After practicing her stall for several days, Shen Shaoguang's pancake-making skills had improved significantly. She could crack an egg with one hand, using just her index and middle fingers to exert a little force, sending the egg white and yolk tumbling down without a single piece of shell. With a flick of her wrist, the shell would land neatly in the small bucket beside her—a move executed with remarkable flair. Flipping the pancake no longer required assistance from her other hand; she could do it single-handedly, rarely ending up with a torn or folded pancake. Even scattering the scallions was done with swift precision, giving her a sense of mastery akin to Taoist priests performing the art of "Turning beans into soldiers."
Business was thriving too. Aside from regular customers, new faces came daily to sample her wares, some even sending servants from wealthy households to buy on their behalf.
"My mistress really likes your pancakes. She tried making them herself but couldn’t quite get the same taste," a young maid around ten years old chatted with Shen Shaoguang while waiting. The girl had a round, cheerful face.
"The mistress said your sauce is especially good. What’s in it?"
Shen Shaoguang smiled. "I’m here at the entrance of this neighborhood every day. If she likes it, she can just come by. Why bother making it herself?"
The little maid tilted her head, considering this, then nodded in agreement.
Some men, however, had ulterior motives. "What’s your family name, miss?" "Where are you from, miss?" Such small talk usually came from self-proclaimed well-off merchants or gossipy, flirtatious servants of wealthy families.
Shen Shaoguang would raise an eyebrow at them, and just as they braced for her annoyance, she’d smile instead. "Spicy sauce or sweet sauce?"
Meeting such a tactful yet firm rebuff, most would back off, as losing their temper at a smiling young woman would hardly be gentlemanly.
Shen Shaoguang, of course, wasn’t the least bit offended. Compared to modern-day pick-up lines like "Hey beautiful, can I get your WeChat?" this was downright subtle.
Today’s admirer, however, was different. He wasn’t slick or putting on airs of charm; instead, he seemed a little shy. Around twenty years old, he wore the light blue official robes of a ninth-rank official, tall with a cracking adolescent voice and a face lightly pockmarked, reminding Shen Shaoguang of the boys from her university days.
Those bygone days of her past life, forever out of reach—Shen Shaoguang sighed inwardly.
Moved by this nostalgia, she treated him with extra patience. "Of course, this batter isn’t just plain flour. Plain flour sticks to the roof of your mouth—you’d need fire chopsticks to pry it loose while eating."
The young man blinked, then burst out laughing.
Shen Shaoguang smiled. "Spicy sauce or sweet sauce?"
Unsure of his preference—or perhaps to please her—he ordered a set with each sauce, thanked her with a smile, packed them into a portable leather pouch, and left.
The next day, he returned, this time ordering five pancakes at once.
Shen Shaoguang glanced at him. Were you really treating this like university, buying breakfast for your whole dorm?
But business was business. She swiftly prepared three sets with spicy sauce and two without, joking, "If you buy ten, I’ll throw in one extra."
The young man looked at her shyly, licked his lips, and said, "Thank you."
His reaction made Shen Shaoguang feel a little guilty for teasing him.
On the third day, though he didn’t order ten, he did buy seven.
Shen Shaoguang was at a loss for words. She could only hope he was acting as a breakfast courier—if he was paying out of his own pocket, a ninth-rank official’s salary wouldn’t cover such extravagance for long.
Inside the Jingzhao Prefecture office, several young officials munched on pancakes.
"Thank goodness for Clerk Liu, or we’d be working on empty stomachs," said one, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.Young people, with their vibrant nightlife, tend to sleep late and consequently rise late. Every day, they drag themselves out of bed at the last possible moment, hastily wash up and tidy their appearance before rushing off to the government office—who has time for breakfast?
Liu Feng, the records clerk, lived nearby. Once, he bought an extra flatbread, which was devoured by a ravenous colleague. The reaction was nothing short of awe. This egg pancake wrapped around fried dough twists became an instant hit among the mid-to-lower-ranking officials in the capital, and Clerk Liu unwittingly embarked on a side career as a breakfast deliveryman.
"This spicy one really hits the spot. After eating one, my appetite's only grown. Liu San, bring me an extra one next time."
"The real charm lies in the presentation. When have you ever seen street food served in paper bags? Look—there's a small seal with the character 'Shen' in seal script at the corner of the bag."
A scholarly-looking young man wiped the sauce from his lips with a handkerchief, carefully smoothed out the paper bag, and pointed to the character. "Elegant yet robust, quite unlike the contemporary trend of blending regular script into seal script. It bears some resemblance to the style of the late Junior Supervisor Li."
While this dynasty had produced many masters of regular and cursive scripts, and scholars commonly used both in daily writing, few excelled in seal or clerical scripts. The most renowned small seal script master was Li Yangbing from Emperor Xuanzong's era.
The others weren't connoisseurs of seal script, but as educated men, they all examined their own bags. One chuckled, "I detect a hint of feminine delicacy. Could the engraver be a young lady?"
Everyone laughed. Liu Feng flushed slightly, his eyes flickering with puzzlement.
The one who'd mentioned the "feminine" quality suddenly spotted the Capital Governor and Vice Governor approaching. He quickly set down his flatbread and stood to bow.
Bai Jingshan, the Capital Governor, was an amiable man who waved cheerfully at the young officials. Vice Governor Lin Yan gave a slight nod as they passed by. The junior officials exchanged knowing glances, wolfed down their food, washed it down with tea, and returned to their offices.
Governor Bai smiled. "That smells rather enticing. What are the youngsters eating?"
Lin Yan, recognizing the familiar morning aroma from the neighborhood gate, replied mildly, "Likely just pastries or flatbreads."
"In my youth, I too gnawed on sesame flatbreads while waiting for dawn court sessions. Young people always seem sleep-deprived and perpetually hungry."
Lin Yan offered another faint smile.
Governor Bai turned to his young deputy. "Yet I've never seen An Ran in such straits. Perhaps you've no taste for street fare?"
"This humble official's palate is dull, indiscriminate of flavors. Food serves merely to fill the stomach."
Governor Bai laughed heartily. "An Ran comes from a family accustomed to lavish feasts—no doubt your tongue was spoiled early."
Lin Yan responded with a quiet smile.
As the neighborhood gates opened and the breakfast hour passed, Shen Shaoguang finally had a moment to rest. She methodically wiped down the counter and griddle, cleaning up splattered sauce and scattered scallions.
Lu Sanniang, who sold fried dough twists, approached with a grin. "Business is booming for you, Ah Shen."
Without pausing her work, Shen Shaoguang glanced up with a smile. "That's only because of your excellent fried twists, Madam Lu."
The twists resembled later-day sanzi—thin strips of dough fried to crispy perfection in oil. Some were shaped like arm rings, called ring cakes, which kept well and were essential during the Cold Food Festival, though many bought them year-round as quick sustenance.Shen Shaoguang placed an order with Madam Lu to fry something similar to the crispy thin wafers of later generations, and the result was remarkably close, albeit with a touch of added sugar for a hint of sweetness. It wouldn’t be appropriate to ask her to alter the dough recipe just for her small order, so Shen adjusted her own sauce ingredients instead. Through mutual adaptation, the resulting pancake tasted quite good.
From the very first day she set up her stall, Shen Shaoguang’s business thrived, much to the envy of neighboring vendors. Though Lu Sanniang was envious herself, her sales of fried dough twists had also increased significantly, so she dared not show any jealousy. Now, with the young man’s amusing antics over buying pancakes, she naturally couldn’t resist teasing Shen Shaoguang.
“No matter how well I fry my dough twists, that young gentleman doesn’t come to buy them every day,” Madam Lu said with a wink and a laugh.
Shen Shaoguang paused her wiping, feigning deep thought. “Oh? Then it must truly be because my pancakes are that good.”
Madam Lu snorted. “Keep pretending.”
Shen smiled faintly and resumed cleaning.
Once everything was packed up, she loaded the stove and frame onto her small cart.
Qiu Da, who sold sesame flatbread nearby, lent a hand to help her lift the stove onto the cart.
Shen politely thanked him, and Qiu Da nodded awkwardly before walking off with his basket of flatbread.
Lu Sanniang sighed inwardly—youth and beauty truly had their advantages. She reminisced, Back in my day, there were those who ate fried dough twists three times a day just to catch a glimpse of me.
Author’s Note: ① Poking with fire tongs is a reference to Guo Degang’s comedy routine.
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