Late April.
The sun was bright, spring in full bloom, and the whole city teeming with life.
In the Zhou residence, Madam Zhou’s room was bustling, filled with ladies of all ages busy measuring and tailoring summer clothes.
Surrounded by her daughters, Madam Zhou gradually shook off her spring drowsiness, leaning against an armrest as she listened to the cheerful chatter that filled the room like the warbling of orioles and swallows.
“By now, the master should have arrived in Jiang-zhou, don’t you think?” she asked idly, making small talk with a maid beside her.
The maid nodded.
“The dates add up,” she replied. “Though the return trip likely won’t be so quick.”
When it came to asking for money, there was always some back and forth.
“Who’s afraid of who? The dowry of a daughter of the Zhou family—even if the sky falls, the Cheng family has no right to keep it,” said Madam Zhou firmly.
“But Madam,” the maid gently reminded her, “when it comes to whether their daughter will marry or not, the decision still lies with them. The master will surely have to put in quite a bit of effort talking it through.”
“They get to decide whether she marries?” Madam Zhou snorted. “If they dare to just marry off Jiao Jiao as they please, we won’t stand for it! Do they think her own uncle and aunt are dead or something?”
In short, there was no avoiding a good tussle over this—no one was going to walk away with the advantage for free.
“If only the match with the Qin family had gone through,” Madam Zhou sighed. “We could’ve sent over the betrothal documents right away—let’s see what they’d say then!” Just thinking of the matter with the Qin family made her grit her teeth in frustration.
“Madam,” the maid hurried to soothe her, smiling as she spoke, “even without the Qin family, there are plenty of other good households out there. As long as you put the word out—just based on our Jiao Jiao’s skill in bringing people back from the brink of death—how could we not have suitors lining up?”
“Bringing people back from the brink of death?” Madam Zhou gave a cold hum. “Who knows if her talents haven’t already run dry.”
It had been two months now, and that Lady Cheng, claiming illness and refusing to see patients, had yet to show the slightest sign of action.
“Whether her skills have run dry or not doesn’t matter,” the maid said with a smile. “No one can deny that Old Master Chen and Tong Neihan were both cured by her.”
Even just those two favors were enough to make many families seriously consider a marriage alliance.
Madam Zhou nodded.
“That niece of mine is strange. I honestly don’t want to get involved in her affairs,” she said, exhaling deeply. “But if I don’t take care of it, who will? What can I do—blood is thicker than water. Fine, fine. Must be a debt from a past life—I’ll repay it now.”
“Madam is truly kind-hearted,” the maid said with a flattering smile.
The daughters, having finished their fittings, gathered eagerly around.
“Mother, when are we going to Puxiu Temple to offer incense?” one of them asked, eyes filled with anticipation.
Madam Zhou chuckled.
“Are you going to pray—or just craving the vegetarian feast?” she teased.
The daughters giggled.
“Mother, can’t we do both?” they chirped, crowding around her with bright smiles.
“No rush,” Madam Zhou said with a laugh. “Your brother already brought back some stuffed tofu from Puxiu Temple. We’re having it at home today.”
The girls cheered in delight.
“There are tofu shops in the city these days, but none of them can match the tofu from Puxiu Temple.”
“It’s not the temple—it’s the Tai Ping Tofu itself that’s special!”
“That tofu is amazing, but only Puxiu Temple and Tai Ping Residence have it. One’s always too crowded, and the other’s so far—it’s such a pain to get to! Why can’t more places sell it?”
“Well, Tai Ping Residence said from the start that it was made as an offering to the Buddha. Of course they wouldn’t let just anyone have it.”
“Tai Ping Residence is so silly! Who doesn’t want to make money?”
“Hey—speaking of Tai Ping Residence, I heard from Liu-lang that it’s run by the fool…”
As those words were spoken, the room fell silent.
The girl who had spoken suddenly found herself the center of attention—and was startled by it.
“What did you say? Tai Ping Residence… is run by that fool from Jiang-zhou?” one of the sisters asked in disbelief.
Cheng Jiao-niang’s?
Madam Zhou straightened up, fixing her gaze on her daughter.
“What did you just say?” she asked.
The daughter looked a bit uneasy.
“I—I vaguely remember Liu-lang mentioning it… but I don’t know if it’s true,” she murmured.
Everyone in the room exchanged looks.
How could that be?
“Where is Liu-lang?” Madam Zhou asked.
“Madam, don’t you remember? Liu-lang and Young Master Qin went to Puxiu Temple together,” the maid quietly reminded her.
Though no incense was burning in the side hall, the faint scent of sandalwood still lingered in the air.
Young Master Qin scooped up a piece of stuffed tofu and tasted it, his face lighting up with admiration.
“It seems this Tai Ping Tofu truly has a secret recipe,” he said. “There are plenty of tofu makers in the city, but theirs still turns out bitter. No one else can get it this tender and smooth. Puxiu Temple has bested Qieting Temple once again.”
Qieting Temple, a grand and venerable monastery that had been listed under the Monastic Registry for generations, carried centuries of prestige. Puxiu Temple, though now also recognized as an imperial temple, had only risen to fame in the past few decades and still lacked such deep foundations—until Master Minghai invented his unique Zen tea method, which finally gave Puxiu the edge over Qieting.
But then, not long ago, someone of anonymous fame left behind a scroll of calligraphy in a new script style at Qieting Temple, drawing crowds of calligraphy lovers and restoring its popularity overnight.
Now, however, with Puxiu Temple’s release of a brand-new tofu dish as part of its vegetarian offerings, the tide had turned once more—its incense donations had skyrocketed in just a few weeks.
Zhou Liu-lang sat across from Young Master Qin, the bowl and chopsticks in front of him untouched.
“Tai Ping Residence is hers?” he asked.
“We met the owner of Tai Ping Residence, didn’t we? Don’t tell me you didn’t recognize him,” Young Master Qin said with a grin.
As Tai Ping Residence’s fame grew, the two of them had gone to check it out—and to their surprise, they’d run into Xu Maoxiu there. Restaurants, tea houses, and shops were usually run by hired managers on behalf of the owners, who rarely appeared in person. Some businesses even kept their ownership hidden under layers of minor and major shareholders.
“Maybe they’re just working there, trying to earn a living,” Zhou Liu-lang muttered.
Young Master Qin burst out laughing.
“You ever seen anyone working for a living like that?” he said.
That day, Xu Maoxiu and his brothers had only passed briefly through the backyard. If Zhou Liu-lang hadn’t been absentmindedly gazing out the window, he wouldn’t have noticed them at all.
At first glance, he hadn’t even recognized Xu Maoxiu. The man, in his twenties, was neatly dressed, tall and upright, standing in the courtyard speaking with two of the shop hands.
Just a few simple words were exchanged, but the respectful posture of the workers—and Xu Maoxiu’s natural, unthinking air of authority—made everything clear in an instant.
“So this is what she’s been so busy with, leaving early and returning late,” Young Master Qin continued. “It’s not easy for a lady to manage all this. Good thing she has capable people to rely on.”
But… she wasn’t alone. She had family. She had kin.
The chopsticks in Zhou Liu-lang’s hand creaked with tension as his grip tightened.
“She knows exactly whom to use and how to use them,” Young Master Qin said, tapping the table lightly as if to bring him back to his senses. “It’s neither a whim nor a sign of heartlessness. So stop flattering yourselves and tormenting yourselves over nothing.”
Zhou Liu-lang slumped, disheartened.
“To return home alone from a thousand miles away, to run a small tavern—what’s that to her?” Young Master Qin chuckled.
“It’s not easy to live in the capital,” Zhou Liu-lang said after a pause. “Hearts are treacherous. Building something is easy—keeping it is hard.”
Young Master Qin smiled again.
“Then when the hard times come, I hope your family will be able to see it,” he said. “And when things are going well—don’t bother looking.”
This lady… she was always attracting trouble.
Just that art of reviving the nearly dead had already stirred up enough controversy—no one was considered beyond saving. Now with Tai Ping Residence and this famed Tai Ping tofu, who knows what storm she might stir up next?
“Let’s just hope we never have to see it,” Zhou Liu-lang muttered.
Late spring turning into early summer—the weather was already growing warm, and the carriage curtains had been switched out for bamboo ones. As the carriage moved, the breeze flowing through brought a welcome coolness.
Even before arriving at Tai Ping Residence, they saw a crowd of carriages and horses gathered in front of the entrance. The bamboo blinds at the windows of the main hall were rolled up, revealing the packed seating inside. The second floor held private rooms—some with their curtains raised, others lowered—but it could be guessed that those were also fully occupied, as there were still many people waiting outside.
“Dear guest, we’re currently full,” a shop attendant said with an apologetic smile to a new arrival as the carriage passed by. “Would you mind finding another place, or would you prefer to wait here? If you choose to wait, I’m afraid it’ll be about half an hour.”
“This way, sir—if you’re willing to wait, we do have tea and refreshments available.”
Aside from those coming to dine, there were also quite a few others bustling about nearby, moving in and out of the place in a steady flow.
After the carriage entered the restaurant from the side, the area around the restaurant was already enclosed, piled high with bricks, tiles, and lumber.
On the main road, two more carriages came rushing toward the back yard, and several men responsible for purchasing supplies came out to inspect.
The restaurant was busy but not chaotic, lively without being noisy.
The backyard had already been divided into two courtyards. One was for the kitchen and miscellaneous workers, while the other was for Sun Cai’s tofu workshop.
Compared to the bustle in the front, the tofu workshop was much quieter, as it was a place dealing with sensitive, specialized techniques, and entry was restricted to maintain secrecy.
“Build a few more rooms, and the new workers will have enough space to stay. The storage room will be more spacious as well. We also need to fix up the stable. With more and more carriages and horses, we should avoid them getting cramped and kicking each other,” Xu Maoxiu said, glancing toward Cheng Jiao-niang, who was a few steps away.
Cheng Jiao-niang, her hair tied back with a small silver comb, wore a simple black dress with long sleeves. She relaxed her bowstring.
With a humming sound, a long arrow was released, flying past a grass target several steps away and landing on the ground. There were still four or five long arrows scattered on the ground.
Sun Cai, who had been watching from inside the tofu workshop, let out a sigh of relief.
It was safer to stay inside the building.
“Whatever you arrange,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, extending her hand.
Xu Maoxiu stepped forward and took an arrow from the side, handing it to her. He watched as Cheng Jiao-niang nocked the arrow again.
Standing close, he could see her small face tightened with focus, and the knuckles of her hands, exposed beneath her rolled-up sleeves, were prominent.
Her gaze was fixed intently on the grass target, her body straight and steady.
With a humming sound, another arrow flew from the bow, this time striking the target, though only grazing its edge.
“Ah! Miss is so amazing!”
The maid clapped her hands in excitement, almost jumping up to cheer.
Before her words had even finished, the arrow on the target wobbled and then fell off.
“Miss is indeed impressive,” the maid continued, calling out.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled slightly and lowered her bow.
“How come the young mistress, such a clean and tidy girl, enjoys playing with this?” one of the young workers next to Sun Cai asked with a grin, while tiptoeing to look outside.
As time passed and the popularity of the Puxiu Temple’s vegetarian tofu grew, Tai Ping Residence gradually became famous. Just relying on Xu Maoxiu and his brothers to greet customers was no longer enough.
Now, Tai Ping Residence had hired new workers, and Sun Cai’s tofu workshop, due to its large supply, had also hired three young workers, rotating day and night without rest. While tofu-making techniques had become common, with many places now selling it, only Tai Ping Residence could produce tofu that was as smooth and tender without any bitterness.
They hired workers to assist, but the most important steps were tightly controlled by Sun Cai. It was certain that not even the King of Hell could pry it from his hands. If he couldn’t keep it to himself, he would rather die than let anyone else take it.
Sun Cai shot a glare at the young worker.
“Is the young mistress someone for you to look at? Go grind the soybeans,” he scolded.
In the past, Sun Cai, who had been treated like a servant by his master and fellow disciples, had been scolded by others without a word. Now, he had become the one sitting comfortably, scolding others, holding onto secret techniques. His hands were idle, his mind at ease. And the money he earned was far greater than before. In just a few days, his dilapidated straw house was already going to be renovated. Once the house was completed, those with marriage proposals would soon be knocking on his door…
Sun Cai chuckled to himself.
The young worker stuck out his tongue and quickly went back to work, no longer paying attention to his occasionally chuckling master.
Sun Cai looked out the window again. The pretty maid, with a smiling face, was holding a greenish sweat towel, wiping the young lady’s face. As she raised her hand, the loose sleeves of her spring dress slipped down, revealing her delicate wrists. Sun Cai immediately widened his eyes and leaned closer to the window, staring without blinking.
The young mistress might not be able to watch, but the charming maid certainly could.
Cheng Jiao-niang handed the bow and arrow over, and Xu Maoxiu naturally reached out to take them. He drew an arrow with a relaxed and casual demeanor, his body still, and then raised his hand, drawing the bowstring.
With a whooshing sound, the long arrow, sharper than the last, flew steadily and hit the bullseye.
“The Six Arts of a Gentleman—your archery skills must have been honed during your studies,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Xu Maoxiu smiled and nodded.
“When I was young, I didn’t understand things and was focused on becoming a gentleman. I tried to master everything, only to forget my natural talents. In the end, I didn’t succeed at anything,” he said, then hesitated for a moment. “But you, sister, have a solid foundation. You just need a bit more strength. With some more practice, you’ll definitely improve.”
Nowadays, boys are expected to study, ride horses, and practice archery, so becoming proficient isn’t surprising. However, it’s girls who excel at playing the zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, and needlework—few learn horsemanship and archery.
Where did this foundation come from?
Cheng Jiao-niang turned to look at the grass target. Under the sunlight, the arrow Xu Maoxiu had shot into the red center of the target gleamed brightly.
It was merely dazzling, though. Aside from the incident when she first arrived in the capital and wrote on the temple wall, and the palpitations she had during the snowfall, she hadn’t felt any other memories being triggered in all this time.
Her body had recovered, and her speech had improved greatly, but her heart remained elusive.
Xu Maoxiu cleared his throat lightly, and Cheng Jiao-niang looked over at him.
“Summer is here, it’s time to buy some new clothes,” he said, taking out a money pouch and handing it to the maid. “Sister, please take care of this for us.”
It wasn’t the same as when she had given him new clothes before, when he had been nervous and unsure. Now, he was the one asking for new clothes, casually handing over the money as if he were an elder giving out allowances.
“Use this money to help with household expenses,” Xu Maoxiu said.
The maid chuckled softly, watching Xu Maoxiu put on an air of an older brother, but this was the way an elder sibling should behave. He must have noticed her mistress seemed a bit absent-minded and was comforting her.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, bowing and reaching out to take the money.
Following this topic, the maid went on to talk about the kinds of fabrics and styles for the clothes, leading the two of them into a discussion.
“Brother, you’re busy here, so I won’t disturb you any further,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Xu Maoxiu escorted her to the door.
“There are many people here, so don’t come too often. If there’s anything important, I’ll come home and tell you. If you need anything, have someone call for me at any time,” he reminded her as he spoke.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded, and then saw Xu Maoxiu furrow his brow, looking in a certain direction. She followed his gaze and saw a woman walking hurriedly toward the store from the back door, with a man and a woman trailing behind her.
“Do you remember her?” the maid whispered. “That’s Li Dashao’s wife.”
“Sister Ah-Song, think about it again…”
The woman smiled as she reached out to grab Li Dashao’s wife.
“Come over here, and I’ll say a few more words to you…”
Li Dashao’s wife’s maiden surname was Song. When she was young, she was called Lady Song. After marriage, she took her husband’s surname, becoming Li Son-niang, and was casually called Sister Song when she was young. As she aged, she became known as Ah-Song.
Ah-Song’s face was filled with fear, and she quickly avoided the woman’s hand.
“I… I don’t have anything to say to you. You… you should go…” she said, flustered.
“What’s wrong?”
Xu Maoxiu took a few steps forward and asked.
Seeing Xu Maoxiu, Ah-Song’s face turned even more terrified.
“No, no, no, it’s nothing, Master, I… I just brought some things for my husband,” she stammered, and before Xu Maoxiu could respond, she hurriedly turned and went inside.
Xu Maoxiu frowned slightly, his gaze falling on the man and the woman.
He had intended to step in to help Ah-Song, but instead, it was she who was startled. The two people who should have been frightened instead appeared calm, even looking back at him with an air of arrogance and disdain.
