Steward Zhou placed a box on the study floor and reported, "A Lang, this was found the day before yesterday when the servants were cleaning the small courtyards in the western section. It might belong to the previous owner of the house. This old servant dared not decide on his own and came specially to report to you."
The residence was quite large, but the Lin family had few members and not many servants either. When they moved in at the beginning of the year, the main courtyards, halls, and gardens had been renovated and cleaned, while unused servant quarters and storage yards were inevitably neglected. This thorough cleaning for the New Year turned up some old miscellaneous items.
Most of these old items were already worn beyond use, and the servants had piled them in the courtyard to be burned together. During his inspection, Steward Zhou discovered these books intended as kindling.
The books were poorly preserved, many of them moth-eaten and decayed. Even if they were famous works by renowned authors, they wouldn’t be worth much now. Steward Zhou, being somewhat literate himself, picked one up and flipped through it—it turned out to be a rare annotated edition by a great scholar of the previous dynasty! The others included poetry collections, travelogues, and personal letters, occasionally bearing the handwriting of the former master—elegant and refined.
After some thought, Steward Zhou gathered them all, brushed off the dust, and placed them in the box. Now that Lin Yan was home on leave, he brought them over.
Lin Yan set down the document in his hand and stood up to approach. He picked up the rare edition on top and flipped through it, unexpectedly recognizing the handwriting he had seen on the pavilion in the garden.
"Leave them here," Lin Yan nodded to Steward Zhou.
Steward Zhou bowed and withdrew.
Unbothered by the dirt, Lin Yan placed the books on the desk and examined them one by one. Logically, during the confiscation of the household, the study would have been the primary target. But these might have been stored in the bedroom or elsewhere, thus escaping seizure. Later, when the residence was sold by the authorities, these books ended up in the hands of the next owner’s servants.
From these books, one could almost glimpse the refined and free-spirited former Minister of Rites—a lover of poetry and wine, with a taste for leisure, slightly unconventional yet never crossing the line, amiable yet inherently proud... the epitome of a true scholar’s grace.
Lin Yan recalled Young Lady Shen’s somewhat unconventional remarks, her spirited eyes, and that painting of a rustic mountain village imbued with reclusive charm. It seemed her roots lay here. Only, her father carried more of a noble elegance, while his daughter had a hint of... something unorthodox.
Thinking of Young Lady Shen, he indeed found something of hers among the books—a booklet of handwriting practice.
Her calligraphy followed the Zhong-Wang standard script, still immature but showing traces of rounded grace, quite different from the current lean and vigorous style. Her present handwriting must have been learned later in the palace from the Imperial Academy Instructors.
Aside from this youthful script, the pages bore two other styles—one dignified and beautiful, the other free and unrestrained. The dignified hand wrote, "A Qi’s characters lie and sit as they please." The free hand added, "Lying and sitting at will—straightforward and unconstrained."
These were likely written by Minister Shen and his wife. Though just a few words, their personalities shone vividly. Lin Yan smiled sheepishly—truly a celestial couple.
At the thought of celestial couples, Lin Yan’s mind inexplicably conjured the lovely face of Young Lady Shen. She raised an eyebrow with a somewhat cynical smile. "The young master, born into nobility, surely has never suffered frostbitten hands and feet... When I was in the palace, with charcoal in short supply, my hands and feet would swell and fester every deep winter. If it stayed cold, it wouldn’t be so bad—just cracked skin and some pain. But the worst was suddenly nearing the charcoal—ah, the unbearable itch!"Lin Yan pursed his lips and flipped through the childish handwriting papers to examine the travel notes beneath.
A maidservant knocked on the door, "A Lang, the Dowager Madam invites you to try the drunken pears."
"Coming."
While Lin Yan was perusing Shen Shaoguang's elementary school assignments, Shen Shaoguang herself was busy frying, stir-frying, and cooking up a storm in the kitchen with Yu San. The annual New Year's Eve feast was not something to be taken lightly.
The Shen family's New Year's Eve dinner had a somewhat anachronistic feel—it featured Tang Dynasty staples like Tusu wine, the Five-Spice Plate, and sticky toffee, alongside poultry, meat, fish, and the later-era must-have for celebrations: dumplings.
The chicken was Shen Shaoguang's doing. Since it was a tender young bird, she opted not to stew it. After slaughtering, cleaning, and chopping it into pieces, she lightly marinated them for flavor, coated them in dry starch, and deep-fried them until golden brown before setting them aside. Then, in a fresh pan, she stir-fried scallions, ginger, and pepper to release their aroma, added the fried chicken pieces, and tossed them with a small bowl of three-ingredient sauce—a mix of clear soy sauce, sugar, and yellow wine. A final sprinkle of cumin powder and salt, and the dish was ready.
The result was chicken with an irresistibly fragrant, slightly charred aroma that made mouths water.
Princess Yu San's duck, on the other hand, was a labor-intensive dish. After slaughtering and cleaning, the duck had to be deboned—a task Shen Shaoguang wasn't particularly skilled at, but Yu San excelled in. With the tip of her knife gliding precisely along the bone seams, she removed the bones without tearing the skin or flesh.
Shen Shaoguang never held back her praise: "Absolutely masterful! A true marvel of skill!"
Princess Yu San shot her a glance but couldn't help curling the corners of her lips.
"You know, if you weren't a chef, you could probably make a great assassin," Shen Shaoguang quipped, immediately derailing the moment.
Yu San's smirk vanished.
Once deboned, the duck was stuffed with a filling of glutinous rice, cured meat, mushrooms, bamboo shoots, scallions, and ginger. The opening was sewn shut with twine, and the duck was steamed over chicken broth for two hours—a dish somewhat reminiscent of the later-era "Eight-Treasure Pouch Chicken."
This time-consuming dish had been in the works since lunch, and by the time Shen Shaoguang was stir-frying the chicken, it was perfectly done.
The fish—a carp weighing over a pound—was one A Chang had scoured the West Market to find the day before. Shen Shaoguang turned it into a classic sweet-and-sour fish, double-fried: first to cook it through, then again to crisp it up, leaving the head and tail arched as if ready to leap. Drizzled with a thick, glossy sweet-and-sour glaze, it looked stunning.
The sweet-and-sour fish was Shen Shaoguang's signature dish—much like how people saw her: spirited, striking, and with a touch of that "take it or leave it" attitude.
The meat dish was Shen Ji's classic specialty: clear broth lion's head meatballs. Four large meatballs were arranged together, symbolizing blessings, prosperity, longevity, and happiness.
Beyond these, there were also stir-fried dried tofu, vinegar celery salad, fried fish jerky, stir-fried cabbage, lamb with radish, and more—enough to cover two joined dining tables.
The four at Shen Ji rarely stood on ceremony between master and servant, and tonight they gathered around the table in a tight circle.
Yu San looked at Shen Shaoguang, waiting for her toast. Even the gluttonous A Yuan and A Chang suppressed their drooling to hear what the young mistress would say.
Shen Shaoguang glanced at them. "Dig in! What are you waiting for?"
Yu San rolled her eyes but ultimately laughed.
A Yuan and A Chang chuckled too. A Yuan obediently picked up her chopsticks and cheerfully reached for the chicken wing in front of her.
Shen Shaoguang took a knife and hacked the duck into eight pieces before plopping a generous chunk into her own bowl to savor slowly.
Yu San scooped up a lion's head with a spoon and ate it bite by bite.
A Chang, meanwhile, attacked from all sides like a ravenous beast.
This was destined to be a night of overindulgence...After eating for a while, they began drinking.
According to the customs of this dynasty, the youngest drinks first—this is called "the young gain a year, so they toast first; the old lose a year, so they drink later." A Yuan was slightly younger than A Chang, so she went first.
A Yuan cheerfully downed a full cup, followed by A Chang, then Shen Shaoguang, and finally Yu San.
Shen Shaoguang eventually offered a toast: "We've all grown another year older. May we earn more money next year, and may someone find a partner." She glanced playfully at Yu San.
At this point, Yu San could be considered an older bachelor who ought to marry. Unfortunately, Shen Shaoguang herself wasn’t settled yet. She thought to herself that in another year or two, when things were more stable, she would cancel Yu San’s indenture and let him live as a free commoner. Their relationship with the shop could simply shift to employment. A Yuan and A Chang were still young, so there was no rush for them.
"What does 'find a partner' mean?" A Yuan asked first.
A single dog without even realizing it! Shen Shaoguang explained this term from a thousand years later: "It means getting married and starting a family."
"Oh—" Both A Yuan and A Chang looked at Yu San.
Yu San’s face flushed slightly as he shot Shen Shaoguang a glance. "Young mistress should worry about herself first."
Shen Shaoguang shamelessly replied, "You’re older—you go first. I’m in no hurry."
A Yuan and A Chang burst into laughter.
Shen Shaoguang joined in the laughter, while Yu San lowered his head and continued eating.
Such a grown man, and still so shy...
Shen Shaoguang felt she was indulging in the mischievous humor of a middle-aged woman. But when she thought about it, adding both lifetimes together, she was indeed middle-aged...
Enough of that—best not dwell on it. Shen Shaoguang poured more wine and drank. Though the alcohol content was low, the prolonged drinking gradually took its toll, and she began feeling tipsy. She started telling jokes from later eras, listened to A Yuan sing a Chang’an folk tune, and even pressured Yu San and A Chang into performing a dance.
Estimating the time, Shen Shaoguang, slightly unsteady on her feet, went to cook the dumplings.
Yu San scoffed at her, "Don’t let all the dumplings fall apart!"
Shen Shaoguang corrected him, "What do you mean 'fall apart'? It’s called 'earning'!" She then called out to A Yuan and A Chang, "From now on, when cooking dumplings, if they 'fall apart,' we’ll say they 'earned.'"
"Speaking of which, I remember a joke. Some shops, for the sake of good fortune, deliberately let a few dumplings break while cooking them during the New Year, and they’d shout, 'Did we earn?' The cook would reply, 'We earned, we earned!'"
"But one year, the cook was new. The shop owner asked, 'Did we earn?' The cook shouted back, 'Don’t worry—with me here, not a single one will earn!'" Shen Shaoguang imitated the clumsy cook, hollering loudly.
Outside, A Yuan and A Chang were doubled over with laughter, while Yu San could only shake his head and smile.
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