Shen Miao was fully focused as she worked, entirely unaware of Fang’s gaze.
Her grandfather had always said that a distracted person had no place in the kitchen.
A cook who couldn’t focus would not only fail to control the heat properly but might even end up cutting themselves.
Such a person thought too much and wouldn’t be able to endure the hardships of cooking in the long run.
A good cook had to be single-minded.
Of course, Shen Miao refused to admit she was single-minded.
She moved on to making the spring roll wrappers.
The dough had already been prepared by Fang earlier, so she didn’t have to bother making it from scratch.
Turning to ask for permission, she noticed he was standing still, lost in thought.
It wasn’t until she called his name two or three times that he finally snapped back to reality and nodded, allowing her to take what she needed.
Shen Miao went ahead and grabbed the dough.
As she divided it into small portions, she noticed its elasticity and smooth texture.
Turning to Fang the cook, she complimented, “Master Fang, this dough is wonderfully kneaded. Many people don’t realize that kneading is an art in itself. The moment I touched it, I could tell—this is truly a family craft, isn’t it?”
The remaining half of Fang’s skepticism vanished completely.
His face reddened slightly, but he nodded proudly and said, “Yes, my family has served as the Xie family’s cooks for three generations.
This craft has been passed down through my family. When I was a child, I wasn’t even tall enough to reach the stove, but I was already learning how to knead dough.”
As Shen Miao spread the dough into thin sheets over a griddle, carefully cooking them over low heat until translucent, she let out a nostalgic laugh and said, “What a coincidence—I was the same.
As a child, I had to stand on a stool to reach the counter. My arms were so weak that I’d knead dough until they were too sore to lift. But I wouldn’t dare stop—if the dough wasn’t kneaded enough before rising, my grandfather’s rolling pin would come down on me.”
Her childhood kitchen was always a mess, full of chaos.
Her grandfather would chase her through the entire village, rolling pin in hand.
In the end, her strength and stamina—her ability to knead, lift water buckets, wield a wok, and even run for her life—had all been built up through those experiences.
But that version of her was already gone.
Her grandfather was over ninety now… if he ever found out what had happened to her, how heartbroken would he be?
“Yes, any cook worth their salt has been hit at least once,” Fang the cook chuckled.
Their conversation was quiet, carrying the weight of old memories that only they could understand.
A shared experience, a bond forged in the kitchen, unknowable to outsiders.
A hint of melancholy welled up in Fang’s chest, and he lowered his head, sighing in agreement.
The Xie family’s kitchen had been passed down through generations, and now it was his responsibility because his father and grandfather were gone.
His voice naturally carried a deep sense of remembrance and sorrow.
Looking at Shen Miao skillfully frying the spring roll wrappers, he couldn’t help but feel a newfound admiration for her.
He even found himself deeply moved, as though he had discovered a kindred spirit.
He had completely forgotten his initial wariness toward her.
Within just a few minutes, Shen Miao had finished preparing the spring roll wrappers.
Meanwhile, Fang the cook eagerly volunteered to make the suo tiao noodles.
Suo tiao was essentially hand-pulled noodles.
The Song Dynasty had a remarkably intricate system for classifying food—soup noodles were called tang bing, steamed buns were chui bing, and when it came to dry mixed noodles, they were given yet another name: gan ban suo tiao.
A single type of noodle, yet it had multiple different titles.
When Shen Miao had first arrived in this world, she had struggled to adapt to the numerous, elaborate names for food.
It had taken her quite some time to get used to them.
Though she no longer made mistakes when speaking, in her mind, she still called tang bing and suo tiao simply “noodles”—a habit from her previous life that she might never fully shake.
Having someone to help was naturally convenient.
Shen Miao flashed a smile at Fang the cook before turning her full attention back to the spring rolls.
She carefully placed an even portion of filling onto each wrapper, rolled them up gently, folded in the sides to prevent leakage, then continued rolling until the very end, sealing them shut with a bit of batter.
By then, the oil in the pan was perfectly heated.
As soon as the delicate, paper-thin spring rolls hit the sizzling oil, they crisped up into a golden brown in an instant.
Before long, the rich aroma filled the air.
The fried shepherd’s purse spring rolls had a crispy, flaky shell, while the filling inside remained tender and flavorful.
Shen Miao plated up a full dish and had Fang the cook take it out.
Meanwhile, three smaller spring rolls remained in the oil—by the end, she had run short on wrappers, so these last few were smaller, bite-sized pieces.
Seeing the opportunity, she swiftly scooped one out and popped it into Ji Ge’s mouth.
Ji Ge nearly jumped from the heat, but the flavor was too good—he kept his mouth open, fanning the steam with his hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to spit it out.
Especially when Shen Miao leaned in and whispered, “It’s beef!”
Ji Ge had never tasted beef in his life.
Enduring the heat, he chewed eagerly.
The more he chewed, the more delicious it became—the fresh aroma of shepherd’s purse and the tender, juicy beef filled his mouth.
He savored every bite, reluctant to swallow.
Shen Miao secretly slipped another one to Xiang Jie before grabbing one for herself.
She blew on it to cool it down, took a bite, then nodded in satisfaction.
No wonder the ancients always said: “Eat according to the season, do not eat what is out of season.”
Fresh, locally grown seasonal vegetables had a distinct flavor and crispness that greenhouse produce simply couldn’t compare to.
Delicious!
Next, she washed her hands again and dropped the freshly pulled noodles that Fang had prepared into a pot of boiling water.
While the noodles cooked, she prepped the seasoning—pouring soy sauce, salt, and chopped scallions into the serving bowls in advance.
Then, she took a handful of green onions, cutting them into long sections while discarding the white parts.
In a separate pan, she slowly fried the scallions until they turned a rich golden brown.
She adjusted the firewood, keeping the heat steady for a gradual fry.
Using chopsticks, she carefully removed any over-fried scallions that had turned too dark—if burnt, they would impart bitterness to the scallion oil and ruin the taste of the noodles.
The fragrance of the scallion oil was strong and rich, carrying both the fresh aroma of the green onions and a hint of smokiness.
For scallion oil noodles, besides soy sauce, the most essential ingredient was a generous spoonful of hot, freshly made scallion oil.
The moment the hot oil was poured over the seasoning, the aroma of the noodles, the oil, and the scallions intertwined, bringing the dish to life.
Shen Miao drizzled the fragrant scallion oil over the pre-mixed sauce.
At the same time, the noodles finished cooking.
She scooped them into the bowl, then poured the hot, oil-infused sauce over the steaming noodles.
With a quick toss, the dish was complete.
Scallion oil noodles were simple to make, but making them well required skill.
Just as the noodles were ready, the last batch of red bean paste buns also finished baking.
Hearing Ji Ge call her, Shen Miao quickly walked over.
She grabbed a pair of copper tongs and pulled the iron tray of steaming red bean rolls out of the oven.
The heat rising from the stove burst forth, causing a blast that made Shen Miao lean back, flailing her arms to disperse the smoke.
When the heat subsided, the red bean paste buns in the oven had puffed up perfectly—each one a golden, airy delight emitting a rich aroma of baked grain mixed with red bean fragrance.
Satisfied, Shen Miao placed them on the counter and stretched.
Her work today was a complete success.
With a light heart, she left the kitchen with a smile on her face.
Just outside the kitchen, along a small path beside a stone pavilion, Xie Qi was sitting and slowly savoring a spring roll, while Yan Shu, at the pavilion’s edge, had a separate plate and was nearly finished with his portion.
When he saw that she had brought out two bowls of steaming, fragrant noodles, Yan Shu’s eyes lit up even more.
Smiling, Shen Miao offered them over.
Xie Qi, unusually hearty today, ate his spring rolls in a refined manner—quietly, yet steadily consuming several of them.
He glanced up at Shen Miao and sighed, “After so many days, Miss Shen, your skills have improved even further.”
Shen Miao replied honestly, “It’s the quality of the Xie family’s ingredients.”
After all, on the cargo boat the conditions were far less favorable; the vegetables had been stored for a day or two.
Xie Qi disagreed, “Good ingredients still need to be matched with good technique.”
Shen Miao laughed and thanked him for the compliment.
Glancing at the sky, she noted that Yan Qi should be here soon to see them off.
Bending slightly, she bid farewell to Xie Qi and prepared to return to collect her eight large bamboo steamers.
Yan Shu, slurping his noodles with a look of eager expectation, asked, “Miss, will you come again tomorrow?”
The spring rolls and noodles were so delicious that his tongue nearly couldn’t keep up.
Xie Qi raised his chopsticks as if to tap Yan Shu’s head, but then admonished him, “Yan Shu! If you go back, you’d best have Zheng Neizhi punish you!”
Outside, Zheng Neizhi was gentle and greeted the masters with a smile, but when it came to the younger servants, he was a real taskmaster.
He always used thin, resilient bamboo strips to discipline them, and those could hurt quite badly.
At his words, Yan Shu shuddered, shrank his neck, and dared not speak further, lowering his head to focus on his noodles.
Delicious, delicious—truly delicious!
He munched so heartily that his face was coated with a glossy mixture of scallion oil and soy sauce.
Seeing his almost desperate appetite, Shen Miao bit her lip to suppress a smile.
At that moment, Yan Qi had arrived as promised and was peeking in at the kitchen door.
Seeing Shen Miao in the stone pavilion with the masters inside, he dared not come too close and observed from a distance.
Noticing him, Shen Miao quickly said, “I should be going.”
Then she glanced at Xie Qi and pleaded on Yan Shu’s behalf, “Young Master Jiu, please don’t punish him.”
Xie Qi merely made a dismissive gesture—it was all talk; otherwise, how would Yan Shu have come to develop such a temperament?
With a sigh, he rose to see her off, folding his arms and saying, “Thank you for your trouble today, Miss Shen. Oh, Fang Da, please fetch some meat and vegetables for Miss Shen to take back.”
Xie Qi had originally intended to give extra silver, but then felt that might seem disrespectful, so he retracted the offer.
Shen Miao quickly waved her hand and said, “Madam has already paid in full—and even extra. Young Master Jiu, please don’t trouble yourself with further gifts. I only did a little extra with two simple dishes; it was no great sacrifice.”
Xie Qi smiled and pointed to the spring rolls on the table, “Consider this a token of gratitude from Xie Qi for letting me taste the unique springtime flavor of shepherd’s purse.”
Shen Miao looked at him.
He nodded lightly, still smiling.
She could only accept his compliment with a hint of modesty.
Xie Qi was born gentle—soft-spoken and kind—but it seemed nearly impossible to change his mind.
Especially as he stood in the mellow glow of the spring dusk, smiling gently at you, perfectly embodying the saying, “A gentleman is like jade—ever so warm to the touch.”
Yan Shu, still holding his bowl of noodles, watched helplessly as Miss Shen and Yan Qi returned to the kitchen.
Soon enough, Yan Qi came out carrying a shoulder pole.
In the outer courtyard, for once the cook did not hold back.
In Miss Shen’s bamboo steamers, he had packed a variety of meats and vegetables.
So much so that the topmost steamer couldn’t be closed properly—its lid failing to cover a portion of a tender lamb leg that wobbled with every step on the pole.
Before leaving, Miss Shen glanced back once more.
Bending her knees slightly, she bid a quiet farewell.
Yan Shu quickly rose, bowl in hand, and waved at her.
Xie Qi also stepped out of the pavilion.
She smiled, then turned and took the hand of the little girl with her, and followed Yan Qi away.
Behind her, an older boy—who had accompanied her—also bowed to them.
The three soon departed together.
Xie Qi quietly watched the three siblings.
The apricot-hued figures slowly walked into the sunset.
Their hair at the temples shone in the light; the side of their face, illuminated by the sun, appeared almost translucent.
Gradually, they reached the end of the sunset, the light fading bit by bit from their bodies.
The bridge of the nose, chin, and slender neck were all softly defined by shadows, revealing contours that were both distinct and gentle.
In the end, the sunset transformed into a long, slanting shadow, gradually obscured by the flowers and trees lining the distant path.
Finally, they vanished from sight.
“If only Miss Shen could come every day to bake buns at home, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Yan Shu mused, gazing at the last half bowl of scallion oil noodles and two spring rolls in his hands, feeling a tinge of loss.
“These noodles—just with soy sauce, salt, and oil—how can they taste so magnificent?”
Xie Qi turned around and couldn’t help but tap his head with a finger, “Enough already. Do you really want her to come in every day to bake buns? Has Grandfather’s ritual to be held for forty-nine days?
Reciting scriptures for so many days—is that meant to help our late grandfather ascend to immortality?”
Yan Shu tilted his head, thinking, Is it not possible?
“You! Besides food, can you think about something else? I’ve told you to study and practice calligraphy—but you never listen. Otherwise, wouldn’t I be able to take you with me to the academy?”
Xie Qi picked up the plate of spring rolls and set off, “Let’s go and pay our respects at Granny Tai’s courtyard.”
After slurping down the last few mouthfuls of noodles, Yan Shu hurriedly followed.
He wiped his mouth and made a silly face at the back of Xie Qi.
What was so fun about studying and practicing calligraphy?
He definitely did not want to suffer at the academy!
Every time he returned from studying with Young Master Jiu, he would lose five or six pounds.
He always complained that the academy’s food was all steamed dishes—from morning till night—so utterly tasteless.
Deep down, he was already looking forward to tomorrow.
Yan Shu had made up his mind: he would wait for the right moment, then secretly come to find Miss Shen.
Miss Shen’s temperament was kind, so when the time came, he would ask her to prepare something extra delicious—and he would stay in the kitchen to finish it all by himself.
And he wouldn’t tell Young Master Jiu!
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.