Chapter 6: Delivering Summer Cakes

 

At the Beginning of Summer, Lin Yan didn't return from the ministry offices until the evening bell tolled across Chang'an, its deep reverberations marking the day's official end. His grandmother had been waiting to share dinner with him, as she always did when he worked late.

After washing away the day's dust and changing from his formal crimson robes into comfortable casual clothes, Lin Yan made his way to his grandmother's courtyard. The familiar path through the residence felt longer when he was tired, but he wouldn't dream of disappointing her.

"Elder Brother, you're back!" Madam Jiang's face lit up with pure joy, her expression transforming from patient waiting to radiant welcome.

Lin Yan smiled gently at the greeting—the wrong title, the confused identity, none of it mattered when she looked so happy. "I told you not to wait for me. You shouldn't go hungry on my account."

"How could I not wait? With Father and Mother gone, eating alone is so terribly dull." Madam Jiang first pouted with theatrical displeasure, then her face softened into a smile again, mercurial as always. "Besides, what's the point of all this fine food if there's no one to share it with?"

Lin Yan possessed long, narrow eyes that slanted slightly upward at the outer corners, but with an unusually straight middle section—an atypical phoenix eye shape that could appear cold and unapproachable when his face was in repose. But now, as his eyes curved in genuine warmth, his entire countenance softened. The stern official dissolved, revealing the devoted grandson beneath.

"What did you do at home today?"

"I made sachets with Ah Chang—it's the Beginning of Summer today, so we needed fresh ones." Madam Jiang's hands moved expressively as she spoke, miming the stitching motions. "We filled them with mugwort and calamus. The fragrance is supposed to ward off illness during the hot months ahead."

"Oh, is it already?" Lin Yan ladled a bowl of vegetable and egg drop soup for his grandmother, testing the temperature with the back of his hand before placing it before her. "I'm afraid I lost track of the calendar entirely."

Since only grandmother and grandson were dining—the household staff having eaten earlier in their own quarters—rather than serving food separately in individual settings, they'd gathered around one large table as in more casual times. It made the meal feel less formal, more intimate. Less like a noble household maintaining proper ceremony, more like an actual family.

"I knew you'd be too busy to remember the festival!" Madam Jiang moved two plates of cakes toward the center of the table with proprietorial satisfaction. "These are our homemade red date cakes—I supervised the kitchen myself. And these are from various households sending seasonal greetings. I picked one or two of each kind. Try them and tell me which taste better. Our kitchen needs honest assessment, you know."

Lin Yan suppressed a smile at her competitive spirit regarding household management. Today at court, the Emperor had bestowed seasonal cakes and pastries upon his officials—a tradition marking the festival. At the Capital Prefecture office, lunch had included mandatory cake consumption amid much ceremonial commentary. And now at home, two more substantial plates of cakes sat before him, demanding his attention and critique.

Meeting his grandmother's eager, expectant gaze—how could he possibly refuse?—Lin Yan smiled and picked up one of the date cakes.

He took a careful bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Our date cakes are very good this year, though there's perhaps a bit too much milk in the preparation."

Not just milk—there was frankly too much sugar as well, though he'd never say so directly. His grandmother's palate had dulled considerably with advancing age, her ability to perceive subtle flavors diminishing year by year. So the kitchen, acting with the best intentions, made everything more pronounced to suit her altered taste—more sugar, more spice, more of everything until dishes became almost caricatures of themselves.

Lin Yan discreetly sipped some tea to wash down the overwhelmingly sweet pastry, then picked up one of the white round offerings from the other plate. It looked interesting—pristine and perfectly formed.

Taking a bite, he found the glutinous rice wrapper possessed excellent chewiness, yielding yet substantial. The filling proved to be fine bean paste, smooth and well-strained, with just the right amount of sweetness. Somewhat reminiscent of the palace's famous rouge cakes, but not nearly as cloying. It was surprisingly, genuinely good—perhaps the best summer cake he'd tasted all day.

"Which household sent these?"

The maidservant standing attentively behind Madam Jiang's chair answered immediately, "From Guangming Temple next door, my lord."

Madam Jiang smiled too, clearly pleased. "Their Master Ciming makes such wonderful assorted wontons—I didn't expect their cakes would be equally excellent. We really must send them a generous offering in return."

No one in the room corrected Madam Jiang's mistake—that Guangming Temple's current abbess was Master Yuanjue, not Master Ciming. Master Ciming had been the abbess of Hedong's Jingxin Temple and had passed away more than twenty years ago. The servants had learned long ago that such corrections only agitated her, creating confusion and distress where there had been contentment.

Just as no one reminded her that seated before her was her grandson Lin Yan, not her elder brother from childhood—a brother who had died decades ago, long before Lin Yan was even born.

They simply let her live in the gentler reality her aging mind had constructed, where lost loved ones remained present and time moved according to its own fluid logic.

Madam Jiang continued talking animatedly about Master Ciming's legendary milk-soup carp, her hands gesturing to indicate the size of the bowl. "The soup was so rich, milky white and aromatic, with floating bits of tender scallion providing just the right contrast. So delicious! I can still taste it, even though it must have been... oh, some time ago now."

"Next time when we have fresh carp delivered, we'll have the kitchen prepare it that way too." Lin Yan placed some shredded bamboo shoots on his grandmother's small plate, adding vegetables to balance her meal. "I'll make sure they get the recipe exactly right."

His grandmother beamed at him, reaching over to pat his hand with affection.

---

After dinner and chatting with his grandmother for a comfortable while—listening to more stories about people and places from a past he'd never known—Lin Yan finally withdrew to his own quarters.

In his study, Manager Zhou presented the day's gift lists and return gift lists with characteristic efficiency. Though the occasion was nominally just the Beginning of Summer cakes exchange, who would actually send only cakes? That would be laughably insufficient for maintaining proper social relationships.

Each household had sent elaborate gifts alongside their seasonal offerings—fine teas, bolts of silk, rare medicines, expensive incense, jars of preserved delicacies. Each list ran impressively long, cataloging the complex web of obligations and alliances that defined Chang'an's elite society.

Manager Zhou was exceptionally experienced in handling such gifts and orchestrating appropriate returns. Lin Yan only briefly scanned through the lists—noting a few particularly significant names and ensuring nothing had been overlooked—before handing them back with a satisfied nod.

Manager Zhou added with a practiced smile, "Two temples also sent cakes as is customary, and we gave them the standard basket money." He paused, ensuring his master was listening. "Since the young master neither reveres Buddha nor believes in Taoism, we simply followed the capital's general customs regarding visiting clergy. No need for excessive generosity, but sufficient to maintain good relations with the neighborhood."

Lin Yan nodded with indifference, his attention already drifting to the official documents requiring his review. "Handle it as you see fit. Your judgment in these matters has always been sound."

Manager Zhou, presuming on years of service and considerable closeness to the family, ventured further with careful diplomacy. "Young Master should truly consider taking a wife soon. Having a proper mistress of the household to handle these social obligations would be far more appropriate than leaving everything to servants. The neighbors talk, you know."

Lin Yan gave a noncommittal "Mm" without looking up from the document he'd begun reading.

Manager Zhou studied his master's profile, genuinely confused by the response. Was that agreement to the suggestion, or merely acknowledgment that words had been spoken? Should he begin inquiring about suitable matches among the capital's eligible young ladies, or maintain the current state of bachelorhood?

The official continued reading as though the steward had already left.

Manager Zhou sighed internally and withdrew, none the wiser about his master's matrimonial intentions.

---

Shen Shaoguang also ate cakes all day, though her experience was considerably different from Lin Yan's obligatory official consumption.

The temple received numerous worshippers bringing offerings throughout the Beginning of Summer—incense, flowers, food, and of course, seasonal cakes. What the Buddha didn't consume (which was, practically speaking, everything) naturally went to the nuns afterward. Some households had received the temple's own cakes earlier and sent basket money along with their own summer cake offerings in return, resulting in quite an impressive collection of various pastries accumulating in the temple kitchen.

Jing Qing picked out two plates of the finest specimens and personally brought them to Shen Shaoguang's quarters, smiling with genuine warmth. "Thanks to Benefactor Shen's guidance these past days, we made truly excellent summer cakes that brought considerable honor to our temple. The Duke of Lu's wife and Secretary Ye's wife personally praised them, saying they matched the quality of palace banquet pastries."

She didn't mention that the basket money received had been notably more generous than in previous years—a tangible measure of satisfaction that pleased the temple's accounts considerably.

During festivals, temples sending food to households served two strategic purposes: maintaining beneficial relationships and diplomatically soliciting donations. No proper household would let the temple representatives return with empty baskets—they would place valuables inside, called "basket money." This was an accepted, dignified way for temples to earn income without the vulgarity of direct begging.

Shen Shaoguang naturally told her not to be so formal. "You're too kind. I merely shared some techniques I happened to know."

"We've eaten so many good things from Benefactor Shen over these weeks. Today I've kept the best offerings we received for you to sample—let you taste what others consider excellent."

Shen Shaoguang smiled with genuine pleasure. "Then I'll taste them carefully to see which are truly exceptional, and perhaps learn some new recipes to copy later. One can always improve one's skills."

Jing Qing laughed, her competitive pride showing through. "Not to boast, but in my entirely objective opinion, none are better than the ones we sent out under your guidance."

Shen Shaoguang's smile deepened. She knew Jing Qing was profoundly grateful for the help with the festival preparations. This nun might not possess great insight into complex Buddhist teachings or be particularly clever about temple politics, but she was fundamentally honest and sincere—qualities that had earned her the trust of all the temple's residents, from the abbess down to the newest novice.

Shen Shaoguang brewed tea with her remaining preserved peony flowers—the last of the batch she'd made, their fragrance still remarkable—and they settled in to drink tea and sample pastries together, a companionable afternoon stretching before them.

"Did Master Jing Qing deliver these cakes personally to every household?"

"How could I possibly deliver them all? I only went to several important households within this ward and some familiar ones in adjacent areas where we have established relationships. The rest were delivered by other sisters according to their assigned routes. We had it quite organized."

Shen Shaoguang nodded, impressed by the logistics involved.

Perhaps because she was feeling particularly happy today—the festival had clearly been a resounding success—Jing Qing relaxed her usual discretion and began sharing gossip about the capital's wealthy households. The kind of insider knowledge that came from years of carefully observing the families that supported the temple.

"The Duke of Lu's household grows increasingly grand with each passing year. If we hadn't established contact long ago, we probably couldn't even enter their gate now—their servants have become quite particular about whom they admit." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "It shows that Concubine Su truly is deeply favored in the palace. Her family rises with her status."

Shen Shaoguang nodded knowingly. Concubine Su was indeed one of the Emperor's current favorites, enjoying influence that extended well beyond the palace walls into the political sphere.

"I wonder what kind of extraordinary beauty Concubine Su must be?" Jing Qing mused softly, her imagination clearly engaged. "Though the Duke's wife is certainly imposing in bearing and commands respect, her actual looks aren't particularly remarkable—handsome perhaps, but not beautiful. However, their Second Miss is genuinely a great beauty. Stunning, really."

When engaging in gossip, the worst social error is to only listen without contributing, making the exchange feel one-sided and creating awkwardness. So Shen Shaoguang shared what she knew from the original body's memories and palace connections:

"The current Duchess of Lu is actually the second wife. Concubine Su was left behind by the first wife—she's not the current Duchess's daughter at all. Though I'm not entirely certain which wife produced this famous Second Miss everyone speaks of."

Jing Qing acted as though suddenly understanding some previously confusing detail, nodding with exaggerated comprehension. Then she added thoughtfully, "Judging by their looks, they certainly don't seem to be birth mother and daughter—the features are quite different. But they're remarkably close in their interactions, very affectionate with each other. No tension whatsoever." She sighed with admiration. "The Duchess is truly virtuous and refined to treat a stepdaughter so well!"

Shen Shaoguang agreed diplomatically, keeping her actual thoughts to herself. "Truly virtuous and refined indeed."

"Not only has Second Miss grown more beautiful with each year—she was merely pretty as a child, but now she's genuinely stunning—but she's also become increasingly devoted to Buddhist affairs. Very pious." Jing Qing's expression brightened with the self-satisfaction of having secured an important patron. "Hearing that we're located in Chongxian Ward, not far at all from the Duke's mansion, she expressed interest in staying here a few days to worship Buddha and pray for blessings. Isn't that wonderful for the temple?"

Shen Shaoguang continued the polite conversational flow. "She sounds like a devout young lady. The temple will surely benefit from her presence."

She meant it as mere courtesy, the sort of pleasant nothing one said to keep conversation moving.

---

Within a few days, Shen Shaoguang discovered she'd become neighbors with this supposedly devout young lady.

The Duke of Lu's Second Miss arrived at Guangming Temple with considerable fanfare—servants, trunks, her personal maid, enough provisions to suggest she planned an extended stay. She took up residence in the temple's finest guest quarters, the rooms usually reserved for the most generous donors.

Shen Shaoguang, hearing the commotion from her more modest accommodations, reflected on the irony of the situation. She'd fled to this temple seeking quiet obscurity, a place to live simply while building her small breakfast business.

Now apparently, she'd be sharing the grounds with nobility.

She could only hope this devout young lady's Buddhist devotions would keep her thoroughly occupied in the main temple halls, far from Shen Shaoguang's own quiet corner of the compound.

Though knowing her luck—which had been decidedly mixed since arriving in this world—that seemed unlikely.

The Beginning of Summer had brought many things: seasonal cakes, generous donations, neighborhood gossip, and now, an aristocratic temporary neighbor whose presence would undoubtedly complicate Shen Shaoguang's carefully constructed peaceful existence.

She sighed, poured herself another cup of peony tea, and decided to worry about it tomorrow.

Tonight, she still had leftover red bean paste cakes to finish.

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