Yummy Yummy Yummy

Shen Shaoguang immediately let her thoughts wander, squinting her eyes with a fox-like grin.

Lin Yan tilted his head slightly, watching her with an amused smile.

"Go ahead, who's afraid of whom?" Shen Shaoguang laughed. "In that case, I shall go and enjoy a cup of your fine tea."

Lin Yan resided in the same courtyard where the Shen couple had once lived. The layout of the garden and verandas vaguely matched her memories, but the details were different. Shen Shaoguang recalled a large flowerbed in the yard, filled with peonies and tree peonies; the windows always adorned with vibrant red paper-cuttings; and birdcages hanging under the eaves, housing a few orioles whose melodious songs filled the mornings—her mother would personally change their water and feed them every day...

"A Qi—" Lin Yan called out to her with concern.

Shen Shaoguang turned her head and smiled at him. "Do you practice your swordplay in this courtyard in the mornings?"

Lin Yan nodded.

Now, the large flowerbed was gone. Instead, a narrow strip of land had been cleared along the railing beneath the veranda, edged with brick borders and planted with a few clusters of flowers. Judging by the withered stems, they were likely peonies or tree peonies. The rest of the courtyard was left open, paved with lotus-patterned blue bricks. Gone were the orioles and the festive window decorations—now it exuded a distinctly masculine simplicity.

With another playful smile, Shen Shaoguang asked, "What’s planted beneath this railing?"

"A few clusters of tree peonies."

"What variety?"

"The flower seller called them 'Drunken Immortal,' but their color seems richer, almost like 'Fiery Cloud.' I’m not well-versed in such things." Lin Yan smiled gently. "When they bloom, you can see for yourself."

Shen Shaoguang squinted, neither praising nor criticizing, and stepped onto the veranda.

A shadow had briefly crossed her brow, but she quickly masked it with this lively demeanor. Lin Yan felt a pang of sympathy, wanting to tell her she didn’t need to put on such a front around him—yet he feared bringing up the past might only deepen her sorrow, so he held his tongue.

A maid from the Lin household lifted the door curtain, and they entered the room.

Inside, the dark-toned rosewood furniture—a large sitting platform, a long desk, and a bookshelf covering half a wall—lent a somber air. Books were everywhere: piled on the desk, stacked on the shelves, even a scroll resting on the small table by the sitting platform. Despite the abundance, everything was neatly arranged—books aligned, the desk adorned with a brush holder, lamp, inkstone, and paperweights, while the side table held a teapot, cups, and a snack tray. It was unclear whether Lord Lin was naturally fastidious or if the maids were exceptionally diligent.

The room’s few bright spots were the landscape painting on the wall and the six-panel rosewood screen. The painting depicted snow-capped mountains against an ink-wash sky, a winding stream, and a thatched cottage where two recluses played chess—its serene, transcendent mood carrying a hint of Zen detachment. The inscription suggested the artist was likely one of Lord Lin’s friends.

The six-panel screen, however, bore an inscription of The Gantang in semi-cursive script—Lord Lin’s own calligraphy.

The Gantang , from The Book of Songs , is a nostalgic ode to Duke Shao, a ruler who governed with diligence and compassion. He once held court under a pear tree, and after his death, "the people, cherishing his legacy, spared the tree from being felled." It’s reminiscent of later admirers preserving relics of their idols.

To live a life of dedication and warmth, then be revered in memory—this was the Confucian ideal. Yet paired with the detached, reclusive Chess Game in the Snowy Hut ... Our Lord Lin seemed to suffer from the traditional scholar’s duality.

When high in the halls of power, he longed for the joys of mountain retreats; when far in the wilderness, he dreamed of donning the purple robe and guiding the realm. Ah, the scholar’s heart...Shen Shaoguang and Lin Yan sat facing each other on the couch as a maid served tea, which they both sipped.

Noticing Shen Shaoguang’s gaze lingering on the folding screen, Lin Yan followed her line of sight.

Though inwardly teasing, Shen Shaoguang smiled and said, “Your calligraphy is truly excellent. You must gift me a piece someday.”

Seeing her earlier melancholy, Lin Yan only wished to indulge her now. Softly, he replied, “I’ll write you a folding screen too—one to surround the couch in your hall, to block the drafts.”

Shen Shaoguang recalled the pillow screen he had given her. If she wasn’t mistaken, behind this "Gantang" screen was the bedroom. She wondered if Lord Lin’s pillow screen was as solemn and austere as this "Gantang" one.

Never one to miss an opportunity to tease, Shen Shaoguang remarked, “I don’t want this 'Gantang' poem...”

Lin Yan chuckled. “What would you like, then?”

“Now that I have summer and autumn lotus ponds, how about you gift me a winter scene next?”

With the maids absent, Shen Shaoguang smirked mischievously and asked in a low voice, “Hey, Yan Lang, what pattern is on your pillow screen?”

Lin Yan glanced at her, pressed his lips together, then rose from the couch and took her hand. “Come see for yourself.”

Shen Shaoguang merely smiled and let him lead her.

Lin Yan’s bedroom was spacious, its style similar to the outer chamber—open, substantial, and serene. A simple, large bed stood without canopy or curtains, only a small screen placed before it.

Being a single panel, the screen was unobstructed, and Shen Shaoguang immediately recognized the scene: a vast lake with reeds stretching endlessly, identical to the one on her own screen—except hers was multi-paneled while this was singular.

She had guessed it might belong to the same lotus pond series, but she never expected it to be an exact match...

Tilting her head, Shen Shaoguang looked at him. Lin Yan simply smiled warmly, tightening his grip on her hand.

With her free hand, Shen Shaoguang lightly tapped Lin Yan’s chest and said with a knowing smile, “This—utterly revealing.”

Lin Yan caught her wandering hand, then released the other to pull her into an embrace.

“A Qi—” he murmured softly.

Held so tightly against him, so close to his eyes, nose, and lips, Shen Shaoguang felt a flutter of nervousness. She could almost hear a heartbeat—whether his or her own, she couldn’t tell.

Lin Yan closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss her.

Only after a long while did he pull back slightly, gazing at her dazed eyes and flushed lips before kissing her again.

Much later, “A Yan—”

“Hmm?”

Shen Shaoguang nestled against his chest and murmured teasingly, “If the screen was utterly revealing, was this long premeditated?”

“Hmm.” A deep, affirmative hum.

She had only been jesting out of habit, never expecting him to admit it. Our Lord Lin’s shamelessness...

“What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking of Ming Nu. What a dignified cat he used to be—until he started rolling around, refusing to get up unless his neck was scratched or his back rubbed.”

Lin Yan laughed, his chest vibrating with mirth.

Shen Shaoguang giggled too, pressing her face against his robes and hugging him tightly.

Yet even the longest kisses and embraces must end. Lin Yan led her by the hand for a tour around the bedroom. Shen Shaoguang glanced at the bed but dared not entertain any improper thoughts—lest things spiral out of control. After all, this was someone else’s home, and they still had to dine with the Dowager later.

Instead, she prattled on about whether a cup was from the Ding or Xing kilns or what stone a seal was made of. Seeing her flustered and awkward, Lin Yan chuckled.Shen Shaoguang felt that his shamelessness was a home-court advantage. If they were at her place, she would be the one acting even more brazenly.

“I really want to marry you soon,” Lin Yan murmured, hugging her again and pressing a kiss to the hair at her temple before finally taking her hand and leading her out of the bedroom. They then sat facing each other in the main hall.

Sipping tea that was no longer hot, they continued chatting.

There was nothing particularly serious to discuss. Shen Shaoguang shared some jokes she had collected—though she didn’t dare casually dump any risqué ones—sticking instead to refined humor about scholars. This led to talk of the scholars who frequented her tavern, and then to the upcoming Ministry of Rites examinations and the Ministry of Personnel’s selection process.

Shen Shaoguang smiled. “Young Master Yang wrote a poem outside our tavern that caught Lord Li’s eye, and he ended up hiring him as an aide. Inspired by that, I thought we should give something back to the scholars who dine at our place—like compiling their poems into a booklet, printing it, and distributing copies in the tavern and on the streets. We could even sell them at bookstores in the West Market and elsewhere…”

Lin Yan chuckled. A Qi really had a knack for business.

Shen Shaoguang pretended to be magnanimous. “Scholars have it hard. If we can lend a hand, we should. It’s like helping the court identify talent.”

Lin Yan nodded. “Absolutely. When His Majesty next holds a grand banquet, the poetry shared there will surely be rich and impressive.”

Shen Shaoguang rapped the table in warning.

Lin Yan laughed but then turned serious. “Later, bring me those poems. I’ll help you select them. Once they’re printed, we can send a copy to the Vice Minister of Rites.”

In this era, it was customary for aspiring scholars to present their poetry and essays to high-ranking officials, hoping for recognition or even a recommendation to the examiners—a practice known as the “submission system.” For someone like Lord Lin to pass along commendable works to the Vice Minister of Rites was standard procedure.

But Shen Shaoguang shook her head with a smile. “People might say you’re helping your wife distribute little advertisements… Better not.”

Though he didn’t know what “little advertisements” were, Lin Yan understood her meaning. He also found the phrase “your wife” deeply pleasing. Smiling, he said, “If I don’t help my wife, who else should I help?”

Shen Shaoguang still refused. She was wary of causing trouble for Lin Yan, but more than that, after years of taking detours, she had grown content with walking the straight path. Now that a shortcut lay before her, she wasn’t sure how to take it. Besides, she believed she was perfectly capable of walking that straight path—step by step, leaving deep footprints behind.

She outlined her vision: “We’ll make this an annual tradition. The first year or two, few will know about it, but over time, word will spread. The more scholars and officials who hear of it, the more submissions we’ll get—and the better the selection will be. Eventually, you won’t need to send it to the Vice Minister of Rites. He’ll come looking for it himself.”

Lin Yan reached out and gently touched her hair. My A Qi…

Shen Shaoguang tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

“A Qi, have I ever told you that you embody the spirit of the ancient gentlemen? ‘Walking the upright path, unmoved by material desires, unbound by sentiment—simply doing what ought to be done, handling what must be handled.’”

She had been praised for her cooking, her beauty, her cleverness, even her noble bearing—but “gentleman”? Shen Shaoguang figured this must be the power of a lover’s bias.

“But by denying me this chance to ‘play favorites,’ you make me feel rather useless,” Lin Yan said, gazing at her with a faint smile.Shen Shaoguang laughed and made an unceremonious request: "Write a preface for this collection, will you? If I write it myself, I might not hold enough weight and end up diminishing the collection's appeal. Also, I genuinely need your help in selecting the pieces. The first volume needs to set a strong precedent."

Lin Yan nodded.

Shen Shaoguang was a master at painting grand visions. She boldly declared, "Write it well, you know? Who knows, this preface might just immortalize you—more so than some official historian writing a 'Biography of Lin Yan.' After all, who bothers reading about famous ministers these days? There are far more people who love good food..."

Lin Yan also put on a serious face and bowed to her. "Then I must first thank Young Lady Shen for this honor."

"Think nothing of it, nothing of it..."

The two burst into laughter.

Next door, the Lin family maids were having tea and snacks with A Yuan and A Qing.

Hearing the laughter from the main hall, the Lin maids were astonished—when had their master ever laughed like this? A Yuan and A Qing, however, were completely unfazed. Don’t all gentlemen laugh heartily like this? Especially when they’re with our young lady. Young Master Shao’s laughter alone could startle the sparrows out of the courtyard.

Author’s Note:

① "Records of the Grand Historian: The Hereditary House of Yan Shao"

② "The Book of Changes"

————

Shen Shaoguang: We kissed today! Throw the flowers!

Author: How did it feel?

Shen Shaoguang: %￥#@…… You really want me to say it? I’m afraid you’ll get locked for explicit content.

Author: STOP!!! Let the dear readers imagine it for themselves.