What Su Ji needed was not an improved version—but a devastating, overwhelming trump card.
This trump card had to meet three conditions.
First, the flavor had to be bold and domineering, with an aroma strong enough to overpower the entire street and pull customers straight from other दुकans.
Second, the cooking process had to be visually captivating.
Her “open kitchen” would be the perfect stage—she would perform a vivid, mouthwatering show right in front of everyone.
Third—and most importantly—it had to be something completely new, something Bianjing had never seen before!
As her thoughts raced, two names rose above countless options and became crystal clear in her mind.
Shengjian bao!
Scallion oil noodles with dried shrimp!
That was it!
Scallion oil noodles might seem simple, but they demanded the greatest skill. That spoonful of scallion oil was the soul. Using pure rapeseed oil from her space, paired with scallions slowly fried over low heat until caramelized, the aroma alone could hook a person’s soul. This would be the surprise tactic—used to draw customers and complement the main dish.
And the true killing move—was shengjian bao.
The bottom would be pan-fried to a golden, crispy crust, while the top half of the dough would absorb steam and turn soft and fluffy. The best part was inside—one bite, and the piping-hot, savory broth would burst in the mouth!
For the people of Bianjing, who were used to dry buns and mantou, this would be a completely revolutionary experience.
Even better, shengjian required a large flat pan. Dozens of buns packed together, water poured in, lid closed—sizzle! Steam rising everywhere. The moment the lid was lifted, sprinkled with sesame seeds and chopped scallions, the aroma would explode into the air.
It would be a perfect theatrical performance.
At this thought, Su Qingyan’s heartbeat quickened.
She immediately took action. With a thought, she entered her space.
High-gluten flour, pork shoulder, black sesame seeds, scallions… high-quality ingredients refined by modern industry gleamed on the shelves.
But this time, she took something she had never used before—a hard, jade-like block, frozen solid.
Pork aspic.
This was the secret core that made the shengjian bao “burst with juice.”
Simmered slowly from pork skin, impurities filtered out, then cooled into natural collagen. Solid when wrapped inside the bun, but once heated, it would melt into a pocket of rich, delicious broth.
In a kitchen of this era, such a technique was unheard of.
Night had fallen, and the courtyard was silent. Madam Wang and Scholar Su, exhausted from the day’s fright and labor, were already fast asleep.
But Su Qingyan felt no trace of sleepiness. She quietly slipped into the small kitchen and began her secret trial.
The high-gluten flour from her space absorbed water beautifully. With just a bit of yeast, the dough became smooth, elastic, and springy.
She diced the pork aspic, quickly mixing it with seasoned minced pork, then used her almost artistic hands to deftly shape small, delicate buns with evenly pleated folds.
The final step—into the pan!
The large flat iron pan she had specially commissioned was perfect for this. She brushed a thin layer of rapeseed oil across the bottom and neatly arranged the buns one by one.
Low heat. Slow frying.
Soon, a pleasant sizzling sound rose from the pan, and a toasty aroma began to develop.
When the bottoms turned golden, Su Qingyan poured a bowl of flour-water slurry along the edge of the pan.
Sssshhh—!
Water met hot oil and burst into steam, thick white vapor enveloping the pan. She quickly covered it with a wooden lid.
Now came the waiting.
Inside, steam churned—half frying, half steaming.
She didn’t stay idle. Lighting a small side stove, she began making scallion oil. Scallion segments went into the pot, cooked slowly over the lowest heat, patiently.
A unique fragrance, faintly sweet, began to fill the kitchen, seeping into every corner.
As the sound of steam gradually softened, Su Qingyan took a deep breath and suddenly lifted the lid!
Whoosh!
A wave of hot white steam, mixed with the fragrance of dough, meat, and oil, rushed toward her.
Inside the pan, the buns had turned plump and pale, their bottoms golden, their tops sprinkled with black sesame seeds and bright green scallions, packed closely together—utterly delightful.
Success!
At that moment, a small, sleepy voice came from the kitchen doorway.
“Sis… smells good…”
Su Qingyan turned around to see little Su Mingyao, rubbing her eyes, barefoot, clinging to the doorframe and sniffing eagerly.
Clearly, she had been woken up by the irresistible aroma.
“You little glutton, go back to sleep,” Su Qingyan said, both amused and exasperated, walking over to carry her back.
But Mingyao’s eyes were glued to the pan of buns, her lips pouting, drool almost falling.
“I want… I want that round one…”
Unable to refuse, Su Qingyan picked one up with chopsticks, placed it in a small bowl, and kept blowing on it.
“Eat slowly, it’s hot!”
She handed the cooled bun to her sister.
Mingyao eagerly opened her mouth and took a big bite.
The next second, her little face scrunched up, eyes wide, mouth puffing out air—but she refused to spit it out.
“Hot…”
Su Qingyan panicked and told her to spit it out.
But Mingyao shook her head stubbornly, her face showing a strange mix of pain and pure delight.
After a while, she finally swallowed, then proudly patted her little belly and made an astonishing discovery in her childish voice:
“Big sister! Inside… there’s soup!”
That single sentence proved the success of the new dish better than any flowery praise.
Su Qingyan’s heart finally settled.
If even a three-year-old would rather burn her mouth than spit it out, she didn’t believe this wouldn’t defeat Wang Defu.
..
The next morning.
There was even more commotion than usual in front of Su Ji Kitchen.
Because beside the “sold out” sign, a brand-new red notice had been posted, written in Scholar Su’s elegant calligraphy.
No complicated promotion—just two simple lines:
【New products launching on the first day of next month.】【Friendly reminder: Beware of bursting juices—mind your mouth!】
“Bursting juices? What does that mean?”
“No idea… sounds kind of scary. Food that explodes?”
“Who cares? When has that Su girl ever disappointed us? I’ll be the first one there next month!”
The neighbors buzzed with curiosity, completely hooked.
Across the street, in Liu’s pastry shop, Liu Sanniang glanced at the red notice and scoffed disdainfully.
Meanwhile, farther away at the Zhou Bridge night market, in the backyard of Wang Family Fencha—
An attendant reported the situation at Su Ji to Wang Defu.
“…Shopkeeper, that girl just posted a red notice saying something about ‘bursting juice warning.’”
Wang Defu, holding a fine Jian ware tea cup, didn’t even raise his eyelids. He let out a cold snort.
“Putting on airs.”
He took a sip of tea and spoke leisurely:
“Pass the word. On the first day of next month, we’ll also launch something new—our improved crab roe soup dumplings. Price it one coin cheaper than her roujiamo.”
He set down the cup, a cruel smile curling on his lips.
“I’d like to see what a mere little girl can use to compete with me.”