Although the side hall was only a temporary residence for the Second Young Master, no effort had been spared in its arrangement. A newly added small study featured a raised-head desk at its center, with an armchair placed behind it. A mother-of-pearl inlaid screen partitioned the space, concealing a small daybed at the back, flanked by a rosewood bookcase and an incense table.
On this incense table sat a delicate bamboo plant in an orchid-patterned porcelain pot. Jin Niang spotted it immediately and went over to trim it.
Cuixian, standing nearby, remarked, "Our Second Young Master often rests here when he tires from reading."
Jin Niang snipped off the thinnest stalk and thought to herself, I didn’t even ask—why tell me this? Still, out of politeness, she smiled and said, "Oh? How nice."
She knew better than to involve herself with the affairs of young masters. Even the maids in the First Lady’s quarters were constantly scheming against one another, let alone in a place like this.
After trimming the bamboo, Jin Niang moved to the outer room and sat down. Without wasting time on pleasantries, she began measuring the lengths needed for the bamboo garment, marking and cutting them before separating the threads. Thread-splitting had been one of the first skills she’d learned in embroidery, and her foundation was impeccable.
Once the threads were sorted, she carefully smoothed the edges of the bamboo segments—a meticulous task, as the thin stalks could easily snap with the slightest mishandling.
As she worked intently, Bi'e from the Second Young Master’s quarters arrived with a plate of meat-filled oil cakes. "These aren’t anything special," Bi'e said. "The kitchen made them for the First Lady’s birthday and sent some our way—just a bit of festive cheer."
Despite their humble name, the oil cakes were a labor-intensive delicacy, molded with floral patterns. Jin Niang thanked her promptly. "Such a treat—thank you for bringing it, sister. I’ll enjoy it once I’m done."
Noticing Jin Niang’s focus, Bi'e left without further interruption.
No matter where one was, skill and discretion commanded respect. Those who possessed both were seldom overlooked.
Qin Shuang'er, however, had other ideas. Determined to secure her place in the Zhou household, she had once been the daughter of an official. But after her father’s death, she had fallen into servitude. Now, at a loss and aware that Jin Niang had seen through her intentions, she feared what rumors might spread.
Perhaps I should strike first. With that thought, Qin Shuang'er slipped into Fang Qiaolian’s room. In her haste earlier, Fang Qiaolian had left behind a pearl hairpin—a cherished gift from the old madam—on the side table.
Heart pounding and hands trembling, Qin Shuang'er clutched the hairpin, her steps unsteady. But after a moment’s hesitation, she resolutely tucked it into the basket behind Jin Niang’s bed. She knew Jin Niang was too absorbed in her embroidery to tidy up—her carelessness would make her the perfect suspect.
The last time Fang Qiaolian had lost twenty copper coins, she had immediately suspected those around her, even though only Jin Niang had been present. Theft was a grave offense in the household.
With the deed done, Qin Shuang'er slipped away unnoticed.
Meanwhile, Jin Niang had just finished polishing the bamboo tubes and begun weaving them with ramie thread when Zhou Cunzhi strode in, displeased. "Why hasn’t my bamboo garment been delivered yet?"
Cuixian hurried to explain. "We asked outside embroiderers first, but none knew how to repair it. Luckily, our own seamstress here could do it. She needed fresh bamboo, so we had her work on it here."
Zhou Cunzhi entered the inner chamber, and Jin Niang rose to greet him. He motioned for her to sit. "How much longer will it take?"
"Second Young Master, it should be ready in about three quarters of an hour," Jin Niang replied.
Standing with his hands behind his back, Zhou Cunzhi observed Jin Niang. Though her appearance was plain, her deft fingers moved with remarkable agility, threading the finest strands like butterflies flitting through foliage. Her skill was undeniable, and he couldn’t help but admire it silently.
The bamboo garment was a gift for a close friend—something money couldn’t easily buy. Deciding to wait, he took a seat nearby.
With Zhou Cunzhi present, even the usually aloof Bi'e served tea with graceful hands, while Cuixian brought out an array of exquisite pastries. Yet Zhou Cunzhi showed little interest in the refreshments, his attention fixed solely on the bamboo garment’s progress.
Still, he remained patient.
The repair was no simple task, and Jin Niang was grateful she had once read about it. After threading the final bamboo tube with a fine ramie strand and securing it to the edge, she finally exhaled in relief.
"Young Master, the garment is ready."
Zhou Cunzhi had expected a longer wait, but in less time than it took to drink a cup of tea, the piece was flawlessly restored. Cuixian handed it to him, and he inspected it closely—no trace of mending remained. "Excellent," he praised thrice.
Cuixian added, "We even asked Madam Chen, but she couldn’t do it. Only Jin Niang knew how. Surely she deserves a reward, Young Master."
Zhou Cunzhi smiled at Jin Niang. "What would you like?"
"If possible, I’d appreciate a set of pigments. I rarely leave the household, and the ones my old teacher gave me have run out. I’ve been at a loss for where to buy more."
He had expected her to demur with humble refusals, but her request for pigments—practical yet revealing her dedication—pleased him. "You’re skilled beyond your years, untouched by trivial pursuits," he remarked before agreeing. "I happen to have a set of forty-two pigments. I’ll have them sent to you."
Jin Niang was overjoyed.
Cuixian escorted her out and pressed two rings into her hand, wrapped in a handkerchief. "If not for you, I’d have been scolded today. These aren’t valuable, but take them."
Jin Niang examined them—one was a copper ring with a tiny pearl, the other a gold hinged bracelet-ring. She hesitated, but Cuixian insisted, "I have plenty more. Keep them."
Reluctantly, Jin Niang accepted.
But as she left the old madam’s quarters, Si'er rushed up to her in a panic. "Sister Jin Niang! You asked me to watch your room, and I saw Qin Shuang'er hide Sister Qiaolian’s hairpin in the basket behind your bed! What should we do?"
Si'er and Little He had been sold to the Zhou household the previous year, their contracts paid in full to their families. But Madam Chen and the others guarded their embroidery techniques closely—it was their livelihood. Jin Niang had observed the two newcomers before deciding Si'er was trustworthy, having helped her several times. In return, Jin Niang had discreetly aided her, even speaking up when Si'er was once reprimanded.
So, whenever Jin Niang was away from the embroidery room, Si'er acted as her eyes and ears.
Naturally, if she could truly be of help, Jin Niang would value her from then on and even teach her some embroidery. To be honest, life wasn’t easy for any of them. Once they left, Si'er would at least have a skill to rely on.
Jin Niang wasn’t like Qin Shuang'er, who had friends everywhere—someone she knew in every household, recognized by everyone outside. But Jin Niang knew how to rally those within her own circle exceptionally well.
"Come closer, let me tell you what to do," Jin Niang whispered into Si'er’s ear, murmuring a few words before adding, "You’re quick on your feet. Go and take care of it, then come back."
So, Qin Shuang'er, you’ve dared to scheme like this.
It wasn’t until evening that Qin Shuang'er finally returned from outside. Entering the room, she found Jin Niang and Fang Qiaolian both washing their hair, each wringing out the water with dry cloths.
She overheard Jin Niang asking, "Have you seen Qiaolian’s hairpin? It vanished without a trace."
Qin Shuang'er felt a pang of guilt but forced herself to remain composed, shaking her head. "I don’t know. You wouldn’t believe how busy it was at the First Lady’s birthday banquet today—I was pulled into helping." Then, feigning concern, she turned to Fang Qiaolian. "What happened? First, your coins went missing, and now your hairpin. Could there really be a thief in our sewing room?"
"I don’t know either," Fang Qiaolian murmured, blaming herself for being careless. She had thought she’d only be gone briefly, but Miao Xiaoniang had kept her occupied with endless tasks.
As for the missing coins, she had no idea who took them. At the time, only Jin Niang had been present, and she couldn’t imagine Jin Niang stealing—after all, her monthly allowance was higher than theirs. But then again, who could say for sure?
Even the smallest scraps could tempt some.
Seeing the doubt in Fang Qiaolian’s eyes, Qin Shuang'er seized the opportunity. "We can’t let suspicion tear our sewing room apart. Pointing fingers at each other will only drive us apart—what’s the point? Why don’t we each bring out our belongings and search them?"
She glanced at Jin Niang, who, predictably, seemed clueless and merely yawned. "Fine by me."
Fang Qiaolian hesitated. "There’s no need for that, is there?"
Qin Shuang'er declared righteously, "As the saying goes, if you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve nothing to fear. We may bicker sometimes, but that’s just petty squabbles. Theft is a serious crime."
Jin Niang smirked, pretending to stifle another yawn. "Then who should we start with?"
Eager to prove her own innocence, Qin Shuang'er volunteered, "Search my things first. Jin Niang, you check mine, and then I’ll search yours."
"Alright," Jin Niang agreed, rubbing her eyes. "Let’s get this over with. I’m exhausted."
She began rummaging through Qin Shuang'er’s drawers, while Qin Shuang'er stood with an air of righteousness, even urging, "You can open that little box too."
Just wait, Jin Niang. Soon, you’ll see what’s coming to you.
But then Jin Niang’s gaze landed on a pair of shoes. Qin Shuang'er tensed—she had hidden her savings there. Though she hadn’t stolen the hairpin, she didn’t want anyone knowing about her stash. "Those shoes stink," she said quickly. "No need to dig through them—spare yourself the filth."
Jin Niang waved her off. "No, no. Like you said, we should be thorough. If we find nothing, at least we’ll all be at ease." Pinching her nose, she tossed aside two shoes before reaching into the third. "Hmm," she murmured, pulling out an object. "Feels like a hairpin."
She held it up, and Fang Qiaolian gasped. "That’s mine!"
Qin Shuang'er was stunned. How had the hairpin ended up in her possession when it should have been in Jin Niang’s? Jin Niang feigned hesitation. "Are you sure? Don’t accuse an innocent person."
Fang Qiaolian took it, examining it closely. "No mistake. This is definitely mine—look, it’s the same style as the ones from the old madam’s collection."
Qin Shuang'er scrambled for an explanation. "Qiaolian, I swear I didn’t take it! I don’t know how it got there!"
"And yet you tried to stop me from searching your shoes," Jin Niang muttered under her breath.
Desperate, Qin Shuang'er yanked open her jewelry box. "Why would I steal from her when I have my own things?"
"But none of yours could compare to even one piece from the old madam’s collection," Jin Niang retorted. "Tomorrow, we’ll report this to Madam Chen and Madam Kuang."
"No! You can’t!" Qin Shuang'er pleaded. If she were branded a thief, her reputation would be ruined.
Fang Qiaolian, though relieved to have her hairpin back, wasn’t inclined to forgive Qin Shuang'er. She stayed silent.
"Fine," Jin Niang said coldly. "I’ll write a statement. If you sign it, swearing never to pull such a stunt again, we won’t report you. But if you refuse, don’t blame us for what comes next."
With no choice, Qin Shuang'er agreed.
Jin Niang drafted two copies, stating:
On this day, in Qin Shuang'er’s quarters, the hairpin of fellow seamstress Fang Qiaolian was discovered. Qin Shuang'er hereby vows never to repeat such actions. Should she violate this agreement, the matter will be reported without leniency.
Defeated, Qin Shuang'er pressed her thumb to the paper, resentment burning in her chest. Jin Niang turned to Fang Qiaolian with a satisfied smile. "Now we can rest easy."
