During the three-day Winter Solstice holiday, Shen Shaoguang experienced what could be called a “rollercoaster.” She had one meeting with her business partners—transforming from a young wealthy lady with a house and car to someone paying mortgages in installments.
She got drunk once—attempted to break up with her boyfriend, failed to do so, and ended up making a verbal marriage agreement instead. Additionally, she cried twice, exceeding her annual quota for emotional breakdowns. This was how Shen Shaoguang summarized things while eating porridge on the fourth morning after the Winter Solstice.
The porridge was golden yellow millet porridge, perfectly balanced in consistency. It was accompanied by tofu with pickled vegetables, garnished with green onions and sesame oil, along with vinegar-dressed celery that Tang people loved. The main dishes included meat-filled rolls and small steamed buns made from a mixture of soybean, chestnut, and wheat flour, along with perfectly cooked eggs.
One look at these eggs and you could tell they were cooked by Third Princess Yu. They had a soft center about the size of a bean—tender enough without being too runny, just as Shen Shaoguang preferred, as she didn’t like eggs with completely liquid yolks. It was remarkable how Third Princess could achieve such perfect timing consistently without precise timing devices.
Speaking of boiled eggs, Shen Shaoguang recalled a novel she had read many years ago. The protagonist had just given birth, and her unreliable, unfaithful husband brought her store-bought dumplings. Meanwhile, another woman in the same ward was complaining about her husband.
That woman’s husband had brought some boiled eggs to the hospital ward, each one hard as rubber. Confused, the wife asked about his cooking method, to which he replied that he had followed her instructions exactly—putting the eggs in cold water and boiling them for forty-five minutes after the water started boiling.
The wife exclaimed, “I said four to five minutes, not forty-five minutes! Why didn’t you boil them for four to five hours while you were at it?” She added that before giving birth, she had taken her husband around the house, pointing out where everything was, fearing he might starve to death while she was recovering from childbirth.
At the time, Shen Shaoguang was only in her teens, too young to relate to the novel’s protagonist due to their age difference and different life experiences. She hadn’t paid much attention to the detailed descriptions of married life, but for some reason, this particular scene stuck with her, especially the “four to five minutes” mix-up—perhaps it was her foodie instincts?
Shen Shaoguang also remembered the scene where the female protagonist made lard rice for the male lead, accidentally using sugar instead of MSG, and he ate the entire bowl of sweetened lard rice without complaint—the two eventually missed their chance at love due to their different social status, a missed opportunity that lasted a lifetime.
Shen Shaoguang wasn’t sure why she was recalling such an old story; perhaps women in love were simply more prone to sentimentality.
At least she hadn’t missed her chance with Lin Yan. As for whether they would reveal their true colors after marriage… Shen Shaoguang smiled as she popped the egg into her mouth, thinking they’d deal with that when the time came. As he had said, overthinking wouldn’t help—there was no such thing as perfect certainty. Life was like sailing a boat; you never knew what you might encounter, and all you could choose was who to share the journey with.
Seeing her young mistress’s changeable expression, sometimes frowning, and smiling, A-Yuan asked, “Is the food not to your liking?”
Shen Shaoguang smiled and said, “I was thinking about lard rice.”
A-Yuan, who had never tasted it while serving her previous master, and now had access to many delicious foods, shook her head, showing little interest after imagining it.
Shen Shaoguang hadn’t tried it either. Mr. Cai Lan had included lard rice in his bucket list of foods to eat before dying, and Shen Shaoguang suspected there was too much emotional value added to it. Could a spoonful of lard, a dash of soy sauce, some green onions, and white rice create such a magical chemical reaction?
Since the shop had lard readily available, Shen Shaoguang decided to try making a bowl of lard rice for lunch. Compared to the simple version with just soy sauce, lard, and green onions, her version was almost luxurious—she added Chinese sausage, shredded chicken, pickled bamboo shoots, and shrimp. If nothing else, the red and green colors made it visually appealing, and the warm rice brought out the fragrant aroma of the oils, making it quite appetizing.
A-Yuan, who had no dignity when it came to food, transformed from her previous indifference to practically burying her face in the bowl.
Third Princess Yu, who usually resisted Shen Shaoguang’s strange culinary creations, also finished a bowl after trying just one bite.
The others were equally appreciative, making Shen Shaoguang quite satisfied—whether or not Young Magistrate Lin enjoyed it didn’t matter much, as Shen Shaoguang suspected he had fewer taste buds and his previous enthusiastic praise of her cooking had been mere strategy.
After the Winter Solstice, Shen Shaoguang spent less time experimenting in the kitchen. Shao Jie had acquired the East Market tavern and was busy with renovations, furnishing the place, and hiring staff, aiming to open before the New Year.
Besides managing the existing four taverns, Shen Shaoguang was also contemplating how to make the East Market location the flagship store of the Shen brand—they couldn’t waste such a prime location, and more importantly, they couldn’t let all that money go to waste!
The East Market was close to the imperial city, surrounded by many officials and nobles, near the Chongren Ward where many inns were concentrated, and the famous Tang Dynasty red-light district Pingkang Ward. Unlike the more civilian-oriented West Market, the East Market was truly the center of the commercial district.
To create this flagship Shen establishment and make a splash, Shen Shaoguang and Shao Jie made several modifications while maintaining Shen’s unified characteristics.
For instance, they added private rooms. A large section of the second floor was divided into several chambers for guests seeking privacy. These rooms were truly elegant, featuring either luxurious or subtly refined paintings on the walls, wooden floors with large dining tables or small eating surfaces, and all the necessary furnishings including sandalwood couches, small incense tables, silver-painted screens, and Shu brocade curtains. They even had winter plum blossoms in vases and burning incense in censers—dining here, you wouldn’t dare complain about paying a thousand coins for a bowl of noodles!
While they took great care in designing private rooms for “distinguished guests,” they didn’t neglect entertainment for the general public. Shen Shaoguang discussed with Shao Jie about setting aside an area in the first-floor hall to build a stage where their own Zhang Erlang and others could perform “Announcing the Menu” and “Leaning Against the Wall to Leave Shen’s.”
Shao Jie clapped his hands in approval: “That’s exactly right! Our ‘theatrical performances’ are unique in both the East and West Markets. Unlike others who just have two singing girls humming away, with hardly anyone listening…”
While this form of theatrical performance during meals wasn’t unheard of at the time, it was mostly seen at banquets in wealthy and powerful households. In the East and West Market taverns, some would invite Pingkang singing girls to perform and attract customers—this was what Shao Jie was referring to.
Shao Jie continued, “The other day, when I accompanied my grandfather to a banquet at the courtesan Zhou’s house, they had such performances. I heard those two performers used to serve in a prince’s mansion, but they were merely mediocre—the key issue was that their material was too old.” Shao Jie wrinkled his nose in disdain. The term “material” was learned from Shen Shaoguang.
Shen’s “material” was indeed fresh, not because Shen Shaoguang was particularly creative or good at original content, nor because she had a good memory with gigabytes of jokes stored away, but because she mobilized the masses.
Shen Shaoguang had long believed that the “script” was the soul of such performances, just like dishes—constant innovation was needed to maintain vitality and appeal.
However, not creating original material herself, unaware of her lack of humor, and relying on joke books like “Laughing Forest Anthology” from her previous life wouldn’t sustain them for long. Remembering the story of the Liaozhai master trading tea for stories, she decided to add such an interaction—inviting customers to submit entries, limiting topics to food-related matters, requiring them to be humorous and interesting, and rewarding each submission with a plate of seasonal flower cakes.
This initiative had already been implemented in Shen’s four existing establishments, and indeed, the power of the masses was unlimited, collecting many interesting pieces. Shen Shaoguang compiled and adapted these pieces together, adding not only the Stingy Glutton Zhang Erlang series but also the refined humor series that scholars enjoyed, the slightly romantic boudoir series, and the foolish series that the public loved, with most stories being food-related.
While Shen Shaoguang wasn’t good at creation, her editing and compilation skills were adequate. She rejected anything with improper intentions, excessive vulgarity, or political implications, only selecting those that were “suitable for family dinner viewing”—after all, they were just meant for entertainment.
The customers who could tell such humorous stories were naturally fond of this style. Seeing their jokes performed brought them pride. Some narcissistic ones would ask about performance times, repeatedly come to watch, and bring friends and relatives, inadvertently creating another wave of income for Shen’s and gathering more fans.
Shao Jie was one such “theatrical” fan, often watching several pieces when free, which explained why he looked down on others—simply put, his tastes had become refined.
However, Shen Shaoguang added, “Theatre alone might be too monotonous. Why don’t we contract with the variety show performers and Hu Xuan dancers from the East Market to come once or twice every ten days? They can keep their tips from customers, and we’ll pay them extra.”
“That’s even better!”
Shen Shaoguang didn’t mention inviting singing and dancing courtesans from Pingkang Ward, not because she was particularly pure or had strong moral principles, but because they couldn’t afford it—the famous, beautiful, and talented ones were too expensive to hire for a single performance; as for the less accomplished ones, what would be the point?
As they entered the last month of the lunar year, Shen’s tavern in the East Market opened for business.
Standing by the second-floor railing, watching the stream of customers and listening to Si Lang’s classic opening “Announcing the Menu,” Shen Shaoguang asked Lin Yan, who had come specially to show support: “Don’t you think it’s not bad?”
“Not just ‘not bad,’ it’s excellent,” Lin Yan smiled, “Especially good.”
Shen Shaoguang felt a sense of fulfillment, her eyes crinkling with her smile.
“It makes up for all that tea I waited around drinking at your place.”
Shen Shaoguang turned to look at him. Lin Yan’s eyes were curved upward, his expression carrying three parts teasing and two parts grievance.
Due to the new tavern’s opening, the seasonal menu changes at the old taverns, and New Year preparations, Shen Shaoguang had indeed been quite busy, sometimes even staying out overnight. Lin Yan was also busy, but when he made time to visit her, she wasn’t around…
Shen Shaoguang licked her lips and, imitating a playboy’s tone, gave him a sidelong glance: “Do you regret ‘sending your husband to seek official ranks’?”
Lin Yan couldn’t help but laugh.
Shen Shaoguang thought he wouldn’t answer, but he nodded with a smile: “Very much so.”
Author’s Notes:
① Wang Hai’ying’s “The Colonel’s Daughter,” a book from many years ago.
② At that time, such performances were called “theatrical entertainment.”
This chapter focuses on Shaoguang being busy with business and teasing.