The next day, Shu Rui took the braised meats he had prepared the night before out of the cellar and reheated them in boiling brine so the jellied stock could melt back down.
Though in summer it was pleasant to eat cold braised dishes, warm ones were even more fragrant. As long as they weren’t scalding, they tasted just as good.
Once the braised meats were reheated, Shu Rui selected a few items and sliced up a plate. He and Lu Ling ate them with porridge and steamed buns for breakfast.
After the meal, Lu Ling washed the dishes outside the kitchen while Shu Rui sliced all the braised foods he planned to sell that day.
He figured that if he sold trotters and offal in their original sizes and priced each item differently, with so many varieties he’d probably mix up the prices himself.
That method suited a fixed shop or at least a regular stall—after selling long enough, customers would remember the prices and so would he.
But Shu Rui only planned to sell snacks during the festival; he had no intention of running this business long-term.
Besides, with the festival crowd, even if they used a cart, it would be hard to move through the throngs—and two people together would just get in each other’s way. One person was more agile.
Selling meat and vegetables by weight would require carrying a scale, weighing out ounces and taels—too much trouble.
So he opted for the simplest approach: he pre-sliced everything, bought two bundles of oil paper from a general store, and set fixed prices. A portion of braised meat was fifteen coins; a mix of meat and vegetables was thirteen coins; purely vegetarian braised dishes were ten coins.
Whatever a customer wanted, he would pack it up. Simple and efficient, with no risk of mixing up prices.
“I’ll just take a basket out to sell today’s braised food. I don’t need extra help—two people would only slow things down. It’s a festival day, so go enjoy yourself.”
That was how Shu Rui arranged things with Lu Ling before heading out.
Lu Ling didn’t insist on following him, only told Shu Rui to be careful outside.
A pale yellow sachet hung at Lu Ling’s waist, swaying back and forth, very eye-catching. Whenever he had nothing to do, he’d pick it up to admire the lively little deer embroidered on it, his mood clearly excellent.
Shu Rui guessed that Lu Ling would go out again today to dance with the blade. He didn’t call him out on it and let him be—he wasn’t the kind to judge someone’s interests based on his own likes or dislikes.
Leaving the alley, though it was still early, there were already many people outside.
Shu Rui headed straight toward the City Temple area. In the morning, people prayed for blessings; by midday and afternoon, the crowds moved toward the lotus pond; in the evening, they gathered near Fengyu Bridge. He had memorized the flow of people throughout the day.
As soon as he reached City Temple Street, it was already bustling with noise.
Shu Rui saw several dance troupes holding lotus lanterns for blessings, moving slowly through the street, step by step, toward the temple gates. On both sides of the road, common folk lined up to watch.
Further ahead was a wide open area—half filled with carts and horses, the other half taken over by street vendors.
Shu Rui went over to take a look. There were jars of medicinal wine soaked with insects and snakes, dried lingzhi mushrooms; colorful birds chirping in cages; clay figurines; seashells and conches of all shapes and sizes… all manner of curiosities and oddities.
Seeing such a lively scene, Shu Rui dimly recalled similar impressions from childhood—just a sense of noise and crowds, the details too hazy to remember clearly.
Now, seeing it all again with his own eyes, he remembered more. Back when he was young in Chaoxi Prefecture, his father had official duties and couldn’t accompany him and his mother during the day. It was always his mother who led him here to wander around the City Temple.
In the afternoon, when his father returned from work, the whole family would go out again to release lanterns.
The memories stirred a faint melancholy amid the bustle.
But after a moment, he gathered himself. Ten wasted years had passed, yet hadn’t he finally come back safely?
“Braised meats! Freshly braised meats! Fragrant, springy, delicious, and cheap!”
Shu Rui raised his voice and began to hawk his goods.
It was still early, and most people had already eaten breakfast before coming out, or were sitting at breakfast stalls eating noodles and buns.
Snack foods weren’t selling well yet. Shu Rui called out for quite a while; only three or four people came to ask, and only one or two actually bought. It wasn’t just him—the stalls selling cakes and pastries were doing poorly too. In contrast, the vendors selling candied hawthorns on sticks were doing brisk business—the bright strings of candy caught the eye, delighting the children perched on their fathers’ shoulders.
Seeing this wasn’t working, Shu Rui changed spots and slipped in front of the breakfast stalls to hawk his wares.
“Ge’er, how much is your braised meat? Slice me a plate so I can try it.”
Shu Rui saw that this approach worked much better and immediately offered samples.
Once the customers tasted it and found the brine flavorful, they asked about the price.
“Everything’s pre-sliced. Braised meat is fifteen coins—inside there’s chicken and duck giblets, pork head meat, sheep’s feet, octopus, all kinds.”
He lifted the white gauze covering the basket so the man could see. “There are plenty of vegetables too—lettuce, fresh bamboo shoots, crisp lotus root, and mountain delicacies like wood ear mushrooms. Take a look, sir. My bamboo shoots are all tender tips, picked just right.”
“Vegetarian is ten coins. If you want both meat and vegetables, that’s thirteen.”
“There’s still some heat to it—it smells good. Give me one portion with both meat and vegetables.”
The man spoke boldly. He felt that ten coins for pure vegetables wasn’t worth it, and that meat alone was better—but he also craved some vegetables. A mixed portion for thirteen coins saved him two coins, making it a better deal.
Shu Rui answered with a cheerful “Coming right up,” scooped up the copper coins, and seeing that the customer was eating right there at the noodle stall, didn’t bother bringing an oiled paper bag. Instead, he borrowed a small plate from the vendor and portioned the food out properly.
The man got his braised meats and dumped the whole plate straight into his noodles, shoveling in a huge bite with his chopsticks. The noodles were coated in the rich, glossy sauce from the slow-braised meats, fragrant and oily, and after just one mouthful his brows relaxed and his eyes brightened with pleasure.
Seeing the way he ate, the people nearby grew hungry enough to swallow hard, and several of them called Shu Rui over as well.
Weaving back and forth, Shu Rui sold more than ten portions in one go. When he came out, he headed toward the lotus pond, walking along the riverbank. The city canal was crowded with flower boats—on some were scholars chanting poetry and trading couplets, on others were young ladies and gentlemen from official or wealthy families out boating for pleasure.
Shu Rui heard some vendors loudly calling out to the flower boats:
“Boat over here! We’ve got fine home-brewed lamb wine!”
“Fish balls! Shrimp balls! Meat broth dumplings—!”
Sure enough, a few boats rowed over to the bank to buy snacks, just for the novelty of it.
Seeing this, Shu Rui hurried over as well and began hawking his braised foods.
Who would have guessed that a hunched-over old woman, who looked frail enough, actually had astonishing strength.
As a flower boat was pulling in, she squeezed forward from behind and nearly knocked Shu Rui straight into the river with her elbow. Luckily he was quick-eyed and fast-handed and grabbed the railing; otherwise there would have been a loud splash.
And yet the old woman acted as if nothing had happened, pushing forward and loudly selling her own food to the people on the flower boat.
“Oh my, Granny,” someone said, “your dumpling soup has already gone cold. The oil’s nearly congealed—how’s anyone supposed to eat that?”
The person buying food on the flower boat was a maid from a wealthy household. Though a servant, she was dressed in fine clothes with colorful hair ornaments, and her experience far exceeded that of ordinary folk.
Seeing that the old woman’s food was unappealing, she refused it.
“Good young lady,” the old woman pleaded, “what other household is as willing as mine to use so much oil? It’s only because my dumpling soup has real oil in it that it congeals. It’s hot weather—lukewarm and cool is just right for eating!”
“Don’t try to fool me here. Even in hot weather, eating cold oil floating on soup—what good can that do your stomach?”
The maid was sharp-tongued. “Go on, go on. We don’t want your food. Take it somewhere else to sell.”
Shu Rui had originally thought about selling dumpling soup himself, but the hassle of dealing with broth put him off. He’d even considered frying dumplings instead, but worried they wouldn’t taste good once cold. That was why he’d switched entirely to braised foods.
Braised dishes could be eaten hot or cold—much more convenient. Seeing this now, it seemed his planning had been spot-on.
“Hey, young fellow, I heard you calling just now about braised foods. Bring them over and let me take a look.”
Shu Rui had just been pushed aside and was thinking of finding another flower boat, when the maid called out to him. He hurried over. “Miss, please try my freshly braised meats and vegetables.”
“The flavor you’ve made is good,” the maid said regretfully, “but you’ve chopped everything up and mixed it together. Our young lady and young master don’t eat offal.”
Shu Rui knew that children from wealthy families were particular about their food; they wouldn’t touch mixed scraps.
He said, “That’s easy enough. I won’t give you any offal—just meat and vegetables for the young lady and young master.”
“You’re thoughtful,” the maid said. “In that case, pack one portion with offal as well. My sisters and I will have a taste too—it’ll count as supporting your business.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
Shu Rui sold four portions of braised food in one go. The old woman who had shoved him earlier glared daggers at him from the shadows.
Shu Rui didn’t bother giving her a pleasant look in return—he stared straight back. The old woman muttered something under her breath, then turned and headed toward Moon Bridge up ahead.
From there, the lotus pond was already visible. Standing on the bridge and looking out, a whole pond of lotus flowers—some in full bloom, some still in bud—was a breathtaking sight.
Many people crowded onto the bridge and stopped to admire the view. Where there were crowds, vendors selling food and trinkets naturally followed to do business.
Shu Rui had planned to go up as well, to sell off the remaining braised foods in his basket while there were so many people around. Then he would head back to eat lunch and come out again in the afternoon to sell the rest.
But after hawking his wares for so long, the sun had climbed high and shone dazzlingly bright. His mouth was dry, his throat aching.
Seeing a vendor selling chilled melon, the slices cut open to reveal vivid red flesh, he couldn’t help but salivate. He went over and bought a piece first.
Sitting on a stone block by the river, Shu Rui bit into the crisp, sweet melon, and his mouth was instantly refreshed. He thought that at noon he’d fix a plate of light, refreshing dishes to eat—he just didn’t know whether Lù Líng had gone back yet.
“Crack—bang bang—bang—!”
“Someone’s dead! Ahh!”
Suddenly, cries and screams rang out. Shu Rui looked ahead, and the melon slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a slap.
In the middle of Moon Bridge, a section of the wooden railing had broken. Several people toppled over and fell into the river. Instantly the bridge erupted into chaos, people surging and panicking, and a few more fell into the water as well.
The bridge itself wasn’t very high, and in a place like Tide Prefecture, built along rivers and near the sea, many people knew how to swim. Falling into the river alone wasn’t necessarily fatal. But a flower boat happened to be passing beneath the bridge, and those who fell crashed onto the boat. Amid the violent rocking, the people on board panicked—and the boat capsized.
“Oh heavens! What’s happened here!”
“Quick, report it to the authorities! Hurry!”
“My child, don’t run around—go home, quickly!”
Above and below the bridge, everything descended into turmoil. Shu Rui stood up and was jostled several times by people running past.
On such a fine festival day, who would have thought something like this would happen? His heart hammered wildly. Witnessing such a scene, he felt as if half his soul had been scared right out of him.
The street patrol officers arrived first. Seeing how serious the disaster was, they had to evacuate the crowd and rescue people at the same time. With so few hands, they were quickly overwhelmed and rushed to summon more patrol officers.
Soon, many more yamen runners arrived, wearing black headcloths and official uniforms.
Shu Rui leaned over the wooden railing by the riverbank, eyes fixed on the officers diving into the water to rescue people, pulling them up one by one.
Some were still breathing. Some were not. Crying, shouting, and screaming blended together—it made the heart clench painfully tight.
Suddenly, Shu Rui saw a lithe figure burst out of the river with a splash, one arm gripping a drowning victim tightly.
He could only see the man’s back, but it looked strangely familiar. Just as he hesitated, he caught sight of a pouch hanging at the man’s waist, and his heart jolted.
“Lù Líng! Lù Líng!”
Shu Rui shouted toward the river twice.
Amid the clamor, the man in the water caught the familiar call. He turned his head and saw Shu Rui leaning over the railing, safe and sound. Only then did he finally let out a breath of relief.
He hauled two victims up onto the bank in one leap, and officers immediately rushed forward to take over.
Shu Rui was on the opposite side of the river. He had no idea how Lù Líng had ended up in the water—had he been on the bridge just now as well?
His thoughts were in complete disarray. He hurried along the riverbank, pushing through the crowd toward the other side.
“What are you doing here?!”
They ran into each other at a bend in the path. Shu Rui lunged forward and grabbed Lù Líng’s hand. Lù Líng was soaked through, water streaming off him onto the ground, but he didn’t seem to be injured.
Lù Líng stared at Shu Rui just as intently. “I heard something had happened to the bridge here, and that a boat had overturned with many people falling into the river. I was afraid you might be here, so I came to look for you.”
Shu Rui finally relaxed a little. “I was lucky. I was planning to go up on the bridge, but I got thirsty and stopped down here to buy a slice of melon. I hadn’t gone up yet when the railing broke and people fell into the river.”
“And you,” Shu Rui added, “if you were just looking for me, why did you end up in the river?”
“If you’d really fallen in,” Lù Líng replied, “and I didn’t go in right away, how would I ever find you?”
His brows were tightly knit—he had been badly shaken as well. That morning, he’d heard Shu Rui say he would first go to the City Temple, then come over to the lotus pond. Calculating the time, it fit all too perfectly.
Thinking of that, he had rushed over, leaping across rooftops. With so many people and so much chaos, he’d gone straight into the river. The water was muddy and churned up, and with a capsized flower boat in the way, it was hard to search.
Fortunately, Shu Rui hadn’t been in the river at all.
After comparing what each of them had experienced, both realized it had been nothing but a narrow escape.
Only then did Shu Rui realize he was still gripping Lù Líng’s hand—and Lù Líng was gripping back just as tightly. His face warmed slightly, and he hurriedly let go.
“There are still quite a few people in the river,” Lù Líng said. “The officers’ rescue is slow. I’ll go down again. Be careful—don’t stand too close to the riverbank.”
Shu Rui nodded. “You be careful.”
“Mm.”
Lù Líng answered once, then turned and went back into the river.
—
“You’d think on such a good day, something like this wouldn’t happen,” Yang Chunhua said later. “When I heard about it in the shop, I was scared out of my wits. It’s a good thing I didn’t have time to go out—otherwise, who knows, it might’ve happened to me.”
“And the authorities too,” she went on. “They knew full well today was a festival. Why didn’t they inspect the bridges and railings properly beforehand? Now people have lost their lives for nothing.”
When Shu Rui got back, he heated water for Lù Líng to bathe. Yang Chunhua, who had been uneasy all this time, grabbed Shu Rui and talked nonstop as soon as she saw them return.
Catching a glimpse of Lù Líng soaked through, she quickly averted her eyes and asked Shu Rui whether Lù Líng had gone to rescue people. Hearing that both of them had indeed been at the scene frightened her even more, and she sighed several times in succession.
Shu Rui sighed as well. More than ten people had fallen into the river. Those who were injured or had swallowed water were rushed to the nearest clinics.
But four had been pulled up already dead.
“With festivals like this, so crowded and noisy, if you’re not careful something’s bound to happen,” Shu Rui said. “If it’s not a fire, it’s a stampede—you always hear about accidents. When everyone’s chasing the excitement, you really have to watch out for yourself.”
After speaking, Shu Rui leaned close to Yang Chunhua and said quietly, “I heard that one of the people who drowned was an official.”
Yang Chunhua was horrified. “How could that be? Did he die saving others?”
Shu Rui shook his head. When Lù Líng rescued him, he hadn’t known the man was an official. The man had sunk to the riverbed and also suffered a heavy blow to the head—likely struck when the boat overturned.
By the time he was pulled up, there was no breath left. The street officers recognized him immediately and cried out “Lord He.”
From what people were saying, Lord He was a Registry Clerk in the Works Office. It just so happened that today was his day off.
Supervising repairs was originally his responsibility. Funds had been allocated from above, yet in the city there was still a case of an old river railing collapsing from long neglect. And then, from the river, they pulled out Chess Master Qí Huá, a famous courtesan from Baoyue Pavilion. He was lucky—he’d only swallowed a few mouthfuls of water.
This young master would never crowd onto Moon Bridge on a day like this. If he ended up in the river, what other reason could there be besides the flower boat capsizing?
With matters like that, how could people not speculate?
Yang Chunhua clicked her tongue. “If it really is as people think, then that’s karma.”
Shu Rui said, “If he brought it upon himself through corruption and indulgence, no one would mourn him. It’s only the innocent common folk who lost their lives that are truly pitiful.”
Yang Chunhua nodded. “Exactly so.”
The two talked for a long while, comforting each other back and forth before finally letting the matter rest.
Yang Chunhua still felt uneasy, afraid that after school Song Xiangxue might run off to play with his classmates. She closed the shop for a while according to the time and decided to go to the private school herself to pick the child up, only then feeling reassured.
Seeing that there was still plenty of braised food left at home, Shu Rui no longer had the heart to go out and sell after what had happened that morning. Just thinking back on it made him feel a lingering fear.
But braised foods couldn’t be kept for long. After some thought, he packed some up to give to Yang Chunhua and Granny Zhang, and asked Granny Zhang to pass some on to Dou Zhuang as well—treating it as a bit of goodwill for the festival.
He also packed up a food box and took it to Qing-ge’er’s home, stopping by to see him along the way.
When he returned home, Lù Líng was in the courtyard with his hair loose, hanging clothes out to dry. After bathing, he had washed the clothes he’d soaked in the river.
He had gone through quite an ordeal. His money pouch had been tangled in river weeds, smeared with green residue, and it had taken quite a bit of soapberry to scrub it clean. Now it was hung in the sunniest spot, hoping it would dry quickly.
Shu Rui was bone-tired. He plopped down on a stool and took a sip of cool tea.
He said, “It’s a good thing I sold quite a bit of braised food this morning—made around three hundred cash. After subtracting the two hundred or so spent on vegetables and meat, I still cleared about a hundred.”
He hadn’t lost money, but once he counted the labor and all the little hassles, it really amounted to a full day’s work at a loss.
Lù Líng walked over to him. “You can earn it back later. Tomorrow I’ll take you to sell food on Qiugui Street.”
Shu Rui smiled.
Lù Líng added, “My hair’s dry now. Help me tie it up.”
Shu Rui couldn’t help glancing at his jet-black hair. He thought that if this were a rich household, and he were a hired hand styling someone’s hair, that would be one thing. But for an ordinary household, tying his hair like this—what did that look like?
He was about to refuse, then thought again: Lù Líng had saved so many people today; he had a genuinely good heart. Helping him tie his hair didn’t seem so wrong after all. After a brief pause, he went inside and brought out a comb.
“I’d thought that after selling all the food during the day, we could go see the lanterns along the river at night. But after what happened, I don’t really dare to crowd in there anymore.”
As Shu Rui tidied Lù Líng’s hair, he chatted idly.
Over there, once the rescue was finished, the authorities deliberately sealed off the news. From the looks of it, the lantern festival would still go on as planned that evening.
After all, it had been prepared for so long. If they suddenly canceled it, people who hadn’t even known about the accident would start asking questions, and there would be no peace at all.
“I’ll take you there,” Lù Líng said. “You won’t get crowded.”
Shu Rui shook his head. “It’s not the crowd I’m afraid of. I’m just worried that if I go tonight, I’ll think of what happened during the day again.”
Lù Líng thought for a moment. “That’s easy to fix.”
Shu Rui was puzzled. When he asked, Lù Líng only said he’d tell him that night. Shu Rui assumed his head wasn’t quite right and didn’t press further.
That evening, after they finished dinner, Lù Líng brought in the clothes and hung the pouch back at his waist.
He called out to Shu Rui, “Come see the lanterns.”
Shu Rui untied his apron and asked, “Going out to look?”
“No need.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Shu Rui felt his hand grabbed and his waist tighten. In an instant, his body went light.
His heart leapt into his throat. Before he could even curse, he was suddenly set down again.
Lù Líng had carried him up onto the roof.
The evening breeze was gentle. In the streets below, glowing lanterns wove together into shimmering golden ribbons, crossing and sparkling. The brightest lights were along the riverbank, where all kinds of large decorative lantern trees gleamed brilliantly.
Everything lay spread out before them.
From this height, one couldn’t make out the exact shapes of each lantern, but the combined glow and colors were clearly visible—a spectacle no less impressive than viewing them up close.
Each had its own kind of beauty.
Shu Rui sat down carefully. The moon hung bright and clear in the sky, and the stars were no less radiant. He stared, transfixed, his heart feeling open and clear.
“No wonder you love climbing up onto roofs like this. So this is what it looks like up here. One day I’ll set up a sturdy ladder—on a clear evening, I’ll climb up too and enjoy the breeze.”
He curved his lips into a smile. After saying a few words, he realized Lù Líng hadn’t answered. Turning his head to ask what he was spacing out about, he suddenly found a small box held out in front of him.
He looked at the box resting in Lù Líng’s hand and blinked. “What’s this?”
“For you.”
Shu Rui took it hesitantly, thinking this foolish boy might have put a long snake inside just to scare him.
Even so, his hands didn’t stop. He opened the box, and under the moonlight, a pearl lay quietly inside.
The pearl was round and lustrous.
Shu Rui froze slightly.
“Where did you get such a fine pearl?”
“I bought it.”
Shu Rui’s eyes widened. “Where did you get the money?”
Lù Líng, however, lay back on the roof with both hands cradling the back of his head, eyes fixed on the distant river of lights, and didn’t answer.
Shu Rui was sharp—at once he thought of the time he’d run into Lù Líng outside while he was performing with a blade.
“You earned this money performing!”
At that, Lù Líng sat up and looked at him. “How did you know?”
“I noticed it long ago.”
With his suspicion confirmed, Shu Rui suddenly felt an unfamiliar sense of fullness, as if his heart itself had grown plump and full.
He lowered his head slightly, too embarrassed to look at Lù Líng, closed the box, and pressed it back into his hands. “I don’t want it.”
“It’s just money from performing, not from selling myself. Why won’t you take it? You don’t like it?”
He’d asked several people, and they all said that women and ge’er liked different styles of jewelry—but a beautiful pearl was something everyone liked.
He had even gone to Manager Gong, who’d once hired him, to ask about buying it. Manager Gong’s employer owned large cargo ships that regularly traveled sea routes, unloading treasures at Tide Prefecture before sending them inland to sell across the provinces.
Prices were best when the goods first arrived in Tide Prefecture.
Shu Rui said, “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just too precious. You worked hard for that money—you should keep it yourself.”
“I just want to give you something good. To me, you’re like a pearl yourself.”
Shu Rui’s face flushed at those words. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
Seeing him silent, Lù Líng assumed Shu Rui simply didn’t want his gift. His brows tightened. “If you don’t want it, I’m going down.”
With that, he really did leap back down into the courtyard.
Shu Rui looked down at the dark, deep courtyard below and cried out, “Then how am I supposed to get down?!”
Lù Líng snapped, “However you want.”
“I’ll take it! I’ll take it, all right?!”