Fan Sa grew up on South Gate Avenue, helping at her family's little steamed bun stall. As a child, she learned…
Fan Sa grew up on South Gate Avenue, helping at her family's little steamed bun stall.
As a child, she learned to turn scraps of dough and leftover fillings into flawless steamed buns. Later, inside the palace, she kept at it, salvaging what others discarded and coaxing from those scraps the old, comforting flavors she remembered.
The palace was a small, square world far from home. When longing hit, she'd find some scraps to make a steamed bun. As long as the bun was still warm, home wouldn't just be a dream forever.
The court was cramped, but the world beyond its walls was vast, and Fan Sa never knew what mark she might leave on it.
Life passed like steam from a tray of buns, one day folding into the next, and she kept promising herself she'd leave the palace, return home, and spend her savings on a "good life." She never got around to defining what that meant before the years slipped away.