Steward Zhou placed a box on the study floor and reported, “Young Master, this was found when the servants were cleaning the western courtyard a few days ago. It might belong to the previous owner. I didn’t dare make any decisions about it, so I’m bringing it to your attention.”

The residence was quite large, but the Lin family was small with relatively few servants. When they moved in at the beginning of the year, they had renovated and cleaned the main courtyards, halls, and gardens, but had neglected areas like the servants’ quarters and storage yards. Now, during the thorough New Year cleaning, they discovered some old items.

Most of these old items were badly worn, and the servants had piled them in the courtyard to be burned. While inspecting, Steward Zhou discovered these books among the items meant for kindling.

The books weren’t well preserved, with many damaged by insects and moisture. Even if they were works by famous authors, they wouldn’t be worth much now. Steward Zhou, being somewhat educated, picked up one and leafed through it, discovering it was an annotated edition by a great scholar from the previous dynasty. Among others were poetry collections, travel journals, and letters, occasionally showing the original owner’s elegant, unconventional handwriting.

After some consideration, Steward Zhou took them all, dusted them off, packed them in the box, and brought them to Lin Yan, who was home on holiday.

Lin Yan put down his documents and stood up to examine them. He picked up the top volume and flipped through it, recognizing the same handwriting he’d seen on the garden pavilion.

“Leave them here,” Lin Yan nodded to Steward Zhou.

Steward Zhou bowed and withdrew.

Not minding the dirt, Lin Yan placed the books on his desk and examined them one by one. Usually during confiscation, the study would be the first target, but these books might have been in a bedroom or elsewhere, thus escaping seizure. When the residence was later sold officially, these books ended up with the next owner’s servants.

Through these books, one could glimpse that elegant and unrestrained Vice Minister of Rites – a lover of poetry and wine, unconventional yet proper, easy-going yet proud – truly embodying scholarly refinement.

Lin Yan thought of Young Miss Shen’s uninhibited comments, her spirited expression, and that painting of the rustic village shop filled with reclusive charm – surely these traits came from her background. Though her father had more noble refinement, the daughter had a touch of mischief.

Thinking of Young Miss Shen, he found some of her belongings – practice writing books.

She had practiced the Zhong-Wang style regular script. Though childish, it showed some roundness and elegance, quite different from her current lean and strong style. Her current handwriting must have been learned later from the palace tutors.

Besides her childish writing, there were two other hands on the practice sheets – one graceful and elegant, the other unrestrained. The elegant one wrote: “Aji’s characters, some lying, some sitting.” The unrestrained one responded: “Lying and sitting, straightforward and free.”

These must have been written by Vice Minister Shen and his wife. Though just a few characters, they vividly portrayed each person’s character. Lin Yan smiled somewhat embarrassedly – they were truly a divine couple.

Thinking of divine couples, Lin Yan inexplicably recalled Young Miss Shen’s pretty face, her raised eyebrow and smile somewhat cynical: “Young Master Lin, from your noble background, you probably never experienced frozen hands and feet in the palace apartments when charcoal was scarce. In deep winter, hands and feet would swell and fester. If they stayed cold it wasn’t so bad, just some cracks and pain. The worst was suddenly getting near the charcoal fire – oh my, the unbearable itching!”

Lin Yan pressed his lips together and turned past those childhood writing pages to look at the travel journals below.

A maid came to knock: “Young Master, the Old Madam asks you to come eat the drunken pears.”

“Coming.”

While Lin Yan was looking through Shen Shaoguang’s childhood homework, Shen Shaoguang herself was busy in the kitchen with Yu San, frying, stir-frying, and deep-frying. The annual New Year’s Eve dinner couldn’t be taken lightly.

The Shen family’s New Year’s Eve dinner had a time-traveling feel, including both Tang dynasty traditions like tushu wine, five-spice plate, and sticky candy, as well as chicken, duck, fish, meat, and the later tradition of dumplings.

Shen Shaoguang prepared the chicken. Since it was a tender young chicken, she didn’t stew it. After slaughtering and cleaning, she cut it into pieces, marinated them briefly for flavor, then coated them with dry powder and deep-fried until golden brown before removing them. She then started with a fresh wok, seasoning it with pepper, scallions, and ginger, then stir-fried the fried chicken pieces, adding a small bowl of sauce made from soy sauce, sugar, and yellow wine. After brief stir-frying, she sprinkled cumin powder and salt before serving.

The chicken prepared this way had an enticing charred aroma that made one’s mouth water.

Yu San’s duck was a more labor-intensive dish. After slaughtering, the duck was first deboned. This was something Shen Shaoguang wasn’t very good at, but Yu San excelled at it. His knife followed the bone joints precisely, removing the bones while keeping the outer skin and meat intact.

Shen Shaoguang was always generous with praise: “Amazing skill, amazing skill!”

Yu San glanced at her, finally curling up the corners of his mouth.

“I think if you weren’t a cook, you could be an assassin,” Shen Shaoguang’s next comment was characteristically irreverent.

Yu San’s upturned lips pressed together again.

After deboning, the duck was stuffed with a mixture of glutinous rice, cured meat, mushrooms, diced bamboo shoots, scallions, and ginger. The opening was tied shut with string, chicken broth was added, and it was steamed for two hours, similar to the later Eight-Treasure Cloth Bag Chicken.

This elaborate dish had been started right after lunch, and by the time Shen Shaoguang was frying the chicken, it was perfectly done.

The fish was a carp weighing over a jin that A-Chang had scoured the West Market to find two days ago. Shen Shaoguang made it into classic sweet and sour fish. It was fried twice – first to cook it through, then again to make it crispy, with head and tail curved up as if about to leap. Topped with thick sweet and sour sauce, it was brilliantly red and beautiful.

Sweet and sour fish was Shen Shaoguang’s specialty, just like how others saw her – spirited, beautiful, with a touch of “that’s just how I am” attitude.

The meat dish was Shen’s classic signature clear-broth lion’s head meatballs. Four large meatballs arranged together symbolized fortune, prosperity, longevity, and joy.

Besides these, there were stir-fried dried tofu, vinegared celery, fried dried fish, stir-fried cabbage, lamb with radish, and other dishes filling two joined tables.

The four members of Shen’s establishment didn’t usually maintain strict master-servant distinctions, and now they sat together in a circle.

Yu San looked at Shen Shaoguang, waiting for her toast. Even the gluttons A-Yuan and A-Chang held back their drooling, waiting for the young miss to speak.

Shen Shaoguang looked at them, “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

Yu San rolled his eyes but finally smiled.

A-Yuan and A-Chang also smiled, with A-Yuan obligingly picking up her chopsticks and happily reaching for the chicken wing in front of her.

Shen Shaoguang cut the duck into eight pieces, then took a large piece to her bowl and ate slowly.

Yu San used a spoon to scoop up a lion’s head meatball and ate it bit by bit.

A-Chang attacked from all sides like a glutton.

This was destined to be a night of overeating!

After eating for a while, they started drinking.

According to current dynasty custom, the youngest drank first, following the saying “The young gain a year, so toast first in celebration; the old lose a year, so drink later.” A-Yuan was slightly younger than A-Chang, so she went first.

A-Yuan smiled and drank a full cup, followed by A-Chang, then Shen Shaoguang, and finally Yu San.

Shen Shaoguang did eventually make a toast: “We’ve all grown a year older. Hope we can make more money next year, and some might find love.” She smiled meaningfully at Yu San.

Yu San was considered a mature bachelor by current standards and should be taking a wife. Unfortunately, Shen Shaoguang herself wasn’t yet settled. She thought that in a year or two, when things were more stable, she would release Yu San from his contract and let him return to commoner status. Their relationship with the shop could be changed to employment. A-Yuan and A-Chang were still young, so there was no hurry.

“What does ‘find love’ mean?” A-Yuan asked first.

Unaware of being a single dog, Shen Shaoguang explained this thousand-year-later term: “It means getting married and starting a family.”

“Oh!” A-Yuan and A-Chang both looked at Yu San.

Yu San’s face reddened slightly as he glanced at Shen Shaoguang: “Young Miss should worry about herself first.”

Shen Shaoguang replied shamelessly: “You’re older, you go first. I’m not in a hurry.”

A-Yuan and A-Chang burst out laughing.

Shen Shaoguang laughed along while Yu San kept his head down and continued eating.

The big fellow was shy!

Shen Shaoguang felt she had a middle-aged woman’s wicked sense of humor, but counting both lives together, wasn’t she indeed middle-aged?

Never mind, best not to think about it, Shen Shaoguang continued pouring and drinking wine. Though the alcohol content was low, the extended drinking session gradually led to tipsiness. Shen Shaoguang started telling jokes about her future life, listened to A-Yuan sing a Chang’an folk song, and forced Yu San and A-Chang to dance.

Judging the time, Shen Shaoguang went to cook dumplings with slightly unsteady feet.

Yu San disapproved: “Don’t break all the wontons!”

Shen Shaoguang educated him: “What do you mean ‘break’? That’s called ‘making profit’!” She called to A-Yuan and A-Chang, “From now on when cooking wontons, broken ones count as profit.”

“Speaking of this, I remember a joke. Some shops, hoping for good fortune, deliberately broke a few wontons during New Year’s cooking, and would call out ‘Did we make a profit?’ The cook would answer ‘Yes, we made a profit!'”

“But one year they had a new cook, and when the shop owner asked if they made a profit, the cook shouted back ‘Don’t worry, with me here, not a single one will break!'” Shen Shaoguang imitated the foolish cook’s loud shout.

Outside, A-Yuan and A-Chang doubled over with laughter, while Yu San also smiled helplessly.