No one knew why, but this year’s spring rain in Bianjing seemed endless.
Once it started, it never stopped.
The road in Yangliu East Alley became completely unusable—one step turned into a leg full of mud.
Eventually, the families in the alley pooled together funds: those who had money contributed silver, and those who didn’t provided labor.
Together, they raised three strings of cash and hauled back seven or eight loads of flat river stones from outside the city.
They packed the stones into the muddy road, allowing everyone to finally stop living in a swamp.
Ji Ge hadn’t gone to Lanchun Bookstore to copy books for three days.
Since his sister had taken on work from the Xie family, he hadn’t planned to go anyway.
So when he heard the loud, rhythmic shouts from outside early in the morning, he opened the courtyard door and saw the neighbors paving the road with stones.
Brother Gu and Uncle Gu were leading the effort.
The father and son were both tall and sturdy, their skin dark as if cast from the same mold.
Standing in the rain, they were nearly indistinguishable.
Uncle Gu placed the stones, while Brother Gu, shirtless, carried a thick wooden post tied together with several hemp ropes on his broad shoulders.
With every shout from his father, he slammed the post forcefully onto the ground.
Stone by stone, they pounded them into the rain-soaked mud.
Ji Ge couldn’t help but feel that Brother Gu seemed to be putting extra care into paving the section in front of the Shen family’s house.
The stones there were more meticulously packed, and there were even more of them compared to other homes.
He had even carefully selected several similarly sized square stones to lay neatly at their doorstep, as if a stone path had always been there.
Aunt Li grumbled about it under her breath, but since Shen Miao had also contributed a hundred coins for the roadwork—and since it wasn’t her husband, Li Tiaozi, doing the labor—she could only mutter to herself in secret.
The only ones who truly suffered were Li Gou’er and Xiang Jie, who had secretly been raising two little tadpoles in a puddle near their doorstep.
These weren’t just any tadpoles but ones that had already grown four legs—right at the stage between tadpole and frog.
Apparently, Xiang Jie had gone with her elder sister to fetch water at the well and struggled to catch them.
But in just a blink of an eye, their precious little creatures were crushed flat under Brother Gu’s stone-pounding efforts.
Xiang Jie picked up the squashed remains, cupped them in her chubby hands, and stood in the courtyard wailing.
Ji Ge carried her on his back and tried to comfort her for nearly half an hour.
In the end, he was so exhausted that his face turned red, and he had to put her down.
But when he looked at her, she was still clutching the dirty, squashed tadpoles and crying.
Every time she glanced at them, another tear fell.
At a complete loss, Ji Ge suddenly had an idea and suggested, “Xiang Jie, why don’t you feed them to the chickens? That way, they wouldn’t have died in vain.”
Xiang Jie looked up at him with her tear-streaked, red eyes, utterly horrified.
Then she threw her head back and wailed even louder.
Ji Ge was baffled.
Hadn’t she fed grasshoppers to the chickens before?
In his mind, these tadpoles weren’t much different from earthworms or grasshoppers.
He couldn’t understand why she was crying so much this time.
Finally, his elder sister stepped in.
She crouched down and whispered, “Ji Ge, you don’t get it. Yesterday, Xiang Jie and Li Gou’er crouched by the puddle and fed these tadpoles two mosquitoes. So in her mind, they’re no longer just tadpoles—they’ve been raised by her, just like our baby chicks.”
Ji Ge was thoroughly confused.
Just because she fed them, did that make them different?
Weren’t they still ugly little tadpoles?
In the end, it was Shen Miao who managed to console Xiang Jie—with two frog-shaped taiyaki pastries.
Due to the continuous rain, they hadn’t gone to the bridge market to sell snacks, so they had an excess of pre-soaked red beans.
To use them up, Shen Miao had been making red bean treats for every meal, meaning the Shen family had been living off red beans for days.
But to Ji Ge and Xiang Jie, even if they ate red beans at every meal, they still looked forward to each one.
Because their sister could turn red beans into magic.
That morning, they had thick red bean soup with glutinous rice dumplings.
Each of them cradled a steaming bowl as they sat by the door, watching the rain.
Their sister had even added a bit of sweet rice wine she’d bought from the Gu family, making the red bean soup smooth and fragrant with a hint of sweet alcohol.
The glutinous rice dumplings were chewy yet tender, carrying a subtle rice aroma.
After finishing, they felt warm from head to toe.
For lunch, Shen Miao made the frog-shaped taiyaki to comfort Xiang Jie.
She scooped some batter into a ladle, hovered her hand over the griddle to test the heat, and thought, proper taiyaki is shaped like a fish, but in desperate times… today, I’ll try making a frog.
She didn’t have a mold, and custom-making one would take time and money.
So instead, she mixed eggs with wheat flour into a smooth batter, then carefully ladled it onto the griddle, drawing a rough outline of a frog.
Making a frog shape required a hot pan and a steady hand.
If she trembled even slightly, the batter would spill in the wrong direction, and she’d have to start over.
She botched the first one but ate it herself, then gradually got the hang of it.
She waited for the batter’s edges to firm up, turning golden with tiny bubbles appearing.
Then she filled in the outline with more batter.
Pulling out a couple of burning sticks from the fire, she reduced the heat, letting the batter cook through.
She spread a thick layer of red bean paste in the center, then covered it with more batter to seal it.
After flipping it over, she let both sides cook until golden brown.
The taste wasn’t much different from taiyaki made with a mold—it still had that signature warm, gooey filling that stretched when pulled apart.
It just didn’t look as good.
Shen Miao comforted herself.
It might not be pretty, but it still smells amazing.
She handed the frog-shaped taiyaki to Xiang Jie, who had been crying nonstop.
But instead of being consoled, Xiang Jie held back her sniffles, stared at it for a long moment, and then, still hiccupping from crying, asked in confusion, “Ah-jie, did you make a squashed rat?”
Shen Miao choked.
“…It’s a frog.”
Hearing this, Xiang Jie took a closer look.
After a long moment, she finally burst into laughter at the sheer ugliness of the “Frog-yaki.”
Seeing Xiang Jie laughing while holding the “ugly frog-shaped taiyaki,” Shen Miao couldn’t help but laugh as well.
After lunch, she started preparing red bean paste buns.
The previous day, the Xie family’s coachman, Zhou Da, had arranged a departure time with her.
She didn’t want to keep others waiting, and since the rainy weather brought cooler temperatures, she had started kneading and proofing the dough earlier.
Because of the relentless rain, the Xie family’s carriage had been picking her up these past few days, sparing her a lot of trouble.
Shen Miao was deeply grateful—after all, she was just someone working for a wage, and the Xie family had no obligation to provide extra conveniences like this.
That day, when the Xie family’s carriage arrived, Zhou Da jumped down, clasped his hands in greeting, and explained, “Our Ninth Young Master noticed how heavy the rain was and instructed us to make sure we pick you up.
He said that performing rituals is about accumulating blessings, and we shouldn’t let others suffer for it.”
Hearing this, Shen Miao felt comforted, yet without any undue pressure.
Zhou Da was a round-faced man in his early thirties, with a naturally friendly appearance.
After explaining his purpose, he retrieved three straw raincoats from the carriage—one for an adult and two smaller ones for children.
“Shen Miao, wear this one,” he said.
“Yan Shu specifically told me to bring these. The large one belonged to our Eleventh Young Miss—she only wore it once before a seam came undone, so she didn’t want it anymore.
My wife mended it, and it’s as good as new. These two smaller ones used to belong to Yan Shu and another bookboy, Qiu Hao. They’ve been washed and dried, so they’re clean. Yan Shu said you should use them for now—please don’t mind.”
How could Shen Miao possibly mind?
Apart from two umbrellas, her household hadn’t even managed to buy raincoats yet.
The ones Zhou Da brought were neatly folded, and when she put one on, it was light and comfortable.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, she murmured her thanks.
Zhou Da waved a hand dismissively, “It’s nothing.”
After securely wrapping the red bean paste buns in oilcloth, Zhou Da got down again to help her load them onto the carriage.
The inside of the carriage was spacious, but with all the steaming trays inside, it felt quite crowded when Shen Miao, Shen Ji, and Xiang Jie squeezed in.
Still, no one complained—after all, this was far better than trudging through the rain.
As the carriage started moving, Shen Miao suddenly thought of something and lifted the curtain.
Through the misty rain, she saw Gu Tusu still standing at his doorway.
He was clad in a straw raincoat and a bamboo hat, silently watching the departing carriage.
Zhou Da was still outside, adjusting the rain cover on the chestnut-colored horse and gently stroking its damp mane in reassurance.
Once satisfied, he climbed onto the driver’s seat, called out to the horse, and carefully maneuvered the carriage out of the narrow alley.
As the wheels rolled through puddles, sending splashes into the air, Gu Tusu slowly lifted his gaze.
Through the heavy downpour, he locked eyes with Shen Miao, who sat high inside the carriage.
The rain was so intense that his bamboo hat obscured half of his face.
Shen Miao could barely make out his expression—just the silhouette of a tall figure, standing like a rain-drenched statue.
She waved at him.
“The rain is heavy, Brother Gu, go back inside.”
Gu Tusu said nothing.
Shen Miao waved again before lowering the curtain.
Holding Xiang Jie in her arms, she let out a quiet sigh.
She wasn’t really the “Elder Sister Shen” he knew, so she felt nothing from Gu Tusu’s silent closeness.
She couldn’t respond to his unspoken disappointment, nor could she concern herself too much with the complicated emotions he seemed to harbor.
Her transmigration was her deepest secret—one she could never and would never speak of.
Besides… whatever fondness Gu Tusu had, it was meant for the original Shen Miao, not for “her.”
Shen Miao had always been perceptive.
She had noticed Madam Gu’s hesitant glances and tucked them away in her mind.
She also saw how Gu Tusu, when witnessing her calmly wielding a cleaver to chop meat and shatter bones, would instinctively avert his gaze, just slightly.
The Gu family had always been kind to the original Shen Miao, as well as to Ji Ge and Xiang Jie.
She didn’t want to erase the goodwill between neighbors, and she remembered how Madam Gu had helped take care of her siblings.
So for now, she decided to keep her distance.
After all, she hadn’t come to Bianjing for anyone’s sake—she had come to live the life she wanted.
Maybe in a while, she should find an opportunity to talk things through with Gu Tusu properly.
Sitting inside the carriage, Shen Miao glanced around at its furnishings and decorations.
Only then did she realize—this carriage didn’t seem like one used by servants to transport goods or guests.
It was immaculately clean.
A slightly elevated seating platform held a small bamboo table with two woven cushions.
A calligraphy painting hung on the inner wall.
The platform itself was hollow, with two drawers built into it.
Shen Miao didn’t open them, but she guessed they might contain a chessboard or a tea set—especially since behind the small table, there was a compact wooden shelf.
The top shelf held a plate of fresh Buddha’s hand fruit, the middle shelf had a copper incense burner carved with plum blossom motifs, and the bottom shelf stored two old books.
The carriage’s interior was simple yet refined.
Outside, the rain carried the scent of damp grass and soil, but inside, the air remained filled with the refreshing citrus fragrance of Buddha’s hand fruit.
She recalled the lantern hanging in the corner of the carriage, bearing the character “Xie” in a distinctively elegant script.
Whose carriage was this?
She had a suspicion.
Later, she kept intending to thank the Xie family’s Ninth Young Master in person.
But whenever she went to the Xie household to bake red bean paste buns, she never saw him.
Instead, she only encountered the now much friendlier Head Chef Fang and the ever-opportunistic Yan Shu, who would sneak over to beg for food.
***
Time passed quickly, and today marked the final day of the Xie family’s religious ceremony.
After finishing the red bean paste buns, Shen Miao still had some time.
She thought for a moment and decided to prepare a special pastry as a thank-you gift for Xie Qi.
Just as she completed the pastries, Zhou Da arrived to pick her up.
Upon arriving at the Xie residence, she skillfully resumed her baking.
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