Qin Shuang'er noticed that Jin Niang didn’t refuse the fan sleeve from Eldest Miss. After Chun Xing left, she pretended to joke, "How did you get so familiar with the people from Eldest Miss’s quarters?"
"I don’t know either. I’ve never even been to Eldest Miss’s place—can’t figure it out." Jin Niang smiled, feigning confusion.
Qin Shuang'er gritted her teeth in frustration. You, Wei Jin Niang, aren’t even a maid or companion to Eldest Miss—why are you stealing my position? But she was the type to swallow her anger rather than let it show.
Jin Niang and the others were busy sewing clothes, working harder than usual, but at least no one scolded or hit them. Madam Jiang even praised their efforts and ordered an extra dish for them, so their treatment was decent. Sister Shan, however, was far worse off. When she rushed back to the sewing room during lunch, everyone was shocked.
"Sister Shan, why are you here at this hour?" Jin Niang quickly set down her bowl and asked, "Have you eaten? Would you like some? I’ll have Little He fetch another dish from the kitchen."
After a month apart, Sister Shan looked sallow and drained of color. Once talkative, she now only wept.
Jiang Shanjie sniffled as she sat down. "No, really, I don’t need it."
Jin Niang and Fang Qiaolian exchanged glances, bewildered. Qin Shuang'er was away on errands, and Madam Chen wasn’t present either. They worried Sister Shan had come to see Madam Chen.
Instead, Sister Shan lifted her pant leg. "Look—I knelt all night, and my knees are ruined. She doesn’t hit our faces, but if we do anything displeasing, she makes us kneel on broken porcelain in her room. Last night, I was just a little late fetching water for her nighttime needs, and she punished me. But I know the real reason—she lost at gambling and took it out on us."
Jin Niang frowned. "Should we tell Madam Chen?"
"Yes, go to Madam Chen," Fang Qiaolian agreed.
Sister Shan shook her head. "It’s no use. As long as the mistress doesn’t leave visible marks, no one will stand up for us. Not Madam Chen, not even my own parents—they can’t interfere here."
Jin Niang was puzzled. "But you’re a seamstress—why are you responsible for her nighttime needs?"
"Aunt drinks water constantly at night, saying her heart burns, and she needs to relieve herself just as often. It takes two or three maids to attend her. During the day, I’m sewing clothes, undergarments, even menstrual cloths. She bled for over ten days this month and made me wash the soiled ones. Other maids born into the household get a coin or two as reward, but I get nothing—just endless complaints. Once, a lotus seed fell from her silver-ear soup, and she made me pick it up from the floor and eat it." Sister Shan had grown up poor but had always supported herself as a seamstress—she had never endured such humiliation.
Before, it was just her dignity being trampled. Now, with the porcelain kneeling, no wonder she was suffering.
Jin Niang and the others were furious. When Qin Shuang'er returned and overheard, each drew different lessons from the story.
Sister Shan couldn’t stay long. Despite her aching knees, she hurried back. Jin Niang reflected that Aunt targeted people selectively—she bribed the household-born maids with trifles while tormenting the bought ones. Divided, they couldn’t unite against her.
What a cunning, cruel woman.
Later, Jin Niang reported everything to Madam Chen, who mused, "If she only punishes them in private, she fears exposure. At least there’s no mortal danger. Don’t worry—when we take on a major embroidery project, I’ll find a chance to inform First Lady."
Jin Niang set the matter aside and returned to work. A week later, when Sister Shan visited again, she relayed Madam Chen’s words. Sister Shan clasped her hands in relief.
Then Qin Shuang'er chimed in, "Don’t worry—we’re all from the same hometown. Of course we’ll help."
Jin Niang nearly rolled her eyes. This Qin Shuang'er—always claiming credit where she did nothing. She wouldn’t let it slide. With a mocking smile, she said, "When I spoke to Madam Chen about Sister Shan, you didn’t say a word. Now you talk about helping? Aren’t you ashamed?"
"I said it privately—you wouldn’t know," Qin Shuang'er retorted, narrowing her eyes.
Jin Niang scoffed. This credit-grabber is beyond ridiculous.
In the gentle spring breeze, Jin Niang delivered a fan sleeve to Eldest Miss’s quarters. On the way, she encountered a woman in a silver-red robe printed with gold, a pleated skirt embroidered with diamond-patterned flowers, and a matching silk sash. Her hair was coiled into a small bun, tied with a red ribbon, adorned with a gold peony comb and silver-gilt hairpins. Her beauty was striking—radiant and exquisite.
After she passed, Jin Niang asked a maid in the corridor who she was. The maid laughed. "Lucky you don’t know her—that’s Miao Xiaoniang. She’s been secluded, resting for her pregnancy, so she rarely appears."
So this is Miao Xiaoniang—Fourth Miss Zhou’s mother. No wonder she’s so beautiful.
With that thought, Jin Niang hurried to Eldest Miss’s quarters. Eldest Miss had just returned from Old Madam Han’s, where she’d delivered Buddhist scriptures. Seeing Jin Niang, she mused, Qin Shuang'er is far more elegant in looks and bearing.
People often assume beauty reflects virtue.
Jin Niang, with her simple bun and drab clothes, seemed unremarkable in comparison.
Yet the fan sleeve she presented was breathtaking—pink satin embroidered with cascading cherry blossoms, vibrant but not cluttered, brimming with spring vitality.
"I’ve heard praises of your needlework, and now I see they were deserved," Eldest Miss said, delighted. She immediately had her gold-painted fan placed inside.
Jin Niang smiled. "I’m glad you like it, Miss."
Eldest Miss added, "How clever—most embroider cherry blossoms on white sleeves, but you paired pink on pink without overwhelming the design."
"This servant recalled a line from Ouyang Jiong’s Spring’s Radiance: ‘After rain, mountain cherries blaze red.’ That inspired the embroidery," Jin Niang explained.
Eldest Miss brightened. "You’ve studied? You know Ouyang Jiong’s poetry?"
Jin Niang nodded. "My parents had someone teach me a few characters, that’s all."
Literate, skilled, and tactful—Eldest Miss was thoroughly pleased. "Then stay for tea. Let’s talk properly."
"This servant would love to keep you company, but my workload is heavy. I shouldn’t waste your tea." Jin Niang dared not draw too much attention—Eldest Miss’s senior maids were not to be trifled with.
Eldest Miss was disappointed but gifted her a pair of gold lychee earrings. "You must visit often to chat."
Jin Niang bowed in agreement.
After leaving Eldest Miss Zhou's quarters, Jin Niang ran into Yan Hong, who seemed relieved to see her. "First Lady has gone to Old Madam Han's place, and all the maids have followed. Just now, someone delivered fruits, and those greedy little wretches all ran off to get some. I was just looking for someone to deliver these things to Second Madam—could you take them for me?"
"Of course." Jin Niang was glad for the chance to move around a bit. Staying cooped up in the embroidery room all day had nearly made her moldy.
The second household lived in the western courtyard. Passing through Old Madam Han's compound, she reached the front garden, where tall flower trellises and jagged rockeries stood. As she was making her way through the artificial hills, she suddenly heard voices and quickly hid inside the crevices of the rocks.
Peering through a gap in the stones, she recognized one of the speakers as Miao Xiaoniang, the same woman she had seen earlier that morning. Miao Xiaoniang was speaking to an older servant woman. "You’ve had such rotten luck. Your daughter finally became a chamber maid and won Eldest Young Master's favor, only for him to now be on the brink of death."
"My daughter was forced into marriage by a local bully. Thanks to your kindness, she was able to serve Eldest Young Master and earn his regard. But it seems fortune has abandoned her," the woman replied, wiping her tears.
Miao Xiaoniang sighed. "After all these years without bearing him a child, what will become of her once Eldest Young Master passes?"
The woman lifted her head, pleading. "Please, Miao Xiaoniang, you must help her!"
"Then you’ll have to do exactly as I say," Miao Xiaoniang whispered, beckoning the woman closer.
Jin Niang couldn’t make out the rest of their conversation. Soon after, one of them hurried off toward the east, while the other walked leisurely back toward the main household.
To be safe, Jin Niang stayed hidden for another quarter of an hour, her legs growing numb before she finally slipped out of the rockery, her heart pounding with fear. Though she had written plays before, real life was nothing like the stories she crafted. Faced with actual scheming and deceit, who wouldn’t be terrified? Who wouldn’t want to flee as far as possible?
With these thoughts weighing on her, she was eager to deliver the items to Second Madam and return quickly. Yet to her surprise, Madam Wu turned out to be exceedingly kind. Perhaps because Jin Niang was dressed so plainly that day, Madam Wu gifted her a pale spring jacket, an emerald-green embroidered skirt, and a pair of satin shoes.
"This humble servant thanks Second Madam for your generosity," Jin Niang said sincerely.
Spring attire shouldn’t be too heavy, but the evenings were still chilly, and the light jacket would be perfect.
Glancing around Madam Wu’s chambers, Jin Niang noted the luxurious details: the half-open window with its lotus-patterned glass panes, the tortoiseshell-patterned wool rug on the floor, the sandalwood table adorned with a string-patterned vase holding a few sprigs of peach blossoms. In the center stood a delicate octagonal table draped with a melon-and-vine tablecloth—a display of utmost opulence.
Madam Wu dismissed her casually, instructing her to report back. But just as Jin Niang turned to leave, a young matron rushed in.
This was Madam Du, wife of Zhou Duzhi, the eldest son of the second household.
"Madam," she announced breathlessly, "Eldest Young Master… he has stopped breathing."
The news was hardly unexpected. When Madam Wu first married into the family, she had gotten along well with her stepson. But after bearing children of her own, their relationship soured. Since last year, he had been gravely ill, and his condition had worsened over the past six months. Now that he was truly gone, Madam Wu felt a pang of sorrow.
