Gu Xiao remembered leaving Shen Xihe’s robe on the couch yesterday when she came back. This morning she had been busy making umbrellas and hadn’t touched it. She didn’t even know where the robe was torn.
Now it was too late to mend. Gu Xiao pressed her brow and said, “The robe isn’t fixed yet. Ask your Uncle if he needs it urgently. If he does, I’ll send it over this afternoon.”
Da Wa replied, “Alright.”
When he reached the academy and saw Shen Xihe, he repeated her words exactly: “Little Aunt said if you need it urgently, she’ll bring it this afternoon.”
Shen Xihe shook his head. “No hurry. Tomorrow is fine.” There was no reason to make her run to town just for a robe. He wasn’t in a rush—not at all.
Da Wa said, “If it’s not urgent, just wait until you come back. Isn’t the day after tomorrow your rest day? Only one day.”
Shen Xihe pressed his lips together. “Then… the day after tomorrow.”
Da Wa thought his suggestion was excellent. He asked Shen Xihe, “Uncle, what filling do you want in your flatbread?”
“Anything.”
“Then meat. Yesterday you had egg—let’s change the flavor.”
Gu Xiao didn’t know exactly what Da Wa told Shen Xihe. By noon, when Madam Chen and the others returned, she learned the robe wasn’t urgent. She only needed to finish mending it before Shen Xihe’s rest day.
Afraid she might forget again, Gu Xiao went to the east room, took out the sewing basket, and embroidered three bamboo leaves to finish it.
Madam Zhou was waiting to use the needle and thread. May was approaching, and besides Shen Xihe’s birthday, there was another major matter—labor duty. Each household had to provide one able-bodied man. This year it was Eldest Brother.
The work was heavy—carrying stones, hauling sandbags. Shoulders and arms needed extra patches sewn on. Since Madam Chen was busy with the stall, Madam Zhou herself would do the sewing.
“The meat is chilling in the well water. Check the time and start cooking early,” Madam Zhou said, squinting as she threaded the needle.
At noon, Second Brother and the others weren’t home. The meal was simple—steamed mixed-grain buns with pickled bamboo shoots and salted vegetables. For the first time, Shen Xihe wasn’t there to eat meat, and Madam Zhou felt uneasy.
By the hour of Shen, Gu Xiao said, “It’s still early. I’ll make red date cakes first. Mother, can I use a few more eggs?”
To make the cakes soft, egg whites were essential. Beaten until frothy, they would steam into a sponge full of tiny holes, like a honeycomb.
That morning, Gu Xiao had finished painting the umbrella canopy—misty rain over Jiangnan, delicate ink strokes of falling drizzle, full of atmosphere. Once one umbrella was done, the second would be easier. She wasn’t in a rush; the afternoon could be devoted to food.
Today she would make red date cakes. Tomorrow, osmanthus mung bean cakes.
Madam Zhou said, “The cupboard isn’t short of eggs. No need to ask me.” Since Gu Xiao had bought the dates herself, Madam Zhou wasn’t stingy about a few eggs.
Gu Xiao smiled. “Then wait, Mother. The first piece out of the steamer will be yours. If it doesn’t taste good, you’re not allowed to complain.”
With so many fine ingredients, if the cakes weren’t delicious, Madam Zhou would forbid Gu Xiao from making them again. “Alright, don’t block me while I’m threading the needle.” The thread kept slipping, so Madam Zhou told Gu Xiao to step aside.
Gu Xiao took the needle and thread. “Let me do it.”
Madam Zhou blinked, then said, “Alright.”
Madam Chen and Madam Li were both home, so with more hands around, Gu Xiao naturally asked them to help with the cakes.
Madam Chen pitted and chopped the dates. Madam Li sat nearby, whisking egg whites with chopsticks.
After a long while, no foam appeared. Gu Xiao explained the whites had to be beaten until thick and white, so that when the tip of the chopsticks was dipped in, it would stand still.
“Xiao Xiao, why isn’t it foaming…” Madam Li’s arms were sore, yet the egg whites remained unchanged.
Gu Xiao glanced over. “Second Sister-in-law, add a bit more sugar. If it’s too hard, let Er Wa and Da Wa help—use more chopsticks.”
Madam Li sighed. She hated to waste sugar, but added a little more. Slowly, at last, foam began to rise.
Gu Xiao borrowed Second Brother’s woodworking shed and quickly made several cake molds—palm-sized, two inches tall, nailed together solidly with wooden pegs.
Altogether, she made six cakes. But the molds were large—if she wanted to make mung bean cakes later, she would need smaller ones.
Gu Xiao rubbed her waist. She didn’t know why, but these past two days it had been aching badly. Carrying the molds outside, she saw the egg whites had already been whipped.
Madam Li had added sugar once more. Gu Xiao had said it needed to be added three times. Her arms sore, she passed the bowl to Da Wa. As a boy, he had strength and whisked quickly. Soon, foam rose.
A whole basin of white froth, gleaming beautifully in the sunlight. Gu Xiao watched, then went to the kitchen to break off a piece of brown sugar and pound it into fine grains. She mixed it with flour, chopped red dates, egg yolks, and lard.
When the egg whites were ready, Gu Xiao carefully folded the flour mixture into them, stirring in one direction until smooth, then poured it into the molds.
The molds were set on the steamer tray, the fire stoked high. The wood crackled and popped—once steamed through, the cakes would be ready.
Madam Chen sighed inwardly. So much effort, just for a taste of date cake.
Madam Li, however, kept peeking toward the kitchen. “Ah, I think I smell sweetness already.”
Gu Xiao said, “It still needs more steaming. Sister-in-law, start chopping the meat filling—we’ll make meat pies for supper.”
Meat pies were different from stuffed flatbreads. First, they were round; second, they had more meat inside.
With red date cakes and meat pies, it felt like New Year’s.
A large slab of pork lay on the chopping board. Madam Chen hesitated—such a big piece of meat; in the past, they would stretch it over many meals. “Xiao Xiao, maybe don’t use so much. Save some for when Third Brother comes back.”
Gu Xiao immediately said, “No!” She had bought an extra jin precisely so they could eat to their fill—how could she use only a little?
Madam Chen and Madam Li looked at Gu Xiao in surprise, and she suddenly remembered that she was still someone who put Shen Xihe first in everything.
“Well, isn’t it hot these days? The meat we bought yesterday has already sat for a day. If we keep it longer, it’ll spoil. My husband studies hard—if he ate spoiled meat, it would be terrible. Better to save him two pieces and send them over tomorrow at noon.”
Madam Chen and Madam Li thought it over and agreed. “Xiao Xiao really thinks things through.”
Whether thorough or not…
Gu Xiao said, “Use less chives. Don’t chop the meat too fine—make the pieces big and add more lard; that way it’ll taste better, and my husband will enjoy it.”
Madam Chen realized Gu Xiao knew how to eat well. More meat, more fat—how could it not be fragrant?
While Madam Chen and Madam Li wrapped the meat pies, Gu Xiao kept an eye on the time and lifted the pot lid.
The house already smelled of dates and sugar, but now the fragrance grew even richer.
Madam Chen put down her work and craned her neck for a look. “How did it get so big!”
The cakes had risen, the tops bulging, the same color as brown sugar, with the steamed interior a deeper shade, flecked with red date pieces.
Steam rushed up to her face as Gu Xiao, using a cloth pad, lifted one out. “It’s done, it’s done.”
Because lard had been mixed into the batter, the date cake came out of the mold easily—palm-sized, tall and firm.
Gu Xiao cut one in half and had Er Wa deliver it to Madam Zhou. The remaining half she sliced into small pieces for everyone to taste.
Madam Li popped a piece straight into her mouth. Hot and soft, it was unlike anything she’d had before. The softest she’d ever eaten was the family’s homemade white steamed buns, fermented with old dough—huge and fragrant. She had tried pastries from the county shops a few times, but they were all flour-based and crumbly, like peach crisps. She had never eaten anything like this.
“Delicious, so sweet…”
There were still five cakes in the steamer. Gu Xiao took them all out. “Mother asked me to buy brown sugar to nourish Second Sister-in-law. I just thought of a trick—these two pieces are for her.”
Madam Chen received one piece and had no complaints. It was large enough to share with the children, sweet enough to delight them.
Another piece was saved for Madam Zhou. The last one, Gu Xiao carried to the west room.
The books said Shen Xihe didn’t like sweets. And since Madam Zhou doted on him so much, she would surely save half a piece for him anyway. Gu Xiao herself wouldn’t set any aside. It would be enough for Shen Xihe to eat when he came back.
Madam Zhou ate the cake, her eyes narrowing with pleasure. At her age, she especially loved soft, sweet things. At first she had begrudged the eggs and flour, but now she didn’t mind at all. After finishing half a piece, she broke off another bit to savor slowly. Later, when Shen Xihe returned, she would surely save some for him. After all, she had never been willing to eat the pastries he bought, but knowing how much Gu Xiao cherished him, she was certain half a piece would be set aside. The jujube cake was fragrant and sweet, but there were meat pies waiting for supper, so she kept her stomach ready for those.
When Second Brother and Er Ya returned, the air was already thick with mingled aromas. Madam Li beckoned to the eldest girl: “Meat pies are ready—go wash your hands.”
The ones Gu Xiao baked were naturally large and round, thin-skinned and stuffed full. As the oil met the dough, it sizzled and crackled, and even Madam Zhou came out, drawn by the smell.
Second Brother scratched his head and went to wash up. Madam Zhou’s lips curved, then quickly pressed flat again. At noon, Madam Chen had brought back fifty-two coins, and Second Brother seventy-eight—together, nearly a tael of silver earned in just these few days.
A stack of meat pies was laid out on the table. Madam Zhou, seated beside the old master, said, “Eat up. Have as much meat as you can. If you can’t finish two, cut them in half—don’t overstuff yourselves.”
In other words, no more dividing them strictly.
Gu Xiao ate one and a half. The filling was rich with lard, and each bite burst with meat juices. The chunks were visible, each the size of half a coin—no more hunting for stray flecks of pork among the chives.
Sharing freely, even if one couldn’t finish, felt satisfying. Two pies remained, and Madam Zhou told Da Wa to take them to Shen Xihe tomorrow. The stall had a pan—he could reheat them easily.
Madam Chen assured her, “Don’t worry, Mother. We’ll make sure Third Brother eats well.”
Madam Zhou nodded and went back to the west room.
Gu Xiao then called Da Wa over and handed him thirty coins. “Tomorrow, buy two jin of pork belly and a set of pig liver.”
“Aunt, we just had meat today,” Da Wa muttered. “Grandmother will surely say something…”
Gu Xiao replied firmly, “Today’s meat was bought by your grandmother to reward you all. What I’m buying is to nourish your uncle. How can that be the same? You ate breakfast this morning—does that mean you shouldn’t eat supper?”
Da Wa felt something about her words was off, yet they made perfect sense. “Fine, I’ll buy it then.”
He thought to himself: having a wife is truly wonderful. By noon the next day, he couldn’t help asking Shen Xihe, “Uncle, do you think my future wife will be like Aunt—always worrying about my health?”
Shen Xihe gave him a cool glance. “What do you think?”