She had a well-proportioned figure and beautiful features—a true beauty in every sense—though her complexion was somewhat pale and her steps a bit unsteady.
The young lady in the scarlet skirt looked around the street as if searching for something. After a long while, she finally stopped in front of a stall selling hawthorn cakes.
“…Give… give me a portion of hawthorn cakes,” Qi Yue said weakly, pressing a hand against her abdomen.
Though the stall owner was illiterate, he could see that this young lady had a noble air and expensive clothing. Knowing she was a person of status, he did not dare to be negligent. He quickly wrapped the sliced hawthorn cakes in a lotus leaf and handed them to her with care.
Qi Yue took the pastry but was in no hurry to eat. She held it in her hand, looking at it with a trace of hesitation and helplessness.
Ever since she had declared a hunger strike the night before, she had not touched a single grain of rice. Just now, she had argued with her brother over her marriage, and the two had parted on bad terms. She had been walking on an empty stomach for a long time; her stomach felt like it was on fire, and she felt dizzy and faint. However, she was stubborn to the core. Gritting her teeth, she refused to give in, thinking that buying some hawthorn cakes might aid digestion and help her achieve a more slender figure.
Qi Yue held the hawthorn cakes and took a small bite. Her mouth was filled with tartness, but her heart was even more bitter. Gradually, she began to feel sorry for herself.
She was a noble lady of the capital, the biological younger sister of the Marquis of Ningwu. Since childhood, she had lived in luxury, lacking for no rare treasure. Yet, she could not have the man she loved.
If that man were from an ordinary family, it would be easy; she could simply ask her brother to send men to kidnap him for a wedding. But that man happened to be Deng Qiao, the youngest son of the Minister of Revenue.
He had known all along that his family had already chosen a marriage for him, yet he had continued to smile and flirt with her, keeping things ambiguous. To think she actually believed he truly loved her!
When they met at the last flower-viewing banquet, she had heard of his impending marriage and ran to question him in despair. She had even prepared a tragic script in her head: “I know you have no choice, that you are being forced by your family,” and so on.
Unexpectedly, Deng Qiao had looked her up and down and sneered, “I admire you? Ha, Qi Yue, look at yourself. You have neither a willow-thin waist nor three-inch golden lilies. You only have fair skin that is somewhat tolerable to look at. Why would I give up my willow-waisted, lily-faced, charming cousins to marry you?”
Those words were like a basin of cold water, heartlessly extinguishing all her affection.
Recollecting this, Qi Yue repeatedly chewed the crumbs of the hawthorn cake. A sharp pang hit her heart, and she shed a few more tears of sorrow.
She considered herself not bad-looking. Though her temperament was a bit proud, she was not unreasonable. She was a daughter of a prestigious family; how could she suffer such humiliation from him?
Pah! Deng Qiao, that ruffian! Thin-hearted man! Scoundrel! Swine!
Aside from a good-looking face, he had nothing!
Qi Yue frowned and glared at the hawthorn cake in her hand as if seeing the face of that heartbreaker Deng Qiao. She took a fierce bite—Hmph, you sightless dog-thief, failing to marry this beauty is the greatest loss of your life!
She wolfed down the pastry in her hand, only to feel the acidic juices in her stomach increasing. Her stomach felt like it was shrinking into a ball from hunger. Amidst the unbearable aching, a strand of strange fragrance quietly drifted into her nose.
The aroma was different from the cloying sweetness of ordinary pastries. Instead, it carried the milky scent of scorched cream, with the richness of cheese wrapped in the clear fragrance of rice wine. It was incredibly enticing.
Qi Yue suddenly raised her head, her nose twitching slightly. Following the scent, she saw a new food shop that had opened on West Street. Hanging over the lintel was a vermilion lacquer plaque with five words: “Xue’s Treasure Delicacies Shop.”
The new shop was located not far from where Xue Li used to set up her stall. Before the grand opening, Xue Li had spent a day at her old spot to inform regular and new customers of the new location, announcing a “buy five, get one free” promotion for the Cloud Flaky Buns on opening day.
Because of this, on the first morning “Xue’s Treasure Delicacies Shop” opened, Xue Li and Jiang Xiyu were so busy they didn’t even have time to take a sip of water.
Having finally survived the busiest hours of the morning, Xue Li took a short rest before beginning to research a new dish.
“A’li, this milk is so expensive. Are you really going to use it for pastries?” Jiang Xiyu nibbled on a bamboo shoot and meat Cloud Flaky Bun while leaning in to watch with a pained expression. “It would be so nutritious if the two of us just drank it.”
While pounding the fermented milk curd into a fine paste, Xue Li added maltose and said to her, “Xiyu, we want to make a name for ourselves in the future, so we can’t be stingy with raw materials. What delicacies haven’t those nobles tasted? Whether the ingredients are good or fresh, their picky tongues can tell with one touch.”
“Aiya, I know, I know. It’s just that my heart hurts for the money,” Jiang Xiyu watched as Xue Li cracked five more eggs, separating the yolks and whites and adding them in stages, a process that seemed incredibly tedious. “If I hadn’t happened to run into my Master Senior in the northern merchant caravan yesterday and used his connection to buy the milk at a good price of thirty wen, I’m afraid our purses would have suffered yesterday.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Xue Li smiled and poured in the wheat flour that had been finely ground on a stone mill. She added half a cup of rice wine—to remove the fishy smell in place of the expensive lemon juice—and picked up a large spoon to stir all the raw materials in the basin until they were as smooth as cream. “It’s exactly because our A’yu has connections in the northern caravans that our Scorched Jade Cheese Cake can be more cost-effective than the pastries of other shops, right?”
Jiang Xiyu’s face reddened at the praise, and she mumbled, “Well, that’s true…”
Actually, while the name “Scorched Jade Cheese Cake” sounded high-end and noble, it was essentially the Basque cheesecake eaten in modern times. Xue Li had only thought of this dessert yesterday when she saw milk curds being sold in the northern caravan.
In the Song Dynasty, dairy products were scarce in the Central Plains. People relied mainly on northern caravans or border trade with Western Xia and the Liao Kingdom. Even the aristocratic manors rarely produced their own; it was a true luxury item.
She had heard that even the “Su Luo” (a type of cream/cheese) purchased by the imperial palace cost between one hundred to one hundred and fifty wen per catty. Commercial cheese, due to transport and processing costs, could easily cost two hundred wen per catty for commoners—and that was considered a good price!
But if she bought milk, took it home to process it herself, boiled it, added rice vinegar to stir, and then poured the curdled milk into gauze to filter overnight under a heavy weight, wouldn’t she have cheese?
Xue Li was unwilling to spend two hundred wen for a tiny catty of milk curd. But for thirty wen to buy a liter of milk, she wanted to buy in bulk.
Xue Li half-squatted in front of the kiln, watching the intensity of the fire. Once the kiln was preheated, she brushed the inner walls of palm-sized pottery jars with oil to prevent sticking and poured the silky, delicate batter into them. Then, holding a long iron tray, she gave it a light shake to disperse the air bubbles before sending them all into the charcoal kiln to bake.
“Xiyu, add some more firewood. The fire needs to be stronger.” Xue Li crouched down to observe the flames, estimating the temperature.
Baking a Basque cheesecake required high heat and a short time. In ancient times, this meant a fierce kiln fire for half a quarter-hour, then extinguishing the fire to let it sit for two quarter-hours.
Jiang Xiyu complied, bringing a bundle of dry wood and stuffing it into the furnace before pumping the bellows twice. The charcoal fire flared up instantly, the intense light turning her cheeks red. In her moment of triumph, a cloud of ash suddenly blew into her face, making her retreat repeatedly while waving her hands to clear the dust. “Pah, pah, pah! It’s choking me to death… A’li, go ahead and eat lunch in the front. I’ll keep watch here!”
“Then keep a close eye. Don’t let the fire die down.”
“Leave it to me!”
Xue Li laughed softly behind her hand, patted her skirt, and turned to walk into the front hall. She took a warm Cloud Flaky Bun out of the steamer to eat.
Fortunately, she had hidden it well; otherwise, the bun would have been forcefully bought by Madam Wang, who lived above the silk shop across the street.
Xue Li took a slow bite. The bun’s skin was soft and chewy, and the filling was savory and juicy—so delicious it made one lick their lips.
Leaning against the counter, she savored the delicious flavor while leisurely watching the peaceful and happy scenes of the townsfolk. Unexpectedly, a beautiful young lady entered her line of sight.
The young lady in the scarlet skirt held the hawthorn cakes sold by “Dog-Meat” Liu from the street stall. Her skin was pale and her eyebrows slightly furrowed; with her melancholy eyes, she looked like a frail Xi Shi, inspiring pity.
As Xue Li admired her, she wondered if she should go forward to comfort her. The next moment, however, she saw the beauty—who looked as fragile as a willow in the wind—viciously sink her teeth into the hawthorn cake, gnashing her teeth as if to grind the pastry to dust.
Xue Li: “!!!”
She had tasted Liu’s hawthorn cakes before; could they really be that hard?
Xue Li watched as the young girl swallowed the pastry, and then, two rows of clear tears slid down her cheeks. She began to sob uncontrollably.
Could it be that after a few days, the hawthorn cakes made by Liu had not only become hard as stone but also so foul-tasting that they made people cry from the heart?
Xue Li watched the girl cry while eating the hawthorn cakes, completely unable to figure out whether they were delicious or not.
“They’re out! They’re out!”
Jiang Xiyu’s cheers came from the back.
Holding the long iron tray with thick towels in both hands, she hurried over, her face beaming.
“A’li, smell this! It’s truly fragrant!”
Xue Li snapped back to reality. Jiang Xiyu placed the tray on the table; every pottery jar was emitting curls of steam.
“Can we taste them now?” Jiang Xiyu’s eyes were glowing.
Xue Li replied, “This Scorched Jade Cheese Cake tastes best when it’s chilled.”
Jiang Xiyu let out a long sigh, her eyes wide and watery as she looked at her. Xue Li’s heart softened. She cleared her throat and changed her tune: “However, eating it hot has its own unique flavor. You can taste the molten center. There’s no harm in trying it first, which will also help me perfect the recipe in time.”
“Yay!” Jiang Xiyu cheered.
The two each took a spoon and a jar of Scorched Jade Cheese Cake to sample.
Jiang Xiyu had never eaten a dessert so complete in color, aroma, and taste in her life. The surface was an enticing scorched yellow, while the inside was dense and moist. The scents of milk, sweetness, and a faint hint of wine intertwined and lingered. It was sweet but not cloying, melting the moment it entered the mouth, with a molten texture. She was already swaying her head in satisfaction, her eyes narrowed.
Xue Li was different. In her previous life, she was a food streamer who frequently did dessert reviews. She had eaten hundreds, if not thousands, of Basque cheesecakes.
While tasting, she carefully considered the texture. Although it was prepared according to her memories, ingredients in the Song Dynasty were limited. This recipe lacked cream, and the flour was not fine enough, so the cross-section of the cake was slightly coarse. It would be better if she had a finer bamboo sieve; the texture could be elevated further…
But coarse or not, compared to other Song Dynasty delicacies, this cheese cake was already very delicate. Otherwise, Jiang Xiyu wouldn’t be letting out a long sigh of admiration after every spoonful she dissolved in her mouth.
Thinking this way, Xue Li’s mind began to wander to what other flavors of Basque cheesecake she should try next.
Matcha? Pistachio? Chestnut? Salted egg yolk? Mochi?
Beside her, Jiang Xiyu finished a jar of Scorched Jade Cheese Cake in no time, leaving no residue even in the corners. She licked the handle of her spoon: “But A’li, in the ingredients for this cheese cake, we spent thirty wen just on the milk. What price should we set for it?”
Right, that was a big question.
Xue Li began to calculate. The bulk of the cost was the milk—thirty wen per liter, which could make about half a catty of cheese. The local eggs, wheat flour, maltose, and rice wine distributed over eight jars of cheese cake were not that expensive.
High-end desserts in the Song Dynasty had a markup of about eighty percent. If she wanted to pick a reasonable value… Xue Li thought for a moment and finally made the decision: “Twenty wen. We will sell them for twenty wen a jar.”
Dessert markups in the Song Dynasty were inherently high. “On the market, frosting-lychee paste sells for two hundred wen a portion, and honey-soaked cherries cost one hundred and fifty wen a plate. We used so much milk in this Scorched Jade Cheese Cake; twenty wen a jar is not excessive.”
Despite her confident words, Xue Li suddenly felt like she was exactly like one of those “not to be trifled with” trio—the owner of a modern private bakery. When it came to her own business, she couldn’t help but calculate every cent, from shop rent to water and firewood.
She rubbed her nose guiltily, comforting herself that at least she had a storefront and had to pay rent. Moreover, materials were scarce in the Song Dynasty. When she calculated the milk price, she used thirty wen instead of the market price of fifty. She had to go through the trouble of making the cheese herself. Twenty wen a jar was truly a conscientious price. Even in modern Shanghai, a six-inch Basque cheesecake divided into eight pieces could sell for forty-five yuan a slice. What’s more, she was doing business in Bianjing, the prosperous capital of the Great Song.
While Xue Li was feeling guilty, Jiang Xiyu said matter-of-factly, “At this price, is it worth our hard work selling it?”
“Just for the bellows-pumping alone, I did it for a full quarter-hour. My hands are sore and my face is dirty. What’s wrong with us earning a bit more?”
Xue Li quickly soothed her, “This is only the original flavor cheese cake. The price of the classic version shouldn’t be too high. Once we develop new flavors in the future, it won’t be too late to raise the price appropriately.”
“A’li, you can actually make other flavors?” Jiang Xiyu beamed at the news. “Is it sweetened Euryale seed? Crystal soap pod? Or fragrant candy fruit?”
Hearing these bizarre flavors, Xue Li felt her vision go dark. If those things were really put into a Basque cheesecake, what kind of unimaginable “dark cuisine” would they become?
“There’s no rush. Let’s sell the original flavor for a while first.”
As the two were planning the bright future of the Treasure Delicacies Shop, Xue Li’s gaze shifted and saw the young lady from before—the one in the scarlet skirt who was dressed quite well—slowly walking toward the shop.