When he looked up, he saw that sharp-tongued young woman from earlier standing beneath the lantern, grinning at him.
The flickering lantern light softened Madam Shen’s features, making her look even more graceful—like a lotus swaying gently in the night breeze.
Yet, for some reason, despite holding a sturdy plane in his hands, a sudden chill ran down Old Yang’s spine.
***
After a night of spending money like dirt, Shen Miao returned to the Shen household.
The two little ones had long been dozing off like pecking chicks, yet they were unwilling to light a lamp, silently waiting for her in the dark.
As soon as Shen Miao reached the door, Xiang Jie heard the footsteps and excitedly called out, “This time it must be Sister coming back!”
Hearing this, Shen Miao couldn’t help but smile.
That night, the three of them squeezed together on a makeshift bed formed by pushing several long benches together.
They slept horizontally across it, leaving Shen Miao’s legs dangling off the edge.
It was an incredibly uncomfortable night.
But after an exhausting day, her body was completely drained, so she still overslept the next morning.
By the time she woke up, the sun was already high in the sky.
What finally roused her was the delicious aroma of steamed buns drifting from the kitchen.
Rubbing her eyes, she sat up.
Xiang Jie was still sleeping soundly, curled up against her arm.
Meanwhile, Ji Ge was crouched in front of the stove, poking at the firewood with a pair of tongs.
Clearly, he had quietly gotten up early and reheated the leftover buns from the previous night.
After a simple breakfast, Old Yang arrived earlier than expected with his apprentices, bringing the furniture on a cart.
By custom, setting up a new bed required selecting an auspicious day, but the Shen household was so bare-bones that they simply couldn’t afford to wait.
How run-down was the Shen household exactly?
When Old Yang followed the address Shen Miao had left, he was so stunned by the sight of the burned and collapsed house that he hesitated at the entrance, lingering there for quite a while before finally poking his head in to ask, “Uh… is this really Madam Shen’s house?”
Shen Miao stepped out to greet them, but she noticed that both Old Yang and his apprentices looked at her with three parts pity.
She pretended not to notice and calmly directed them to place the three beds in the front shop space, which at least still had an intact roof.
Each bed was placed against a wall—Ji Ge would sleep on the innermost one, Xiang Jie in the middle, and she would take the outermost bed.
She planned to hang a curtain to separate Ji Ge for privacy.
She positioned the writing desk beside Ji Ge’s bed so he could use it for studying.
The dining table, benches, and cabinet were placed in the kitchen.
For now, they would make do like this.
Once she earned enough money, she would rebuild the rooms in the back that had been burned down, and then they could have separate rooms instead of being so cramped.
Luckily, Ji Ge was still young, and Shen Miao herself had grown up in a large family in her past life, surrounded by many cousins.
Whenever they returned to their hometown for the holidays, there weren’t enough rooms for everyone, so her grandfather would often push beds together to make a giant shared sleeping space for all the kids.
Of course, those nights were never peaceful—either someone was sneaking downstairs to steal Grandma’s braised duck feet, or they were all huddled under the blankets playing cards or Werewolf until dawn.
After checking over all the delivered furniture, Shen Miao settled the payment with Old Yang promptly.
As she saw them off, she grinned and casually asked, “So, about the cart I mentioned yesterday—have you thought it over? Do you think you can build it?”
Old Yang smacked his lips and said, “Give me 300 wen, and I’ll make it for you!”
Shen Miao narrowed her eyes.
“200 wen! I’ll buy the sunshade umbrella myself!”
Old Yang held up five fingers.
“280 wen! And I’ll throw in the umbrella. That’s my final offer!”
Shen Miao smiled.
“Let’s meet in the middle—230 wen!”