The siblings trudged through the thick snow, one foot sinking deeper than the other, while the morning wind cut across their faces like knives. Maishao Alley was quiet, with only the crunch of their footsteps and the heavy weight of the basket they carried.
Before dawn, Shui Gui Street was already bustling with people. Vendors shouted, hawkers called out, and the scents of food mingled in the air, giving the street a lively, earthy atmosphere.
Su Qingyan carried her basket, inhaling a deep breath, and stepped onto the slippery bluestone path of Shui Gui Street.
Su Mingxuan walked silently ahead, his small body working hard to carve a path through the snow, making it easier for his elder sister to follow.
“Slow down, Mingxuan, there’s no rush,” Su Qingyan said softly, her heart filled with a mix of warmth and tenderness.
Just as they reached the alley’s mouth, they ran into an old woman pushing a wheelbarrow, preparing to set up her stall. A large wooden barrel was perched atop it, and even from a distance, a faint scent of ginger tea wafted toward them.
It was Granny Lin, the drink seller at the alley entrance.
Granny Lin was sharp-tongued and loud, but her heart was kind. Seeing the Su siblings, a flicker of surprise crossed her cloudy eyes.
“Well, isn’t this the little lady from the Su household? In this freezing weather, carrying such a heavy basket—where are you off to?”
Before she could finish, she sniffed the air and caught the sweet aroma wafting from Su Qingyan’s basket.
“What’s that smell? So sweet, so fragrant!”
Su Qingyan stopped and gave her a sweet smile. “Good morning, Granny Lin. I made some brown sugar steamed buns and wanted to see if I could trade a few for some coins on the street, to help Father pay for his medicine.”
She lifted the corner of the cotton cover and took out a steaming hot brown sugar bun, offering it to her.
“Please try it, Granny, tell me how it tastes.”
Granny Lin was taken aback; she hadn’t expected the little girl to be so generous. She took the bun without hesitation. It was hot to the touch and pleasantly heavy.
She bit into it—and her eyes widened instantly.
Soft! Sweet! The rich flavor of brown sugar mixed with the aroma of the dough shot straight to her head! Having spent most of her life in Bianjing selling drinks, she had never tasted such delicious buns!
“Oh my heavens!” Granny Lin swallowed the large bun in just a few bites, feeling warmth rise from her stomach, chasing away the chill. “Little Qingyan, your skill… is extraordinary! If you sold these, there’s no way they wouldn’t sell!”
Su Qingyan felt reassured and politely asked, “Granny Lin, we want to set up a stall on Shui Gui Street. You’re an elder—could you give us some guidance?”
“Shui Gui Street?” Granny Lin’s expression darkened slightly. She lowered her voice. “That street is full of all sorts of people. The best spots at the entrance are already taken. Especially Liu San-niang from Liu’s Bakery—she’s very domineering. Don’t even think about going near her.”
“Then where should we go?”
“Head to the end of the street, near the stable’s corner. It’s out of the way, no one will fight you for it, and it’s quiet,” Granny Lin instructed. “Also, if you run into the patrol soldiers, don’t panic. If they ask, just say it’s homemade food, trading for a little rice money. Be polite and maybe offer them a bun—they won’t bother you. Don’t say you’re running a stall, or they’ll tax you all day.”
Su Qingyan remembered everything gratefully and bowed. “Thank you, Granny Lin, for your guidance.”
Her eyes twinkled as she smiled. “Granny, your ginger tea warms people, and my buns fill their stomachs. When we’re on the street, why don’t we set up close to each other? Whoever buys a bun from me can get a bowl of your hot tea to go with it.”
Granny Lin laughed at once. “This little girl, your mind works fast! Okay, let’s do that!”
After parting with Granny Lin, the siblings hurried along, finally arriving at Shui Gui Street at dawn.
Following Granny Lin’s directions, they found the corner at the street’s end. It was indeed remote, with a faint smell of horse manure nearby, but Su Qingyan paid it no mind. She laid down some clean wooden boards and a well-washed old cloth from her basket, quickly setting up a simple but tidy stall.
Su Mingxuan hung a white cloth with the neatly written characters “Su Ji” on the wall behind them.
Everything was ready, and Su Qingyan placed the basket on the stall and took a deep breath.
Just then, the door of a sizable bakery across the street creaked open. A plump woman in slightly worn silk robes, her face heavily powdered, stepped out.
Her gaze swept over the street like a spotlight, landing on Su Qingyan’s modest stall in the corner. She furrowed her brows, put her hands on her hips, and sashayed over.
“Well, who do we have here? Early in the morning, and some beggar comes to my turf asking for food?”
This woman was none other than Liu San-niang, mentioned by Granny Lin.
She scrutinized the siblings from head to toe. Seeing their patched winter clothes, her disgust was obvious.
“Dressed like beggars, and you dare sell something? Not afraid of dirtying your customers’ eyes?” She glanced at Su Qingyan’s basket, snorting. “What’s in there? Snow you dug up? With your poor looks, what could you possibly sell?”
Su Mingxuan’s face turned red with anger. He clenched his fists, ready to argue.
Su Qingyan gently held him back, shaking her head. Her face bore a calm smile as she met Liu San-niang’s gaze without flinching.
“Madam, you jest. We just want to earn a little money to treat our father. These are homemade buns—clean and simple. We wouldn’t dare soil your precious street.”
Seeing that Su Qingyan did not reply harshly, Liu San-niang’s anger only grew—it was like punching cotton.
“Hmph! Stop playing the pity card! Let me tell you, to survive on Shui Gui Street, you need my permission!”
The street gradually filled with people—servants and laborers hurrying to work, along with a few early-rising scholars.
Liu San-niang deliberately raised her voice, calling from her bakery: “Fresh sesame pork buns from Liu’s! Thin skin, generous filling, juicy and fragrant!”
Her sharp, loud voice quickly drew attention. Several people gathered immediately.
Su Qingyan, however, stayed calm.
Silently, she lifted the cotton cover from her basket and unfolded the thick cloth wrapping the buns.
A wave of sweet, steaming fragrance erupted from the basket, spreading instantly!
The aroma was commanding yet gentle, unlike Liu’s greasy buns.
It carried a clear, sweet dough fragrance and rich caramelized brown sugar scent, making the cold morning feel tantalizingly warm.
Sure enough, several laborers who had just bought from Liu San-niang’s bakery couldn’t help but follow the scent. Passersby also paused, curiously peeking at Su Qingyan’s basket.
“Little lady, what are you selling? Smells amazing,” a burly laborer asked.
“Uncle, these are brown sugar blossom buns,” Su Qingyan said with a smile, holding one up. “Fresh out of the steamer, big and sweet. One will fill you up!”
The laborer eyed the bun, larger than his fist, tempted—but paused when he heard the price.
“How much?”
“Five wen.”
“What? Five wen?!” The man was shocked. “One bun costs as much as two pork buns!”
Others attracted by the scent also shook their heads in disappointment.
“Too expensive, too expensive.”
“It’s just a bun, made of gold or what?”
Across the street, Liu San-niang nearly applauded. She sneered, raising her voice mockingly: “Five wen for a bun? This little girl must be crazy for money! Even if poor, she can’t scam people like this! Don’t be fooled, folks. Our meat buns are three wen, filling inside, aren’t they better than her plain dough?”
The small crowd that had gathered began to disperse.
At that moment, Granny Lin pushed her drink cart slowly from the street corner. Even before she arrived, her booming voice carried:
“Who says it’s not worth it? I just ate one! That taste—tsk tsk—only the Jade Emperor himself could eat something so delicious! Soft and sweet, one bite warms your whole body! Five wen? I say, even ten would be worth it!”
Her words acted like a steadying anchor, halting the dispersing crowd.
Su Qingyan felt a surge of gratitude toward Granny Lin. Seeing the people wavering between price and aroma, an idea crystallized in her mind.
Yes, the people of the Northern Song didn’t trust flashy shouts—they trusted what they saw and tasted themselves.
She picked up a brown sugar blossom bun and took a shiny little knife from her sewing basket. The crisp sound rang in the cold air.
“Gentlemen, don’t just listen to words. Taste this bun and see if it’s worth five wen!”