The morning mist was thin, and the rhythmic sound of hooves shattered the tranquility of the imperial road.
Xiao Huaiyuan, dressed in a light gray silk lan-shan (traditional scholar’s robe), sat upright on his horse, gazing at the magnificent city on the horizon—Bianjing. As the spring breeze brushed against his face, it also stirred the irrepressible spirit within his heart.
Beside him, riding a jujube-red horse, Zheng Che was exceptionally excited. Suddenly, he threw his arms up and shouted, “I heard that the night curfew has been abolished in Bianjing! Here I come, Master me!!!”
The sudden outburst startled a flock of small birds in the woods. Xiao Huaiyuan looked on with a familiar expression: “Cousin, before we set off, Aunt specifically told us not to neglect our proper studies or lose ourselves in play…”
Having studied poetry and books since childhood and later researching at the Yingtian Academy alongside his cousin Zheng Che, Xiao Huaiyuan possessed a solid grasp of classical interpretations and essays, and he held much insight into political strategy. For the upcoming imperial examinations (the Chunwei), Xiao Huaiyuan felt about seventy or eighty percent confident.
“Eh!” Zheng Che glanced at him, pretending to be profound. “Don’t speak of such unpleasant things. What are ‘studies’? What is ‘political strategy’? Forget them, forget them~”
Knowing his cousin’s temperament, Xiao Huaiyuan sighed helplessly, looked into the distance, and muttered to himself, “I wonder how that person is doing…”
“What?” Zheng Che tilted his head to look at him, waving his hand in frustration. “You aren’t still thinking about finding that father who didn’t care about you at all, are you??”
He did not reply, instead tightening his grip on the horse’s flanks and spurring it into a gallop.
His mother had passed away in childbirth, and his father, upon seeing him, was reminded of his lost wife. Consequently, Xiao Huaiyuan had lived with his aunt in Luoyang since he was young. Although he was curious about the father he had never truly known, perhaps only when he attained the golden title on the imperial examination list would he have enough confidence to face the man who had sent him far away to Luoyang and remained nearly silent for over a decade.
Over the past ten years, though he lived under another’s roof, his aunt treated him with great kindness, and his cousin was good-natured. His uncle came from the Zheng Clan of Xingyang. Although times had changed and the prestige of the aristocratic families was not what it was in the previous dynasty, their centennial foundations were like giant, deep-rooted trees, and their remaining influence was still potent.
Thus, they not only allowed him to study with Zheng Che, but the family’s martial tradition also ensured he developed respectable archery and horsemanship skills.
A short while later, looking at the large characters “Nanzun Gate” on the city plaque, Xiao Huaiyuan was in a good mood; even the bustling crowd outside the gate seemed full of vitality. Just then, a harsh, grating reprimand pierced his ears:
“Go away, where did you beggars come from? Don’t block my business! Don’t pass your poverty and bad luck onto me!”
Xiao Huaiyuan frowned and followed the sound, seeing a brawny bun stall owner glaring angrily at four people standing before his stall. The woman’s face was deathly pale, and she shielded her two young children behind her. The young girl standing at the front, though wearing worn-out clothes with slightly disheveled hair, held her spine straight as a rod.
“Why are you riding so fast?” Zheng Che, arriving late, complained, but seeing Xiao Huaiyuan staring, his internal alarms went off. His upright, noble-hearted cousin was about to “meddle in others’ business” again. He lowered his voice, “We’ve only just arrived in Bianjing; don’t stir up trouble. This isn’t Luoyang, and my father cannot protect us here.”
Xiao Huaiyuan nodded, but he had already swept his gaze over the girl; she was clutching copper coins in her hand, clearly not the “beggar” the stall owner claimed. “Cousin, have you forgotten what the master taught us?”
Seeing the orphan and widow family losing the upper hand, he didn’t have time to think. He nudged his horse forward to close the distance.
Looking down from his horse, Xiao Huaiyuan’s voice was calm but carried an undeniable weight: “If a merchant in the market unfairly prices goods, they shall be judged by the value of the items and penalized for the illicit gain; those who force buying and selling or insult others with verbal abuse shall receive eighty strokes of the cane. Shopkeeper, opening a business is about seeking wealth, and harmony should be the priority. Why resort to malicious words and invite trouble?”
The stall owner choked. Seeing that this scholar was dressed in brocade with an extraordinary demeanor, and that his horse was well-groomed and sleek, he realized he was likely a wealthy young master. His courage faltered, the fat on his face quivered, and he muttered defensively, “Who… who used insulting language… I was just… I was just talking to myself! That’s right! I was just talking to myself! Is it a crime to talk to oneself?”
Xiao Huaiyuan did not waste further breath. He turned his gaze toward the young girl and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“Thank you, Young Master.” He Mingyu looked up at him, a flicker of gratitude flashing in her eyes. She curtsied gracefully and with great poise.
Turning back, she saw Wu Chunlan still looking at the stall owner with trepidation. Though He Mingyu showed nothing on her face, her mind was racing. She could, of course, take her family and leave immediately to find a friendlier stall, but she couldn’t.
He Mingyu scanned the endless stream of customers at this stall. Business was so prosperous that the taste must be unique. She needed to understand the palates of the Bianjing people, and this was an opportunity to observe.
More importantly, it was a matter of responsibility. She shifted slightly, using her body to block the stall owner’s gaze from Wu Chunlan. Her mother was soft-hearted and felt terrified to be in the “dragon’s den” of Bianjing. If she retreated now because of a few insults, wouldn’t it be telling her: we are destined to be beneath others, and we don’t even have the dignity to stand tall and spend our own money on food?
This stance was not just for herself; it was for Wu Chunlan, who had finally gathered the courage to follow her on a night journey. He Mingyu had to show her that they did not need to fear, and that they could stand and live anywhere with their heads held high.
She suppressed her hesitation: “Six meat buns and four bowls of porridge. Please be quick.”
Her unusual calmness and Xiao Huaiyuan’s invisible intimidation created a subtle pressure. The stall owner did not dare to say more and grumpily took the money, working quickly to prepare the food.
Seeing this, Xiao Huaiyuan was surprised. Beside him, Zheng Che’s lips quirked in amusement: “It seems you really did meddle unnecessarily this time. That young lady has clear, sharp eyes; she is not one to suffer in silence and surely had a way to resolve it already.”
Xiao Huaiyuan sat upright on his horse, a faint smile on his lips. Seeing the matter settled, he didn’t linger. He took one last look at the girl—destitute but full of character—turned his horse, gave a light command, and merged with the flow of people entering the city along with Zheng Che.
It was just an encounter with injustice on the road, a brief moment of assistance—a transient episode for both of them.
It was only when the steaming buns and porridge arrived on the table, and she saw Wu Chunlan relax slightly after hearing other regular customers complain about the stall owner’s attitude, that He Mingyu’s suspended heart finally settled.
Thinking of this, she looked again toward the direction the scholar had left, but he was already out of sight. Though she had already planned her own counter-measures, a helping hand offered in a moment of distress was truly precious. He Mingyu took a bite of a bun and silently stored this favor in her heart.
Professional habit kicked in as she subconsciously analyzed the food: the bun skin was thick, the filling had little meat, and the pork was fatty with little lean meat, though the seasoning was decent. In contrast, the red bean porridge was cooked very well—sweet, soft, and glutinous. Even so, in He Mingyu’s mind, it was barely a passing grade.
Yet, even with such a taste, the stall’s business was booming. The queue of customers was endless, partly because they were outside the city where choices were limited, and partly because the price was cheap enough for commoners to afford.
He Mingyu quietly noted the prices, and the fire of entrepreneurship in her heart burned even brighter: this Bianjing City truly had immense potential for the food and beverage industry. As long as one made good food, success was guaranteed!
Holding the key, she pushed open the creaky wooden door of their new home. The courtyard was filled with dust and fallen leaves; broken tiles, yellow mud, and abandoned tools left behind by the previous mason were piled everywhere.
He Mingyu rolled up her sleeves and began delegating tasks: “Mother, your foot is inconvenient, so just sit and rest while you direct us. Yingzi, use the feather duster to clean the dust inside the rooms. Shitou, you come with me to clear this debris in the courtyard to the corner of the wall.”
No sooner had the words left her lips than everyone began moving like spinning tops. Shitou, seemingly wanting to solidify his status as the “backbone of the family,” moved the heaviest items without a word. Wu Chunlan couldn’t stand being idle; although she couldn’t do the heavy lifting, passing a rag or sweeping a corner was easy enough for her.
Just as they were burying themselves in their work, a strange sound of a flute suddenly drifted from the neighboring courtyard—wailing and melodic, with a peculiar rhythm. Suddenly, a flat, triangular snake head poked out from the top of the low wall between the two houses. It slowly slithered up, coiled itself on the wall, and issued a faint “hissing” sound.
He Mingyu, who was sweeping inside, was startled. She remembered she had forgotten to check on the neighbors’ identities. She stumbled, nearly falling out of the room: “Don’t be afraid—”
However, the screams she expected did not occur.
By the low wall, Shitou and Yingzi were curiously looking at the strange guest on the wall. Its small, black-bean-like eyes were also staring at them. Yingzi tugged at Shitou’s sleeve and whispered, “Brother, this snake looks like it has a lot of meat on it.”
Shitou nodded intently, his tone flat as he added, “Yes, it’s fatter than the water snakes in the fields. Mother, can I eat grilled snake meat like Dad used to make for us?”
He Mingyu: “…”
Her younger siblings were truly worthy of having been raised in the fields and paddies; their focus was truly unique.
Just then, the courtyard door creaked open. A Hu man (foreigner) with a high nose, deep-set eyes, curly hair, and brown skin ran over in a rush, his face full of apologies, speaking in a Mandarin with a bizarre accent:
“Sorry! Extremely sorry! Disturbed you neighbors! This is truly a ‘regret lasting a thousand years’! ‘Little Flower’ doesn’t listen to instructions, crawled out to ‘sieve the sheep’ (cause trouble), don’t be afraid! It has a small heart, looks scary, but is definitely a ‘dog bullying the master’ (all bark, no bite).”
“I am Abdulla Memet Kerim. You can call me Memet.” He hurriedly dug a small paper packet from his chest and handed it over: “This, snake-repelling powder. Sprinkle a little at the door, it will smell the scent and run away immediately. A gift to pay for the disturbance!”
Listening to Memet’s strange accent, the corners of Shitou’s mouth couldn’t help but twitch, and Yingzi’s eyes widened: “Big Sister, what is he blabbering about? Why can’t I understand a single word?”
He Mingyu nearly burst out laughing, quickly covering her mouth. She took the paper packet and smiled at the sincere, boldly-spoken Memet: “Thank you for the snake powder, Memet. You can call me Yuniang.”
Memet nodded, understanding only half, and bowed apologetically to the He family. He mumbled a scolding in his native tongue at Little Flower on the wall. Seeing it retract, Memet finally left.
The laughter brought by this little episode was soon replaced by the larger cleaning project. The family regrouped and dove back into the heated labor.
When the sunset glow dyed the courtyard a warm yellow, the dilapidated yard had been transformed. Although the furniture was still simple, the windows were bright, the floors were clean, and the clutter was neatly organized. The kang (heated bed), which had been covered in thick dust, revealed its original earthy yellow color after being wiped clean. The tender green hawthorn tree in the yard swayed gently in the evening breeze, looking like something out of a dream.
Looking at the three exhausted family members, He Mingyu’s heart softened. She fished a few eggs out of the coop and took out the leeks, a small bag of flour, and the heavy, solidified pot of pork lard that Wu Chunlan had insisted on bringing from the old home.
“You’re all worn out, right?” He Mingyu rolled up her sleeves and revealed a warm smile. “Tonight, we’ll have a good meal to celebrate our relocation!”