A Little Eatery by the Wharf [Gourmet]

[Updated daily at 6 p.m.] Shen Piao, a descendant of imperial chefs, collapsed after staying up night after night. When she woke up, she had transmigrated into the body of a nineteen-year-old woman with the same name, who had cried herself unconscious after her engagement was called off. At home, all she had besides her little brother and sister was a two-story house by the river. Her little brother kept his distance, and her little sister knew nothing about the world. Shen Piao had no time to worry. She could only return to her old line of work. The cargo boats traveling along the canal brought fresh ingredients from all over the country. The docks of the capital were full of strong canal workers who earned two or three hundred cash a day, merchants wealthy beyond measure, and even nobles from the capital’s great houses. The Shen family eatery served pork intestine buns, cheap enough for the nobles to turn their noses up at. Made with an old-fashioned starter, the buns were soft and fluffy, oozing with savory juices. A worker could eat four or five in one meal. It also served copper-pot mutton hot pot, beloved by the great houses. Outside, snow blanketed the world; inside, the room was warm and cozy, and the Meishou wine from Fan Tower was rich and fragrant. Later on, whether they were nobles of the capital or ordinary folk, everyone knew that Shen’s eatery cured and recreated Yunnan ham. It was savory and delicious, and each piece was impossible to get. Their Cantonese seafood congee, so delicious it made your eyebrows fall off, was available only in limited quantities. The hand-torn Inner Mongolian lamb, made from freshly slaughtered sheep, was tender and juicy, and the nobles were especially fond of it. With the government running smoothly and everything awaiting restoration, Shen Piao, like a wild weed, forged a splendid life of her own. Content warnings: 1. A slice-of-life story. Very slice-of-life. Extremely slice-of-life. 2. Set in an alternate Song dynasty. The capital is Bianjing. A great many things have been changed, though I’ll try to be historically accurate. Thank you. 3. Piao (pronounced like “piao” in Mandarin’s first tone) means light-footed and swift. Theme: Spring winds blow, and the grass grows back