Another month passed before Shen Shaoguang finally found a suitable shop. Located not far from the neighborhood gate, it followed the common layout of a front shop and rear living quarters. The small storefront was only about ten square meters in size. Originally a mutton shop, the elderly owner had broken his leg after slipping on a rainy day. Even after recovering, he could no longer handle the work. With no children or grandchildren to take over, he decided to rent out the front shop to earn some extra income.
Most shops in the neighborhood were rented out together with the rear living quarters, so finding one that only leased the front store was rare. By chance, Shen Shaoguang—who had temporary lodging and limited funds—was the perfect match. The old man, having been turned down by several previous tenants, no longer aimed for a high rent. He charged Shen Shaoguang five hundred copper coins per month for the small shop. Without hesitation, Shen Shaoguang agreed, signed the lease, prepaid a year’s rent, and began cleaning up the place with A Yuan.
The walls inside were stained with years of fly specks, grease, and even traces of mutton blood. The floor was made of compacted earth, uneven and pitted, while two rickety tables—greasy and full of holes—were left behind, making the place look downright shabby.
After an initial cleaning and tossing out the junk, Shen Shaoguang hired craftsmen to whitewash the walls. She went the extra mile, traveling to a brick kiln in the suburbs to buy slightly flawed blue bricks for the flooring. She also commissioned a workbench, several dining tables, and a few folding stools from a carpenter. A trip to the West Market yielded cups, plates, bowls, and chopsticks. The shop rental cost five taels of silver, and the renovations added another five, leaving Shen Shaoguang wincing at the expense. Well, it’s an investment—it’ll pay off eventually.
Without waiting for an auspicious day, Shen Ji Eatery quietly opened for business.
During the past couple of days selling pancakes near the neighborhood gate, Shen Shaoguang had already spread the word verbally. Some loyal pancake lovers, like the breakfast delivery gentleman Liu Feng, came to check it out—and to her surprise, he even brought a small pot of peonies as a congratulatory gift.
“To celebrate the opening of your eatery,” Liu Feng said with a shy smile, placing the pot on the windowsill.
This gesture clearly went beyond the usual vendor-regular customer relationship. Just as Shen Shaoguang was about to decline, Liu Feng gave a slight bow and hurried off, leaving behind the freshly made two-egg pancake he had just ordered.
“Hey—” Shen Shaoguang pressed her lips together, smiling helplessly, and handed the pancake to A Yuan.
A Yuan had already eaten three zongzi, one pancake, and a bowl of porridge that morning. Without hesitation, she took the pancake and took a big bite.
“Miss, do you think that Mr. Liu might fancy you?” A Yuan suddenly whispered mid-chew.
Shen Shaoguang quickly glanced outside—the customer who had just bought zongzi was already long gone.
“Don’t say such things carelessly from now on,” Shen Shaoguang warned. Nothing was more awkward than misreading someone’s intentions.
A Yuan thought for a moment. “You’re right. If he were serious, he should send a matchmaker. What’s this supposed to mean?”
“…” Shen Shaoguang raised an eyebrow at A Yuan. That’s one way to look at it! Was this little maid the type who seemed simple but was sharp underneath?
A Yuan grinned. “The two-egg one really does taste better than the one-egg version.”
Shen Shaoguang laughed. “If we earn over three thousand coins this month, I’ll make you a double-egg pancake every morning.”
A Yuan waved her hand. “No need, no need! Save the money first. Didn’t you say you wanted to buy a house?”
Shen Shaoguang hadn’t expected the girl to remember her offhand remarks. She patted A Yuan’s arm. “We won’t go broke over one extra pancake for you.”With her own space secured, Shen Shaoguang expanded the variety of food offerings. Mornings were busy, so she mainly sold pancakes, zongzi, and rice cakes prepared the night before, along with fresh soy milk bought from the tofu shop—simply reheated on a small stove to serve as a ready-made beverage.
During the day, with ample time on her hands, she could leisurely mix fillings and wrap various types of pointed mantou or make seasonal Flower Cakes.
The so-called "pointed mantou," known as jade tip noodles in the palace, were essentially irregularly shaped buns—with a pointed top that slightly revealed the filling inside.
Naturally, the pointed mantou from her small shop couldn’t compare to those from the palace, where extravagant fillings like "bear fat" or "deer meat" were common, and even the ordinary ones featured "quail wings" or "crab roe." Shen Shaoguang’s version, however, catered to the common folk—pork buns.
While most people in this dynasty preferred mutton, Shen Shaoguang was a staunch advocate for pork, believing it to be the most "rich and flavorful" meat in the world. Of course, its relative affordability also played a role.
Making ordinary vegetable and meat buns didn’t align with Shen Shaoguang’s pursuit of culinary perfection, so she decided to craft xiaolongbao—soup dumplings.
In later generations, many regions, especially those in the Huaiyang cuisine tradition, excelled at making xiaolongbao. Regardless of the style, the secret to the soup lay in the meat aspic. While achieving the soup was one thing, the true test of skill was in the filling and dough.
Not formally trained as a chef and unbound by tradition, Shen Shaoguang prioritized taste above all. Tailoring to her own preferences, she made the most common pure pork filling but also added bamboo shoots and wild mushrooms to counter the richness.
The first batch was taste-tested with A Yuan.
As soon as A Yuan bit into one, the hot soup gushed out. She instinctively tried to slurp it up, prompting Shen Shaoguang to shout, "Be careful!"—but it was too late. The silly girl had already scalded her tongue.
Even after getting burned, A Yuan couldn’t bring herself to spit out the soup and swallowed it anyway, much to Shen Shaoguang’s exasperation.
After sampling a basket of each filling, A Yuan reluctantly put down her chopsticks at Shen Shaoguang’s reassurance that there would be plenty more in the future. When asked which one she liked best, A Yuan blinked, looking troubled. "How can I even compare?" She had been too busy eating to notice.
Classic case of "Pigsy eating ginseng fruit"—devouring without savoring!
Personally, Shen Shaoguang favored the bamboo shoot version for its subtle fragrance and lighter taste. However, sales proved her preference to be the minority—pure pork was the crowd favorite.
The soup dumplings were also visually appealing. Though not perfectly pleated with the standard eighteen folds, they were still presentable—a skill Shen Shaoguang had mastered in her past life, taught by her grandmother who once ran a bun shop in Tianjin. Their shape was far superior to the currently popular jade tip noodles or the flat vegetable and meat buns.
Moreover, the fillings were delicious, and the surprise burst of soup was a hit.
Shen Shaoguang’s soup dumplings became an instant success. At mealtimes, the steamers couldn’t keep up with demand, and customers packed the shop, even spilling out onto the street. To manage the crowds and prevent disputes, Shen Shaoguang had to issue numbered bamboo tokens for queuing. She hadn’t realized the neighborhood had such a huge appetite for buns.
Later, overhearing customers’ conversations, she learned some had come from other districts. Shen Shaoguang felt a bit dazed. With this momentum, could she actually get rich selling buns? Maybe even go public on the New Third Board?No wonder Shen Shaoguang was daydreaming. As a purely meat-based dish, soup dumplings followed the mid-to-high-end pasta route, with each dumpling yielding a net profit of about four coins. For such small dumplings, an average adult would easily devour a steamer basket of six, totaling twenty-four coins—enough to buy seven or eight sesame flatbreads!
Author's Note: ① From "Qing Yi Lu": "When Zhao Zongru was in the Hanlin Academy, he heard a palace attendant say, 'This morning's breakfast was jade tip noodles, filled with xiaoxiong and zhanlu, which His Majesty greatly enjoyed.'" Xiaoxiong refers to bear fat, the essence extracted from bear lard; zhanlu refers to meticulously raised deer.—Referenced from Wang Saishi's "Tang Dynasty Cuisine."
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