Chapter 75: Chapter 75

Stepping out of the Ji Manor gates, Shen Xiuhan found the night already deep, lanterns flickering to life along both sides of the lane.

He made a stop at Wutong Lane, where he packed up seven or eight varieties of pastries from Zhang’s. The sweet fragrance bled through the oiled paper, enough to make anyone’s mouth water.

Paper bundle in hand, he walked south. Before long, the familiar compound came into view.

From the half-open curtain of the shop front to the left of the courtyard gate, the murmur of diners’ laughter drifted out.

“Now that’s a bowl of blanket noodles! Rich, clear broth, chewy sheets of dough — calling this the best noodles in Changyun County wouldn’t be a stretch!”

“Ha ha ha! Didn’t I tell you, Brother Liu? A month or so back I was wandering around the county and stumbled on this Shen Family Eatery. Don’t let the small front fool you — the neighbors all pile in here, every last one hunched over a big bowl, slurping away. One look at that and I knew the flavor had to be solid!”

“Solid’s an understatement. This trip was worth every step. You’ve got a sharp tongue, Brother Zhang!”

Chatter and laughter floated out from inside, punctuated now and then by the bright clink of chopsticks against bowls.

Shen Xiuhan carried his bundle of pastries to the shop front and lifted the curtain for a look.

It was already past nightfall, yet three of the five square tables were still occupied.

Each diner cradled an oversized ceramic bowl, noisily slurping noodles. Small dishes of cold sides dotted the tables.

Cucumbers had been smacked open and tossed with garlic paste and vinegar — just looking at them whetted the appetite.

Those with a few extra coins to spare had a pot of warm wine at their elbow.

The wine wasn’t brewed in-house. It was a cheap dried-gourd spirit bought wholesale from Old Sun on the west side of town — a few wen of markup for the trouble.

Shen Xiuhan glanced around. No sign of Shen Momo.

A rhythmic chop-chop-chop of vegetables came from the kitchen — Madam Zheng, busy at work.

The rich aroma of bone broth filled the shop. Shen Xiuhan’s hand found his stomach. He’d been on the road for days without a proper meal, and the smell set his cravings roaring.

A spark of mischief came over him. He deliberately roughened his voice.

“Shopkeeper! A bowl of noodles, if you please!”

“Coming right up! Find yourself a seat, sir — noodles will be right out!”

Madam Zheng’s shout rang from the kitchen — crisp, loud, and full of energy.

Shen Xiuhan’s lips curled into a smile.

Madam Zheng had spent the better part of her life in hardship. Before, she’d scraped by doing laundry and patchwork for others, and her manner had always been meek and timid — she’d shrink three inches the moment she opened her mouth.

Hearing that call today, he knew these weeks of running her own shop had filled her with confidence. She’d opened up considerably.

Before long, the door curtain swung aside.

Madam Zheng came bustling out with a steaming bowl and set it on the table.

“Take your time, sir—”

She stopped mid-sentence. Her voice cut off.

Shen Xiuhan looked up, grinning. “Ma, business is good.”

“Da— Dalang…”

Madam Zheng froze in place. Her eyes went red in an instant. Caught between laughter and exasperation, she untied her apron and swatted his shoulder.

“You! Coming home without so much as a word ahead of time — teasing your own Ma for fun!”

The commotion drew curious looks from the neighboring tables. The diners turned and chuckled good-naturedly.

Beaming, Madam Zheng sliced up a plate of cold sides, warmed a pot of wine, and brought them over. She leaned in and asked softly, “Dalang, are you back for a rest day?”

Shen Xiuhan hoisted a fat bunch of noodles into his mouth with his chopsticks. The flavor of bone broth flooded his palate.

He nodded, words muffled by food. “Mm, I can rest two or three days. Then it’s back to the island for duty.”

“Two or three days is fine, just fine…”

Madam Zheng nodded rapidly, wiping her hands on her apron. “You eat first — let me go finish up the pots and bowls in back. We’re closing early tonight!”

With that, she swept into the kitchen like a small whirlwind.

By the time Shen Xiuhan had polished off his bowl — broth and all, not a drop left — the last of the walk-in customers had settled their tabs and filed out.

He helped his mother clear the dishes and bowls from the tables, then asked after his little sister Momo.

Hearing the girl was playing in the back courtyard, he picked up the oiled-paper bundle, lightened his steps, and crept around to the rear.

In the back courtyard, by the chicken coop in the corner.

Shen Momo squatted on the ground, her hair done up in two little ram’s-horn braids. Her small hands cupped a mix of chopped feed, which she was tipping into the wooden trough bit by bit.

The little girl muttered away under her breath.

“Clucky, Quacky, and Goosey — you have to eat your din-din in big bites like Momo, okay? Otherwise you won’t grow tall, and you won’t be strong enough to help Gege fight the bad—eek!”

Before she could finish, two big hands reached from behind and hooked under her armpits, scooping her clean off the ground.

Momo yelped in fright.

Her little legs kicked wildly in midair, and she was about to squirm and scream —

Then she froze for half a second, eyes going wide with delight, and flung her arms around his neck.

“Gege! You’re back!”

“Ha ha, you little glutton — look what I’ve got!”

Shen Xiuhan bounced her in his arms, grinning, and held up the oiled-paper bundle.

The little girl sniffed the air. Stars practically lit up in her big round eyes. She smacked her lips, and her pudgy little arms — like sections of lotus root — wrapped around Shen Xiuhan’s cheeks in a burst of wheedling.

“Osmanthus cake! It’s Zhang’s osmanthus cake, isn’t it? Gege, Momo wants some!”

“Ha ha, that nose of yours! Here, take it.”

Shen Xiuhan set her down and pressed the paper bundle into her arms.

The little girl tore it open without a moment’s patience, fished out a mung bean cake, and took a massive “CHOMP” that demolished half of it in one go. Her cheeks puffed out like a little squirrel’s.

“Cluck-cluck… cluck-cluck-cluck!”

Shen Xiuhan was just ruffling Momo’s hair when a flurry of urgent clucking erupted at his feet.

He looked down. Three fist-sized chicks with fuzzy green-tinged feathers were puffing up their stubby little wings, standing guard in front of the feed trough. They craned their tiny necks, their beady round eyes glaring up at Shen Xiuhan with fierce suspicion.

“Oh — they hatched?”

Shen Xiuhan’s face lit up.

That faint green sheen on their down was unmistakable. These were definitely chicks from the Azure Spike Fowl eggs.

“Gege, the chickies came out of their shell-shells ten yesterdays ago…”

The little girl clutched her half-eaten mung bean cake and pointed at each chick with great solemnity.

“Momo gave them all names! This one’s Clucky, that one’s Quacky, and the one on the end is Goosey…”

Shen Xiuhan didn’t know what to say.

The three green fluffballs looked like they’d been stamped from the same mold. He genuinely had no idea how this girl told them apart.

Before he could press the issue, Madam Zheng had already closed up the shop front, dropped the bolt, and herded both children inside. She lit the oil lamp.

The family of three settled around the lamp, and the usual flurry of catching up followed.

Shen Xiuhan kept his stories light — fishing and shrimping on the island, the lake scenery, harmless little adventures.

Momo’s eyes went round with wonder. She latched onto his sleeve and kicked up a fuss, insisting she wanted to go to the island too.

It took a sharp look from Madam Zheng and two solid smacks on her little backside before the girl gave up, pouting and aggrieved.

Between bouts of chatter, Madam Zheng caught him up on the household news.

Since the move to the inner city, all the old neighbors from the outer-city shantytown had dropped by to visit.

Uncle Chen and Auntie Li had brought eggs.

Chen An, though, hadn’t shown his face.

Word was he’d gotten into some kind of scuffle at the gambling den with some Bai family men and taken a blade wound.

Nothing serious — no damage to bone or sinew. He’d spent a few days resting at home and was already back on his feet.

Bringing this up, Madam Zheng was full of thankfulness it hadn’t been worse.

Fighting and killing day in and day out — never knowing today if you’d see tomorrow — how could that compare to the steady life of running a little noodle shop?

The blanket noodles had been building a reputation among the nearby streets and lanes.

After expenses, the daily take came to a clean fifty or sixty wen profit.

It meant getting up before dawn and working until well past dark, true enough.

But add it all up, and they’d save over a dozen taels of silver in a year.

The dim lamplight swayed, casting its warm glow across Madam Zheng’s smiling face.

The care and worry of half a lifetime had melted clean away. All that remained was the deep, quiet contentment of a woman at peace with her lot.

A son and a daughter, both safe and sound. A life, steady and secure.

The days were getting better.