When Xiao Heng received the reply, he was in the study discussing affairs with his advisers.
Steward Chen knocked and entered, holding an envelope with a peculiar expression. “Master, a reply has come.”
Xiao Heng took the envelope and said to the advisers, “That will be all for today. You may leave.”
The advisers exchanged bewildered glances. The heir never interrupted the council halfway—what was going on today? But none dared ask, and they withdrew.
Once the study door closed, Xiao Heng opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper, bearing just two words—“Very good.” It was her handwriting. Not the delicate, ornamental script favored by young ladies, but casual, even a little careless. Yet to Xiao Heng, it was the most beautiful writing he had ever seen. He gazed at it for a long time, then folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his sleeve.
“Master,” Steward Chen ventured, “what did Miss Shen say?”
“She said Yuanbao is very good.”
Steward Chen: “…” That’s it? For those two words, you dismissed all your advisers? But he dared not speak further, only withdrew quietly.
Xiao Heng sat at his desk and looked again at the words. *Very good.*
She had written *very good*. No “To Lord Xiao,” no “Respectfully yours,” no polite formulas at all. Just those simple words. As if speaking to a friend. No—more like speaking to someone very familiar.
Xiao Heng’s lips curved into a smile. He drew the paper out again, held it up, and studied each character.
“Very.”
“Good.”
“.”
Even the period was pleasing. Xiao Heng thought he must truly be mad.
Meanwhile, at the Tianshui Lane residence, Shen Jin was preparing for something important. Today she would “open for business.” Not a real restaurant yet—just a small trial run. Her sole guest: Shen Mingzhu.
Shen Mingzhu arrived early, dressed in a pink jacket with a silk flower in her hair, clearly eager. “Elder Sister!” she chirped as she bounded into Jinse Pavilion. “I’m here!”
Yuanbao, in the middle of breakfast, was startled by her voice and darted under the bed with a dried fish in his mouth.
Shen Jin couldn’t help but smile at Shen Mingzhu’s excitement. All this fuss, just for a meal?
“Come on,” Shen Jin said, lifting a food box. “We’re going to Tianshui Lane.”
“Tianshui Lane? What for?”
“To cook.”
Shen Mingzhu’s eyes lit up. “You’ll cook yourself? Wonderful!”
Behind them, Chun Tao carried yesterday’s groceries, muttering under her breath, “Second Miss is happy like a fool.”
Shen Jin shot her a glare, and Chun Tao fell silent.
The three slipped out the back gate and walked to Tianshui Lane. Shen Mingzhu chattered the whole way. “Elder Sister, when did you learn to cook?”
“In a dream.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Shen Mingzhu blinked. “Then can you dream who will win tomorrow’s polo match?”
Shen Jin stared at her for two seconds. Polo match? “No.” She kept walking.
Shen Mingzhu stuck out her tongue and exchanged a look with Chun Tao, who shrugged—she too had no idea why her mistress had grown so wary lately.
At Tianshui Lane, Shen Jin opened the door. Shen Mingzhu paused, surprised. “Elder Sister, this house… it’s so clean.”
“I cleaned it.”
“By yourself?”
“Chun Tao helped.”
Shen Mingzhu glanced at the spotless courtyard and the neatly stacked firewood and provisions in the kitchen. Her expression grew complicated. “Elder Sister, why are you doing all this?”
Shen Jin tied on an apron—rough cloth brought from the general’s manor. “Because I want to.”
“Want what?”
“To support myself.”
Shen Mingzhu fell silent. *Support herself.* She had never heard any genteel young lady say such words. A noble daughter need not earn her own living; she only needed to marry well and be cared for all her life.
But her sister said she wanted to support herself. As if she did not trust the general’s manor to provide forever, nor believe marriage would solve everything. As if she trusted only herself.
Watching Shen Jin’s busy figure in the kitchen, Shen Mingzhu’s eyes suddenly grew hot. “Elder Sister,” she said hoarsely, “let me help you.”
“What can you do?”
“I… can wash vegetables.”
“Then wash them.”
Shen Mingzhu crouched by the basin, carefully rinsing greens. Chun Tao tended the fire; Shen Jin chopped and prepared. Three women working together in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the window, warm upon their shoulders.
Today, Shen Jin would make three dishes: braised pork, steamed perch, and garlic greens. Plus a tomato-and-egg soup. Simple fare—but in this era, braised pork was different from the modern version. Without soy sauce for color, she would have to rely on caramelized sugar.
Shen Jin sliced the pork belly into mahjong-sized cubes and blanched them to remove the odor. She poured oil into the pot, added rock sugar, and stirred it gently over a low flame until the sugar melted and turned a deep reddish-brown. Then she tossed in the pork belly, stirring until each piece was coated in the glossy caramel. Yellow wine, soy sauce, ginger slices, star anise, cinnamon bark, and bay leaves followed. She added enough water to cover the meat, set the lid on, and let it simmer slowly.
Before long, the kitchen was filled with the rich fragrance of braised pork.
Shen Mingzhu stopped washing vegetables, inhaling deeply. “It smells so good…”
Chun Tao was already swallowing hard.
Meanwhile, Shen Jin moved on to the fish. She cleaned the perch, scored both sides, rubbed it with salt and yellow wine, laid ginger slices and scallion stalks on top, and set it to steam. While the fish cooked, she chopped the greens and minced garlic. Finally, she made the soup—diced tomatoes went into the pan, sautéed until they released their juices. She added water, brought it to a boil, drizzled in beaten egg, and sprinkled scallions over the top.
Three dishes and one soup, all finished in less than an hour.
Shen Jin carried the food out to the stone table in the courtyard.
Shen Mingzhu’s eyes widened at the gleaming red braised pork. “Elder Sister, what is this? It looks amazing!”
“Braised pork.”
“Braised… pork? I’ve never had it before.”
“Then taste it.”
Shen Mingzhu picked up a piece, put it in her mouth, chewed once—and froze. She chewed again, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
Shen Jin was startled. “What’s wrong? Is it not good?”
“It’s delicious…” Shen Mingzhu sobbed as she spoke. “So delicious… Elder Sister, I’ve never eaten meat this good in my life…”
Beside her, Chun Tao was already eating, her face shiny with oil, too busy to talk.
Shen Jin ladled soup into bowls for them, then sat down herself.
The flavors were excellent. The braised pork was tender and savory, rich but not greasy. The perch was delicate, the garlic greens crisp, and the tomato-egg soup tangy and refreshing.
Shen Mingzhu ate three bowls of rice and drank two bowls of soup before collapsing in her chair, clutching her stomach. “Elder Sister, I can’t move.”
“Then rest a while.”
“Why didn’t you start cooking sooner?” Shen Mingzhu complained. “If you had, I wouldn’t have had to suffer through the kitchen’s awful food all these years.”
Shen Jin laughed. “But you’re eating it now, aren’t you?”
“That’s true.” Shen Mingzhu looked at her seriously. “Elder Sister, will you cook for me often from now on?”
“Depends on my mood.”
“Then I’ll come often to keep you in a good mood.”
Shen Jin said nothing, only lifted her soup bowl.
Shen Mingzhu’s behavior lately has been drifting further and further from the “delicate little flower” she was in the original story. Was she pretending—or had she truly changed? Shen Jin decided to keep watching.
After the meal, Shen Mingzhu volunteered to clear the dishes and wash them in the kitchen.
Chun Tao seized the chance to whisper in Shen Jin’s ear: “Miss, isn’t Second Miss a bit too enthusiastic today?”
“Mm.”
“Could it be a trick?”
“Possibly,” Shen Jin said. “But not necessarily. People can change.”
Chun Tao thought about it and realized her mistress was right. The young lady herself had changed—so why couldn’t Second Miss?
“Then… should I treat Second Miss better from now on?”
“No need to force it,” Shen Jin replied. “Just interact with her normally. What’s true can’t be faked, and what’s false can’t be made real.”
Chun Tao nodded.
Shen Mingzhu finished washing the dishes and came out to find Shen Jin reclining in a chair, basking in the sun, with Yuanbao curled contentedly on her lap. The scene was quiet and serene. She stood at the kitchen doorway for a while, then drew a deep breath, walked over, and sat down on the stone bench beside her sister. “Elder Sister,” she said softly, “I want to tell you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“In the past… I did many things that wronged you.”
Shen Jin opened one eye and looked at her.
Shen Mingzhu lowered her head, twisting her fingers in her sleeve.
“I tattled on you to Father, saying you bullied people outside. I spoke ill of you to Madam, claiming you disrespected her. I even spread rumors about you, saying you—”
“That’s enough.” Shen Jin cut her off.
Shen Mingzhu lifted her head, eyes rimmed with red.
“I already know,” Shen Jin said.
“You… you know?” Shen Mingzhu was stunned.
“I didn’t before. But lately I’ve come to understand a lot. Those things done against me couldn’t have been the work of just one person. There had to be someone behind them.”
Tears spilled down Mingzhu’s cheeks. “Elder Sister, I’m sorry…”
“Don’t cry.” Shen Jin pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “The past is past. Just don’t do it again.”
Shen Mingzhu took the handkerchief, wiped her tears, and nodded firmly. “I won’t. Elder Sister, never again.”
Shen Jin watched her tears in silence for a moment. “Why tell me this now?”
Shen Mingzhu sniffled. “Because you’ve changed.”
“And what does my change have to do with your apology?”
“Because the old you would never have believed me. Whatever I said, you’d think I was lying. But the you now… is someone worth trusting.”
Shen Jin said nothing. Looking into Shen Mingzhu’s tear-reddened eyes, something in her heart softened. “All right,” she said, patting Shen Mingzhu’s shoulder. “No more tears. If you want braised pork again, come find me.”
Shen Mingzhu broke into a smile through her tears. “Really?”
“Really. But you can’t come every day—I don’t have that much time to cook.”
“Okay! I’ll remember!”
Shen Jin closed her eyes again, continuing to bask in the sun. Yuanbao rolled over on her lap, purring in contentment.
At Marquis Dingyuan’s residence, Xiao Heng was eating lunch. The dishes were from the kitchen—braised pork, steamed perch, garlic greens, and tomato-egg soup. Exactly the same as what Shen Jin had cooked that day.
Steward Chen stood nearby, watching his young master take a bite, set down his chopsticks, ponder for a moment, then take another bite. “Master, is the food… not to your taste?”
“No.” Xiao Heng picked up another piece of braised pork. “I’m wondering how she thought of it.”
“Thought of what?”
“These dishes. I’ve never had them before. They’re not from the marquis’s kitchen, not from the palace, not from any restaurant in the capital.”
Steward Chen considered. “Perhaps Miss Shen figured them out herself?”
“A young lady who’s never cooked before, able to invent these?”
Steward Chen had no answer.
Xiao Heng finished the last piece of braised pork and set down his chopsticks. “What did she do today at the Tianshui Lane house?”
“She cooked these four dishes. Her half-sister Shen Mingzhu was there too. The three of them ate together. Afterward, Shen Mingzhu cried, saying it was too delicious.”
Xiao Heng raised his brows. Cried? Over food? It was good, yes—but enough to cry? He lifted the soup bowl and drank. Tomato-egg soup, tangy and refreshing. Then a thought struck him.
“Steward Chen, did Madam Zhou’s spies follow Miss Shen to Tianshui Lane today?”
“They followed her. But since Miss Shen stayed inside the house, they couldn’t enter—only kept watch outside.”
“What did they see?”
“They saw Miss Shen eating with Miss Shen Mingzhu and Chun Tao, chatting and laughing. Nothing else.”
Xiao Heng nodded. “Have them keep watching. But let them see only what they should see—and what they shouldn’t; make sure they don’t.”
Steward Chen understood instantly. “Yes, Master.”
Xiao Heng rose and walked to the window. The sunlight was bright, the locust tree in the courtyard shimmering with green leaves. Shen Jinshu, he murmured in his heart, just how many more surprises can you give me? She could cook, she could spar with words, she could feign indifference, and she could win hearts. Today, with a single meal, she had won Shen Mingzhu over. Whether Shen Mingzhu’s tears were genuine or feigned, the reports said she truly cried.
A meal—enough to make someone cry.
Xiao Heng suddenly longed to taste her cooking himself. Not the copies delivered by spies, not the imitations from the kitchen. Her own hands, fresh from the pot, steaming hot. The thought stirred him. He returned to his desk, spread out paper, and picked up his brush. He wrote a few words, looked at them, then crumpled the sheet and tossed it aside. He wrote another, frowned, and discarded it again.
A third attempt—this time, he was satisfied.
“Steward Chen.”
Steward Chen entered.
“Deliver this letter to Miss Shen.”
Steward Chen took the envelope and glanced down. On it were six bold characters— “May I join for a meal?”