Shen Shaoguang sat in the mule-drawn carriage with A Yuan by her side. The newly hired driver, A Duo, steered from outside while Yu San perched on the shaft. Not far behind them rode Lin Yan with his two attendants.
Within the city, Lin Yan had maintained this discreet distance, but once they passed the gates, he urged his horse forward—like most gentlemen accompanying their wives—taking position beside the carriage. Through the bamboo curtain’s gaps, Shen Shaoguang could easily catch glimpses of his figure.
Studying Lord Lin’s profile through the woven screen, she concluded that a pleasing side view largely depended on the nose and chin. She touched her own nose regretfully—her bridge wasn’t high enough.
Beside her, A Yuan—with her broad, fleshy nose—cheerfully lifted the opposite curtain to admire the scenery. “Young Mistress, look! Those soybeans must be nearly ripe, don’t you think?”
Shen Shaoguang leisurely withdrew her gaze and turned toward A Yuan’s line of sight, smiling. “Hmm, just about. Boiled with Sichuan pepper and salt, they’d make an excellent drinking snack.”
A Yuan nodded eagerly. “Boiled is good, but the fragrant rice you made last year—stir-fried with shrimp, cured meat, eggs, and beans—was even better. And the soybean cake you made by mashing tender beans for their juice and mixing it with glutinous rice flour… it was tasty, but not sweet enough…”
Shen Shaoguang chuckled. A Yuan’s purely Tang-dynasty palate…
Teasing her, Shen Shaoguang said, “This year, let’s try something new—you’ll probably like it. First boil them, then coat them in starch and deep-fry. Crispy outside, tender inside.”
A Yuan clapped her hands. “That’ll be delicious! Didn’t you say once that if you don’t know how to cook something, just fry it?”
Yu San, subjected daily to such culinary corruption, had grown accustomed to it. But today, he coughed pointedly—after all, outsiders were present. He glanced subtly at the figure riding slightly behind them, his brow instinctively furrowing. Then, recalling how Lin Yan had once taken Shen Shaoguang’s place in danger, he turned his head back without further comment.
The “outsider,” Lin Yan, naturally overheard the mistress and maid’s chatter and couldn’t help but smile. He loved listening to her conversations with her servants—there was a comforting, leisurely charm to them.
After days of rain, the road had become uneven and rough. To avoid jostling the young mistress, A Duo drove the carriage slowly. Shen Shaoguang wasn’t one to complain—slow was fine, they had the whole day. Lin Yan, too, was in no hurry, ambling alongside them. The group had set out in the morning and arrived at the City God Temple by mid-morning.
The lame old Taoist priest bowed to Lin Yan and Shen Shaoguang. When he saw the Honey Offering carried by A Yuan and Yu San, he remembered—wasn’t this the young lady who had brought exquisitely crafted pastries last year? Even in the grand temples of the city, such fine offerings were rare.
Then he studied Lin Yan. This seemed to be the nobleman who had donated generously the previous year. But last time, they hadn’t come together…
Though suspicions churned in his mind, the priest remained outwardly hospitable, assisting with arranging the offerings, lighting incense, and summoning his disciples to chant Taoist scriptures.
Shen Shaoguang thanked him, and the priest hurriedly returned the courtesy. “This is but my humble duty.”
She lit incense and burned paper money, then knelt respectfully, silently praying for the peaceful repose of her loved ones in this life.
When she rose, Lin Yan also took incense and performed the rites of a disciple, paying homage to the Shen couple.Shen Shaoguang pursed her lips without saying anything. After he finished the ritual, she properly curtsied to thank him.
Lin Yan returned the gesture with equal formality, much like those young men visiting their future father-in-law's home for the first time, meeting their betrothed under the watchful eyes of the patriarch.
After Shen Shaoguang completed her memorial rites, it was Lin Yan's turn to perform his.
Shen Shaoguang also lit an incense stick—not to return Lin Yan's "courtesy," but out of quiet reflection on how similar their family circumstances were. She'd heard that Lord Cui was also a man of great talent and wondered if he'd had any dealings with the Shen family. That young Lady Cui had been a woman of fierce principles, valuing honor over life itself—something Shen Shaoguang admired though she couldn't imagine herself doing the same.
She believed Lord Lin's recent comment about being "more familiar with Lord Cui and the Cui family's young master." Even in these relatively liberal times, marriages among noble families still began essentially as mutual approval between father-in-law and son-in-law—the elder assessing the younger man's character, learning, lineage and appearance, while the groom evaluated his future father-in-law's scholarship, virtue, official reputation and influence. The young lady herself was rather secondary in this equation.
Shen Shaoguang imagined that had her family not met with misfortune, whether as her original self or her transmigrated self, her husband would likely have been chosen this way. But fate's wheel had veered off course, and everything had changed.
Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Lord Lin's direct confession. After a long pause, Shen Shaoguang smiled and rubbed the red marks Ming Nu's claws had left on her hand—she really needed to trim that cat's nails again.
When the incense burned out, Lin Yan emerged and asked softly, "It's getting late. Shall we take our meal here at the City God Temple, or find an eatery in the nearby village?"
The temple only had a few resident Taoists, and Shen Shaoguang didn't want to trouble them. "Let's find a place outside."
"There's a village by that stream we visited last time. Shall we try there?"
Shen Shaoguang thought his use of "we" wasn't exactly wrong, yet it still felt somewhat awkward...
The narrow path was too rough for carriages, so they walked instead, Lin Yan naturally accompanying her.
The fields stretched green before them, with shepherd boys and their flocks on the slopes, and the occasional farmer returning home with his hoe—a scene of tranquil rural beauty.
The gauzy sleeve of Shen Shaoguang's robe fluttered in the breeze, brushing against Lin Yan's arm. He unconsciously caught at the fabric, then let it slip through his fingers.
Suddenly feeling her face grow warm, Shen Shaoguang cowardly edged away.
"Any further and you'll fall into the ditch," Lin Yan murmured.
She pressed her lips together—shouldn't you be the one moving over then?
But Lin Yan only smiled, showing no intention of giving her space.
Shen Shaoguang had to hold down her sleeves, regretting not having worn the close-fitting Hu-style clothing today.
Lin Yan stopped teasing her and moved aside, clasping his hands behind his back like a perfect gentleman—though his thumb and forefinger lightly touched, as if remembering the texture of that gauzy fabric.
Their luck held. Rounding the stream, they came upon a small tavern at the village entrance—two thatched cottages with a sun-bleached wine banner fluttering overhead.The proprietress was a rather straightforward and cheerful woman, warmly greeting them while boasting about having "the finest roasted pork"—due to the Zhongyuan Festival that day, many were honoring their ancestors, so the village had slaughtered two pigs. The shop had acquired a pork leg weighing eight or nine catties, sliced it into large pieces, and steamed them. Originally, they had planned to sell the steamed pork to the Taoist priests at the City God Temple, but who would have thought such distinguished guests would suddenly arrive?
Shen Shaoguang then asked what vegetables and staple foods they had. The proprietress said they had homegrown scallions, eggplants, and cabbage, as well as freshly boiled edamame.
Shen Shaoguang smiled and asked for two plates of edamame first, then requested stewed cabbage and steamed eggplant. Hearing that buckwheat noodles were available as a staple, she said with a laugh, "Please make us some chilled buckwheat noodles, topped with sesame paste, clear soy sauce, vinegar, and garlic paste."
The proprietress could now tell—this household was clearly run by the young lady, while that handsome gentleman was merely for show. Since the young lady had given such instructions, she naturally complied without question, though she privately mused that the tastes of city nobles were truly peculiar—choosing buckwheat noodles over fine wheat flour.
The proprietress first brought out the edamame, then served her roasted pork in a large bowl.
The edamame had only been boiled with salt, lacking much flavor, but the beans were tender enough to still be enjoyable.
As for the meat, it was more "steamed" than "roasted," not marinated in clear soy sauce, leaving it in its natural pale color. A coarse ceramic bowl beside it held a three-ingredient sauce of vinegar, garlic, and ginger. Shen Shaoguang and Lin Yan kept only a small plate for themselves, giving the rest to Yu San and Liu Chang.
Shen Shaoguang picked up a piece of meat, placed it in her bowl, and drizzled some of the vinegar-garlic sauce over it. The meat was so tender it practically melted—surprisingly delicious.
The proprietress then brought out a wine jar and poured drinks for everyone. "Honored guests, please try our homemade wine. Not to boast, but our wine is the most renowned in these parts."
Shen Shaoguang lifted the wide, shallow bowl, blew away the green foam on the surface, and took a sip. It was excellent—the proprietress hadn’t been exaggerating.
This was the first time Lin Yan had seen her drink wine, let alone from a bowl nearly as large as her face. He couldn’t help but chuckle.
Shen Shaoguang raised an eyebrow.
Lin Yan merely smiled without a word.
Shen Shaoguang knew he was teasing her for eating meat in big chunks and drinking wine from a large bowl. How provincial of him! In her past life, there were women who could down half a bottle in one gulp, and in this life, palace maids drowned their sorrows with entire jugs of wine—this was nothing in comparison.
With the boiled edamame as a snack, Shen Shaoguang finished the entire bowl of wine.
Noticing the flush on her cheeks, Lin Yan advised, "Don’t drink any more—you might end up vomiting on the road."
Shen Shaoguang nodded. The alcohol content wasn’t enough to get her drunk, but drinking too much might mean an urgent search for a rest stop—now that would be awkward.
Lin Yan had no idea what she was worried about, only thinking how adorable she looked when obedient.
"Proprietor!" A scholar in his forties, dressed in a white robe that had long since turned gray, walked in carrying a wine gourd. "Please fill this up for me."
Seeing that both tables in the shop were occupied, the scholar didn’t sit. The shopkeeper went outside to pluck a small lotus leaf from the riverbank, wrapping up a portion of boiled edamame and a flatbread for him. The scholar tucked the bread into his cloth satchel, cradled the edamame, took his gourd, mounted his donkey outside, and ambled away.
Watching his carefree retreating figure, Shen Shaoguang couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t know how good his poetry was, but he certainly had the air of a poet down pat.
Lin Yan glanced at her.Shen Shaoguang remarked, "A lame donkey, a tattered hat, a pot of village brew, and half a bag of edamame—this gentleman is truly carefree." She then glanced at Lord Lin, who ate with meticulous precision and never drank during lunch. Both were disciples of Confucianism, yet the difference between them was striking.
Lin Yan smiled faintly and said, "As long as you find poetic freedom, I’ll handle the mundane affairs of the world."
Shen Shaoguang thought to herself that the village brew had quite the kick—it was going to her head.
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