Dusk gathered, lanterns were just being lit, and the figures at the city gate gradually thinned.
The evening wind carried a chill, stinging people’s cheeks. Passersby heading home wrapped their robes tighter and hurried along.
Just as Shen Lingwei was about to close her stall, a figure suddenly appeared in front of it.
“One egg cake, please—make it quick.”
The newcomer was a young servant in blue, neatly dressed. He seemed to have run over, slightly out of breath, white puffs escaping his nose and mouth.
“Alright, coming right up.”
Shen Lingwei responded while her hands moved swiftly.
With a flick of her wrist, the golden cake flipped neatly in midair and landed steadily back onto the griddle.
She quickly wrapped it in oiled paper and handed it over. “Fresh out of the pan—careful, it’s hot.”
The servant paid and thanked her politely. The rich aroma of egg wafted into his nose, making his throat move as he couldn’t resist opening his mouth to take a bite—
“Chen Shitou!”
“What are you dawdling for? The Daoist is still waiting in the carriage. If you delay the second young master’s treatment, the old madam will skin you alive!”
Not far away, an old woman wrapped in a thick coat stood by a carriage, shouting sharply.
The young servant called Chen Shitou jolted, quickly stuffing the cake into his clothes and hurrying over with bows.
“Coming! Madam Zhang, I’m coming!”
In the blink of an eye, the carriage disappeared into the dim street.
Shen Lingwei glanced from afar. The carriage shaft was faintly carved with intricate patterns, and the horse pulling it was sleek and well-groomed.
Clearly a wealthy household.
She withdrew her gaze, her expression unchanged, and efficiently packed up her stove and tools, preparing to head home.
“Lady Shen, closing up early again today?”
Nearby, Sister Sun, who sold steamed pancakes, leaned out halfway, her tone slightly sour.
“Your egg cakes smell amazing—sold out every day. Unlike me, I still have half a basket left.”
Shen Lingwei kept working, smiling as she replied, “You jest, Auntie. I only make a few batches—once they’re gone, I close. How could I compare to your pancakes? Your regular customers come for that old dough flavor. I could never replicate it.”
Sister Sun’s expression softened a little. She sighed, “Well, it’s not easy for you either, raising that sickly child. Being able to earn enough to eat is already good. How’s An’an? If you need anything, just tell me.”
“Thank you for your concern, Auntie. She’s much better—just still needs careful care,” Shen Lingwei replied with a smile, already loading her tools onto the cart.
“Auntie, you should pack up early too. It’s cold.”
“Alright, alright—go carefully!”
Shen Lingwei responded, pulling her cart as she headed home.
She had transmigrated here, just half a year ago.
The original body was a widow. After floods devastated her hometown, she brought her five-year-old daughter to the capital to seek a living, only to starve to death during a late spring cold spell along the way.
When Shen Lingwei woke up, there was a girl beside her, so thin she was skin and bones, burning with fever, unable even to call out “mother.”
Later, kind benefactors distributed porridge at the city gate, allowing the mother and daughter to barely survive.
Since then, she had set up a small stall at the city gate, selling snacks to make a living while taking care of her daughter, An’an.
Shen Lingwei planned that once An’an got better, she would save enough money to open a shop, so she wouldn’t have to endure wind and rain anymore.
By the time she neared home, it was already dark.
Neighbor Aunt Liu saw her and hurried over.
“Oh Lingwei, you’re finally back—something’s happened to An’an!”
Shen Lingwei’s heart dropped. The cart handle fell to the ground with a clang.
“What happened to An’an?”
“Well, seeing how hard you work at the stall, she tried to help while you were away—took a small wooden bucket to fetch water from the well. The ice was slippery, and she fell! When she got back, she developed a high fever and became delirious!”
Shen Lingwei’s mind went blank. Without another thought, she rushed into the house.
Inside the cramped, dim room was a clay bed, now cold.
A little girl of about four or five was curled under the blanket, her small body trembling. Her chin was sharp, half her face flushed red with fever, her lips dry and cracked as she murmured in delirium.
“Mother… not tired… An’an helps mother… fetch water… not hard…”
Shen Lingwei reached out to feel her forehead and immediately recoiled—it was burning hot!
How could it be so hot?
The heat seemed to scorch straight into Shen Lingwei’s heart.
“An’an, mother’s back!”
Aunt Liu followed her in. “I found her too late! She wouldn’t respond when I called—just kept mumbling about you. I didn’t dare move her, so I waited for you!”
Shen Lingwei was so heartbroken she couldn’t speak.
She quickly removed her padded coat, wrapped An’an in it, and gently lifted her, leaving only her little face exposed.
“Aunt Liu, please help me push the cart inside. I’m taking An’an to the clinic.”
“Go on, don’t worry—I’ll take care of things here!”
Shen Lingwei had already stepped out the door.
The little girl in her arms burned like a furnace. Even through the thick cotton coat, the heat seeped through, pressing against her chest again and again.
She pulled the child closer and quickened her pace.
The doors of Xinglintang were slightly ajar, light still glowing inside.
After examining the child, the old physician said gravely, “Cold has invaded the lungs, and her constitution is weak. If you had come any later, she would have lost her mind from the fever.”
“Doctor, please—I beg you, save An’an, no matter the cost!” Shen Lingwei’s voice choked.
The physician directed her to place An’an on the couch. After acupuncture, medicine, and hot compresses…
It was nearly midnight before An’an’s breathing gradually steadied, and the fever subsided somewhat.
The old physician washed his hands and sat down. “Her life has been saved, but she has been depleted for too long. The medicine cannot be stopped. Consultation and medicine together—one tael and two qian of silver.”
Shen Lingwei took out a pouch from her clothes, counting it together with the small silver pieces she earned from selling egg cakes today—she was still half a tael short.
She hesitated for a moment. “…Doctor, I only have this for now. Could you allow me a few days? I will make up the rest.”
The physician recognized her and sighed, pushing the medicine over. “I’ll give you three days’ credit. Remember—the child’s medicine must not be interrupted.”
Shen Lingwei’s eyes grew hot as she thanked him repeatedly, then left the clinic with An’an.
The night wind was sharp, stinging her face.
Holding An’an, Shen Lingwei walked home, her heart weighed down like a heavy stone.
Her home was already at the end of its means—even tomorrow’s ingredients for egg cakes were gone. Where could she find half a tael of silver in three days?
Lost in thought, she returned home late at night.
After settling An’an, she was just about to rest her eyes when suddenly, urgent knocking sounded outside.
“Knock, knock, knock!”
“Lady Shen! Lady Shen, are you home?”
Shen Lingwei froze. That voice… it sounded strangely familiar.