"By the way," Mo Lixia asked, "have you found a place that sells boxes specifically for face powder and rouge?"
"There are several," Xiqiu replied, "but we haven't negotiated a price yet. The quotes they gave us for what we're using now are a bit high."
"Then go bargain with them. We'll be buying these long-term. Ask how much extra it will cost if we have our shop name stamped on the boxes." Mo Lixia thought for a moment. "Also, look into incense burners—find a place that specializes in them and negotiate a price. We should stock some as well. Hongshang, I'll leave that to you."
"Yes, Miss!" Hongshang straightened instantly, looking every bit like a heroic swordswoman, and strode out.
Mo Lixia shook her head, amused, and called after her, "And where exactly are you going without money?"
Hongshang turned back with an awkward grin.
Mo Lixia went inside, handed her two hundred taels of silver, and only then let her leave. Afterward, she lingered by her cash box, smiling in a way that was far too pleased with itself. The medicine shop had been earning quite a bit lately.
A soft cough sounded behind her.
"What are you staring at so intently?" Zhanchen's voice came from the doorway. He walked in with Mo Chen beside him. They had apparently been there for a while—long enough that she should have noticed.
Startled, Mo Lixia snapped the box shut and hugged it protectively.
Zhanchen gave her a sidelong look. "Little miser. Last night, your brother persuaded Father and Mother for you. Don't tell me you have no way of showing appreciation."
Mo Lixia pouted. Then she pulled out a banknote worth one thousand taels and slapped it onto the table next to him, grinning. "Congratulations on your wedding, Brother. This is just a tiny token from your little sister. Please accept it."
Zhanchen glanced at it. "Stingy. I was only teasing you. Keep it—your brother has plenty."
Mo Lixia frowned at once and hurriedly tucked the note away. "Brother has money, but I don't!"
Zhanchen laughed. Mo Chen giggled too.
Mo Chen had grown used to Zhanchen by now. He was bold enough to tug Zhanchen's sleeve and ask, "Godbrother, are you going to marry tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow," Zhanchen said, patient. "In three days."
Mo Chen's eyes went round. "Then… can we eat something really good?"
Mo Lixia's expression shifted, thoughtful. "Eat something good…"
She turned and called for Xiqiu.
When Xiqiu came in, Mo Lixia asked, "Is Mother at home today?"
"She's in the main courtyard."
"Go tell her I'm making hotpot tonight. Ask her to join us."
Xiqiu froze. "Hotpot?"
Mo Lixia nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Yes. Have the kitchen prepare some lamb bones. We'll simmer a broth."
Xiqiu still looked lost, but she went to deliver the message.
Zhanchen raised a brow. "Hotpot? Since when did we have that?"
Mo Lixia waved it off. "It exists. It's just called something else here."
In the mountains, people had a small version of it—what they called a "shuan guo," a simple pot kept over the fire. In the dead of winter, everyone would sit around the stove. Even just watching the steam rise felt warming. Back then, she and Mo Chen ate it often—wild chicken, cabbage, glass noodles. It was simple, but it hit the spot.
The only difference was that in the capital, the utensils would be far more refined.
She had Xiqiu find a small red-clay brazier. It would be perfect for five people.
That evening, the family gathered in the outer hall, drinking tea and playing a game of chess while the maids worked.
"Hotpot," General Mo Wushang repeated as he placed a piece on the board. "What is that? I've never heard of it."
Mo Chen, already hungry enough to look offended by the concept of waiting, gulped his tea and lifted his head. "It's a pot set over a fire, of course. Godmother, I'm right, aren't I?"
He looked to Ye Qingwan for approval with the seriousness of a child seeking a prize.
Ye Qingwan laughed and nodded. "He's right." Then she gently warned him not to drink too much tea. She had already gone to the kitchen and, after seeing the red-clay brazier, understood at once. "What Lixia means is shuan guo."
General Mo Wushang paused, then gave a soft, subdued "Oh."
But inside, his thoughts ran in a different direction entirely. His daughter and this child were so excited over something as simple as shuan guo. How much hardship had she endured before returning home?
In the kitchen, Mo Lixia had the maids help. Lamb bones were rinsed clean. Ginger, goji berries, cinnamon bark, star anise, and other aromatics went into the pot with water, and the broth was set to simmer.
Once that was underway, they moved on to washing and slicing: seasonal greens, beef and lamb, fish and shrimp, tofu, glass noodles. They mixed sesame paste and minced garlic for dipping sauces.
When the red-clay brazier was carried into the main hall and set on the table, the pot at its center held a thick, milky broth. In the lower chamber, charcoal glowed red-hot. The broth rolled steadily, releasing a rich fragrance. White steam spread through the room, stirring everyone's appetite.
The family sat down.
Mo Lixia placed the pot in the middle and smiled as she explained, "This is the flavor Mo Chen and I used to eat in the mountains. I don't know if you'll like it. I didn't add too much chili—I was afraid Father and Mother wouldn't be used to it."
As she spoke, she dropped a few slices of lamb into the boiling broth, then set the sesame paste and garlic to the side. "Anyone who likes it can mix their own."
They had all eaten shuan guo before, but none of them had used dipping sauces like this. Seeing Mo Chen pour sesame paste into his bowl without the slightest hesitation, the others followed suit.
Zhanchen leaned in, clearly pleased. "By the way—do we have any warmed wine? Bring that up too."
"We do," Mo Lixia said, and signaled Xiqiu to serve.