Around midnight, a drizzling rain began to fall. Shen Shaoguang was awakened by distant thunder rumbles. Judging by the sound, it seemed significant – perhaps this would finally end the drought? She recalled the Emperor’s rain prayer ceremony from half a month ago and couldn’t help but smirk – at least Heaven had given face to its mortal son, otherwise, it would have been quite embarrassing.

Shen Shaoguang wrapped her cotton blanket tighter and contentedly closed her eyes. Rain was wonderful – she wouldn’t need to set up her stall and could sleep in.

While street vendors could slack off due to rain, those attending court couldn’t.

Sitting in his carriage, Lin Yan spotted Clerk Liu Feng not far ahead, holding an umbrella, wearing straw shoes, and looking dejected in the rain. The ground was probably slippery, so he didn’t dare ride a horse and was planning to walk to the office.

Lin Yan gestured to his servants outside, and one dismounted to approach Liu Feng.

Liu Feng turned around, first bowing distantly toward Lin Yan’s carriage, then exchanged a few words with the servant before walking over together.

Having entered his superior’s carriage, Liu Feng was quite nervous, and his stomach chose this moment to cause trouble, growling loudly. Liu Feng’s face instantly heated up, hoping the pattering rain would mask the sound.

Lin Yan glanced at him.

Liu Feng responded embarrassedly with clasped hands, “This humble official has been discourteous.”

“It’s fine,” Lin Yan said with a faint smile, then after a pause, “Are those pancakes really that good?” There was someone selling flatbread in the rain, wearing a rain cape and bamboo hat.

Liu Feng’s face reddened further, stammering, “This official, this official—”

Lin Yan slightly raised his hand.

Liu Feng closed his mouth and sat properly.

Lin Yan closed his eyes to rest.

True to her word, Shen Shaoguang didn’t get up until Chen hour (7-9 AM), lazily washed up, then went out with an umbrella to eat a bowl of chicken wontons at a restaurant. The wonton skins weren’t thin enough and the filling was small, but the soup base had decent flavor.

After strolling around and buying some rice and vegetables, she slowly walked back. Passing by the back gate of the former Shen residence, she saw a begonia branch extending over the courtyard wall, dropping many petals. What a poetic scene – rain beating down on begonia flowers, behind closed doors.

Shen Shaoguang searched her memories and had some recollection of this begonia. The original body’s mother loved collecting begonia petals, not for burial but to make rouge, saying their “color was unmatched.” When her father happened to pass by, he jokingly made up a verse: “Pity it has no fragrance.” Her mother first glared at him, then couldn’t help but laugh.

Thinking back to the days in the palace harem, this lady was like a begonia – a flower of worldly prosperity. How could she endure such torment? She only lasted a year before departing this world, leaving behind the original owner who was only nine years old at the time. The original owner struggled on for another year before following her mother, and then Shen Shaoguang, a stranger from another world, took over.

Looking at this “home” she had never lived in, Shen Shaoguang felt quite emotional about the family’s past.

She heard that a Deputy Prefect of the Capital lived there now – a genuine high official in a crimson robe. Though they’d been neighbors for so many days, she hadn’t seen what he looked like. Wonder when this Vice Mayor of Chang’an would inspect the street food situation… Shen Shaoguang laughed at her humor as she walked back to the temple with her umbrella.

Back at the temple, Shen Shaoguang soaked some glutinous rice, read a few pages, practiced some calligraphy, and thus passed the morning hours.

For lunch, she simply pulled some noodle strips, added some greens, and topped it with a fried egg, making a bowl of vegetable noodles. After putting it in a bowl, she added two spoonfuls of homemade garlic chili sauce, which gave it a good flavor.

After eating and taking a lazy afternoon nap, she got up to work on making food.

Having bought some good glutinous rice today, she decided to make Ai Wo Wo cakes.

The imperial palace often made various cakes too – Crystal Dragon Phoenix Cake, Purple Dragon Cake, Jade Beam Cake, and for festivals there were Cornus Cake, Chrysanthemum Cake, Hemp Vine Cake, and such. The names were fancy, but they didn’t quite suit Shen Shaoguang’s taste – probably because Tang people had a rather heavy sweet tooth. Just think about it – they even poured syrup over cherries. So every spring-summer transition, Shen Shaoguang particularly missed the Ai Wo Wo from her previous life.

Ai Wo Wo wasn’t complicated to make. The soft, cooked glutinous rice was kneaded into dough, divided into small portions, and pressed into wrappers that could be filled with various ingredients – hawthorn, sesame, jujube paste, or red bean paste.

After wrapping, they were rolled in cooked glutinous rice flour, becoming white as frost and snow. Some people reportedly rolled them in cooked wheat flour, but her family had always used glutinous rice flour, so Shen Shaoguang considered that the authentic way.

Today’s version wasn’t like what she’d eaten before – the difference wasn’t in the flour coating but in the filling. She used the peony preserve she had made a few days ago.

The temple had a large peony tree that produced hundreds of deep red blooms at its peak, creating quite a magnificent sight. Shen Shaoguang had collected many peony petals, initially planning to make some sachets to follow the refined tradition. Then, remembering the famous rose preserve from Dream of the Red Chamber, she changed her mind. She ground the flowers in a mortar and preserved them with sugar and honey, and after a few days when the raw flower smell dissipated, the taste turned out quite good.

Now, feeling too lazy to make other fillings, this was perfect to use.

If nothing else, these peony-filled Ai Wo Wo were visually stunning – snow-white skin with crimson filling, bringing to mind romantic phrases like “powder-white face and sandalwood lips.”

Shen Shaoguang placed the Ai Wo Wo on a white porcelain plate and took them to share with the food-loving Abbess.

“What an exquisite thing!” the Abbess smiled before even tasting them.

After taking a bite, her face showed even more surprise, “Is this a peony flower?”

Shen Shaoguang smiled, “Isn’t it from that peony in the courtyard? I’ve offered Buddha his flowers.”

The Abbess laughed and playfully pointed at Shen Shaoguang. They often chatted and developed something of an intergenerational friendship.

“We’ve eaten peony petals before too, but fried. It’s not as fragrant and sweet as yours, and the color isn’t as nice either.”

Shen Shaoguang freely shared her method for making peony preserve, and they discussed ways to improve it.

Over tea and food discussion, they finished the plate of Ai Wo Wo – Shen Shaoguang ate two, Jing Qing ate two, and the remaining four went to the Abbess.

Even so, the Abbess still seemed unsatisfied.

Shen Shaoguang smiled, “This sugar-preserved peony filling is only possible during this season. Usually, bean paste or jujube paste works fine.”

The Abbess suddenly remembered, “The Beginning of Summer is in a few days. Compared to these flower cakes, our temple’s usual steamed bean cakes seem too crude. Why don’t we switch to these this year?” There was a custom of eating steamed cakes at the Beginning of Summer, supposedly to prevent heat rash.

Jing Qing quickly agreed. Shen Shaoguang thought how nice it was to be an elderly abbess like this.

However, later Jing Qing came to ask for Shen Shaoguang’s help, “If these cakes were just for our temple, we wouldn’t dare trouble Benefactor Shen. But during festivals, we always send food to neighboring believers inside and outside the ward. If they’re not made well, we’ll be laughed at.” Jing Qing bowed emotionally, “Please guide us.”

Since she was staying there, of course, she should help with such a small matter, so Shen Shaoguang readily agreed.

Due to limited hands and the large quantity needed, Shen Shaoguang suggested making red bean paste filling – whether steaming, grinding, or straining, it took the same effort regardless of quantity.

Red bean paste was still a precious thing at this time, not because the ingredients were expensive, but because it was sufficiently troublesome. It was said that during the Tianbao era, the Guo State Princess’s mansion made the best red bean paste, called “Spirit Sand Paste,” which they put in glutinous rice cakes. Because these cakes were beaten until semi-transparent, showing the filling’s color, they were called “Transparent Flower Cakes.”①

While watching Shen Shaoguang direct the kitchen nuns in cooking red bean paste, the Abbess shared an anecdote: “Years ago, there was a cake shop in Chang’an’s East Market that made very refined Transparent Flower Cakes. Because their cakes and pastries were so good, the owner was able to buy an honorary official title and became known as the Cake Honorary Official.”②

Shen Shaoguang laughed – every trade really could produce its champion. She then regretted, too bad I’m a woman, otherwise I could consider taking this path to officialdom.

Jing Ci stood to the side, listening to Shen Shaoguang and the Abbess chat, and couldn’t help but be amazed – when had the Abbess ever been so talkative and happy? Could this Miss Shen have bewitched the Abbess? Looking at the bean paste filling, she couldn’t help but calculate the money – how much was spent, how much basket money could be collected from each household.

•  Historical note about red bean paste-making techniques and nomenclature in the Tang dynasty
•  Historical reference to social mobility through culinary skills in Tang society