Chapter 47: The Empress Opens a Shop
The First Year of Shaosheng, Late September.
Three days had passed since the convoy delivering the guns departed, yet no battle report had arrived from Huanzhou.
The court was calm on the surface. Ministers attended morning audiences and submitted memorials as usual; no one mentioned the border affairs. But everyone knew—everyone was waiting. Zhao Xu reviewed memorials and met with officials during the day, returning to the Kunning Hall for dinner at night. He appeared calm on the surface, but I could see he was waiting for that urgent dispatch traveling eight hundredli a day.
I was waiting too.
But while waiting, one must find something to do.
"Cui'er," I said that afternoon, tossing and turning on the soft couch in the Kunning Hall, unable to nap. "What do you think is the most profitable business in Dongjing?"
Cui'er, who was fanning me, paused. "Why does Your Highness suddenly ask this?"
"I'm bored."
"...Your Highness is the Empress."
"Empresses get bored too."
Cui'er thought for a moment. "The most profitable in Dongjing is probably the tea houses. Qingfeng Lou, Hehe Lou, Baxian Lou—they make a fortune daily."
Tea houses.
Suddenly, an image flashed through my mind: the "Chagee" shop next to my school in New York. The storefront wasn't large, but there was always a queue. The fresh scent of jasmine snow bud tea mixed with milk could be smelled from half a block away. A cup of "Boya Juexian" cost seven or eight dollars; with tax, it was nearly nine.
Back then, I was a poor international student with a limited monthly allowance. Every time I passed the shop and smelled that familiar jasmine fragrance, I couldn't move. If I craved it too much, I'd grit my teeth, buy a cup, and sit in the shop sipping it slowly, wishing I could hold every drop in my mouth a little longer. That feeling was like holding my entire hometown in my mouth.
Thinking about it now, I suddenly felt a craving.
"Cui'er, what if I open a tea shop in Dongjing?"
Cui'er's fan nearly fell to the ground. "Your Highness wants to open a shop?"
"Yes. Selling milk tea."
"Milk... tea?"
"Tea with milk, sugar, and we can add osmanthus, red beans, or small tapioca pearls."
Cui'er looked at me as if I were speaking nonsense. But having been with me for so many years, she was used to my shocking statements. She simply nodded seriously and said, "Whatever Your Highness says must be good."
I laughed. "You haven't even tasted it, yet you say it's good."
"Things made by Your Highness are surely good."
That evening, Zhao Xu was reviewing memorials in the Kunning Hall. I sat opposite him, scribbling on a piece of paper.
He finished one memorial, glanced up at me, looked down, and finished another. After repeating this three or four times, he finally couldn't hold back.
"What are you drawing?"
"A business plan for opening a shop."
"Opening a shop?" His brush stopped. "What kind of shop?"
"A tea shop."
He looked at me with a complex expression. "You are the Empress. If the Empress opens a tea shop and word gets out—"
"So what if word gets out? Didn't the Empress Dowager once own a rouge shop?"
He paused. "How do you know that?"
"Cui'er told me."
He fell silent for a moment, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. "...That was when the Empress Dowager was young. Later, the late Emperor scolded her, and she closed it."
"Then as long as I'm not scolded, it's fine. Will you scold me?"
He looked at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. "...No."
"Then I'll open it."
He put down his brush and rubbed his brow. "A-Heng, you are the Empress. If the Empress engages in business, the Censorate will be buried under a mountain of memorials."
"Then let them write. You can just keep them secret and not issue any response."
"You make it sound so simple."
"Itis simple." I stood up, walked to him, and slapped the paper on his desk. "Look, this is my plan."
He looked down at the paper. It contained a table—I had studied Food Science at Columbia, but my roommate Emily was an American studying at the Business School. She was a typical Boston girl: blonde, blue-eyed, spoke rapidly, and was sharper than anyone when it came to calculations. We shared a dorm, and every night she would drone on in my ear about marketing, cost accounting, supply chain management, and consumer behavior. Hearing it so often, I remembered some of it.
The table was neatly organized. Although written with a brush and the characters were slightly crooked, the content was serious.
He read for a long time.
"What is this?" He pointed to the words "Market Analysis."
"It's to see if anyone in Dongjing will buy my tea."
"And this?" He pointed to "Cost Accounting."
"Calculating how much one cup of tea costs."
He looked up at me, a strange light in his eyes. Not surprise, but curiosity.
"In America... is this what you studied?"
"No. I studied Food Science."
"Food Science?"
"It's... researching how to make delicious food. How to make food safer, tastier, and more nutritious."
He paused, then smiled. "So in America, you learned to make osmanthus cakes?"
"It's much more complex than osmanthus cakes. In the lab, we analyzed ingredient components, studied how different temperatures and ratios affected food texture. We also studied food safety—how to prevent spoilage and ensure hygiene."
"A lab?"
"It's... a place dedicated to research. It has various instruments that can examine things in great detail."
His expression became even more complex. "In America, were you there to study, or to—"
"To study. And incidentally listen to Emily ramble. Incidentally practice shooting. Incidentally drink milk tea."
"Emily?"
"My roommate. American. She studied how to make money." Thinking of Emily, I couldn't help but smile. "She always said, 'A-Heng, your pastries are so delicious; it's a waste not to open a shop. I'll manage the finances for you, and we'll split the profits fifty-fifty.'"
"Fifty-fifty?"
"Yes, splitting the earnings equally."
He frowned. "She certainly knows how to calculate."
"She was a business student. Those studying economics are best at accounting."
"And where is she now?"
"I don't know." I paused. "Since I came here, she's probably still in New York. Maybe she's graduated, maybe working at some company, maybe making money on Wall Street."
He didn't speak, just looked at me, the light in his eyes softening.
"So you want to open a tea shop in Dongjing to sell that... milk tea?"
"Something like that. But adapted using Song Dynasty ingredients. I studied food science; I understand this best. The Song has jasmine tea, fresh milk, osmanthus, and red beans. I can add them all. Moreover, I can guarantee—clean, hygienic, and delicious."
"What will your shop be called?"
I thought for a moment. "Chaji (Tea Maiden)."
"Chaji?"
"Yes. Chaji."
He repeated it, the corner of his mouth lifting. "It suits your name quite well."
"My name is A-Heng. 'Heng' is a fragrant herb. Tea is also fragrant. It's similar."
He lowered his head and continued reading the plan. After a while, he looked up.
"How much money do you need?"
"What?"
"Opening a shop requires capital. How much private savings do you have?"
I thought about it. In the years since crossing over, I had saved some monthly allowance, but not much. Zhao Xu often rewarded me with items, but those were jewelry and couldn't be exchanged for cash.
"Probably... about two hundredguan?"
He nodded without speaking. He stood up, walked to the cabinet, opened it, and took out a wooden box. Inside was a stack ofJiaozi—Song Dynasty paper currency.
He placed the box before me.
"Is this enough?"
I took a glance. The top note had a denomination of one hundredguan. The stack was worth at least one thousandguan.
"Is this your private money?"
"Yes."
"You're giving it to me?"
"Yes."
"Aren't you afraid I'll lose it?"
"If you lose it, you lose it." He looked at me. "Anyway, it's money you earned."
"I earned it?"
"Have you forgotten? Before you became Empress, you made pastries in the Imperial Kitchen. I had Eunuch Li save your monthly allowance for you, principal and interest; it's all here."
I was stunned.
That was several years ago. When I first crossed over, I made osmanthus cakes and red bean porridge in the Imperial Kitchen, receiving a monthly allowance. I thought that money had been spent, never expecting he had been saving it for me all along.
"How long... have you been saving it?"
"From the first day you arrived at the Imperial Kitchen." He lowered his head and continued reviewing memorials, his ears turning red. "You once said that in America, you kept accounts for every expense. I thought... you probably wouldn't like spending other people's money."
Looking at him, my nose suddenly stung with acidity.
From the very first day. From when he was just a nine-year-old child, he had started doing these things for me.
"Zhao Xu."
"Hmm?"
"How do you know everything?"
"Because..." He paused, not looking up. "Every word you say, I remember."
The next day, I sent Cui'er to inquire about shop spaces in Dongjing.
"Your Highness, there is a shop space near the Imperial Street. It used to sell silk, but business was poor, so the owner wants to lease it out. The location is excellent, right opposite Qingfeng Lou."
"Opposite?" I smiled. "Isn't that challenging them directly?"
"Your Highness, the location is truly excellent. It's just... the price is a bit high."
"How much?"
"Monthly rent of fiftyguan."
Fiftyguan. I calculated mentally. The monthly expenses for a common family of three were about two or threeguan; fiftyguan could feed twenty families for a month. Indeed, a prime location.
"Let's go take a look."
I changed into casual clothes and left the palace with Cui'er. Zhao Xu originally wanted to send guards to follow, but I said it wasn't necessary. After thinking, he still sent a team to follow from a distance.
"Don't let anyone know it's the Empress," I told Cui'er. "Just say you're from the Bureau of Palace Attendants, wanting to start a small business."
Cui'er nodded.
The Imperial Street was the most bustling street in Dongjing. Shops lined both sides—restaurants, tea houses, cloth shops, pharmacies—one after another. Pedestrians were dense, carriages endless. The air was mixed with the scents of tea, wine, medicine, and the oily aroma of fried snacks from roadside stalls.
I stood before the shop space and examined it. The storefront wasn't large, but the depth was significant, with a small courtyard at the back. The location was indeed excellent—diagonally opposite was Qingfeng Lou, one of the largest tea houses in Dongjing.
"This is the one," Cui'er said.
Just as I was about to enter, someone nearby suddenly called out—
"Lady, are you looking to lease this shop?"
I turned. A middle-aged man in his forties walked out from the neighboring shop, wearing a silk robe, sporting a small mustache, and smiling warmly.
"Who are you?"
"My surname is Sun; I am the manager of the cloth shop next door. The owner of this shop entrusted me to watch over it for him." He looked me up and down. "What business does Lady intend to open here?"
"A tea shop."
"A tea shop?" Manager Sun glanced at Qingfeng Lou diagonally opposite, his expression subtle. "Lady, opposite is Qingfeng Lou, the largest tea house in Dongjing. Opening a tea shop here—"
"I know."
"Then you still want to open one?"
"Yes."
Manager Sun smiled without speaking, but that smile carried a hint of "young people don't know the height of the sky and the depth of the earth."
I didn't mind.
"Manager Sun, may I go inside and take a look?"
"Yes, yes, yes. The owner said the key is with me; you can view it anytime."
He opened the door, and I walked in. The shop was larger than I imagined; the front could serve as the store, and the back could be converted into an operation area. There was even a well in the courtyard, making water access convenient.
I mentally planned the layout—tables in the front, a row of booth seats against the wall separated by bamboo curtains. A few calligraphy paintings on the walls, a potted plant in the corner. The operation area would be at the back, clean and hygienic. As a food science major, hygiene was my top priority. The operation area must be clean, ingredients fresh, and utensils sterilized—these were more important than anything else to me.
"Lady," Manager Sun stood beside me and couldn't help but ask, "May I be so bold as to ask—what kind of tea do you plan to sell?"
"Milk tea."
"Milk... tea?"
"Tea with milk, sugar, osmanthus, red beans, and pearls."
Manager Sun's expression mirrored Cui'er's—completely confused but too polite to ask.
"Lady... where are you from?"
"Suzhou."
"Suzhou?" He frowned. "A person from Suzhou opening a tea shop all the way in Dongjing?"
"Can't people in Dongjing drink tea from Suzhou?"
He smiled without responding.
I walked around the shop once; I already had a plan in my heart.
"Manager Sun, I'll take this shop."
Back in the palace, I began writing the business plan.
This time, it was serious.
I studied Food Science at Columbia, but my roommate Emily was an American studying at the Business School. She was a typical Boston girl: blonde, blue-eyed, speaking rapidly. We shared a dorm, and every night she would drone on in my ear about marketing, cost accounting, supply chain management, and consumer behavior.
"A-Heng," she often told me, chewing gum and sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, "your pastries are so delicious; it's a waste not to open a shop. I'll help you make a business plan; I guarantee profit. You handle the product, I'll handle finance and marketing. Perfect!"
I laughed and agreed back then. I didn't expect this "future" to arrive so soon, and in a place a thousand years in the past.
First, the product.
The core of Chagee's "Boya Juexian" is Jasmine Snow Bud. I had seen the method for "Jasmine Flower Scented Tea" inTiaoxie Leibian—although that book was written in the Southern Song, presumably the Northern Song had similar methods. Regardless, if they didn't have it, I'd ask Shen Lingcheng to make it. If he could forge copper barrels, scenting tea shouldn't be difficult.
Jianxi's Dragon-Phoenix Cake Tea, Dongting's Biluochun, Wuyi's Oolong—the Song Dynasty had no shortage of fine teas. I could select one as a base, add fresh milk, sugar, and osmanthus. As a food science major, I could experiment repeatedly to find the best ratio—the proportion of milk to tea, the amount of sugar, temperature control. Every cup must be identical; it couldn't be sweet this time and bland the next.
Next, pricing.
At Qingfeng Lou, a pot of ordinary tea sold for thirty to fiftywen, while premium ones sold for several hundredwen. My milk tea would be sold cup by cup. The price could be slightly higher than ordinary tea but not too high. Emily taught me that pricing depends on the target customer's psychological price point. The noble ladies of Dongjing wouldn't mind spending dozens ofwen for a delicious cup of milk tea. I calculated the costs—tea leaves, fresh milk, sugar, osmanthus, labor, rent—selling a cup for twentywen would yield a profit.
Finally, branding.
The name "Chaji" grew on me the more I thought about it. Zhao Xu said it suited my name, which was even better. The shop sign needed to look good, written in regular script with gold leaf. Packaging would use bamboo tubes with a paper label outside printed with "Chaji" and a drawing of an osmanthus flower.
If Emily knew I was opening a milk tea shop here, she would surely say: "See? I told you! You're a natural entrepreneur!"
I wrote and drew until late into the night.
"Not sleeping yet?"
Zhao Xu's voice came from the doorway. I looked up to see him standing on the threshold, holding a bowl of porridge.
"You're not sleeping either?"
"I finished reviewing the memorials. I saw the light still on in your room." He walked in and placed the porridge on the table. "Cui'er said you didn't eat dinner properly."
I looked at the bowl—red bean porridge made by the Imperial Kitchen, sprinkled with osmanthus on top.
"Did you ask the Imperial Kitchen to make this?"
"Yes." He sat opposite me. "You once said drinking red bean porridge at night helps you sleep well."
I lifted the bowl and took a sip. Warm and sweet.
"Zhao Xu."
"Hmm?"
"Tomorrow, help me review something."
"What?"
I handed him the completed business plan. "Check it for any loopholes."
He took it and read carefully. Much longer than I expected.
"This 'Supply Chain Management' you wrote—what does it mean?"
"It means ensuring that tea leaves, fresh milk, sugar, and other items can be delivered to the shop stably without running out of stock."
He nodded. "And this 'Membership System'?"
"It means customers deposit a sum of money at once and receive discounts on future tea purchases."
He thought for a moment. "Isn't that just... pre-purchasing?"
"Similar. But I will give members some privileges. For example, priority tasting of new products, free pastries on birthdays—making customers feel valued."
He looked at me, a strange light in his eyes. Not surprise, but something indescribable. Like appreciation, yet like pride.
"A-Heng."
"Hmm?"
"What exactly did you study in America?"
"Food Science. Researching how to make food." I smiled. "Do you want to learn? I can teach you to make osmanthus cakes."
"Not that." He looked at me. "I mean those things your roommate, Emily, taught you."
I paused. "You want to learn that?"
"Yes." He looked at me. "The Great Song's treasury also needs to make money grow."
Seeing his serious expression, I couldn't help but laugh.
"Then you'll have to pay tuition."
"What tuition?"
"Osmanthus cakes. Made by your own hands."
His ears turned red. "I don't know how."
"I'll teach you."
He looked at me, his ears getting redder, but the corner of his mouth lifted.
"Okay."
The next day, I sent Cui'er to negotiate the price with Manager Sun.
"Your Highness, won't you go personally?"
"If I go, the price won't be negotiable. If he knows the Empress wants to rent it, he wouldn't dare ask for just fiftyguan; he'd ask for a hundred."
Cui'er suddenly understood. "What should this servant say?"
"Just say you're from the Bureau of Palace Attendants, acting for your master. The master's identity cannot be revealed, but the silver will not be lacking. Monthly rent of forty-fiveguan, sign for three years, paid in full at once."
"Forty-fiveguan? He asked for fifty—"
"So you must negotiate. Start by pressing it down to forty, then slowly add up. Forty-five is the bottom line."
Cui'er nodded and left.
I sat in the Kunning Hall waiting for her, feeling a bit nervous. Not nervous about the money—the stack ofJiaozi Zhao Xu gave me was enough to pay three years' rent. I was nervous because this was the first time since crossing over to the Song Dynasty that I was doing "my own thing."
In America, I was used to doing everything myself: choosing classes, working part-time, cooking, handling everything. Coming to the Song Dynasty and becoming Empress, with everyone serving me, I actually felt uncomfortable.
Now, finally, I had something to do.
After more than an hour, Cui'er returned. Her expression was subtle—not happy, not unhappy, but a look of "the matter is done, but I'm a bit confused."
"How did it go?"
"Rented. Forty-threeguan a month. Signed for three years."
"Forty-threeguan? I told you to negotiate to forty-five—"
"This servant intended to negotiate for forty-five. But when Manager Sun heard I was from the Bureau of Palace Attendants, he voluntarily reduced it by twoguan. He said... 'It is my good fortune that a noble from the Bureau of Palace Attendants favors my shop.'"
I paused, then smiled.
Zhao Xu's reputation was indeed useful.
"He also said—"
"What?"
"He said... 'That lady wants to open a tea shop, with Qingfeng Lou right opposite. The owner of Qingfeng Lou is the brother-in-law of the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue. The lady should be careful.'"
Brother-in-law of the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue.
I noted this name down.
That night, I wrote on a slip of paper: *The shop space has been rented. On the edge of the Imperial Street, opposite Qingfeng Lou. Monthly rent forty-threeguan, signed for three years. His Majesty gave me one thousandguan, which he had been saving for me since my first day in the Song Dynasty. He said he remembers every word I say.*
He also said he wants to learn from me how to "make money grow." The tuition fee is osmanthus cakes, made by his own hands.
I am waiting.
Outside the window was the moon. The moon of the ninth day, more than half full, bright and clear.
I closed my eyes, thinking of the tea shop not yet open, thinking of the jasmine scent of Chagee, thinking of his words "I remember every word you say." And I thought of Emily. I wondered if she was still in New York, if she had found a job. If she knew I was opening a milk tea shop a thousand years in the past, she would surely say: "I knew it! You were born for this!"
She was right. I truly was.
He said never change for a hundred years. If he says no change, then there will be no change.
He is still that child who watched ants in the Imperial Garden. Only now, he is my partner.
Tomorrow I will find Shen Lingcheng. I'll ask him to forge a few tea buckets for me. Copper ones, with lids, capable of keeping warmth. Hot milk tea tastes better. As a food science major, I know best how temperature affects texture—too hot ruins the milk aroma, too cold makes it fishy. Around sixty degrees Celsius is just right.
[End of Chapter 47]