With only three days left before the new products launched, Su Qingyan found herself stuck, staring at a sheet of rough paper.
On it were two crooked names she had written with a brush:“Meatball Pan-Fried Buns” and “Scallion Oil Noodles.”
Too rustic.
If she hung those names outside, let alone competing with the Wang Family Tea Division’s “Crab Roe Soup Dumplings,” she’d already lose in sheer presence.
She frowned, scratching her head, trying out several alternatives—“Golden Signature Pan Buns,” “Number One Fragrant Noodles”—but the more she thought about them, the more they sounded like something from a shabby countryside eatery, completely lacking refinement.
“Sis, what are you writing?” Su Mingxuan leaned over, tilting his head to read. “Meat… ball… pan buns? Sounds tasty!”
Su Qingyan sighed. Her little brother’s simple tastes were clearly no help.
Just then, a warm, clear voice sounded at the shop entrance.
“Miss Su, are you troubled over your new dishes?”
She looked up to see Shen Yan standing there in a blue robe, holding two scrolls, smiling gently at her. Behind him were two classmates—Zhang Zheng and the others who had helped before.
“Young Master Shen, what brings you here?” Su Qingyan quickly stood, a smile appearing on her face.
“It’s our day off, so we came to try this ‘juice-bursting warning’ dish of yours and see what kind of marvel it is that you’re promoting so grandly.” Shen Yan’s gaze fell on the paper, and he immediately understood.
“Perfect timing. I’ve made the dishes, but I haven’t come up with proper names yet. I was just hoping to consult a great scholar like you,” Su Qingyan said, seizing the opportunity.
“Oh? Then I must taste first before judging,” Shen Yan replied, taking a seat with interest.
Delighted, Su Qingyan turned and entered the open kitchen.
“Mingxuan, boil water for noodles! Mingyue, watch the fire!”
At her command, the small kitchen sprang into efficient motion.
Right before everyone’s eyes, she placed neatly arranged raw buns into a large flat pan—frying them, adding water, covering the lid. Her movements flowed smoothly, drawing curious glances even from customers waiting in line for roujiamo.
While the buns cooked, she scooped up a large portion of freshly boiled noodles, drained them, placed them into a bowl, then ladled a generous spoonful of sizzling scallion oil from a small clay pot and poured it over the top.
Sizzle—!
The aroma of scallions and oil burst into the air, sharper and more direct than the meat fragrance, drilling straight into people’s noses.
“My heavens! What kind of divine oil is that? It smells incredible!”
“Just smelling it makes my mouth water!”
Even Shen Yan and his companions straightened unconsciously, their throats bobbing.
Su Qingyan brought the noodles forward. Caramel-colored scallions dotted the silver-white strands—simple, yet irresistibly enticing.
“Young Master Shen, please.”
He picked up his chopsticks and took a bite.
The noodles were springy and smooth, each strand coated in rich scallion oil. The fragrant aroma and savory sauce intertwined in his mouth—simple flavors, yet deeply satisfying.
“Excellent! It looks ordinary, but the skill lies entirely in that spoonful of oil!” Zhang Zheng exclaimed after just one bite.
Before his words had even faded, Su Qingyan lifted the lid off the pan.
Whoosh—!
A more domineering wave of heat burst forth, carrying the fragrance of flour, meat, and crisped edges.
Inside the pan, the buns were plump and white, their bottoms golden and crispy, sprinkled with black sesame seeds and chopped green onions—adorable and mouthwatering.
She quickly plated a portion and brought it over.
“Young Master Shen, be careful—it’s hot,” she reminded him.
Shen Yan studied the delicate buns and, like a cautious eater, gently bit a small hole in the thin skin.
He planned to blow on it and sip the soup inside—
But he underestimated its temperament.
With just a light squeeze, a burst of scalding, flavorful broth shot out like it had a mind of its own, splattering right onto the front of his clean robe.
“Oh!” Madam Wang gasped.
Su Qingyan froze, thinking she’d offended him.
But Shen Yan looked at the oil stain on his chest, paused—then suddenly burst into hearty laughter.
“Splendid! Truly splendid! This is the first time I’ve been ‘attacked’ by food, yet found it utterly delightful! The richness of this broth, the uniqueness of its texture—unlike anything I’ve ever tasted!”
His laughter drew laughter from the crowd, instantly lifting the atmosphere.
No longer cautious, he popped the broken bun into his mouth. The crispy base, soft skin, juicy filling, and explosive broth created layers of texture and flavor—a feast beyond compare.
“Miss Su, the name ‘Meatball Pan-Fried Buns’ does it a grave injustice.”
After finishing one, Shen Yan picked up a brush, flipped the paper over, and wrote boldly.
“This dish—golden at the base like gold, white on top like jade, filled with abundant broth symbolizing prosperity—should be named…”
‘Golden Jade Prosperity Pan-Fried Buns.’
Golden Jade Prosperity!
Looking at the buns again, everyone suddenly felt they exuded elegance and wealth. How could they still be called something as plain as “meatball buns”?
Scholar Su was so excited he had to steady himself on the table. “Golden Jade Prosperity… what a fine name!”
Shen Yan didn’t stop. He pointed at the noodles.
“These noodles—the scallion oil green like rippling waves, the strands white like silk—should be called…”
‘Emerald Wave Silver Thread Noodles.’
Two names—one grand and luxurious, the other refined and elegant—instantly transformed the dishes.
“Young Master Shen, your talent is remarkable,” Su Qingyan said sincerely.
Shen Yan set down his brush, but a slight frown appeared. He glanced around the shop—warm and clean, but noisy due to the crowd.
“Miss Su, your skill is among the best in Bianjing. But your shop has a hidden issue.”
“Please enlighten me,” she said seriously.
“Your customers come from all walks of life. With business booming, crowds bring disorder—queue-cutting, noise, even troublemakers. Over time, this will drive away genuine patrons and invite unnecessary conflict.”
He had pinpointed exactly what had been worrying her.
“And what do you suggest?”
“Without rules, there is no order. Your shop needs rules.”
He had Su Mingxuan fetch a large wooden board.
Then, without hesitation, he wrote:
Su Ji Dining Rules
A few simple lines, yet they established queueing, limited supply, and anti-waste principles in a clear, elegant way.
The bold, powerful calligraphy carried an air of dignity.
“Hang it up,” Shen Yan said.
Once the board was placed beside the “Warm Fragrance Fills the Shop” sign, the entire atmosphere changed.
The once noisy stall gained a scholarly air. Even laborers and peddlers lowered their voices unconsciously.
“That… that’s Shen Yan’s handwriting!” a student exclaimed.
Shen Yan—the top scholar of the Imperial Academy. His calligraphy was priceless.
Soon, students gathered, admiring the board.
At that moment, a few rough-looking thugs approached, trying to shove their way in line.
“Move aside!”
But when they looked up and met Shen Yan’s calm gaze—
They froze.
They didn’t know him personally, but they recognized his scholar’s attire—and the group of glaring students behind him.
Here in the capital, they could bully small vendors—but not future officials.
Without a word, they retreated and quietly joined the end of the line.
Watching this, Scholar Su’s eyes grew moist. Grabbing Madam Wang’s sleeve, he choked up:
“Our shop… finally has dignity.”
A warmth rose in Su Qingyan’s chest. She stepped forward and bowed deeply.
“Young Master Shen, I don’t know how to repay you.”
“I simply don’t wish such exquisite food to be spoiled by vulgar disturbances,” he said with a faint smile. “What you’ve made with care deserves to be treated with care.”
Their gazes met, something subtle stirring in the air.
Just then—
“Sis! The pot’s ready again! That, uh… ‘Golden Jade Prosperity’ buns—are we making another batch or not?!” Su Mingxuan shouted anxiously from the stove.