Chapter 6 : Arriving in Bianjing

Shen Miao took a hawthorn fruit from the sack, washed it, and took a bite.

The sourness made her scrunch up her face, but since it had been a long time since she’d eaten fresh fruit, she endured the sharp tang and ate several more.

Later, she soaked them in lightly salted water, which balanced the acidity with a hint of sweetness, making them much more palatable.

As she ate, she couldn’t help but reflect—

Though she had never met Xie Qi, this one meal and a bag of fruit had made the difference between him and her ex-husband abundantly clear.

Xie Qi was a well-mannered scholar, a man of proper upbringing.

Her ex-husband, on the other hand, had been a shameless freeloader, only wanting to live off a woman’s wealth and take shortcuts in life.

The rest of her journey on the ship passed uneventfully.

Days blurred together, and before she knew it, ten days had passed.

On a chilly morning, she disembarked from the boat, switched to a carriage, and now stood before the Upper Virtue Gate (Shangshanmen)—the grand entrance to Bianjing.

The very gate depicted in the famous painting Along the River During the Qingming Festival.

She had rented a donkey cart in Caizhou, and now sat straddling the wooden beam at the front, gazing in awe at the flourishing capital of the Great Song Dynasty.

After paying a small bribe to the guards and presenting her travel permit, she entered the city without issue.

As the donkey cart passed through the towering gates, she tilted her head back in amazement.

What an enormous city gate!

The archway stood at least eight or nine meters high, with walls so thick that even sitting on the donkey cart, she had to travel six zhang (over 18 meters) before emerging from the other side.

No wonder the Liao and Jin armies had struggled to breach Song fortifications—

With walls this thick, even trebuchets would have a hard time breaking through!

As she rode further, she saw colorful festival banners, arched bridges, and rows of towering signboards swaying in the wind.

Just as she was marveling at the bustling scene, a fully loaded caravan of camels passed by, their bells jingling softly.

The world of Qingming Shanghetu was alive before her eyes—

She had stepped into history, becoming part of the painting itself.

As they neared the inner city, the streets became even more congested.

The carriage driver had to jump down and manually guide the donkey, inching forward through the dense crowd.

Even the donkey became restless, twitching its ears in agitation.

The streets were packed with vendors and shoppers, selling everything imaginable.

Many small shops had set up wooden display counters that jutted into the street, packed with goods to lure in customers.

Shen Miao chuckled to herself—

“So street-vending has existed for centuries.”

Bianjing’s layout was unique—rivers ran through the city, dividing it into several bustling districts.

The most vibrant markets were located along the bridge markets (Qiaoshi) and river markets (Heshi).

Riverside shops were built in tiers, with front-facing doors open to the street and rear extensions forming stilted balconies over the water.

Looking at them, Shen Miao mused—

“So this is where illegal construction began!”

Meanwhile, the bridge markets were even more flexible.

Vendors set up stalls along both sides of the bridge, known as “floating shops” (Fupu).

Some merchants had even built semi-permanent wooden stalls, making the bridge a miniature shopping district.

Seated on the donkey cart, Shen Miao scanned the bridge markets carefully.

Her parents’ old shop had burned down—who knew how bad the damage was?

She had no extra money, so she planned to sell street food to save up.

A market stall was the best way to start small.

But the more she looked, the more hesitant she became.

Bianjing’s markets were incredibly competitive.

Everything was well-stocked—from fancy goods to street food, there was no shortage of delicious cuisine.

Without exceptional skills or something novel, she might struggle to attract customers.

As they neared the end of the bridge, she spotted a hawker carrying an enormous wooden rack, filled with colorful trinkets.

Immediately, she asked the driver to stop.

Jumping down, she browsed his wares and selected two bamboo pinwheels.

The hawker, a smooth talker, eagerly demonstrated their spinning motion while praising her choice.

“Excellent eye, Lady! Two for one wen!

Made from premium Phoenix Bamboo from Fengyang—sturdy, water-resistant, and long-lasting!”

Shen Miao examined them closely.

Thinking about her younger brother and sister, she picked one painted with a snake and another with a horse, matching their zodiac years.

Each pinwheel blade was sanded smooth, ensuring no splinters for children’s hands.

She was genuinely impressed—

Even for a mere one-wen toy, the craftsmanship was so meticulous.

The carriage driver chuckled, glancing at the pinwheels in Shen Miao’s hands.

“Lady, are you returning to your family home? Even after a long journey, you still remember to bring little gifts for your children—what a kind and devoted mother! Your household is sure to prosper.”

“I’ll take your kind words to heart,” Shen Miao replied with a smile, not bothering to correct him.

The crowded streets made for a slow and bumpy ride.

For nearly half an hour, the carriage squeezed through the congested roads, horns and voices filling the air.

Finally, the driver let out a relieved sigh and wiped the sweat off his brow with the cloth hanging around his neck.

“Lady Shen, we’ve arrived at Jinliang Bridge.”

Shen Miao paid the fare, and the driver even helped unload her two chests, placing them at the entrance of the alley behind the bridge.

Here, several tall weeping willows swayed in the breeze, giving the place its name—Yangliu East Alley.

This was where Shen Miao had grown up.

Yet, standing there, she felt no sense of security.

After thinking things through on the journey, she decided it was best to check on the Shen Family’s Noodle Shop first, gather some information from the neighbors, and get a full picture of the situation before picking up her younger siblings from Uncle Shen’s house.

She had barely stepped down from the cart, her hands full with bags and bundles, when she noticed a group of middle-aged women sitting under a willow tree, embroidering and chatting.

They turned to look at her.

She had been away for three years—only returning once for her parents’ funeral.

The young girl they had known, pampered and well-fed at fifteen, was now thin and haggard, her once bright complexion faded.

The women stared at her for a long moment, hesitant to speak.

But Shen Miao recognized them immediately.

Drawing from the original owner’s memories, she quickly identified their names.

With a dramatic flair, she pulled out a handkerchief from her sleeve, pressed it to her eyes, and let out a choked sob.

“Aunt Gu, Aunt Li, Aunt Fang! It’s me, the eldest Shen daughter!”

Her voice trembled, filled with emotion.

“You all watched me grow up—how could you not recognize me now?”

Then, with a perfectly timed flourish, she covered her face with the handkerchief and wept.

That did it.

The three women rushed toward her in an instant, tears welling up as they grabbed her hands.

Their voices overlapped in concern, each trying to console and question her at once.

“Oh, my dear child, we almost didn’t recognize you! You’ve turned so thin—like a twig!”

“Why didn’t you send word? We would have sent your cousin Gu Er to meet you outside the city!”

“Heavens! You finally came back—but do you even know? Your house was half-burned down in a fire!”

“Your ‘good’ uncle only checked on it twice before disappearing! The repairs will cost at least forty or fifty guan, and he got so scared he never came back!”

“And your siblings—go home quickly! Your cruel auntie swept them out of the house with a broom! Those poor children have been living in that leaky old house, barely surviving on the kindness of neighbors!”

“That’s not all! Just days ago, your younger brother Ji got terribly sick! He was burning like a furnace! 

Your Uncle Gu had to carry him to the clinic in the middle of the night. The poor boy only woke up after two doses of medicine, but he still can’t even get out of bed!”

Shen Miao’s fingers tightened around her handkerchief.

Her expression remained calm—

But deep inside, rage boiled.