Chapter 4

Yang Manniang did not stand on ceremony. She hung her sheepskin coat on a bamboo rack and took off her cotton-padded shoes, which had frozen stiff from the cold. She changed into the restaurant’s uniform: a pair of soft-soled, blue fabric shoes with a simple cut. Facing the brass mirror on the table, she smoothed out her hair, which had been ruffled by the wind on her way here, and then placed her hands over the warm incense burner.

With a smile, she asked, "What were you ladies talking about just now? You seem so fired up."

"Oh, you two girls were off yesterday, so you missed it. It was incredibly chaotic here! They were hunting down Western Xia spies over at the South Building. The Imperial City Guard locked down the entire area—no one was allowed in or out." Lady Liu covered her mouth with a handkerchief, leaning in with a conspiratorial air. "I heard they caught quite a few, and killed quite a few, too. They were dumping out buckets of blood!"

She was the woman responsible for cleaning the private rooms on the second floor. Her husband worked as a peddler, roaming the major restaurants to sell snacks, spices, and other sundries to guests, which gave her access to all sorts of news.

"Oh my, is that true?"
"That’s terrifying! The Imperial City Guard is always so arrogant and overbearing. Could it affect us here at the West Building?"
"No wonder I saw Imperial City Guard soldiers stationed at the South Building when I came through the back gate earlier!"

The Imperial City Guard was the most mysterious and formidable office in Bianjing, similar in nature to the Ming Dynasty’s Embroidered Uniform Guard or the Qing Dynasty’s Blood Droppers. They reported directly to the Emperor, tasked with guarding the palace gates and the imperial quarters, monitoring officials, and hunting down spies.

The group began to whisper among themselves, all visibly shaken.

"Blood flowing like a river? You’re just blowing smoke, Liu 'Xi Shi'! You have no filter on your mouth—aren't you afraid the wind will snap your tongue?"

Lady Liao, standing opposite, sneered at this. As the most senior employee of the West Building and the woman in charge of the hot water in the second-floor pantry, she had always looked down on Lady Liu’s penchant for spreading mysterious gossip. As usual, she couldn't resist a jab, deliberately using the nickname.

"How am I blowing smoke? My husband was at the South Building selling snacks last night; he saw it with his own eyes!" Lady Liu retorted indignantly. She loathed the nickname "Xi Shi," as her appearance had absolutely nothing in common with the legendary beauty—in fact, it was the complete opposite. Yet, this woman surnamed Liao insisted on using it every time, which drove her to fury. Whenever she was particularly incensed, she would sneak into the pantry when no one was looking and drop a few stink bugs into Lady Liao’s shoes.

"If it were really a bloodbath, how is it that your husband is perfectly fine? Does he have some special connection with the Imperial City Guard?" Lady Liao cast a sidelong glance at her, her tone light and airy, yet the sarcasm was unmistakable.

"Well... although he doesn't, he’s a decent, law-abiding man!" Seeing the others exchange skeptical looks, clearly doubting her story, Lady Liu’s face turned bright red with rage. She let out an annoyed huff and lifted her chin, walking away first. "Believe what you want! It’s the truth!"

*Hmph! Liao Chunhua, you just wait. I’m putting extra stink bugs in your shoes today!*

"Oh my, Lady... Liu is really something. Why is she in such a rush?"
"Heh, she’s embarrassed. Lady Liao never gives her any face."
"Well, that’s her own fault. She’s always turning a pin into a club."

As the hour of the Dragon approached, the group chatted and laughed while tidying their appearances before heading out. Yang Manniang, however, was indifferent to the squabbles between Lady Liao and Lady Liu. She was preoccupied with what her younger sister, Yang Panniang, had said that morning: their supply of rice and flour would only last another three days. If they didn't want to go hungry, she would have to buy more within the next two days.

Rice was fifteen wen a dou, and she had just heard Lady Lu mention that the price had risen by another wen, bringing it to sixteen. Combined with the frozen cabbage and potatoes they had stored, it would barely last the three of them twelve days, and that was without eating their fill. She was fine for now, as she could get one meal at work—usually just cabbage soup and rice, lacking meat, but the portion was enough to keep her full until evening. The two younger ones at home were the problem; every meal depended on whether there was rice in the pot. Then there was the monthly expense for salt, oil, charcoal, rent, and other scattered costs—it was a significant sum.

It could be said that even though Yang Manniang worked at the Fan Tower, the most opulent and extravagant playground in Bianjing, she lived in abject poverty. If she missed even one month of work, the three siblings risked starving or freezing to death. What did it matter that she had transmigrated? Bianjing had a permanent population of over 1.3 million, and with the garrison and transients, nearly two million people—ninety-five percent of whom were just struggling to scrape by at the bottom. Without money or influence, being bullied was inevitable. She lacked the strength to haul cargo at the docks, and she had no money to apprentice as an embroiderer or learn a skilled trade like cooking from a master chef. She was truly penniless, physically weak, and devoid of any special technical skills. Her job as a candle maid at the restaurant was stable, but there was almost no room for advancement. In this day and age, those who reached management were either the owner’s confidants or had signed away their lives in indentures; as long as they didn't commit a major blunder, they held those positions for life. If not for her decent looks, she wouldn't even have this job.

Wait—technical skills? She actually did have one! Did writing novels count? In her past life, Yang Manniang had been a contracted author for a website, serializing novels. She had even written a few popular works that hit the bestseller lists.

However, in this era, there was no internet, so she couldn't serialize novels online like before. She would have to consider a complete manuscript or print media. The Northern Song Dynasty had a highly developed printing industry with many bookstores and newspapers. Many storytellers wrote full-length novels and took them to bookstores to sell.

There were many types of newspapers: the government-issued *Court Gazette* and *Daily Report*, as well as privately run news sheets and various tabloids. But in her memory, there was no precedent for publishing novels in either private tabloids or official reports. The government reports focused on state affairs and official appointments, so serializing stories there was impossible. The private tabloids were mostly filled with gossip or exaggerated street news. Aside from occasionally repeating content from the official reports, they mostly covered hearsay—such as a woman in a certain alley having a child at forty, a hen laying a giant duck egg, or a performer being bought by a wealthy merchant after leaving the profession.

And as for her, she not only lacked money, but she also lacked the time to write a full-length novel. Her job as a candle maid allowed only three days of leave a month, with one day off every ten, and she didn't get off work until the hour of the Bo, returning home exhausted only to collapse into bed. By the hour of the Dragon the next day, she had to be present for roll call. She simply didn't have the time to write a complete novel unless she quit her job.

*So,* she thought, *I have to try starting with a serialized story and see if I can make any money.*

As she pondered this, she followed the others into the courtyard in front of the first floor. As the premier establishment among the seventy-two main restaurants of Bianjing, the Fan Tower was naturally unique. Besides its world-famous "Meishou" wine and "Hezhi" liquor, its building height was another distinguishing feature. To protect the privacy and security of the imperial palace, other restaurants in Bianjing were restricted to two stories. Only the Fan Tower was an exception; its five main buildings were all three stories tall and immense in scale. The West Building alone was three hundred meters wide. The main buildings were connected by covered walkways, allowing guests to move between them without ever going down to the street. Standing on the third-floor walkway of the West Building, one could even peer into the imperial palace and catch a glimpse of the Genyue Imperial Garden.

In front of the West Building stood a massive piece of Mount Tai stone, carved into the image of a "Travelers in Streams and Mountains" scene, a favorite of scholars. Combined with the pavilions, vermilion gates, and embroidered windows of the building, it looked particularly elegant and impressive in the faint morning light.

"Guests arrive at the scent of fine wine, we bring the feast from the hall. May all things flow like fragrance, awaiting your pleasure to enjoy!"

Standing at the back of the line, Yang Manniang breathed in the crisp, cold air of the winter morning and recited the daily slogan along with the others. It felt inexplicably like working for a modern agency.

"Yang Changshun!"
"Present!"
"Liao Chunhua!"
"Here!"
"..."
"Yang Manniang!"

The head steward, Cao Shunxin, dressed in a respectable bean-green cross-collar robe and holding the employee roster, squinted with a serious expression as he took roll call.

Yang Manniang, like everyone else, quickly responded, "Present!"