Introduction: Traveling back in time to the Northern Song Dynasty, Chen Ping looked at the drafty inn and smiled - who said the ancients didn't understand the sweet crit? The liquid custard buns whetted the taste buds of the lady, and the mandarin duck copper pot stirred up the ambiguous heat. When the two gourd ducks became love tokens, when the snow-white ankles were exposed in the improved skirt, and on the day when the shopkeeper of a time-honored brand broke the store, the satin widow held the scissors against his Adam's apple: "Shopkeeper Chen's kitchen utensils, I must keep them." The Bianhe River reflected two shadows: the dull young master was pressed against the stove, and the cool widow's belt was wrapped around the roasting fork in her arms. Amid the sound of evening drums on Xijiaolou Street, modern kitchen utensils and Northern Song Dynasty spring shirts were piled all over the floor.
