The autumn wind drifted lightly through the ward—gentle, crisp, and carrying the sort of air that made people crave fresh fish and fattened crabs. While scholars waxed poetic about “thoughts of water shield and perch,” Shen Shaoguang came home with something far less refined: two enormous catfish, each more than two chi long.
Catfish were hardly delicacies. Compared to mandarin fish, bream, perch, or carp, they were considered coarse—there was even a poem calling them “slimy and stubborn.” But Shen Shaoguang wasn’t a connoisseur; she was a shopkeeper, and good ingredients simply meant good meals.
Catfish, being carnivorous, had astonishing vitality. Even out of water, they thrashed with enough force to sting your calves. Truly, “stubborn” suited them well.
Unsure how to kill them, she couldn’t help reminiscing about fishmongers in her past life—professionals who handled everything from gutting to filleting. How convenient that had been.
From the neighboring fabric shop, Madam Li spotted the two hefty fish and exclaimed, “These catfish are so plump! Though I worry they might taste muddy!” Then she added with a smile, “But with Young Lady Shen’s skilled hands, I’m sure they’ll taste different.”
Shen Shaoguang told her, “Add some wine and ginger while cooking to remove the muddy taste.”
Madam Li—an eager student of Shen’s kitchen secrets—brightened immediately. “What kind of wine? How much?”
Adjusting her grip on the slippery, heavy fish, Shen Shaoguang explained patiently: cleaning the black membrane, the role of ginger and wine, the touch of vinegar. Madam Li nodded so fervently that if she could write, she would have taken notes right there on the spot.
Once Madam Li left, Shen Shaoguang hauled the fish down the narrow alley behind the shop.
Knowing Shen Shaoguang couldn’t bear to kill anything, A-Yuan picked up a wooden club. “I’ll do it!”
Shen Shaoguang stepped aside at once. If someone had to do the dirty work, better it be the fearless heroine.
A-Yuan raised the club and swung at the catfish’s head.
But watching her move with the fierceness of Wu Erlang slaying a tiger—and remembering how she once dragged two drunken men like sacks of grain—Shen Shaoguang panicked. “Don’t smash it too hard!”
A-Yuan adjusted immediately, but the slippery catfish seized its final chance and launched over her head. Both girls shrieked, then burst into breathless laughter.
“Let’s just leave them,” Shen Shaoguang giggled. “They can’t survive long without water anyway!”
But A-Yuan, far braver than Shen Shaoguang, pinned the fish firmly to the slate near the vat and dispatched it with two clean hits. She did the same to the second fish, earning a big thumbs-up.
“The big fish head is yours today!” Shen Shaoguang declared. They both adored fish heads.
Catfish, fatty and tender yet muddy-tasting, was perfect for red-braising. After coating the prepared pieces in cornstarch and giving them a quick fry, she moved on to the aromatic part—sugar for color, then green onions, ginger, peppercorns, cardamom, dill seeds, wine, soy sauce, vinegar…
Then came the finishing touch: large chunks of eggplant, a trick she’d learned from a northeastern neighbor in her past life who used to say, “Catfish stewed with eggplant—enough to stuff the old master.”
Whether Tang-dynasty masters felt the same was debatable, but the aroma was irresistible. It drifted through the street—and lured an uninvited guest.
“Is that stewed fish? I could smell it just passing by the door.”
Shen Shaoguang smiled. Third Lady Lu had arrived, drawn by both fragrance and the chance to spar. Even without a scent trail, this woman would drop by just to trade verbal jabs. Shen suspected she might even enjoy being teased.
But she wasn’t the only one. Two regular customers poked their heads inside, asking, “Are you selling fish today?”
“No,” Shen Shaoguang laughed. “If you come for drinks in the evening, I’ll serve you a bowl.”
They declined politely but insisted she really ought to add some fish dishes to her menu. She made a note of it.
Third Lady Lu clicked her tongue. “Young Lady is still so good with words!”
Shen Shaoguang sighed with mock modesty. “I don’t mean to be—I just can’t help being naturally clever.”
Third Lady Lu fell silent, defeated in this round of banter. She wandered around, eyeing the new carpet in the shop—one piece worth several hundred wen. The shop truly was prosperous.
A moment later, a plump woman in her forties entered, wearing a brown floral silk robe and silver hairpins. She smiled warmly. “Young Lady’s cooking smells wonderful!”
…It was just stewed fish. Why was everyone so dramatic today?
But the woman hadn’t come for food. She laughed softly and said:
“Congratulations to Young Lady!”
Third Lady Lu, already preparing to leave, froze and sat back down immediately.
Shen Shaoguang invited the woman to sit and poured her a milk drink. “What congratulations might this be?”
“I am Madam Jiang, a professional matchmaker. Someone has asked me to present a marriage proposal to Young Lady.”
Third Lady Lu’s eyes grew round as plates.
Shen Shaoguang smiled politely, though she felt a flicker of surprise. “Oh? Which worthy young gentleman might it be?”
“It’s Clerk Liu from the Capital Prefecture.”
She blinked. Liu Fenghe? That quiet, mild-mannered official who once bought seven sets of pancakes? He was pursuing her—and sending a formal matchmaker?
She recalled a saying from her previous life: “The greatest respect a man can show a woman is to marry her.” A bit simplistic—but in this case, given his background and her own precarious identity, it was undeniably sincere.
Third Lady Lu tugged on her sleeve. “Which Capital Prefecture Clerk is this?”
Seeing her thoughtful, Madam Jiang continued gently: Master Liu’s family, his grandfather the former Magistrate of Nanyang, his elderly mother and younger brother back home, his passing the Mingjiang exam, his age, his character.
Shen Shaoguang thought: he was a good match. A pleasant man. If she had simply been a girl from a fallen family—without the stain of being a criminal official’s daughter—she might have accepted. They could have grown feelings slowly, lived a peaceful life, raised children…
But now? She could not drag him into her troubles.
She smiled at the matchmaker. “Marriage is a serious matter that requires careful consideration. May I have a few days to think it over?”
“Of course,” Madam Jiang said.
Shen Shaoguang added, “With my parents gone, I must shamelessly handle things myself. I have something I’d like to discuss with Master Liu in person. Please let him know.”
After the matchmaker left, she turned to find Third Lady Lu staring in outrage.
“Young Lady won’t agree… Could it be that this Clerk Liu is ugly?”
Shen Shaoguang almost laughed. “He’s not ugly at all—he’s the one you mocked for buying seven sets of pancakes.”
Third Lady Lu’s face twisted. That man had been tall, decent-looking, and wore an official’s cyan robe.
“If Third Lady fancies him as a son-in-law… the matchmaker hasn’t gone far, you can still catch up,” Shen Shaoguang said lightly.
Third Lady Lu was once again silenced. Finally, she snapped, “Young Lady shouldn’t be too proud! What do you have to be so proud of?”
Shen Shaoguang considered it seriously. “Perhaps it’s my cooking skills, cleverness, and ability to make money?”
Third Lady Lu stomped away.
Later, Shen Shaoguang told A-Yuan, “From now on, buy the morning pastries from Zhang’s shop in the southward!”
A-Yuan agreed instantly. “I say we should have changed places long ago!”
Shen Shaoguang grumbled, “Old Zhang’s pastries are never crispy enough.”
Normally she never let her taste buds suffer for spite. But today—today was an exception for Third Lady Lu.
That night, after the last customer left, Liu Fenghe arrived.
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