After the first snowfall following the Beginning of Winter, Jin Niang wore a dark green padded jacket beneath a striking red sable fur coat, which made her complexion glow like jade.
Jiang Xian teased, "Are you truly going to compose poetry today?"
"It's just an excuse for everyone to gather. You know me—I'm hardly a master of verse," Jin Niang replied, carefully applying rouge to her lips with an ear pick.
Jiang Xian sighed, "You only just returned yesterday, and now you're leaving me again. I’ll be counting the hours till you come back."
"You never used to say such things. Fine, I’ll return early," Jin Niang said, rising and patting his shoulder. Before she could pull away, Jiang Xian caught her hand and gave it a playful squeeze, sending a flush across her cheeks.
"Wait a moment," Jiang Xian said suddenly.
He strode to the desk, picked up a brush, and swiftly filled several sheets with elegant calligraphy. Jin Niang leaned in to look—every line was themed around "plum blossoms" and "snow."
Baffled, she asked, "Why are you writing these?"
"Take them with you. If you struggle to compose your own, just use mine. I doubt your friends will set anything too challenging," Jiang Xian suggested.
Jin Niang was aghast. "That’s cheating! I won’t do it."
Despite his coaxing, she refused to even glance at the papers and marched out, leaving Jiang Xian chuckling ruefully to himself. Stubborn as ever. She’d probably scold him later—best to start preparing her favorite dish now.
Outside, Liu Dou'er had already hitched the horses. Jin Niang climbed into the carriage with Nanny Fang, while Fan Si drove another cart carrying Ying, Qingrong, clothing cases, and gifts.
They soon arrived at Madam Qian’s residence. The hostess wore an embroidered silver-fox fur coat and a Zhaojun-style fur hat. Jin Niang clasped her hands warmly. "I heard your eldest son’s wedding is approaching. Is it true?"
"Our humble household hardly warrants such attention," Madam Qian demurred with a smile.
As they strolled along the gallery, Jin Niang learned that the Qian family had once arranged a marriage alliance with the granddaughter of a vice prefect when Magistrate Dong was still in office. But while the vice prefect’s career stagnated, Magistrate Dong rose to become a judge in Daming Prefecture.
"I’ve acted as a matchmaker five or six times now," Jin Niang remarked. "If you haven’t settled on anyone yet, you could always call on me."
Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that passing up an opportunity to earn money was like missing out on fortune itself.
Madam Qian laughed. "Who else would I ask? I just didn’t know how to bring it up—thank goodness you mentioned it first."
The two shared a knowing smile.
Initially, Madam Qian had sought Jin Niang’s friendship purely for professional reasons—after all, judges and magistrates needed to work together. But she soon realized Wei Jinniang was a woman of principle. Unlike others who flocked to higher-ranking officials regardless of character, Jin Niang had even declined invitations from the vice prefect’s wife. There was a steadfast dignity about her.
Nearby, the snow had been cleared from around an ancient plum tree. The guests huddled in the corridor, warming their hands with heated pouches as they admired the winter scenery.
"Why don’t we open the windows and enjoy the view from inside?" Madam Qian suggested. "We’ll stay warm by the fire while still taking in the blossoms."
Everyone agreed. Inside, a large table was laden with forty varieties of snacks and delicacies.
After sipping wine, Madam Lan dabbed her lips with a handkerchief and proposed, "The red plum is lovely, but Madam Qian’s garden has other exquisite flowers—camellias, bougainvillea, narcissus. Why limit ourselves to plum blossoms? Let’s compose poems about any flower in this garden."
The other ladies—all educated officials’ wives—nodded in approval.
Madam Lan added, "Since we’re here, let’s make it a seven-character regulated verse with ‘garden’ as the rhyme. A fitting tribute to our surroundings."
Jin Niang titled hers "Ode to Camellias." Though she adored the flower, poetry wasn’t her forte—she cobbled together lines just to participate.
Ranking last didn’t bother her. In fact, she’d discovered that people loved giving advice. By humbly seeking guidance on her mediocre verses, she quickly bonded with the group.
Madam Lan, expecting sophistication from Jin Niang’s scholarly air, was the first to read her poem. After a strained chuckle, she offered, "Sister Wei’s work shows... promise."
When the poetry judge ranked Jin Niang last, the others winced on her behalf. But Jin Niang simply smiled. "In that case, let me brew tea for everyone."
She served each guest with cheerful grace, showing no trace of embarrassment.
"I only studied for three years," Jin Niang admitted later. "But I do enjoy poetry. Once I improve, I’ll join you again."
Touched, Madam Lan insisted, "Please accept some of my poetry manuals, sister."
By asking for tips, Jin Niang deepened her connections. During the feast, she invited them all to a gathering at her home soon.
Back home, she sent out invitations—even to Madam Ji and the elderly Madam Wang, though the latter sent her daughter-in-law Madam Wu instead. Madam Ji pleaded illness, but Madam Qian and Madam Lan attended.
Jin Niang had pastries delivered from Ruyan’s newly opened shop, praising them lavishly. "They specialize in southern-style desserts. The butter crisps paired with jasmine tea are divine."
Ruyan had been struggling to attract customers, but Jin Niang’s patronage—and insistence on paying full price—changed everything. She spent five mace of silver on treats for the officials’ wives.
Madam Wu adored the sweets. "Let me pack some for you to take home," Jin Niang insisted over her protests. "They’re just simple snacks, nothing extravagant."
The afternoon passed with games of pitch-pot and backgammon, followed by an outdoor barbecue. Though imperfectly executed, the gathering secured Jin Niang’s place in their circle—and boosted Ruyan’s business.
Jiang Xian marveled at her stack of invitations. "You’ve made so many friends already!"
"Not that many," Jin Niang demurred. "I’ll stay home these next few days to study poetry properly. Besides, Winter Solstice is coming—we should prepare for the New Year properly this time."
Jiang Xian leaned close, pressing his cheek to hers. "Then today, my love, you’re all mine."
Sometimes when he was too exhausted or overwhelmed, Jiang Xian just wanted Jin Niang to focus entirely on him—doing nothing else, just being there for him. That alone made him happy.
"Alright," Jin Niang replied, well aware of his thoughts. At times, he acted like a child, craving her undivided attention.
But there was nothing wrong with that. Just as parents weren’t born knowing how to be parents, Jiang Xian’s occasional childishness only proved how strong their marital bond was.
Since Jin Niang wasn’t particularly skilled in the kitchen, she simply prepared a bowl of quail soup with Sichuan fritillary bulbs—known for soothing the lungs, relieving coughs, reducing phlegm, and even acting as a diuretic. The soup was also nourishing.
Of course, Jiang Xian had guided her through the process. Once it was done, he praised her, "Your cooking is excellent, my dear."
Apart from cooking together, Jin Niang also combed his hair, helped design his clothes, and spent hours chatting with him.
At one point, Jiang Xian sighed, "The caseload in Daming Prefecture is overwhelming. Thankfully, Judge Dong is reasonable, unlike back in Wu County."
"That’s good to hear," Jin Niang reassured him. "I’ve heard that during the Yifeng era of the Tang Dynasty, Di Renjie, as the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, resolved a backlog of 17,000 cases in a single year without a single wrongful conviction. He was later promoted to Imperial Censor. Whether or not you get promoted, those who excel will always be recognized."
Jiang Xian was ambitious by nature, but setbacks often left him disheartened. That was why he needed Jin Niang’s constant encouragement. Even when his career prospects seemed bleak, her words lifted his spirits and made him feel at ease.
"My dear, you’re my remedy. Without you, I’d never recover," he murmured.
Jin Niang laughed. "Don’t be silly. No one in this world is truly irreplaceable. Even if I were gone, the sun would still rise and set as usual—nothing would change."
That was also why she worked hard to earn money but never let wealth or power consume her.
What she didn’t voice aloud was the example of Jiang Xian’s father, the Sixth Master Jiang. Despite his age and having three sons and a daughter, he remarried soon after his wife’s death.
Jiang Xian was far more accomplished than his father. If anything happened to her, he’d likely have suitors within a month—perhaps even better matches, like Han Xiao’s family.
But saying that would only ruin the tender moment between them.
Seeing her lowered gaze, Jiang Xian guessed her thoughts. Promises meant little now; only time and actions would prove his devotion.
Jin Niang, however, quickly shook off her melancholy and grinned. "Let me change into something for you to see."
"Alright," Jiang Xian agreed, assuming she had sewn a new outfit. But when she reappeared, he nearly choked. "My dear, isn’t that a nun’s robe? Why is it so… sheer?"
She had taken a piece of gray gauze gifted to her and secretly fashioned it into a translucent nun’s habit. Standing there, she simply smiled without a word.
Jiang Xian quickly pulled her into bed. "It’s freezing outside—you’ll catch a cold."
…
The previous day had been blissful for Jiang Xian. With heavy snowfall blocking the roads, even the Wei Family School had temporarily closed. Fortunately, Sister Jun had ranked third in the recent exams, which satisfied her.
Jin Niang had planned a family barbecue at Linglong Pavilion, but then Madam Qian sent word—Wu-shi’s eldest son had passed away in early spring.
"What? We must all go," Jin Niang said to Madam Lan.
Wu-shi’s son was the legitimate heir, the only grandson raised under Old Madam Wang’s care. As a mother herself, Jin Niang couldn’t help but weep in sympathy.
She and Madam Lan prepared funeral offerings and met Madam Qian, but their delays meant they arrived later than Madam Ji, who had rushed over alone.
Yet Madam Ji felt isolated, convinced others saw her as friendless—and in truth, no one seemed to care.
Wu-shi, usually composed, now wailed uncontrollably, "My child! How could you leave me? You’ve taken my life with you!"
Jin Niang wept along, unable to fathom the agony of losing a child—it was like having her heart carved out.
Wu-shi collapsed, her maids rushing to support her.
"How did he pass so suddenly?" Jin Niang asked. The boy had been over ten—no longer a toddler.
Wu-shi’s nursemaid explained, "The young master was always healthy. It was just a cold, but then… gone in an instant. Even Young Master Wei, the seventh son, who played with him, is fine. No wonder our mistress is devastated—it was too sudden."
Just then, Madam Wei arrived, and another wave of grief swept through the gathering.
The Wang family served refreshments, and Jin Niang remarked, "If only his illness hadn’t struck so fast, I could’ve given him the embroidered Guanyin tapestry I made. When I stitched it, I had it blessed at Purple Gold Temple and chanted sutras over it. I’m not superstitious, but since hanging it at home, my children and I have never fallen ill."
One must always be prepared and seize opportunities.
Sure enough, as they left, Madam Wei approached Jin Niang about her own son’s illness.
"What’s to be done? Have you consulted physicians?" Jin Niang urged, hoping Madam Wei would trust doctors over her tapestry, which was merely a comfort.
"Of course," Madam Wei replied. "Several court physicians examined him. Though the fever broke, the cough lingers."
Jin Niang nodded sympathetically. "You must be beside yourself. A mother’s worry is universal. In winter, keep the braziers burning but ensure the windows aren’t sealed shut."
Madam Wei thought, I didn’t stop you for advice. Was my hint too subtle? Or does Madam Jiang refuse to part with it?
But she couldn’t force the matter.
Just as she wavered, Jin Niang offered, "Madam Wei, if you’d like, I have a blessed Guanyin tapestry at home. You’re welcome to take it."
Relief flooded Madam Wei’s heart. Even her usually impassive face brightened. "That would be wonderful."
Later, Jin Niang recounted the incident to Jiang Xian. "The trick doesn’t need to be clever—just effective. The Wei family may not hold local office, but as a third-rank Transport Commissioner, their reputation is solid. If we forge this connection, it might pave our way back to the capital."
"You’re quick-witted," Jiang Xian praised.
Upon hearing that Madam Wei's son had fallen ill, Jin Niang immediately began strategizing—her quick thinking was truly remarkable.
Jin Niang said, "Enough talk. I need to find a box to pack the embroidered portrait and bring it over. Oh, and I should also send some tonics." After gathering everything, she set off for the Wei household with Nanny Fang and Ying, leaving Qing Rong to manage things at home.
Once inside the carriage, Ying remarked, "Mistress, Ruyan gave me eight boxes of pastries. I tried to pay, but she refused."
"I’ve already helped her secure connections. From now on, she should focus on her business without such gestures. Don’t take things from her—she’s running a small operation and it’s not easy for her," Jin Niang replied.
Ying smiled. "Understood."
Jin Niang grew serious. "I’m not joking. Everyone in our circle knows Ruyan’s background, and we won’t speak of it. But if other servants grow too familiar with her, questions may arise. She’s worked hard to leave her past behind—if rumors spread, how will she establish herself? People might assume her teahouse is disreputable. Besides, we’ll only be in Daming Prefecture for three years. She should start seeking patrons now so she can stand on her own after we leave. If we interfere too much, she won’t be able to forge new ties."
From the beginning, Jin Niang had never expected repayment from Ruyan. Even when she had encouraged her to study forensic medicine under Sister Jiang Liu, it had been partly for her own reasons. Now that Ruyan had built a life for herself, Jin Niang saw no need to remain closely involved.
It was time for Ruyan to start anew.
Ying, who always heeded Jin Niang’s words, quickly assured her, "Don’t worry, I’ll follow your wishes."
Nanny Fang, listening nearby, nodded in approval. This was for the best.
Soon, they arrived at the Wei residence, where Madam Wei had personally sent her attendant to greet them. Jin Niang followed the servant inside and promptly presented the embroidered portrait. When Madam Wei unwrapped it, the scent of sandalwood wafted out—proof that it had been regularly venerated. The half-life-sized Guanyin embroidery was exquisite, radiating compassion, with golden rays behind her and purple robes enhancing her divine grace.
"Madam Jiang, thank you so much. Once my son recovers, we’ll return it," Madam Wei said.
Jin Niang didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she first went to see Wei Qilang. The boy, whom the girls called a "male fox spirit," lived up to the nickname—exceptionally handsome even at a young age, with long lashes and flawless pale skin.
After leaving the sickroom, Jin Niang told Madam Wei, "If this Guanyin portrait helps your son recover, please keep it. I can always embroider another. A child’s health is more important than anything."
Madam Wei, recalling how Jiang Xian and his wife had gone to great lengths to secure a tutor for their daughter, felt a pang of empathy. Parents who cherished their children so deeply were rare.
Within three days of hanging the purple-robed Guanyin, Wei Qilang’s condition improved completely.
Grateful, Madam Wei visited Jin Niang to propose a formal kinship bond. Jin Niang smiled but declined gently. "I’d be honored, but we share the same surname—it might not be auspicious."
In folk tradition, sharing a surname as sworn kin was considered conflicting. Though Jin Niang didn’t know the exact reasoning, she adhered to the custom.
"You’re also surnamed Wei?" Madam Wei found the coincidence remarkable.
Jin Niang nodded. "Yes, though my family is humble compared to yours."
Madam Wei, noting the promising careers of the Jiang brothers—especially Jiang Xian’s political achievements—saw an opportunity. She suggested linking their family registers, and Jin Niang agreed readily, as she had full authority over her natal family’s affairs.
With her younger brother embarking on an official career, ties to the Wei family would be invaluable.
Madam Wei promptly wrote to her husband and notified their clan. A month later, the two families were formally connected. Now, when Jin Niang visited the Weis, they addressed her as "Aunt," and she called Madam Wei "Sister-in-law." She even brought her husband and children to dine with the Wei clan.
Madam Wei doted on Brother Ning, refusing to let him go. Jin Niang laughed. "You should know—this child usually only lets pretty young ladies hold him."
Delighted, Madam Wei beamed.
On their return, Luo Da arrived with rental payments. Jin Niang shared news of the Wei family alliance and handed him a letter to deliver. Luo Da also updated her on family affairs: "Since Younger Brother Yang entered the Imperial Academy, many have come with marriage proposals. Your parents said they’ll wait for your return to decide."
"Yang is still young. He should focus on his studies. Passing the imperial exams would be ideal," Jin Niang said.
Her brother was earnest, but their family’s modest means made early betrothals risky. She’d seen families where the bride’s side dominated, and her mother’s temper would only fuel conflict. Worse were matches that appeared prosperous but later drained the groom’s family.
Since moving to Daming Prefecture, Luo Da had been the happiest—the journey from Kaifeng was far shorter than from Wu County. After meeting Jin Niang, he went to see Jiang Xian, greeting him with, "Congratulations on your promotion, Magistrate."
"Hardly worth celebrating. Have you seen my wife?" Jiang Xian replied mildly.
Luo Da grinned. "I heard her family’s now linked with the Huainan Fiscal Commissioner’s household—what splendid news."
Jiang Xian chuckled. "These days, I’m just following her lead."
Luo Da marveled at how a seventh-rank official’s wife had secured ties to a third-rank commissioner. Jin Niang truly had a gift. When Jiang Xian inquired about affairs in the capital, Luo Da shifted to a serious tone.
Meanwhile, Jin Niang received funds from the capital—980 taels of silver. With Jiang Xian’s promotion, his monthly salary had also risen from seven to twenty strings of cash. Their household could now live comfortably on his income alone, allowing Jin Niang to save nearly all the silver.
She had no plans to buy property in Daming Prefecture. Being close to the capital, it made more sense to invest in Bianjing later.
"Ying, prepare a meal. Steward Luo brought two young attendants—arrange a place for them too," Jin Niang instructed.
Ying hurried off, thinking ahead to when Manager Fan and Shopkeeper Yao would come to settle accounts. In just three years, Jin Niang had acquired hundreds of acres of land and a commercial property. This year’s New Year celebrations would surely be lavish.
On the other side, when Second Madam Zhou received the seasonal gifts from Third Madam Zhou, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of disdain. The two had never gotten along well, even back in their maiden days, so this unexpected gesture was met with skepticism. Glancing over the presents—nothing but local products—she found them utterly unremarkable.
At her wedding, her dowry had included a hefty sum of ten thousand taels, among which was a woolen goods shop with a capital of six thousand five hundred taels. Initially, it yielded an annual profit of a thousand strings of cash. However, the shop’s manager grew arrogant, flaunting his contributions and overstepping his bounds. Second Madam Zhou dismissed him and replaced him with her own trusted aide. Yet, the consequences followed swiftly—the shop’s earnings plummeted to a mere five hundred strings a year.
For an ordinary family, such an amount would be a fortune. But for households like theirs, it was barely enough to scrape by.
Nowadays, daily expenses and social engagements were covered by the family’s common funds, but anything beyond that had to come from her private savings—especially since her father-in-law had retired, leaving her mother-in-law increasingly tight-fisted. Once accustomed to silks and brocades, she now wore the same lynx-fur coat from her dowry through the winter. A fine marten-fur coat would cost at least sixty taels—a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Then there was the matter of her daughter’s future. A childhood betrothal had been arranged by her mother to the youngest son of a military governor. While her own family now held no official rank, the groom’s family was influential. Though her daughter was only eight, the dowry had to be prepared—at least ten thousand strings. The He family hadn’t yet divided their estate, and when her elder sister-in-law’s daughter married, the common funds contributed a paltry two hundred strings. What use was that?
As these thoughts swirled in her mind, she noticed a letter from Third Sister tucked among the gifts. Opening it, she was stunned to read that Jiang Xian’s wife was none other than Wei Jinniang—a former servant who had once worked in their household!
She hadn’t even recognized her. How laughable that the woman had pretended not to know her either.
Did she truly believe her past could stay hidden? A crow dreaming of becoming a phoenix—what a farce!
