The gilt stationery in Shang Jia’s hand still bore stains from the tea. A dull, smoldering anger knotted in her chest. She turned and snatched the report from Su Wan’er’s hands.
Su Wan’er was staring blankly at its contents.
“Wan’er, move aside. I’d like to see what exactly she has found so important!”
Shang Jia held the pages up before her eyes.
“Jiangnan Prefecture No. 1 Weaving Workshop: This month, three thousand jin of raw silk purchased from Huzhou. The travel permit for transport out of the city was approved directly by the Yingtian Prefecture…”
“Thirty spinning wheels malfunctioned. Twenty local carpenters were hired to repair them overnight, and two taels, eight mace of silver were paid in cash…”
“On the fifteenth day of the eleventh month, meal wages were distributed. Seven hundred female workers were present and accounted for, with not a single discrepancy. All three taels of silver in small change were of full purity…”
As Shang Jia read those words, her breath caught.
Unwilling to believe it, she forcefully flipped to the second page.
There, in stark detail, were the female workers’ hours, deductions for absences, and even the roster of security shifts established to prevent harassment by ruffians.
Shang Jia’s hand began to tremble uncontrollably.
“What is this?” She raised her head and stared at Xie Yunwan in disbelief. “This is what you’ve been neglecting sleep and food to study?”
Leaning against the writing desk, Xie Yunwan replied calmly, “The Jiangnan Weaving Workshop’s operational records. Every transaction, every step of the process—it’s all recorded with absolute clarity.”
Shang Jia’s complexion slowly shifted from livid to deathly pale.
Since childhood, she had been taught only the Admonitions for Women and the Rules for Women, as well as music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. At most, she had learned how to manage household affairs and distribute wages to servants and old nursemaids.
When had she ever imagined that one day hundreds, even thousands, of peasant women from poor families would leave their homes to do hard labor?
And not merely work—they could even receive real silver directly from their employers!
“Xie Yunwan, have you truly gone mad?”
“Who are you? You are the legitimate daughter of the century-old Xie clan of Jiangnan! Your father is a prominent official of the dynasty, a man of great standing at court! You were raised from childhood amid refined learning. You represent the dignity of the ladies of Jiangnan!”
Shang Jia’s voice grew increasingly urgent, and increasingly furious as she continued. “And now you have lowered yourself to study these vulgar commercial affairs? You’re dragging the reputation of the entire Xie clan into the mud!”
Su Wan’er had finally understood as well. Horror and alarm mingled on her face as she hurried to the desk.
“Sister Yunwan, what on earth are you thinking? It’s one thing for those peasant women to go out and do hard labor, but you are different!”
Her eyes reddened as she pointed at the records.
“You’re sitting there calculating these vulgar accounts, making women like us argue over trivial matters with illiterate commoners from the streets. It’s not only unbecoming—it’s morally corrupt and disgraceful. You’re throwing yourself away!”
The more she spoke, the more convinced she became that Xie Yunwan was beyond reason. “You must have been bewitched by that madman Xu Zijin’s inflammatory nonsense in the streets! Everything he says is twisted drivel he fabricated to incite rebellion! By joining in their foolishness, are you planning to destroy the pure and honorable family traditions we’ve inherited?”
Xie Yunwan listened to their reproaches.
All that flashed through her mind were the thick stack of reports sent from Jiangnan.
Between those lines lived real people—countless families who no longer had to sell their children because someone in the household had earned wages.
There was not the slightest trace of wavering in Xie Yunwan’s expression.
She looked coldly at the two agitated women, unwilling to waste her breath on a pointless quarrel.
Turning her head, she called sharply toward the room’s entrance.
“Qiuyue!”
The door was quickly pushed open.
The senior maid Qiuyue entered with the chill of winter clinging to her, then lowered her head and stood at attention. “Miss.”
“Bring two people inside.”
Qiuyue accepted the order and left.
Before long, two sturdy older maidservants entered the warm chamber with their heads bowed.
Xie Yunwan raised a hand and pointed to the left side of the room, where two large carved huanghuali-wood chests stood.
“Open the chests. Move everything inside them over beside the small red-clay brazier in the middle of the room.”
Qiuyue froze where she stood.
She knew those two chests better than anyone. Inside were all the poems and calligraphy Xie Yunwan had produced at literary gatherings over the years, along with rare editions and masterpieces exchanged with the young ladies of various noble households. They were normally kept meticulously protected from damp and vermin, cared for more carefully than anything else.
“What are you waiting for? Move them.” Xie Yunwan’s voice was icy.
Qiuyue did not dare ask questions. She quickly directed the two maidservants over and had them lift the copper-ring latches.
The lids opened.
Stacks of exquisitely mounted floral stationery, thread-bound poetry collections made with Chengxintang paper, and scrolls carrying a faint sandalwood fragrance appeared before everyone’s eyes.
The two sturdy maidservants efficiently carried the papers out bundle by bundle.
Soon, they were piled in a heap beside the glowing red-clay brazier.
Shang Jia stared at the familiar scrolls, the corners of her eyes twitching violently.
“You… What are you going to do?”
Her voice tightened as an ominous premonition rose in her heart.
Xie Yunwan reached directly into the top of the pile and pulled out a poetry collection tied with a red cord.
The cover bore four characters in delicate hairpin-style script: “The First Blossoms of the Crabapple.”
It was the anthology of linked verses the three of them had composed together the previous early spring, when the Haitang Poetry Society had just been founded. They had sat in this very warm chamber, watching snow fall outside the window.
Shang Jia had even commissioned the finest bookbinder in the capital to make the cover.
Xie Yunwan did not bother opening it for even a glance.
With a turn of her wrist, she threw the poetry collection—which held the countless hours of effort and talent shared by the three of them—straight into the blazing brazier!
Whoosh!
The flames leapt half a chi into the air.
Blue and golden fire quickly devoured the exquisite cover. The elegant characters written in premium Huizhou ink curled and blackened in the heat, crackling sharply before turning in an instant into a mass of charred ash.
“Xie Yunwan! You’ve gone mad!”
Su Wan’er let out a shrill scream.
She completely forgot the dignified composure expected of a noble young lady and lunged forward, trying to thrust her hand into the brazier and rescue the book.
Xie Yunwan reacted swiftly. She seized Su Wan’er by the wrist and shoved her hard backward.
Su Wan’er lost her balance, stumbled several steps, and fell onto an embroidered stool nearby.
Shang Jia pointed at the brazier in fury, her finger trembling violently. “Those were the verses you and I stayed up night after night to write and revise more than a dozen times before finalizing! Countless scholars and literary men outside have offered huge sums for even a single manuscript from our Haitang Poetry Society, yet you’ve simply burned it!”
Xie Yunwan ignored her completely.
She bent down, scooped up a thick handful of crabapple-flower stationery with both hands, and mercilessly emptied it into the brazier.
The flames surged.
Blinding firelight illuminated the entire warm chamber, casting a red glow over Xie Yunwan’s utterly impassive face.
“Effective immediately, the Haitang Poetry Society is disbanded.”
Xie Yunwan’s voice rose above the crackling of charcoal and burning paper.
“Those hackneyed verses lamenting spring and autumn, and those flowery rhymes you worship as sacred—none of them are ever to cross the gates of the Xie residence again!”
Su Wan’er sat collapsed on the embroidered stool, watching one rare poetry collection after another disappear into the flames.
Large tears rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks.
“You’ve destroyed three years of everyone’s hard work… You really have been possessed…!”
She wept, her face filled with utter disbelief.
Shang Jia clenched his back teeth, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at Xie Yunwan. “You think burning a few sheets of paper is enough to break free of the rules?”
