Shen Heng had been a widow for ten years and raised five daughters. The one thing she set out to do was take the Su family's orchids from Jiangnan and sell them in Bianjing.
Her eldest, Nianheng, was her left hand, quicker at calculations than an abacus. Her second, Zhiwei, was her eyes, able to see through people at a glance. Her third, Tinghe, was her temper, the first to charge at anyone who crossed the Su family. Her fourth, Fuliu, was her tongue, able to talk her way out of anything. Her youngest, Henglu, was her heart, quietly warming everyone around her.
Sweetwater Lane wasn't large, but it was full of bustle. Du, the proprietress of the embroidery shop across the street, had been Shen Heng's enemy for twenty years. Granny Wen at the tea stall next door had been her friend for just as long. And at the mouth of the lane was Xie, a judicial commissioner of unknown origins, who came for tea more often than he came to investigate cases.
The Su family's orchid nursery had only just opened when someone smashed its signboard and someone else brought lamp oil. Some waited to see them make fools of themselves; others came quietly to lend a hand.
At first, the five sisters each went their own way. Only when they reached the end did they realize there was just one road: the one that led home.
