The fifth watch had just been announced by the night watchman, and the sky was still dim and unclear.
Outside the alley of Willow East Lane, the calls of various vendors selling breakfast and tea could already be heard through the walls:
“Rice, millet, and cowpeas! Sugar buns, meat buns, and pea buns!”
“Thin porridge made from white flour, paired with half a cucumber dipped in sauce-delicious!”
The lively atmosphere carried by the morning breeze made the steam rising from the Shen family’s kitchen seem as if it were being chased out of the chimney.
Amidst this vibrant energy, Shen Miao calmly closed the last layer of the bamboo steamer.
On the wide table behind her, several prepared dough balls were already covered with a damp cloth, resting and rising.
In the corner, a ceramic soup pot quietly emitted the warm, rich aroma of mutton soup.
A large mutton bone had been simmering in the soup all night until dawn, forming the base of the broth.
The mutton had also been cut into large chunks beforehand and added to the pot.
In just a few moments, as the meat softened and its essence gradually melted into the soup, the broth would thicken and turn a milky white, filling the air with its fragrance.
This mutton soup, made with genuine ingredients, could serve as the base for mutton noodles or be enjoyed on its own.
Although pork bone broth had also been prepared, the mutton soup was Shen Miao’s main focus today.
As soon as she woke up, she threw on her clothes and hurried to the kitchen to check on the soup.
Fortunately, everything was going smoothly.
She scooped out a spoonful to taste the broth was smooth and rich, not greasy, and as it went down, it felt as if a warm, flavorful flame had settled in her stomach.
The buns and steamed buns that needed to be sold for breakfast had also been prepared the night before.
After steaming them early in the morning, Shen Miao found herself with some free time, so she decided to make some griddle cakes and layered pancakes.
However, she had already planned not to rush in the morning.
The breakfast menu would focus on the mutton soup and these simple buns and steamed buns.
After the breakfast rush, she would slowly prepare the noodles and side dishes needed for lunch and dinner.
Now that she no longer had to rush to the morning market at Golden Beam Bridge, Shen Miao, despite offering a wider variety of items, felt more at ease.
She planned to open the shop at Chenshi (7-9 AM) to sell the first wave of breakfast.
Since lunch wasn’t the main meal for Song people, she expected fewer customers for noodles and could prepare less, allowing her some rest.
In the evening, she intended to stay open later, as Bianjing’s night market was bustling, and the flow of people at night was no less than during the day.
It was common for people to stroll around and grab a hot midnight snack.
As for the noodles sold in the shop, Shen Miao planned to focus on her “fried instant soup noodles” and the popular fried sauce noodles that had been well-received during the trial run.
She also added a few famous and delicious Henan specialties from later generations: “Hutou noodles,” “steamed noodles,” and “braised noodles.”
She was quite cunning, planning to use these timeless classic Henan dishes to win over the ancient Song people of Henan a thousand years ago.
However, Shen Miao didn’t dare to be overconfident.
She decided to start with these few items and see how they sold before gradually introducing more and enriching the menu.
Once the buns and steamed buns for breakfast were ready, Shen Miao moved two layers of the bamboo steamer to the small cart outside.
The charcoal stove on the cart had already been lit.
Xiangjie, wearing a small floral apron and holding a giant fried dough stick like a golden cudgel, nimbly climbed onto the tall bamboo stool.
As the designated breakfast vendor appointed by her elder sister, she was quite dedicated and had also gotten up early.
Sitting down, she took a bite of the fried dough stick and sipped some sweet jujube soup before calling out to the passersby in her childish voice, reciting the lines Shen Miao had taught her over the past few days:
“Good skin, good filling, everyone praises our meat buns!”
“Shen’s big buns: one bun, one tael of filling; two buns can replace a bowl of rice!”
“First bite, soft skin; second bite, fragrant filling; third bite, full of flavor!”
“Steamed buns and mutton soup, freshly made and freshly steamed-don’t miss it when you pass by!”
The child’s voice was high-pitched and sweet, like the juicy loquats on the early summer branches.
Xiangjie, with her chubby and adorable appearance, would pause after each call to take a bite of her fried dough stick.
Sitting there, busy and diligent, she caught the attention of Madam Ning, a matchmaker who was on her way to the Gu family to arrange a marriage.
Madam Ning stopped and approached, curious. “What kind of buns do you have?”
Seeing a customer, Xiangjie quickly swallowed what was in her mouth, tilted her head, and began listing the options:
“Good morning! My elder sister said we have char siu buns, cabbage buns, shredded radish and dried shrimp buns, sweet bean buns, brown sugar buns, and Lin’an-style soup dumplings!”
“Which one would you like? I’ll use this bamboo clip to pack it for you! My elder sister said we can’t use our hands-it’s cleaner and safer this way!”
With that, she picked up the long bamboo clip from the small jar and made a few clicking sounds in the air.
Madam Ning, who had no children of her own, was delighted by Xiangjie’s cheerful and articulate manner.
She glanced at the clean and tidy cart.
The other bun flavors were quite common, but there was one that caught her attention.
She hesitated and asked,
“What are these Lin’an-style soup dumplings you mentioned?”
Xiangjie straightened up and pointed to the small round bamboo steamer on another stove.
Carefully lifting the top layer, she revealed the contents:
“These are Lin’an-style soup dumplings-small, filled with scallion and meat, and you can eat them in one bite! They’re so delicious!”
She swayed her head, reminiscing about the taste from when her elder sister let her try one yesterday.
“They’re so good, I could eat a whole basket by myself!”
Madam Ning waved away the rising steam and saw the small, neatly folded meat buns arranged on a clean cloth inside the steamer.
They were delicate and adorable, each one plump and glistening with meat juices, the aroma of meat and wheat filling the air.
There were eight dumplings in one basket, and they looked thin-skinned with generous fillings all for just ten wen!
Madam Ning, who had become an official matchmaker at a young age, earned a hefty sum for every successful marriage arrangement.
In Bianjing, matchmakers and monks were professions that didn’t show their wealth openly but were secretly very lucrative.
However, being a matchmaker required not only family connections and a silver tongue but also a wide network of contacts and the ability to navigate various social circles—it wasn’t a job just anyone could do.
With her ample savings, Madam Ning didn’t hesitate.
Her throat moved as she said,
“I’ll take one basket! And a whole red bean baked bun.”
“The soup dumplings are ten wen per basket, and the red bean baked bun is eight wen…”
Xiangjie suddenly stumbled, counting on her fingers but unable to figure out what “ten plus eight” was.
Fortunately, Jiguer, who had just finished helping Shen Miao carry water, overheard and quickly came out to help.
Jiguer gently flicked her forehead and smiled at Madam Ning.
“That’ll be eighteen wen in total.”
Xiangjie stuck out her tongue, handed her giant fried dough stick to her brother for safekeeping, and eagerly grabbed the bamboo clip to pack the Lin’an-style soup dumplings into a folded oil paper bag.
After receiving the payment, she handed it over with both hands, imitating Shen Miao’s demeanor and tone, her eyes curving into a professional smile:
“Auntie, your buns are ready! If you like them, come back again!”
Madam Ning took the bag and touched her face in disbelief: Was she already being called “auntie” by children?
But the aroma from the bag quickly distracted her.
She walked to the willow tree at the entrance of the alley, turned her back, and took a bite of a soup dumpling.
The skin was soft yet chewy, some parts soaked in meat juices.
With one bite, the soft dough and savory meat filling burst with flavor, the rich broth spreading across her tongue.
The skin was thin, the filling generous, and it wasn’t greasy at all – each bite was a delightful surprise, leaving Madam Ning thoroughly satisfied.
She couldn’t stop eating.
She hadn’t expected this newly opened noodle shop to make such delicious meat buns.
She finished the entire basket in one go.
Though her stomach was full, her mouth still craved more.
Peeking into Willow East Lane where the Gu family’s house was still closed, Madam Ning turned back to look at the sky and pondered for a moment.
Finally, she happily gave in to her desire and walked into Shen’s Noodle Shop.
Before entering, she turned back to Xiangjie and said,
“Give me half a basket of soup dumplings.”
After placing her order, she found a table and sat down, looking around.
The shop was tidy, with clean tables and chairs, and even the floor was spotless.
She nodded to herself and turned to the menu on the wall.
At the top was a large line of characters: “Shen’s Noodle Shop Menu.” Below it were two columns of smaller characters, each accompanied by a small, lifelike illustration of the dish, followed by the price.
This shop had some clever touches.
Madam Ning was a woman of the world.
She had arranged marriages for many high-ranking officials and nobles.
To avoid being looked down upon by these elites, she had hired a female tutor and studied for several years, learning to read and gaining some knowledge.
However, she had no talent for poetry, calligraphy, or painting.
After a few years of study, she was no longer illiterate and could hold her own in front of the nobility, so she stopped wasting money on further education.
She scanned the menu and her eyes landed on the line:
“Clear mutton soup, thirty wen per bowl.”
The illustration for the mutton soup was also enticing with a cool milky broth with meat and scallions floating in a large blue-and-white porcelain bowl, with wisps of steam rising.
Though the drawing wasn’t finely detailed, it had a charming, childlike quality.
Madam Ning loved mutton.
Whether it was fried, roasted, stewed, or boiled, she couldn’t resist it.
Thirty wen per bowl wasn’t too expensive for mutton soup, so she called out toward the half-drawn cloth curtain, where she could vaguely see someone busy in the kitchen:
“Bring me a bowl of mutton soup!”
While waiting, she examined the two calligraphy pieces on the other wall.
Her eyes lit up, and she looked at them with great interest.
Shen Miao hadn’t expected a customer so soon.
She responded, and since everything was ready, she ladled a bowl of soup from the ceramic pot.
Xiangjie, with her short legs, carried a small woven bowl lined with oil paper and brought Madam Ning half a basket of four soup dumplings.
Shen Miao placed the hot mutton soup sprinkled with scallions in front of Madam Ning and smiled.
“Your order is complete. Enjoy!”
“Wait a moment, shopkeeper,” Madam Ning said, pointing to the two calligraphy pieces on the wall.
“These two pieces are signed by… Xie Jiu? Who is this Xie Jiu? His calligraphy has the style of a master.”
Shen Miao looked up.
These were the two pieces of calligraphy that Xie Qi had sent over last night.
They were mounted on plain silk scrolls with subtle patterns, almost invisible from a distance.
Only upon closer inspection could one see the flowing, understated embellishments beneath the ink.
One piece read, “Three meals warm the heart, all seasons bring peace,” while the other said,
“Spring births, summer grows, autumn harvests, winter stores nourish in harmony with the seasons.”
Shen Miao wondered if Xie Qi had seen the small wooden board at her backyard gate that read “Autumn blessings, winter joy.”
The two pieces he sent not only fit the context of a food shop but also subtly aligned with her ideals.
She had no grand ambitions; the life she wanted was simply for her family to enjoy “three meals that warm the heart” and to “nourish in harmony with the seasons.”
Aside from Xie Qi’s excellent calligraphy, the two phrases alone were enough to make Shen Miao smile with understanding.
That night, she had eagerly found nails and hung them up.
She had stood beneath them, quietly admiring them for a long time.
At that moment, the kitchen was simmering mutton soup, the warm, fragrant steam enveloping her.
Under the lamplight, in the empty shop with the door closed, Ji’er was shaking his head as he recited his lessons, while Xiangjie held a puppy, trying to make it stand on its hind legs and dance with her.
She looked at them, then at the calligraphy, and her heart felt like a quietly burning ember, surrounded by the warmth of everyday life.
It was amazing that someone could, with such a light connection, see through what another person was thinking.
She found it quite miraculous.
Shen Miao couldn’t help but think of the hand that had gently brushed her shoulder under the crabapple tree at the entrance of Piyong Academy-a hand that was long, clean, and perfectly proportioned.
She suddenly felt it was truly magical-how could someone so gentle, reserved, and polite have such keen insight into people’s hearts?
Facing Madam Ning’s curious and probing gaze, Shen Miao remembered Xie Qi’s words at the entrance of Piyong Academy and smiled.
“It’s the work of a friend of mine. He doesn’t like to seek fame, so I won’t say more.”
“I see. Many scholars have a penchant for reclusiveness. That’s understandable,” Madam Ning said with a smile, letting the matter drop.
Shen Miao told her to enjoy her meal and returned to the kitchen to prepare noodles.
Madam Ning watched her tall, slender figure thoughtfully.
This Shen lady of the noodle shop was probably not a simple person.
The Song Dynasty was a time of cultural prosperity, and great importance was placed on poetry, calligraphy, and painting.
Some enthusiasts would spare no expense to acquire a single character of excellent calligraphy.
There were even food shops that became famous because a poet had inscribed a poem on their walls-regardless of the food’s quality, customers would flock to them daily.
Although the calligraphy in this noodle shop wasn’t worth a thousand gold per character, it was still remarkable for such an unassuming little shop to have such high-quality calligraphy hanging on its walls.
This small Shen’s Noodle Shop might have the backing of some high-ranking officials.
Madam Ning stroked her chin, coming to this conclusion.
Shen Miao didn’t know that her vague response had made Madam Ning take this little food shop more seriously and even sparked some ideas.
She knew that Shen Miao had been divorced by her husband-as the most popular matchmaker in the Golden Beam Bridge area, she was well-informed about who was single, married, or divorced in the neighborhood.
If she could arrange a good marriage for Shen Miao, uniting two families, she might also be able to connect with the influential figures behind her.
Perhaps she could earn several strings of cash in the process…
Distracted, Madam Ning gently scooped a spoonful of mutton soup into her mouth.
As soon as the soup touched her tongue, all her wild speculations were forgotten.
The rich, intense flavor instantly spread in her mouth, dispelling the slight chill of the morning.
After a few more sips, the tender ingredients and the broth blended perfectly, warming her entire body.
Madam Ning’s eyes lit up: What a wonderful soup!
Originally, she hadn’t placed much hope in such a small shop.
Everyone in Bianjing loved mutton, but truly well-made mutton soup was rare.
Even Madam Ning, a mutton enthusiast, often lamented the muddy, gamey soups and tough, dry meat she encountered.
After enduring too many unpalatable bowls, she had once splurged on a bowl at Fanlou.
The mutton soup there was indeed as delicious as ambrosia, but it cost one hundred and eighty wen per bowl!
One hundred and eighty wen!