After the Mid-July Festival, the prolonged rainy days finally came to an end, and the summer heat had dissipated. Though the sun at noon was still strong, it was no longer the "scorching heat" of before. The sky was a clear azure with scattered white clouds, accompanied by a refreshing autumn breeze—Chang'an's pleasant autumn had arrived at last.
Recalling the excessively hot summer, Shen Shaoguang felt a lingering sense of dread. Who would have thought that the extreme heat could stir up such chaos in the city, nearly turning a natural disaster into a man-made calamity—and even affecting a small fry like her. Compared to that, the half-month of rain, with its moldy clothes and damp walls, seemed trivial.
At least it was all over now. Shen Shaoguang exhaled in relief, running her fingers over the embroidery on her new autumn outfit. The next two months would be the best time of year in Chang'an. Once October arrived, the morning frost would bring a chill.
Lifting the hem of her pine-frost-green skirt slightly, she sat down and picked up Ming Nu, slowly stroking the cat's fur. The pine-frost green carried a touch of autumn's richness, much like the hues she had seen that afternoon when gazing at the distant scenery upon returning from outside the city. Her top was a creamy white, softer in shade than Ming Nu's fur, tailored in the narrow-sleeved Hu-style to avoid being grabbed by a certain someone again.
Thinking of that day, Shen Shaoguang felt a bit indignant, as if she had let down the modern women of the 21st century... Perhaps after transmigrating for so long, her soul had grown more classical and conservative?
Still, that outing hadn’t been entirely without its rewards. For instance, she had tasted fresh boiled beans, delicious steamed pork, and a rustic brew with a lingering kick. But the most noteworthy was the buckwheat cold noodles.
The buckwheat noodles, rinsed in well water, carried a slight astringency and the fragrance of wheat, with a satisfying chewiness. Served with sesame paste, clear soy sauce, vinegar, and garlic, they were exceptionally refreshing.
She hadn’t seen buckwheat noodles in the grain shops within the residential wards. The West Market might have them, but Shen Shaoguang wasn’t in the mood to search for them just yet, so she bought a sack of buckwheat from the shopkeeper’s wife instead.
Thus, over the past couple of days, buckwheat noodles had become a frequent sight on the tables of both the owner and guests at Shen's Shop—cold or hot, stir-fried or braised, in broth or with sauce, thick or thin, shaped like a baby’s finger or resembling cat’s ears... all sorts of variations.
Shao Jie happened to be present for this culinary flourish. Taking a bite of the buckwheat noodles, chewing thoughtfully, then another, he nodded repeatedly at Shen Shaoguang.
He was eating shredded chicken noodles. Buckwheat noodles had a coarse texture, so they were either served cold for a refreshing bite, tossed with sesame paste, garlic, and vinegar, or paired with rich, savory meat broth to mask their roughness.
But the shredded chicken noodles were different. The chicken was marinated in egg white, coated with starch, and gently stir-fried in warm oil before being quickly sautéed with lard, silver needle bean sprouts, a splash of milk soup, and a thin slurry, resulting in an exceptionally tender texture. Paired with julienned cucumber and the chewy, slightly astringent buckwheat noodles, it created a dazzling sensation on the palate.
After finishing the small bowl of buckwheat noodles in two bites, Shao Jie wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.
Shen Shaoguang smiled knowingly and asked, "Young Master Shao, does it suit your taste?"
"Delicious!" Shao Jie praised. "It’s just a pity—"
A pity? Shen Shaoguang perked up, ready to hear his critique.
"Your bowls are too small!"
Shen Shaoguang laughed, and Shao Jie joined in.Shao Jie wasn’t exaggerating at all. Having grown up in a wealthy family, he had never tasted buckwheat noodles before. The first bite felt a bit strange, but the more he ate, the more addictive it became. The only pity was that the small bowl held just a few mouthfuls.
Shen Shaoguang loved such enthusiastic customers and smiled, “You’ve already had wine, meat, and vegetables earlier, so these buckwheat noodles come last—like the lingering final note of a courtesan’s song. Drawn out just right, it leaves a lasting impression, but too long and it becomes redundant.”
Shao Jie clapped his hands and laughed heartily. Where did this young lady get such witty and insightful remarks?
Shen Shaoguang continued, “When the autumn wind grows cooler in a few days, you can come back for lamb and mustard greens buckwheat noodles. Tender chunks of fatty lamb stewed with well-pickled mustard greens, rich broth, fine buckwheat noodles, and a spoonful of fragrant fried Sichuan pepper paste… I’ll serve it to you in the biggest bowl we have!”
Shao Jie grinned, “It’s a deal!”
Once again, he couldn’t help but marvel, “Young lady, you really should open a grand restaurant in the East or West Market. Shen Ji already has a reputation—I’ve heard people mention your food more than once. Now’s the time to ride the momentum and make a name for yourself in the markets.”
In her free time that afternoon, Shen Shaoguang sipped rose tea and explained in detail, “Our best-selling and most profitable dishes aren’t the expensive ones like Fish-and-Lamb Delicacy or Eight-Treasure Duck, nor the small plates like fried Orchid Beans or cilantro-tofu skin salad. It’s the mid-range dishes like Agate Meat and Hibiscus Stew. If you check the detailed accounts at Guixiang Garden, you’ll likely find the same pattern.”
“I’m not saying luxury dishes are bad—just that ‘luxury’ isn’t our only path forward.”
Business at Shen Ji was indeed booming. During meal times, the waiting benches outside were never empty. But constrained by location, space, and customer base, the shop had likely reached its growth limit here.
Shao Jie’s proposal did tempt Shen Shaoguang. However, buying a large restaurant in the East Market would require substantial funds—more than she currently had to spare. Moreover, upscale restaurants demanded different management strategies, which would take time to master. For a safer, profitable approach, she had another idea: opening identical branch shops in mid-to-high-end residential wards.
Frowning, Shao Jie pondered this. “Go on.”
While the markets had plenty of small stalls and shops, their limited capacity and operating hours—only opening at noon and closing before sunset—meant they could serve just one lunch service. Compared to the high rents and labor costs, the return was disproportionately low.
As a merchant’s son, Shao Jie understood this well. Hence his initial suggestion to open a “grand restaurant”—spacious, luxurious, and capable of building prestige.
In this era, “old establishments” were prized, and branching within the same city was rare. Most aspired to “prove their worth” in the East or West Market—a symbol of success and the dream of many merchants. Bound by conventional thinking, Siao Jie had shared this mindset. But hearing Shen Shaoguang propose replicating her shop in wards like Chongxian suddenly opened new possibilities.
The advantages were clear. With 108 wards in Chang’an, selecting ten for branch shops could yield far greater profits than a single upscale restaurant in the markets."But how can the young lady ensure that every branch can maintain the same standards as this tavern?"
Inconsistent quality across branches is a major issue even for modern catering businesses, but fortunately, some solutions have been developed, such as standardization.
"All branches will follow the same recipes. We'll document the procedures and formulas for each dish, and train the chefs thoroughly, striving to achieve uniformity as if a hundred hands worked as one."
Shao Jie narrowed his eyes with a smile and pointed at Shen Shaoguang: "A hundred hands—the young lady's ambitions are grand indeed."
Shen Shaoguang's vision grew even more expansive: "If this succeeds, with shops opening in Luoyang, Bianzhou, and the northern capital, even a hundred hands might not be enough."
Shao Jie burst into laughter—conversing with the young lady was truly exhilarating!
Yet he raised a concern: "But with this approach, the recipes might easily leak, allowing others to copy them."
"Some items, like sauces, dressings, and cured meats—or even semi-prepared dishes—could be centrally produced and delivered daily to each branch." Shen Shaoguang was describing the concept of a central kitchen from later eras. However, without refrigeration, inconvenient transportation, and nighttime curfews, this wouldn’t be as practical.
"Another approach is to specialize tasks—one person chops vegetables, another fries meat, another mixes fillings. This way, even if something leaks, the damage would be limited."
In fact, the current system was highly conducive to secrecy—most tavern chefs weren’t hired employees but household servants. In this era where "servants are lowly, treated as livestock by law," stealing from one’s master carried severe penalties. Servants could even be beaten to death without legal consequences, as the Tang Code stated that masters who "inflict fatal punishment or kill by negligence shall not be prosecuted." Thus, betraying one’s master was an enormous risk.
Over tea, their discussion grew livelier and more aligned. Shao Jie, with his sharp business acumen, offered several practical suggestions. Before long, a draft plan for expanding the tavern branches had nearly taken shape.
By the end, it seemed the only things standing between Shen Ji’s expansion across the city were time and money.
Shen Shaoguang, however, wasn’t in a hurry. Sipping her rose tea, she smiled and said, "As long as there’s life, there’s money to be made. We’ll earn it gradually."
Shao Jie laughed again, then shared his thoughts: "What if my family were to invest and partner with you? How would you feel about that?" Shao Jie believed in directness—especially in business dealings with friends and partners. Deception over money ruined friendships and partnerships. What kind of honorable man would do such a thing?
"I can see your venture will surely prosper, and I’d like a share of the profits. But my family lacks expertise in tavern management, so you’d remain in charge. We’d simply provide funds and take a portion of the earnings."
Shen Shaoguang was impressed—this ancient man was proposing a joint-stock system...
She admired Shao Jie’s straightforward approach and was willing to collaborate. Still, given the significant financial and long-term commitment involved, caution was necessary. She shared her reservations with him.
Shao Jie chuckled. "Even if you agreed immediately, I couldn’t produce the funds right away. Matters like this require my grandfather’s approval." In this era, the principle was "while parents live, children hold no private wealth." Partnerships and business ventures required the patriarch’s consent.Shao Jie sighed, "Young lady, you're much wealthier than I am. The other day, I saw an exquisite antique knife, but even after gritting my teeth several times, I still couldn't bring myself to buy it."
Shen Shaoguang smiled faintly.
Suddenly remembering that the young lady seemed to have lost both parents, Shao Jie realized his words might have sounded insensitive. Uncharacteristically stumbling over his words, he added, "Don't mind me—I'm always running off at the mouth without thinking."
This time, Shen Shaoguang genuinely laughed. This honest, straightforward, and slightly cunning Young Master Shao was truly adorable!
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