It was already the end of the twelfth lunar month, and the Capital had turned bitterly cold. In the courtyard of Su Mingyu’s home, the wintersweet was in full bloom, but she had no heart to admire it. Dressed in thick cotton-padded robes, she sat beside a charcoal brazier in her room, holding a bowl of hot soup and blowing on it between sips.
"Ah! I, Su Mingyu, am truly brilliant. I only watched Sanniang make this pear soup twice, and I’ve managed to recreate the exact same taste!"
Just as Su Mingyu was congratulating herself, a voice drifted in from outside the door.
Chapter 71