After about another month of searching and saving, Shen Shaoguang finally found a suitable shop. Located not far from the ward gate, it boasted the ideal layout of a front shop with back living quarters. The small storefront measured only about ten square meters and had previously operated as a mutton shop. The elderly owner had suffered a bad fall during rainy weather, injuring his leg so badly that even after recovery, he could no longer manage the demanding physical work. Having no children or grandchildren to pass the business to, he'd decided to rent out the front shop to earn some living expenses for his remaining years.
Most shops in the ward rented both front and back quarters as a package deal. Renting just the storefront wasn't common practice, but it happened to suit Shen Shaoguang perfectly—she already had a place to live, and her capital remained limited. The two parties quickly reached an agreement that satisfied both sides.
After several potential tenants had rejected the run-down space, the old man had given up hope of charging high rent. He offered the small shop to Shen Shaoguang for five hundred copper coins monthly—a reasonable price for the location. Shen Shaoguang agreed without haggling, signed the contract that very day, paid a full year's rent in advance to secure the space, and immediately began renovating with A-Yuan's enthusiastic help.
The condition was worse than she'd initially thought. The walls were covered in years upon years of accumulated fly droppings, layers of grease, and even old mutton blood stains that had soaked into the plaster. The floor was nothing but packed earth with various holes and uneven dips that had formed over time, and there were two greasy, moth-eaten broken tables left behind—truly an unsightly mess that made Shen Shaoguang's nose wrinkle.
After the initial cleaning and throwing out all the broken, unsalvageable items, Shen Shaoguang hired workers to whitewash the walls until they gleamed fresh and clean. She made the considerable effort to travel all the way to suburban brick kilns, where she bought some imperfect blue bricks at a discount for new flooring. From skilled carpenters, she ordered custom-made work counters, proper dining tables, and practical folding stools that customers could easily move. She also made a trip to the bustling West Market to buy cups, plates, bowls, and chopsticks—everything needed to run a proper establishment.
Renting the shop had cost five taels of silver, and all this renovation had consumed another five taels, making Shen Shaoguang's heart ache terribly at the mounting expense. Well, she told herself firmly, it's an investment—every copper coin would eventually be earned back with profit.
Without bothering to choose an auspicious date or hold any grand ceremony, Shen's Food Shop quietly opened its doors for business.
Having cleverly advertised by word of mouth while selling pancakes at the ward gate during the previous two days, some of her regular pancake customers managed to find their way to the new location. Among them was that breakfast-buying proxy, Master Liu—who surprisingly arrived carrying a small pot of blooming peonies as a congratulatory gift.
"Congratulations on opening your food shop, young lady," Liu Feng said with a shy smile, carefully placing the flower pot on the windowsill where it would catch the morning light.
This gesture went well beyond the normal relationship between a street vendor and a regular customer. Just as Shen Shaoguang opened her mouth to politely refuse such a personal gift, Master Liu gave a slight, awkward bow and hurriedly left, not even waiting to collect the double-egg pancake she'd just finished making for him.
"Ah—" Shen Shaoguang pressed her lips together, smiled helplessly at the situation, and turned to hand the still-warm pancake to A-Yuan instead.
A-Yuan had already eaten three zongzi, one pancake, and a full bowl of porridge that morning, but when Shen Shaoguang offered her the unexpected extra pancake, she took it without the slightest hesitation and started eating with obvious pleasure.
"Young lady," A-Yuan whispered halfway through devouring the pancake, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear, "could it be that Master Liu has taken a liking to you?"
Shen Shaoguang quickly glanced outside to ensure the customer who had purchased zongzi earlier had already gone far down the street and couldn't possibly overhear.
"Don't say such things carelessly in the future," Shen Shaoguang admonished gently but firmly. Nothing in the world was more embarrassing than presuming someone's romantic interest without foundation.
A-Yuan thought for a moment, her brow furrowing. "That's true—if he were genuinely interested, he should send a proper matchmaker to make inquiries. What kind of unclear gesture is this supposed to be?"
"…" Shen Shaoguang raised an eyebrow at A-Yuan—that was quite an unexpectedly shrewd perspective! Could this seemingly simple little girl actually be one of those people who appeared naive on the surface but were quite clever underneath?
A-Yuan smiled innocently, focused entirely on her food. "The double-egg pancake is much tastier than the single-egg version."
Shen Shaoguang smiled warmly. "If we manage to earn more than three thousand copper coins this month, I'll make you double-egg pancakes every single morning."
But A-Yuan immediately waved her hands in protest. "No need, no need at all! Let's save money first. Doesn't the young lady want to buy a proper house someday?"
Surprised and touched that the girl had remembered her casual mention of this dream, Shen Shaoguang reached over and patted her arm affectionately. "We can certainly afford to feed you properly. Don't worry about that."
Having her own dedicated space allowed Shen Shaoguang to finally diversify her food offerings in ways she'd only dreamed about before. Mornings remained busy, mainly devoted to selling pancakes along with the previous night's carefully prepared zongzi and rice cakes. She also offered fresh soy milk bought each dawn from the tofu shop, which she kept warm on a small stove as an ready beverage for customers who wanted something hot to drink.
During the quieter daytime hours, there was plenty of time to leisurely prepare various fillings and make different types of pointed steamed buns, or create seasonal flower cakes that changed with what was available in the market.
The pointed steamed buns, known in the imperial palace by the elegant name "jade-pointed bread," were essentially just uniquely shaped buns—pointed on top with a strategic bit of filling showing through the dough to tempt the eye and appetite.
Her shop's pointed buns naturally couldn't hope to compare with the elaborate palace versions, where skilled imperial cooks made artistic "bear-consuming" and "deer-storing" styles, and even the common everyday ones were elegantly shaped like "quail wings" or "crab roe." Shen Shaoguang chose to make something more accessible—simple pork buns that ordinary people could afford.
Though mutton was tremendously popular throughout the current dynasty, Shen Shaoguang remained an enthusiastic pork devotee, believing it was the most "sweetly rich" and satisfying meat in the entire world—and, if she was being completely honest, also because it was relatively cheap compared to other options.
But making ordinary large meat buns wouldn't come close to satisfying Shen Shaoguang's perfectionist eating habits and high standards for flavor. After much consideration, she decided to make xiaolongbao—delicate small basket soup dumplings that would showcase her skills.
In the future world she remembered, many places in both North and South China would make excellent xiaolongbao, with the versions from Huaiyang cuisine becoming particularly famous and celebrated. But regardless of regional origin or style, the secret to achieving that wonderful soup inside always lay in properly prepared meat aspic. Whether the soup would successfully emerge when bitten, and whether it tasted delicious, depended entirely on the cook's skill in mixing fillings and making dough with just the right texture.
Shen Shaoguang wasn't a professionally trained chef with years of formal education, and she had an easy-going personality that didn't obsess over rigid authenticity or traditional methods. She cared only about achieving excellent taste and followed her own preferences without guilt. Besides making the most common pure meat filling that everyone expected, she worried it might prove too rich and heavy for some palates, so she also created versions featuring fresh bamboo shoots and fragrant mountain mushrooms to provide variety.
She first tasted all the versions carefully with A-Yuan, wanting an honest opinion.
When A-Yuan bit into her first dumpling, the hot soup immediately flowed out in a rush. She quickly tried to suck it all up before it could escape, and though Shen Shaoguang hurriedly called out "Be careful, it's hot!", her warning came too late—the eager maid had already burned her tongue on the scalding broth.
Even with her tongue clearly burned, A-Yuan refused to spit out that precious mouthful of soup, determinedly swallowing it down despite the pain. Shen Shaoguang could only shake her head helplessly at such dedication.
After the two of them had eaten an entire basket of each variety, with Shen Shaoguang repeatedly assuring A-Yuan that "there would be plenty more of these in the future, so don't worry," the girl reluctantly put down her chopsticks, looking genuinely regretful. When Shen Shaoguang asked which version tasted best, A-Yuan blinked her eyes innocently, looking troubled and confused. "How can I possibly compare them?" she admitted. "I was too busy eating to pay proper attention!"
Well, Shen Shaoguang thought with amusement, she was just like Zhu Bajie eating the precious ginseng fruit in the classic tale—swallowing it whole without taking time to savor!
Shen Shaoguang personally preferred the bamboo shoot version, enjoying its subtle bamboo fragrance and how it felt less heavy and rich on the palate. But reality soon proved her personal taste was somewhat off from popular preference—the pure meat version sold far better than any other variety, flying out of the steamers faster than she could make them.
The soup dumplings looked absolutely beautiful too. Though she couldn't manage the traditional eighteen perfect pleats that master dumpling makers achieved, they were still quite presentable and attractive—this was a cherished childhood skill, taught personally by her grandmother from her previous life who had run a successful bun shop in Tianjin for decades. In terms of appearance alone, they looked substantially better than the currently popular jade-pointed buns and regular meat buns sold elsewhere, with their delicate pleating and neat presentation.
Moreover, the filling was wonderfully fragrant, and the surprise of hot soup bursting forth inside delighted every customer who tried them.
Once Shen Shaoguang's soup dumplings became genuinely popular, she discovered that at mealtimes she couldn't steam them nearly fast enough to meet the overwhelming demand. Customers crowded into the small shop and formed long queues stretching outside, forcing Shen Shaoguang to create numbered waiting tickets made from small bamboo strips to prevent angry disputes over who had arrived first. She honestly hadn't known there was such tremendous demand for quality buns in this particular ward.
Later, overhearing customers chatting while they waited, she learned with amazement that some people were actually traveling from other wards specifically to try her dumplings. Shen Shaoguang felt somewhat dazed by this revelation—at this remarkable rate of growth, could she actually get rich selling buns? Could she even expand enough to go public on some future equivalent of the New Third Board?
It wasn't particularly surprising that Shen Shaoguang entertained such wild, ambitious dreams. Being made with pure meat filling, the soup dumplings were naturally positioned as mid-to-high-end pastries rather than cheap street food. Each individual dumpling yielded about four copper coins in net profit after costs, and since they were quite small, a normal adult with decent appetite would easily eat at least one full basket of six dumplings—generating twenty-four copper coins of profit. That was enough money to buy seven or eight ordinary flatbreads!
The coins were accumulating faster than she'd dared hope. Perhaps that dream of buying her own house wasn't so impossible after all.
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