Several days before the festival, Shen Shaoguang put out the advertisement board for Double Seventh Festival flower cakes.

At this time, there weren’t yet any established traditional foods for the Double Seventh Festival. In the evening, people would pray for skills using fruits and melons, some adding pastries, and some families would eat Rahula rice. Rahula was said to be the son of Buddha Shakyamuni, though why he was associated with the seventh day of the seventh month remained unknown. Most families still worshipped the “Cowherd and Weaving Maid.”

Shen Shaoguang thought that since it was about “praying for skills,” beautiful and elaborate pastries would be more suitable than fruits and pears, so she launched the “Double Seventh Flower Cake Series.”

The advertisement board was made of wooden planks with promotional artwork pasted on it. The central image showed an elaborate plate of desserts and flower cakes – pea pastries, artemisia cakes, hawthorn cakes, and snow-skin flower cakes in red, pink, green, yellow, and white, creating a beautiful rainbow of colors.

Beside it was written “Double Seventh Flower Cakes” with two advertising lines: “Beautiful in color, fragrance, taste, and form; Suitable for both personal use and gifts,” which was simple and easy to understand.

Sample products were also displayed in boxes at prominent locations in the store, both for immediate sale and for pre-orders.

Shen Shaoguang was indeed more suited to being a cook than an artist – people who were merely curious about the advertisement became interested upon seeing the samples.

Each small pastry, about an inch in size, came in flower shapes, with printed characters, swimming fish, and divine turtles. Some were soft and glutinous pink balls, some were glossy and smooth, some were crispy and fluffy, all in different colors, neatly arranged in paper boxes – how could anyone bear to eat them?

“Who are you buying for? For officials… you must have a set with fortune, prosperity, longevity, and joy. If it’s for a civil official, add plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum – scholars value gentlemanly principles and love these things. Add two seasonal Rahula cakes, making ten in a box – that would be presentable.”

“For ladies eating pastries, take a set of flowers, all sweet with delicate colors. I suggest adding some small fish and turtle ones – ladies often have children around.”

“Just you and your wife celebrating? Choose according to taste, and add two Cowherd and Weaving Maid cakes.” Shen Shaoguang smiled while helping customers arrange their pastry boxes. A Yuan couldn’t help with this task, so she had to do it herself.

The last gentleman, who wanted to spend a sweet Double Seventh with his wife, blushed slightly at Shen Shaoguang’s words, paid the deposit, gave a slight bow, and left.

Shen Shaoguang twisted her neck and grimaced while exercising her facial muscles – “selling smiles” was truly hard work.

A Yuan was tidying up a stack of pastry boxes from the paper workshop, “Miss, these boxes are too expensive. Can’t eat them, can’t drink them.”

“Can’t do without them.” Shen Shaoguang opened a box to put flower cakes in. The boxes were more sturdy than elegant, but they would have to do.

The dynasty’s food packaging was too simple. Not to mention comparison with ivory boxes carved with cloud patterns for cosmetics, various gold and silver vessels for spices, or sandalwood boxes for silk, even their relatives in the industry – wine sellers – did better with their white and blue porcelain bottles and jars.

Food sellers mostly had no packaging; when things were truly difficult to carry, they’d tie them with straw rope and say “Please hold carefully”… Shen Shaoguang using paper bags for pancakes was already considered fancy, and these printed thick paper boxes would probably be considered “excessive packaging.” As for the jade plates and golden cups used by wealthy families for dining – those weren’t even worth discussing.

The original pancakes and artemisia cakes were considered “mid to high-end,” but these holiday flower cakes, after such packaging, had become almost luxury items. A box of ten costs 100 wen, not something ordinary people could afford.

To expand sales, Shen Shaoguang also bought many bamboo skewers that could be stuck into the flower cakes, selling them individually like candy to satisfy children’s cravings.

Once the advertisement board was out, flower cake sales began, reaching their peak the day before the festival and the morning of the actual day. One customer ordered thirty “Blooming Wealth” gift boxes, and Shen Shaoguang and A Yuan spent nearly half a watch just on this customer’s order. Shen Shaoguang kneaded dough, wrapped fillings, and pressed molds while A Yuan helped with boxing and attached the pre-written notes Shen Shaoguang had prepared to the boxes. The two worked like an assembly line, busy but orderly.

By afternoon, there were fewer large customers ordering dozens of boxes for gifts, mostly just one or two boxes, or even just two or three pieces, and children came with copper coins to buy single pieces as snacks.

Children all suffered from choice paralysis, often lingering at the counter, thinking the tiger looked mighty and the flowers beautiful, always asking “Is it sweet?” Shen Shaoguang chatted with the children while working. Occasionally, when there was a small piece of leftover dough, she would make an extra cake, giving children a “buy one get one free” deal.

A Yuan, however, didn’t much like dealing with children, which Shen Shaoguang attributed to “older children looking down on little ones.”

By evening, as the sun set in the west and a faint crescent moon appeared on the horizon, the customers had finally all been served. Shen Shaoguang sighed in relief and asked A Yuan what cakes she wanted to eat, as they would make do with fruits and cakes for dinner.

A Yuan loved the snow-skin ones and wanted both a set of flowers and animals, plus a pair of Cowherd and Weaving Maid cakes.

Shen Shaoguang smiled and agreed, chatting with A Yuan while making them.

Someone at the office had given Lin Yan two boxes of flower cakes. Thinking his grandmother liked such elaborate treats, he put them in his carriage to take home. Unexpectedly, when the maid opened the boxes to plate them, she found the two largest pieces – the “Cowherd” and “Weaving Maid” – had been damaged during the bumpy ride.

“Such beautiful cakes, what a pity,” the maid said softly as she carefully lifted out half of the Weaving Maid’s body and looked at it with a smile.

Just as she was about to arrange the rest on a plate, she heard her master say, “Have someone– never mind, I’ll go buy two more to replace them.”

The maid looked at him in surprise – when had the young master ever done such a thing? Then she realized, that such elaborate cakes were bought. How did the young master know where to buy them? The ward gates were already closed at this hour.

Glancing at the small “Shen” seal in the corner of the packaging box, Lin Yan said quietly, “Seasonal items just aren’t right when incomplete.” With that, he took his money pouch and walked out.

“That Cowherd peeking at the Weaving Maid bathing was already a miscreant deserving of punishment with the board, let alone hiding her clothes to force marriage, and then not allowing her to return home – it’s truly a heinous crime, even being tattooed would be getting off lightly.”

A Yuan was stunned by Shen Shaoguang’s words. It seemed the young miss was right, but that wasn’t how everyone else told it. “But the Weaving Maid was willing…”

Shen Shaoguang earnestly educated A Yuan: “This is what’s called ‘Stockholm Syndrome.’ Stockholm is a foreign place where a woman was held captive by a criminal… and later wanted to marry that criminal.”

“The Weaving Maid was the same. She was coerced by the Cowherd with no hope of returning to heaven and gradually entrusted her life to him. Every mouthful of food, every sip of water, every kind word seemed like the Cowherd’s mercy. But if not for the Cowherd, wouldn’t the Weaving Maid have been living freely in heaven? Why would she need his food and water?”

A Yuan was completely confused by Shen Shaoguang’s explanation. After thinking for a while, she asked, “If Young Miss were the Weaving Maid, what would you do?”

“Beat him! Beat him until he cries for his mother!” Shen Shaoguang said fiercely.

Lin Yan lowered his hand that was about to push the door, remembering the melancholic “White River stars abundant, heaven and earth apart” and the romantic “Magpie shadows on the parasol tree, tryst like a dream” on the cake box. The corners of his mouth curved into a helpless smile as he turned and left.

From inside came a faint voice: “What if you can’t beat him?”

A soft reply: “If someone is determined, they’ll always find an opportunity…”