By midday, more and more people came to buy wine.
The latest trendy Rose Dew Wine in Bianjing had already sold out by noon.
Gu Tusu, busy with the rush, moved from the front of his wine shop to the back hall, preparing to bring another vat of wine to restock the store.
As he lifted the curtain and turned into the corridor, he suddenly noticed two unfamiliar lacquered wooden chests placed on his delivery cart.
Though the chests were old, their brass handles, lock plates, and clasps were intricately carved with pomegranates, grapes, and persimmons—a clear sign that they were a woman’s dowry chests.
And strangely… they looked familiar.
“Mother, where did these come from?”
Gu Tusu wiped his sweat with the cloth hanging around his neck and called toward the kitchen.
“I need to use the cart right now. Can I unload these first?”
His Aunt Gu poked her head out from the kitchen window, still holding a ladle, and quickly stopped him.
“No, don’t move them! Just in time—take them across the street to the Shen family. Their eldest daughter is back!”
Gu Tusu froze.
“Shen Da-jie?”
“That’s right! No idea why she suddenly came back, but it’s a good thing. Poor Ji Ge and Xiang Jie… Oh? Hey! Where are you running off to?!”
Before she could finish, Gu Tusu had already tossed aside his wine flask, turned around, and bolted out with the cart.
Exiting from the back door, he immediately caught sight of the Shen family home—or rather, what was left of it.
The charred wooden beams were all that remained after the fire.
Every time he delivered wine, he would glance at it with a heavy heart.
When he was a child, his parents had been too busy brewing wine to care for him, so they would often leave him with the Shen family.
He practically ate two out of three meals at their house.
The Shen family ran a soup cake shop, with smoke curling from the kitchen every day, filling the air with the fragrance of fresh food.
He and Shen Da-jie used to wait together by the doorstep.
Whenever they heard the crisp “ding-dang-dang” ringing from the alley, they knew the street vendor selling Zezhou malt candy was passing by.
Aunt Shen would always give them a few copper coins, letting him take Shen Da-jie to buy some.
Each of them would get a small wooden stick wrapped with sticky, golden-brown malt candy, made from rice and malt syrup.
Sweet, chewy, and irresistible to children.
They would sit under the willow tree at the alley’s entrance, watching the lively streets while slowly savoring their candy, stretching the moment into an entire morning.
Until, inevitably, Aunt Shen would call them back for lunch from the back door.
But now, Uncle and Aunt Shen were gone, and their bustling soup cake shop had become a pile of ruins.
When the wind blew, the ashes from the yard spiraled into the sky.
When it rained, tufts of weeds would sprout between the rubble.
When night fell, stray cats would howl within the wreckage.
Ever since Ji Ge and Xiang Jie had entered the ruined home in the rain two days ago, no one else had stepped foot in there.
Yet today, as Gu Tusu lifted his gaze, he suddenly saw smoke rising from the broken chimney once more.
His eyes burned, and for a moment, he couldn’t move forward.
Then, a gentle voice came closer with light footsteps.
“Ji Ge, rest a little longer. I’ll go to the Gu family and fetch our belongings.”
Gu Tusu stood there, stunned, as he watched a graceful woman step out from the collapsed wooden doorway.
A man strong enough to lift a hundred-jin wine vat with one hand, yet at this moment, he felt as if his entire body had turned to stone—his eyes frozen, limbs stiff, palms damp with sweat.
Shen Miao turned to give one last instruction, only for Xiang Jie to dart up to her side and cling to the hem of her clothes, unwilling to let go.
She had only just begun growing out her hair, with two small buns tied up in red string.
Perhaps because Ji Ge’s hairstyling skills were lacking, the buns were uneven and lopsided, her bangs a messy tangle.
But her upturned little face was adorably bright, her eyes curved in a smile.
The moment she had woken up on Shen Miao’s back, recognizing her as the sister she hadn’t seen in three years, Xiang Jie had burst into tears, hugging her and crying her heart out.
Since then, she had refused to leave her side for even a moment.
Shen Miao could only let her hold on.
Then, she turned her head and saw a tall man standing in the alley.
He was broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, and had thick brows and deep-set eyes.
About the same age as her, he wore a simple, rough linen tunic, his chest half-exposed despite the chill in the air, looking as if he had just finished hard labor, his forehead slick with sweat.
This must be Gu Erlang, Aunt Gu’s second son.
Her childhood playmate, who—according to her memories—almost became her fiancé.
But then, that well-dressed Rong Da-lang had interfered, and in the end, childhood sweethearts lost to an arranged marriage.
Shen Miao searched her memories, then lowered her gaze to the delivery cart in his hands.
She bowed slightly and gave a polite, distant smile.
“Gu Er-ge, truly, I appreciate the trouble.”
Only then did Gu Tusu snap back to reality.
He quickly shook his head.
“No trouble at all. Here, I’ll help you carry them inside.”
Shen Miao thanked him again.
These two chests were large and heavy—she could carry them, but it would take some effort.
Earlier on the journey, she had to spend extra silver to hire cart drivers and porters to help along the way.
The Shen family courtyard was in complete disarray, making it impossible to push the cart inside.
Fortunately, Gu Tusu was accustomed to heavy labor, and in just a few moves, he had effortlessly carried both chests into the kitchen.
Standing upright, Gu Tusu took a deep breath, wiped his sweat, and saw that Shen Miao had already scooped a bowl of warm water from a clay pot on the stove and handed it to him.
“Gu Er-ge, have some water. I haven’t tidied up yet—please excuse the mess.”
“No need to trouble yourself,” Gu Tusu said as he looked around.
It seemed that Shen Miao had found a few wooden benches that could still stand with some support.
She had propped them up with bricks, placed them against the wall, and covered them with straw mats to serve as a temporary bed for Ji Ge, who was still recovering from his illness.
Seeing him arrive, Ji Ge struggled to get up and offer a proper greeting.
But Gu Tusu quickly stepped forward and pressed him back down, looking toward Shen Miao with a hint of guilt.
“The moment they came back, my mother asked them to stay at our house. But Ji Ge was too stubborn and refused no matter what. My mother had no choice but to send over some bedding and clean up this place a bit… But the boy still caught a cold after being out in the rain.”
“How can this be your or Aunt Gu’s fault?” Shen Miao said firmly.
“If anyone is to blame, it’s me for not bringing them with me. The fact that these two children survived the cold and hunger is all thanks to you and Aunt Gu’s kindness. I am beyond grateful. Er-ge, I should be bowing in thanks.”
She stepped forward and deeply bowed in gratitude.
Everyone had their own family burdens, and their willingness to help as much as they did was already more than enough.
Gu Tusu panicked, quickly stepping aside, his words stumbling as he waved his hands. “No, no, no need for that!”
At that moment, the water in the clay pot began to boil, and the rising steam almost lifted the lid.
Shen Miao hurriedly removed some of the firewood to lower the heat.
Gu Tusu knew that Shen Miao still had a lot to take care of and didn’t want to disturb her any longer.
“Did you buy firewood? This won’t be enough. Once I’m done at the shop, I’ll bring you another load. I’ll be heading off now.”
Shen Miao didn’t stand on ceremony and smiled as she agreed.
After all, on the way back from Physician Zhao’s house, they had only managed to buy a bundle of firewood and some basic necessities—enough for immediate use.
She could only carry so much while also looking after the two children.
She had a bundle of firewood in her left hand, a sack of flour in her right, and a leek tucked under her elbow, which she had gotten as a bonus after haggling with a street vendor.
A large iron pot was tied to her back with a hemp rope.
Xiang Jie carried a stack of bowls and chopsticks, and Ji Ge insisted on helping, carrying a new wooden bucket and a basket of eggs.
By the time they made it back, all three of them were out of breath.
After seeing Gu Tusu out, Shen Miao set to work making dough ball soup.
She planned to make extra today so she could send some to the Gu family as a token of gratitude.
She had already checked the kitchen stove earlier.
Of the four stoves, two were still usable.
After a quick cleanup, she fetched water from the communal well in the alley and boiled some drinking water first.
Once the boiled water was set aside, she started boiling another pot for the dough ball soup.
Dough ball soup could be made vegetarian with just vegetables or savory with meat.
But since Ji Ge was still weak from illness, a light, nutritious version was more suitable—using eggs, spinach, mushrooms, and yam as the main ingredients.
She still had a yam, a handful of spinach, and half a bag of mushrooms left in her chest, and the oil, salt, and seasonings she had brought on the journey were not yet used up.
She had just bought fresh eggs and white flour, so everything was ready to go.
The key to delicious dough ball soup was in the dough balls themselves—the broth needed to be smooth and thick, while the dough balls had to be chewy yet tender.
Shen Miao added water to the white flour, stirring continuously until it formed small, irregular lumps.
Then, she quickly cracked two eggs, whisking them into a smooth egg mixture.
She soaked the mushrooms in hot water, then diced them once softened.
The spinach was also chopped into fine pieces.
She heated the wok with oil, tossed in chopped scallions, and stir-fried the mushrooms and spinach until they released their fragrant juices.
After scooping the spinach out, she added water to the pot, bringing it to a rolling boil to make a mushroom-based broth.
Then, she slowly poured in the dough balls, stirring constantly while adjusting the firewood to lower the heat.
As the aroma of the soup thickened, the gentle bubbling of the broth filled the kitchen, and soon, rich, steaming fragrance overflowed from the Shen household.
The warmth of freshly made soup seeped into the small alley, mingling with the scents of nearby homes.
By midday, every household in the alley was preparing lunch.
During the Song Dynasty, both commoners and nobles alike had already adopted the habit of eating three meals a day.
However, for ordinary families, lunch was usually a simple affair—they rarely cooked a full meal, preferring to reheat leftovers from breakfast or snack on pastries and dim sum instead.
But today, amid the hustle and bustle of midday cooking, the rich fragrance of Shen Miao’s dough ball soup stood out above all the rest.
At the Gu household, Aunt Gu and her son were eating leftover millet porridge from the morning, paired with flatbreads.
Suddenly, an irresistible fragrance drifted in from over the wall.
“Who’s making soup? It smells amazing!” Aunt Gu paused, lifting her head and sniffing the air.
“It smells like mushroom soup, but… there’s something different about it.”
Gu Tusu folded his flatbread in half and finished it in two bites, wiping his mouth before saying, “It must be Shen Da-jie’s cooking. I just sent her luggage over—she was boiling water and soaking mushrooms.”
“Her cooking is that good?” Aunt Gu was shocked, then sighed with some regret.
“I suppose it makes sense. Old Shen used to dote on that eldest daughter of his—he never let her do any chores, so no one ever saw her cook.
Ah… the Shen family… what kind of misfortune did they bring upon themselves? In just a few years, their whole household has been ruined.”
The thought saddened them both.
Especially since even after three years, the Kaifeng court had yet to reach a verdict on the case.
No one knew who had caused the accident, and no one dared to investigate, because in this world, only those in purple robes held true power—whoever was behind it must have been a high-ranking figure, untouchable by common folk.
That powerless frustration made it all the more unbearable.
Gu Tusu gulped down the rest of his millet porridge in one go and said, “Mother, I won’t be going to the shop today. I’ll wait for Father to come back and take over.
I’m going to deliver some firewood to the Shen family. I’ll also pick some vegetables from our garden out back and bring them over.”
“Good. Those three children have been through too much,” Aunt Gu agreed.
“While you’re there, help them tidy up a bit. Their house is in ruins—how can one woman manage everything with two half-grown children?”
She took another sip of porridge, but suddenly, it tasted unbearably bland.
Meanwhile, the aroma from outside only grew richer.
She smacked her chopsticks down. “No, this won’t do—I need to make something hot too!”
At the Shen household, Shen Miao was just about finished preparing what she thought was a simple and convenient lunch.
At some point, Xiang Jie had snuck over to the stove, watching intently as Shen Miao poured the beaten eggs into the soup, then added salt, sugar, ginger, and a dash of soy sauce.
She also returned the previously scooped-out spinach to the pot, letting it simmer for a moment before it was ready to serve.
Dough ball soup, when made skillfully, was quick and perfect for a busy day.
With a swift motion, Shen Miao ladled the steaming soup into a clay pot—one she had brought all the way from Jinling.
Behind her, Xiang Jie audibly gulped.
Shen Miao tasted a spoonful, checking the saltiness.
Finding it a little bland, she added a pinch more salt.
The dough balls were perfectly chewy, so overall, it was a successful batch.
Xiang Jie had already stood on her tiptoes, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “A-Jie, A-Jie, let me taste it too!”
Shen Miao laughed, then scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, and fed it to her little sister.
Xiang Jie took a bite, and her eyes instantly lit up.
“A-Jie, it’s delicious! So fragrant!”
Shen Miao served a bowl each for Ji Ge and Xiang Jie, then took a large portion for herself.
The remaining half-pot was left on the stove to stay warm—she planned to send it to the Gu family later as thanks.
Since there were no tables or chairs, the three of them ate standing by the stove.
Upon receiving her bowl, Xiang Jie nearly jumped with joy.
She was too short to reach the stove, so she stood on tiptoes, cheeks puffed out, blowing on her soup with all her might.
After only two or three quick blows, she couldn’t wait any longer and began shoveling spoonful after spoonful into her mouth.
Whenever she accidentally burned herself, she hopped in place—but she never stopped eating.
Even while stuffing her face, she found time to sigh in satisfaction.
“A-Jie, this is too good!”
Ji Ge, on the other hand, ate in a much more refined manner, but his bowl was quickly emptied all the same.
The mushroom-infused broth was thick and smooth, carrying a hint of umami like meat.
Each dough ball was distinct and chewy, and as he drank it down, his entire body warmed up.
By the time he finished his bowl, he was starting to sweat.
Even his previously foggy head felt much clearer.
When had A-Jie’s cooking skills gotten this good?
Although Ji Ge still refused to call her ‘A-Jie’ out loud, he still referred to her that way in his heart.
Like Aunt Gu, he too felt a strange sense of surprise.
But he quickly rationalized it:
Father had been an exceptional soup cake chef.
It made sense that A-Jie would have inherited his talent in the kitchen.
Without another word, he silently scooped another half-bowl from the clay pot and continued eating in focused determination.