Shao Shang was a woman of action—once she resolved to be considerate and caring toward Ling Buyi, she wished they could instantly become an old married couple. However, just like when she had vowed to study hard in the past, there was still a long journey between determination and actual improvement—four monthly exams, two midterms, one final, and a school-wide mock test stood in the way.
Thus, her first attempt at being attentive to her fiancé unfolded as follows—
"...I originally wanted to invite you to my home for bamboo fungus, but you haven’t had proper rest these past ten days. I should send you home first. And while I’m at it, I’ll get to sample the skills of your household’s chefs!"
"What about your reputation and propriety?" Ling Buyi asked with a faint smile.
"Let them scatter with the wind." Since the engagement couldn’t be called off anyway, her reputation might as well be sent to a wind power plant.
Shao Shang pulled Ling Buyi back to the Small Chariot, enthusiastically offering him the Light Carriage while she rode a horse.
Ling Buyi looked puzzled. "Why don’t we ride together?" Wasn’t this a two-seater carriage?
"Ah, you don’t know—that Teacher who gifted this carriage had ill intentions. The seats look spacious, but they can only fit two women comfortably. Last time I rode with A Yao, we were squeezed so tight a needle couldn’t slip through. You’re even broader than A Yao—how could we both fit...?" The girl answered eagerly.
A chilly breeze drifted into the alley as the Cheng Residence servants quietly and uniformly stepped back.
Ling Buyi studied the girl for a moment, then silently lifted her back into the Light Carriage and mounted the steed himself without a word.
The servants: Lord Ling has such admirable restraint, truly a gentleman’s demeanor!
A good beginning is half the battle—Shao Shang firmly believed this. In life, aside from scholarly pursuits and official careers she couldn’t meddle in, there were only four things that mattered: clothing, food, shelter, and travel.
Ling Buyi’s residence was bestowed by the Emperor—classically dignified, grand, and magnificent. After dinner that evening, Shao Shang inspected it inside and out and concluded that her limited knowledge left little room for improvement. In the end, she only suggested transplanting a patch of red silk flowers that grew outside her own dwelling into his inner courtyard.
Ling Buyi raised a brow with an amused smile. "I’m a lone man living by myself. What use do I have for flowers?"
"Ah, great minds think alike!" Shao Shang exclaimed in delighted surprise. "Actually, I don’t care for gardening either, but Mother insisted my dwelling was surrounded by too much green bamboo and ivy, so a patch of vibrant flowers would brighten it up. I chose the sturdiest, easiest-to-grow red silk flowers. If you don’t like them, I can bring over some newly planted garlic chives—not only can you harvest and eat them anytime, they also repel insects... What do you think?"
Ling Buyi: "...Let’s stick with the red silk flowers.More pressing than residence decor was the pick-up and drop-off behavior that had just earned them internal criticism from the Emperor before the rest day. Shao Shang solemnly declared to Ling Buyi that he was no longer allowed to exhaust himself by escorting her at all hours.
"Then how can I see you more often?" Ling Buyi lowered his eyes.
Shao Shang had already planned it out: "I won’t take shortcuts anymore—I’ll enter from the southern palace gate as before, and you can wait for me there so we can go in together. On Grand Court Assembly days, after we reach the southern court hall, you stay there while I head to the North Palace alone. On minor assembly days or when His Majesty doesn’t hold court, we’ll walk to the North Palace together. How’s that?"
"But wouldn’t you have to wake up nearly half an hour earlier?"
Shao Shang waved a hand grandly. "No matter—I can doze off in front of Her Majesty and catch up with a solid nap at noon."Ling Buyi felt a surge of sweetness in his heart but said, "You're at the Everlasting Autumn Palace to study under Her Majesty. If you delay because of me, wouldn't that be..."
Shao Shang inwardly cursed him for pretending to be modest after gaining the advantage and replied with a stern face, "One cannot serve two masters. I can either devote myself entirely to Her Majesty and palace affairs or entirely to you. Choose one."
"...Then you'd better devote yourself to me," Ling Buyi said softly, his usually cold jade-like face gradually tinged with a faint pink.
Shao Shang wrinkled her delicate little nose at him, looking utterly mischievous.
"As for the evenings, it depends on how busy you are. If you're busy, I'll go home later. We can have dinner at the Everlasting Autumn Palace and take our time returning—good for digestion and health. If you're not busy, come to my place for dinner." Surely the Emperor would be satisfied with this. She was going all out to show her sincerity.
"We could also dine with His Majesty. He has two excellent chefs in his inner palace," Ling Buyi said shamelessly, unbothered about freeloading.
Mention of food brightened Shao Shang's mood.
That night, upon returning home, she asked A Zhu to find the small black pottery stewing pot she had specially commissioned from a craftsman in Hua County. She cleaned it, left it to dry under the moonlight, then dried it further for later use. From her observations, cooking techniques at this time hadn't yet reached the dazzling variety of later generations. People mostly considered grilled and pan-fried dishes as delicacies, prized meat and fish above all—but such fare wasn't healthy.
History had proven that steamed and boiled dishes were better for health. Thus, despite Cheng Mu's vehement objections, under her influence, the Cheng Residence's daily meals now included plenty of vegetables and soups.
Southerners naturally excelled at making soups, effortlessly inventive. Whether from mountains, fields, rivers, or streams, Shao Shang could turn anything into a delicious broth.
From then on, Shao Shang tried to bring Ling Buyi a pot of soup wrapped in a warm nest every morning at the palace gates. If the soup required too much time and effort, she would carry prepared ingredients in a small bamboo basket into the palace. She borrowed a red clay stove from Zhai Nanny, set up her glossy little black pottery pot, and let it bubble away—thankfully, this was a palace free of scheming, and the Empress had absolute authority in the Everlasting Autumn Palace. Otherwise, she wouldn't have dared.
Whether at noon or in the evening, when Ling Buyi arrived at the Everlasting Autumn Palace, he would see the petite girl guarding her soup pot under the corridor, her cheeks flushed from the stove's heat, fine beads of sweat glistening like scattered pearls on her face. Then she would smile at him from afar.
In that instant, he suddenly understood what his adoptive father had meant by "the warmth of a home."
As her childhood tutor had said, Shao Shang was a person of both ruthlessness and perseverance. She had originally detested such tedious kitchen chores, but now that she had decided to treat it as a mission, she poured her heart and wisdom into it without reservation. Lung-nourishing, throat-soothing, eye-brightening, heat-clearing, energy-boosting... Ling Buyi's heart, liver, spleen, and lungs were all thoroughly nourished by her—except for anything related to kidney tonics or aphrodisiacs, which she dared not attempt.
Before long, she discovered Ling Buyi's current favorite: a clear fish ball and ginger soup. She would take fresh fish, remove the bones, mince the flesh into tiny balls, and simmer them in a clear broth, garnished with tender greens and fine slivers of turmeric—light yet exquisitely flavorful.Seeing the girl so busy and diligent these days, the Empress actually felt a rare twinge of jealousy and teased, "...Perhaps I can retire now that my work is done. The palace is abuzz with praises of your virtue."
"Really? Everyone's calling me 'virtuous'?" Shao Shang was pleasantly surprised—this was truly unexpected.
The Empress pretended to glare. "Virtuous toward your son-in-law, perhaps, but your filial piety remains unremarkable!"
Shao Shang was puzzled. "Where have I been unfilial? Did Father and Mother complain to you...?"
"I mean toward His Majesty and me! Where is your filial devotion?" The Empress put on a stern face.
Shao Shang understood—it was simply a matter of 'sharing the spoils.' Rules of the trade, everyone knew them. She'd play along.
Previously, for caution's sake, Shao Shang had meticulously arranged all utensils and measured ingredients precisely so Ling Buyi could finish them in one go, leaving him only three-quarters full. Now, adjustments were needed.
Unlike Ling Buyi, the Empress preferred sweet and sticky flavors. Shao Shang had to delve into sweet soups and desserts. Unfortunately, high-purity white sugar or rock sugar wasn't available then. She once tried malt sugar in soup, but the flavor was impure and not sweet enough.
Nearby regions sporadically grew sugarcane, producing "zhejiang" for drinking, while markets sold "stone honey" imported from the Western Regions. The former couldn't be used in cooking, and the latter, Shao Shang found too expensive and overly pungent. In this era without high-end sweeteners, she had to buy zhejiang or sugarcane and boil it repeatedly to extract sugar granules. Her chemistry knowledge helped avoid many mistakes, but the process was fuel-intensive and tedious.
Only when her coin purse was nearly empty did the smoke from Cheng Residence's kitchen finally ease. Shao Shang obtained sufficiently sweet molasses, which could be used for snacks like fruit candy or lactose (earning starry-eyed admiration from Cheng Xiaozhu and Cheng Xiaoou), cold fruit and vegetable dishes (earning Cheng Mu's approval), and various sweet soups.
However, this molasses didn't store well, so Shao Shang took advantage of summer to produce it in bulk. One day it was double-layer milk pudding, another day honey milk jelly, then white sugar cakes (though not actually white, as Shao Shang shrugged). She even baked pastries in the Everlasting Autumn Palace's kitchen once. The soul-meltingly sweet and gentle aroma of milk wafted for miles, nearly luring several officials away from their meeting at the Department of State Affairs.
The Empress had been suffering from a summer cough, but after this round of nourishing treats, not only did her cough improve, her complexion became rosier. Zhai Nanny was overjoyed and treated Shao Shang even more kindly, entrusting her with some personal tasks she hadn't even assigned to Luo Jitong.
Where there are people, there are rivalries. Soon, gossip reached Luo Jitong's ears: "A-jie, you've served Her Majesty in Everlasting Autumn Palace since childhood. She's only been here a few days and has already surpassed you."
But Luo Jitong just smiled, holding her red bean and millet sweet soup. "I'll be leaving for the northwest to marry before winter. For her, though, the palace is half her in-laws' home. She's just showing early filial piety to her future parents-in-law here. Our situations are different."
When this eventually reached Shao Shang, she sighed, "Jitong A-jie truly has clear eyes and a sharp mind." Well, if even the junior maids couldn't stir up drama, this palace was indeed peaceful and uneventful.The Empress smiled. "If she were so easily swayed by provocation, she wouldn’t have lasted this long in the palace."
"Does Your Majesty not intend to hold those provocateurs accountable?" Shao Shang frowned.
The Empress shook her head. "Clear waters breed no fish. The palace is already too quiet—must we forbid them from speaking altogether?"
Shao Shang silently disagreed.
Some matters she could let pass with a shake of her head, but others compelled her to speak up.
Ever since Shao Shang first began presenting delicacies to the Empress, the latter would always send a portion to Consort Yue’s palace, even if she omitted the Emperor’s share. Shao Shang worried—food and drink were the easiest means for hidden schemes. What if something went wrong someday?
The Empress said calmly, "She wouldn’t. And she knows I wouldn’t either."
Seeing the Empress’s unwavering certainty, Shao Shang said no more.
By late summer, Shao Shang used her last portion of honeyed sugar to prepare a thick, nutty glutinous rice pudding for the Emperor. He nodded in approval after tasting it, then sighed. "Shao Shang, your skill is remarkable. But it’s a pity this sugar-making method shouldn’t be widely adopted. Best not to spread it. Delicacies are beloved by all, yet our resources are limited. If such sweets become coveted by noble families, households would plant sugarcane instead of grain—while famine still plagues the land."
Shao Shang understood perfectly. She replied respectfully, "Your Majesty, this humble one grasps your meaning. The nation’s strength must be directed where it truly matters."
"And where might that be?" the Emperor teased, earning a glare from the Empress.
"Grain, horses, and ironware, naturally!" Shao Shang declared, then pouted. "Your Majesty, the Empress has already taught me the Discourses on Salt and Iron , and that treatise by Minister Jia Yi... Ah, I’ve forgotten the title, but I truly did study it!"
The Emperor wasn’t offended—he stroked his beard and laughed heartily.
Though Shao Shang feigned displeasure, she deeply respected the Emperor and Empress. As rulers of the empire, could they not indulge in any delicacy they desired? Yet they led by example, practicing frugality to guide the noble houses.
In truth, a later dynasty famed for its wealth could produce exquisite celadon porcelain, masterful incense blending, and every manner of entertainment like cuju football. Yet its rulers failed their talented, hardworking people and brave soldiers—they squandered the nation’s strength instead of investing in salt, iron, grain, and horses.
In her humble opinion, that dynasty’s governance relied on bribery—lavishing wealth and honors to bribe enemies abroad and officials at home. The former bought temporary peace; the latter secured the literati’s flattery of the throne.
When enemies besieged the capital, those rulers committed their grandest bribe: seizing innocent daughters to trade for mercy with barbaric foes. Ironically, their own wives and daughters eventually shared the same fate.
As the saying goes, effort and sweat never lie.
Shao Shang’s diligence—both in thought and deed—gradually eclipsed her former reputation for mischief. Pleased, the Emperor rewarded her with fifty thousand newly minted Wu Zhu coins for pocket money, praising her in an edict as "quick-witted, filial, and gracious in conduct." As an afterthought, he also granted Ling Buyi a fief with tax revenue from two hundred households.Shao Shang was in a bad mood. After enduring it for most of the day, she finally couldn't hold back her grumbles while sitting on the corridor with the Empress after dinner, waiting for Ling Buyi: "If they want to praise me, then praise me. What does Lord Ling have to do with it?"
The Empress chuckled softly and said gently, "What's his is yours. You're even fussing over this. Perhaps those two hundred households were granted by His Majesty to cover your sugar-making expenses."
Shao Shang burst into laughter but soon sighed wistfully, "Ah, in the past, whether it was praise or scolding for mischief, it was all my own affair. But now, if I speak well or do well, it reflects glory on Lord Ling. If I behave improperly, it brings shame to him. So where does that leave me? Where am I in all this?" The young girl wore a grown-up expression, her tone tinged with melancholy.
The Empress composed herself and gazed at her quietly for a moment before speaking, "You're overthinking this. If we follow your logic, then the generals and strategists under His Majesty's command would have no place of their own. If their plans succeed and they win battles, it's for His Majesty's territorial expansion—nothing to do with them. If their strategies fail and they lose, it's all His Majesty's fault? Yet, since ancient times, under the vast starry sky, the names of those renowned generals and strategists who dominated the world still shine brightly in the Milky Way."
Shao Shang slowly raised her head, her eyes widening as she looked beyond the eaves.
"You were too solitary before, always thinking of living and perishing on your own, bearing your own glory and shame. But that's not how it works. You must learn to adapt, to find another path when one is blocked. You can no longer follow your previous plan to wander the mountains and rivers with that young master of the Lou Family. But does that mean you can't be yourself in this grand Capital City, the heart of the empire?"
It was as if a bright window had opened for Shao Shang. In the gradually darkening indigo sky, a few faint stars began to appear—dim and distant, but undeniably present.
"Your Majesty, you speak so wisely," she said, turning back with a radiant smile, like a gentle breeze sweeping over the hills.
The Empress felt her heart lighten at the sight of that smile.
Gazing at the sky, Shao Shang thought to herself how laughable it was to grumble and sulk like a resentful woman. In the end, she had merely changed her field of study. Even in her past life, could she have guaranteed that her future career would align perfectly with her major?
Now, she had simply shifted from the field of science and engineering research to home economics and nutrition. Labor knows no hierarchy, and no profession is inherently superior. Wherever there's a need, she would strive. She was still herself—how absurd to think that changing her major would alter who she was.
Author's Note:
Work has been overwhelmingly busy after the New Year, as if my brain cells are being pulled in two directions. Even when I sit down, my mind is still preoccupied with work, leaving me unable to write a single word. My apologies.
Regarding the Song Dynasty, it's regrettable. When I was very young, I read Bo Yang's "An Outline History of China." I agree with one of its points: the early Northern Song Dynasty was actually quite prosperous, with population and wealth flourishing, almost resembling the post-Wen-Jing era. If they had had an emperor with the talent and vision of Li Shimin, recovering territories like the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun might not have been impossible. After all, in the early Han Dynasty, the Hetao Plain wasn't under Han control either.
Bo Yang remarked, "Unfortunately, China at that time didn't encounter a Li Shimin but the Zhao brothers instead."3. In truth, the Song dynasty had several quite commendable emperors—diligent, frugal, and open to counsel—yet the entire governance was set on the wrong course. However, perhaps the lessons from the Song dynasties served as valuable warnings in the long sweep of history. The tragic end of the Song dynasty made it painfully clear to the nation that prosperity alone was useless—it could all be plundered.
I’m not here to glorify aristocratic families. I fully support the historical progression from aristocratic to commoner politics, but I oppose the notion of condemning the grandfather as a scoundrel just because the grandson was weak. Even if aristocratic families later became obstacles to historical progress, we cannot deny the positive roles they once played in history.
On a side note, though both were governed by scholar-official factions, I believe the Ming dynasty’s scholar-officials were superior to those of the Song.
The fall of the Northern Song was not due to irreversible land monopolization or unstoppable peasant uprisings, but rather to those supposedly brilliant scholar-officials. They were meticulous in scrutinizing a princess’s conduct and relentless in prosecuting a desperate woman’s tragic case of killing her husband, yet when faced with invading armies, they knew only to jump from city walls or even opened the gates themselves.
Had there been even one figure like Yu Qian, the Northern Song might not have fallen that year—at least not in such a wretched manner.
Then again, perhaps it was precisely the Northern Song’s tragic lesson that taught Ming officials never to surrender or open the gates, no matter what.
Words invite mistakes—I’ve said too much. These are merely personal views; don’t read too deeply into them.
OpenNovel