Steward Zhou knocked on the door of the small snack shop.
Shen Shaoguang looked up and saw an elderly man around fifty years old with a kindly face, followed by two young servants. She smiled and said, "Please come in, sir. Would you like some wine or to buy something?"
Steward Zhou chuckled, "Young lady, my master wishes to order some Mid-Autumn Festival cakes."
These days, Shen Shaoguang had been busy introducing new dishes and renovating, so time had flown by unnoticed—the Mid-Autumn Festival was almost here. She had made a good profit selling Flower Cakes during the Double Seventh Festival, so naturally, she wouldn’t miss the opportunity to sell mooncakes for the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Though she called them "mooncakes," this dynasty didn’t actually have such a term. During this era, people still gathered with their families on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, climbed heights to admire the moon, drank wine, and composed poetry, but the Mid-Autumn Festival hadn’t yet evolved into the "Mooncake Festival." As for when mooncakes got their name or when they became a household tradition, Shen Shaoguang had no idea.
Nostalgic for the past, Shen Shaoguang made baked mooncakes and snow-skin mooncakes modeled after those from later generations. For the fillings, she chose red bean paste, jujube paste, osmanthus, black sesame, salted egg yolk, and the infamous "five kernel" filling that was universally mocked online in later times.
Shen Shaoguang had been a "five kernel hater" since childhood, especially despising the version with candied green and red shreds. She felt the ancestors had invented this abomination just to ruin children’s holidays—a culinary atrocity darker than the blackest hour before dawn.
It wasn’t until middle school, when she tasted a homemade five kernel mooncake from a classmate’s family, that she realized—oh heavens, it wasn’t that five kernel was bad, it was that she’d never had a good one! Perfectly sweetened, with fragrant pine nuts, walnuts, peanuts, and other kernels—not dry, not cloying, no rancid oil taste, and most importantly, no candied shreds.
Later, while reading Dream of the Red Chamber , she came across the "Imperial-made melon seed and pine nut mooncake" and guessed it was probably a five kernel mooncake made according to imperial recipes. If even the ever-refined Grandmother Jia didn’t disdain it, it must have been delicious—presumably without those dreaded candied shreds.
Later still, after reading the food writings of gourmet Yuan Mei, Shen Shaoguang completely abandoned her prejudice against five kernel mooncakes and even longed to try a couple.
In her past life, she never had the chance to make them herself, but now she could finally give it a go.
Actually, making five kernel mooncakes wasn’t difficult. Shen Shaoguang reasoned that the bad ones she’d eaten before were mainly due to poor-quality or stale ingredients, especially those left on display for days—how could they not ruin the appetite?
So she paid extra attention to ingredient selection, visiting dried fruit shops in the West Market to pick out the finest pine nuts, walnuts, almonds, sesame, and chestnuts, then had them ground into fine powder. The rest was simple—add sugar, lard, wrap in pastry, press into molds, and bake. After baking, she tried a piece herself and thought—not bad, though hardly a divine revelation.
Then she experimented with snow-skin versions, and to her surprise, the same filling tasted several levels better! Was this what Yuan Mei meant by "sweet but not cloying, light but not bland"? Exactly this, right?
Satisfied with her five kernel mooncakes and the other fillings, Shen Shaoguang was determined to make another big profit from them. Thanks to her earlier success with the Double Seventh Cake, many returning customers came to place orders even before she could advertise.
Uncertain which household Steward Zhou belonged to, Shen Shaoguang simply smiled and asked, "How many would you like to order, sir? And what kind?" She then pointed to the samples, introducing the various flavors and designs—though the different imprints made the selection seem even more extensive.Steward Zhou hadn’t handled such minor purchasing tasks in a long time and was genuinely unaware that a small shop could offer such a variety of pastries. However, as an experienced steward, he pondered briefly before smiling, “Aside from what’s for our own consumption, we’ll take the ‘Embroidered Reunion Box’ for the rest. It should be the baked kind—otherwise, it might crumble when delivered. As for our own…”
He paused slightly, “We’ll take the soft and tender ice-skinned ones, with a box of each filling. The old madam’s teeth aren’t what they used to be, so she prefers softer treats. The patterns don’t matter much—the young master isn’t particular about such things.”
Shen Shaoguang nodded. It seemed the master of this household was filial and easygoing, hence the old servant only considered the elderly lady’s preferences. But for the festival… Shen Shaoguang still suggested, “Our shop has just released a set of moon fortune cakes, specially made for noble households’ Mid-Autumn banquets. Perhaps the young master and ladies of your household might enjoy them?”
“Each cake bears an old poem on top, with a fortune interpretation on the back. It’s just a game to amuse guests during the banquet.” Shen Shaoguang flipped one over to show him.
Steward Zhou, a seasoned servant from an aristocratic family who had read a few books, asked a few questions and confirmed the fortunes were all auspicious. He chuckled, “This is quite amusing. We’ll take a box.” His young master was always so reserved, unlike other youths—he ought to have some fun.
Shen Shaoguang smiled and added another entry. When noting the customer’s name, she asked, “May I ask, honored elder, how should I address your master?”
“It’s the residence of Lord Lin, the Deputy Magistrate of this ward.”
Shen Shaoguang raised her brows, smiled, and noted it down. “Very well.”
Steward Zhou didn’t know why his young master had specifically requested pastries from this shop. Perhaps the taste was exceptional—the old madam had particularly enjoyed their jade tip noodles, even though they had upset her stomach that one time.
Returning to the residence, Steward Zhou went to the study to report to his master.
Lin Yan nodded, thanked him for his efforts, and said nothing more.
Steward Zhou withdrew, but Liu Chang, the attendant standing behind Lin Yan, began to ponder.
Liu Chang often accompanied his master on outings. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his young master treated this Shen Ji proprietress differently. For instance, there was that time he’d been sent to the ward gate to buy pancakes—his master had bought them but didn’t eat them…
Then, just the other day, his master had passed by Shen Ji and asked him to buy orchid beans and Lion’s Head Meatballs. His master rarely ate outside—how did he even know what this shop sold?
Coincidentally, Liu Chang had witnessed the young lady “outwitting the ruffians” and reported it to his master. His master immediately sent for the ward guards and waited by the roadside instead of leaving. Such a trivial matter—why go to such lengths?
After interrogating the two ruffians and learning they were connected to the Cloud Arriving Tavern—a business owned by Zhao Wang—his master had Steward Zhou make a conspicuous order for Mid-Autumn pastries…
Liu Chang felt there was something more to this. Something more indeed!
Author’s Note: The inspiration for the fortune-telling mooncakes comes from the flower lottery in Dream of the Red Chamber .
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