After the Double Seventh Festival, the Ghost Festival soon arrived.
During this time, the Ghost Festival was a major celebration. Temples and Taoist monasteries in the city held grand ceremonies, and the imperial court sent Yulan Bowls filled with rare treasures to prominent temples like Ci'en and Qinglong every year. Many commoners also visited temples to offer sacrifices and pray for blessings. In front of these large temples, there were often performances of the Hundred Entertainments and Buddhist Popular Lectures, with singing and chanting, creating a lively atmosphere.
Even smaller, less renowned temples were bustling during these days. For example, the Luminous Nunnery had been cleaned and prepared days in advance. On the eve of the Ghost Festival, Yuanjue, dressed in formal monastic robes, chanted scriptures and brought out the Yulan Bowl adorned with lotus patterns and gold filigree.
Shen Shaoguang presented her steamed Honey Offering Pastries and donated oil money, then joined other devotees to listen to the scriptures.
After the morning ceremony, Yuanjue smiled at Shen Shaoguang and said, "What exquisite pastries! Yet they differ from the Double Seventh Cake—layered on a plate, they look truly elegant."
Yuanjue, being a true connoisseur, immediately noticed the difference between the Ghost Festival Honey Offering Pastries and the Double Seventh Cake. The latter was delicate and tender, emphasizing texture, and couldn't be stacked or stored for long. In contrast, Honey Offerings were mostly made by steaming, frying, or baking with cream, honey, and flour, resulting in a sturdy shape that could be stacked three to five layers high on a plate, looking beautiful and presentable, and lasting up to six or seven days without issue.
Little did anyone know that Shen Shaoguang's inspiration for these Honey Offering Pastries actually came from the Double Seventh Cake.
During this era, preparing sacrificial offerings was a traditional household task, with "mainly sacrificing with apples and white artemisia" being a required skill for housewives. Thus, Shen Shaoguang hadn't initially planned to develop festival-specific pastries. However, a customer who had tasted her Double Seventh Cake came to her shop to order pastries for offering to his parents during the Ghost Festival.
"When my late parents were alive, our family was poor, and they never had the chance to taste such delicate treats. Now that I’ve been fortunate enough to earn some money, I’d like them to try it," said the middle-aged man in his forties or fifties, dressed in a Hangzhou silk robe, his face weathered and dark—likely a traveling merchant. His expression was filled with sorrow as he spoke.
Shen Shaoguang’s face grew solemn. While she understood the sentiment of "a son wishing to care for his parents but they are no longer here" and wanted to fulfill the order, she had to explain the limitations of the Double Seventh Cake. It couldn’t last the three days of the Ghost Festival offerings—exposed to wind, it would either crack, crumble, or spoil.
The customer knew Shen Shaoguang spoke the truth and frowned in disappointment.
Recalling a feature she had worked on in her past life, "The Lost Manchu Han Pastries of Old Beijing," Shen Shaoguang said, "I’ll adjust the recipe using steaming, baking, and frying methods. It should work."
The next day, she made a few samples for the customer to taste. After his approval, Shen Shaoguang began crafting these Tang Dynasty-style Honey Offering Pastries—Manchu Han Pastries. They couldn’t compare to those from the Qing imperial kitchens, nor even to the offerings of early 20th-century pastry shops. But in this era over a thousand years ago, they were more than enough to comfort the heart of a merchant longing for his parents.
Since she was making one batch, she might as well make more. Shen Shaoguang prepared three sets: one for the merchant, one to offer at the Luminous Nunnery to boost its popularity and repay a favor, and one to take to the City God Temple outside the city for the Ghost Festival.
Her parents, brother, and even her original self in this life had all met untimely deaths, without proper burials or graves. For such deaths, it was said one must make offerings at the City God Temple outside the city. So on the day of the Ghost Festival, Shen Shaoguang closed her shop for the day. Early in the morning, she and A Yuan rented a mule cart and set off for the outskirts.Compared to the bustling and splendid temples and Taoist monasteries within the city, the City God Temple appeared much more desolate. The stone path was covered in moss, weeds grew beneath the courtyard walls, yet the offerings of rice cakes and fruits on the altar were fresh and abundant—likely left by the previous worshipper. Inside the hall, a lame Taoist priest in his fifties and a young acolyte tended to the incense.
Shen Shaoguang arranged her own offerings of fruits and pastries, lit the incense and candles, burned paper money to honor the City God and her parents and relatives in this life. Before leaving, she donated some silver coins to the Taoist priest.
The old priest accepted the money, recited a Taoist invocation, and bowed. "The local City God is most efficacious and will surely bless those the young lady has honored." Having just received a generous sum from the previous worshipper, the priest wasn't particularly impressed by Shen Shaoguang's modest donation. Instead, he was more taken with her offerings—even the delicacies offered by nobles in the grand temples where he once stayed in his youth weren't as meticulously prepared. He looked forward to enjoying them once they were removed from the altar.
Shen Shaoguang returned his bow with a smile. It was a gesture of goodwill, hoping their souls would rest in peace, free from hunger and cold.
Since they were already in the outskirts, Shen Shaoguang asked the carriage driver to wait while she strolled around with A Yuan. This was her first glimpse of the countryside in this era.
Thatched cottages, the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs, wisps of smoke rising from the graves, and a few farmers returning home after paying respects to their ancestors. It would make a picturesque scene, full of poetic charm—but living here would be another matter...
The river, however, was truly clear. Beneath a willow tree by the riverbank stood a man in white robes, with several servants holding horses a short distance behind him. When he turned, Shen Shaoguang recognized him as the scholar who had mocked Pang Erniang at the gates of Luminous Nunnery.
Both were momentarily taken aback. Shen Shaoguang curtsied first and was about to leave when the man approached.
"Young lady, have you also come to the City God Temple to offer sacrifices?"
"Yes," Shen Shaoguang replied with a faint smile.
"Might I ask—for whom?"
Was it now fashionable in Chang'an to pry into personal matters upon first acquaintance? Shen Shaoguang raised an eyebrow. The man had a pair of charming peach-blossom eyes, but at this moment, his brows and eyes carried a trace of melancholy and sorrow.
"Family," she answered after a pause.
"And whom does the gentleman honor?" Shen Shaoguang inquired in turn.
"Teachers and friends." In truth, they were his friend's teachers and friends.
Shen Shaoguang nodded. To travel all the way out of the city to offer sacrifices, they must have been very close. And to come here suggested a sorrowful tale. She recalled Gu Zhengguan's lyrics to "Song of the Golden Thread": "I too have wandered long. Over ten years, I've failed to repay deep kindness, to teachers and friends now gone." Seeing the man's disheveled white robes, she couldn't help but superimpose the imagery of the poem onto him, softening her tone slightly. "Please accept my condolences." She curtsied again, donned her veil, and left with A Yuan.
Watching Shen Shaoguang's retreating figure, the scholar in white raised an eyebrow and smiled. Sharp-tongued that day, yet so understanding today—were all young ladies nowadays this intriguing?
Lin Yan returned from his walk in the woods and followed his friend's gaze.
"Your neighbor is quite interesting," Pei Fei remarked with a laugh.
Lin Yan pursed his lips. "She is a young lady. It's best we refrain from discussing her."
"You! So rigid! If you marry someone as clever and quick-witted as her in the future, won't you be utterly henpecked?"
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