After returning from the Chongyang festival, the old lady reportedly fell ill from catching a chill outdoors. Even Lady Zhang from the main household came to visit her. The tea room was specially assigned to two young maids to tend the fire, and when Jin Niang arrived, she was overwhelmed by the strong scent of medicine.
Lan Xiang led Jin Niang inside by the hand, dismissing the maids to tend the fire herself while whispering to Jin Niang.
"The old lady isn’t seriously ill—the physician prescribed very mild medicine," Lan Xue murmured softly.
Jin Niang thought to herself that the old lady wasn’t usually one to make a fuss. So why was she pretending to be sick now? A sudden realization struck her: "Could it be to bring Aunt Mei back?"
Lan Xue gasped. "I hadn’t thought of that! You’re quick-witted. Indeed, Aunt Mei originally left because her husband was gravely ill, but now that he has passed, the family has sent people to offer condolences but hasn’t yet arranged for her return."
"That Aunt Mei…" Jin Niang trailed off, knowing it was improper to gossip about the family, but it was no secret that Aunt Mei had a talent for stirring up trouble.
Lan Xue asked, "If she returns, what if she demands help from the sewing room again?"
Jin Niang wasn’t worried. "That won’t happen. Miss Shishi’s wedding is the family’s top priority right now. To be honest, the sewing room is already stretched thin with just four of us—there’s no way we can spare anyone."
If the old lady still held real influence, would she need to resort to feigning illness?
Still, Jin Niang teased Lan Xue, "You’re no physician—how do you know about the medicine’s properties?"
Lan Xue chuckled. "After brewing medicine this long, I’ve picked up a thing or two. Don’t underestimate me."
As a hereditary servant of the Zhou family, Lan Xue would be married off at eighteen. At fifteen, she had three years left before that fate. Women of her status rarely held important positions within the inner household—even Madam Chen lived in the outer quarters.
Lan Xue was among the best in the tea room, skilled at brewing medicine and preparing tea—even Yao Niang had learned the art of tea-making from her. Yet, as a hereditary servant, she was destined to remain confined to the household forever.
Jin Niang stretched lazily. "I can’t slack off for too long—I should head back. And don’t repeat what we discussed."
"Don’t worry, I won’t," Lan Xue assured her.
Back in the sewing room, Jin Niang had just taken a bite of her meal when her teeth hit something hard—sand. The rice was also yellowish. "Ugh, what’s going on? The food’s getting worse by the day."
"Rare for you to complain about food," Qin Shuang'er remarked dryly. These days, she could only tease Jin Niang about her appetite and weight.
Jin Niang rolled her eyes and ignored her.
Madam Chen scolded them lightly. "You never leave the house, so you don’t know how bad things are outside. The southern floods have ruined crops this year—people are selling their children to survive. We’re lucky to have rice at all."
"Floods in the south? Are my parents alright?" Jin Niang grew anxious. The twisting Jing River had flooded before, years ago.
Her worry spread to Qin Shuang'er and Fang Qiaolian.
Madam Chen shook her head. "I don’t know either. Like you, I’m stuck here. I need to send money home—who knows if they can even afford food?"
"I should send rice back too!" Jin Niang fretted.
Madam Chen waved her off. "Who’d carry it for you? The Shu Embroidery House won’t—grain’s too heavy."
Jin Niang quickly wrote a letter to check on her family, and the others in the sewing room asked her to write for them too. In times like these, literacy was invaluable—at least they weren’t completely helpless.
If even the sewing room noticed the crisis, Madam Jiang, as the matriarch, had long been aware of the food shortages. While the old lady still dined on the finest white rice, the rest of the household—including Madam Jiang herself—had to make do with lower-quality fare.
Top-grade rice now cost a thousand coins per shi, while medium-grade was eight hundred fifty coins—eighty to a hundred coins per dou. The Zhou main household was large, with each bride bringing her own retinue. With dowries to prepare for both the eldest and second daughters—including a hundred acres of paddy fields—funds were stretched thin.
And now, the old lady wanted to bring Aunt Mei back.
Aunt Mei’s return would not only invite drama but might also carve into the old lady’s dowry.
Madam Jiang turned to Lv Ying. "Summon Lord Zhou."
When Lord Zhou arrived, Madam Jiang cut straight to the point. "The old lady wants Aunt Mei to return. We can hide other matters, but her husband’s death can’t be concealed. What do you propose?"
No one had expected Uncle Mei’s death. Had he lived, Aunt Mei would have stayed to care for him. But now…
Lord Zhou sighed. "You handle it."
"I can arrange it, but what if she causes another scandal?" Madam Jiang’s greatest fear was disgrace.
Lord Zhou said, "Then let her observe mourning first. She must stay in seclusion for a year. By the time she travels here, months will pass, and Shishi will already be married."
Madam Jiang nodded. "A sound plan."
After settling the matter, Madam Jiang visited the old lady, personally feeding her medicine before explaining, "Lord Zhou suggests waiting until after the mourning period to bring your daughter and granddaughter here. We’ll take care of them—rest assured."
The old lady coughed weakly. "They’re widowed and orphaned now. The Mei family is in ruins—I worry endlessly."
"Don’t fret. We’ll send Brother Cun to check on them."
"No!" the old lady protested. "Brother Cun must focus on the imperial exams. Send Brother Shen instead."
Madam Jiang and Lady Xi exchanged glances. Brother Shen was the sole heir of the third branch—Lady Xi couldn’t commit for them.
Lady Xi smoothly interjected, "Of course, but Third Master Zhou and I are finalizing a match for him. Once the betrothal is settled, he can go. We can’t keep the bride waiting."
Clever move, Madam Jiang thought. Lady Xi’s son, Zhou Shenzhi, was a promising scholar—a rare gem in his dysfunctional family. His father, a failed scholar who favored concubines over his wife, had created chaos, yet the boy had grown upright and kind. Lady Xi’s standing relied on her son’s brilliance—and she had just played her card well.
To directly arrange an engagement for Third Young Master would prevent any unforeseen incidents. What if Aunt Mei employed some underhanded tactics to deliberately orchestrate a favorable outcome? She couldn’t bear the thought.
Though she pitied her niece and her sister-in-law, she would never allow her son to face any unexpected harm.
The old lady began coughing violently, prompting Madam Jiang and Lady Xi to summon the physician. After much effort, once the matriarch had taken her medicine, Lady Xi went to seek Madam Wu’s assistance.
Madam Wu patted her hand reassuringly. "Don’t worry. I’ve spoken with the second master—one of his colleagues comes from a prominent family. I’ll have the matchmaker bring over the young lady’s profile for your consideration."
"Thank you, I’m troubling you again, Second Sister-in-law," Lady Xi said, deeply relieved.
Her second sister-in-law often delegated authority to her and treated Third Young Master with kindness. This was her support within the household—she didn’t need to rely on Third Master Zhou to have a say in matters.
But they had all guessed wrong. On the first day of the tenth month, the gates of the Zhou residence were knocked upon. Aunt Mei had selected an heir from the Mei family lineage and sent her daughter in her stead to fulfill filial duties.
This time, however, Madam Jiang merely instructed Second Miss Zhou and Third Miss Zhou to pick out two unworn outfits to send over, without ordering the sewing workshop to prepare any new garments.
Even Madam Chen remarked, "Her mother knows she’s unwelcome here, so it’s just as well she didn’t come."
Jin Niang had just finished embroidering a pillowcase and was now working on chair covers, table drapes, and hanging curtains.
Madam Chen first demonstrated the process: "The chair covers and table drapes should be made as a matching set. Crimson satin would be best—fetch the silk batting from the storeroom."
Once Jin Niang and the others had learned the technique, they set to work.
Truth be told, this was an incredibly enriching experience. Jin Niang had never realized how many items needed to be prepared for a wedding—even the embroidered gifts for the servants required special attention.
At night, by candlelight, she meticulously filled an entire page with notes. For parts she couldn’t describe clearly, she sketched diagrams—a habit that annoyed Fang Qiaolian.
"Go to sleep already! The light’s keeping me awake," Fang Qiaolian grumbled.
"Alright, alright, I’m almost done," Jin Niang replied.
Eager to try out the flower-and-bird album from the Hanlin Academy that Madam Wu had gifted her, she got up again to draft a design for a "Magpie on Plum Blossoms" table drape and chair cover. She prepared four variations—the magpie motif was her specialty. Once the magpies were done, she planned to embroider blooming winter jasmine.
This required a palette dominated by gamboge, with the petals’ edges tinted with a blend of cinnabar and rouge.
She was always one to prepare thoroughly.
Two volumes of the Hanlin Academy’s flower-and-bird albums perfectly matched current aesthetics. If she could secure a position in the embroidery workshop, these albums—delivered there first—would keep her designs on the cutting edge.
Some patterns, though beautiful, wouldn’t suit contemporary tastes. Staying fashionable was essential.
Unfortunately, she was running low on cinnabar. She asked Brother Kuang to fetch more for her—a single tael cost over two hundred coins, a steep price. But as the saying goes, "A craftsman must sharpen his tools to do his work well."
Luckily, no sooner had she spent those two hundred coins than a servant from the old lady’s quarters arrived, asking her to make a dress for the young cousin. They even brought a string of cash and fabric.
"I can do it, but it’ll take some time," Jin Niang said. She had nearly finished the larger embroidery pieces and had a good grasp of the table drapes, so she could spare time for the dress if not rushed.
The maid reassured her, "No hurry. The old lady knows you’re busy with Eldest Miss’s dowry. Just work on it when you can."
Jin Niang smiled. "Thank the old lady for her understanding."
This time, though Aunt Mei hadn’t come, her daughter was surprisingly considerate. When Jin Niang visited to take measurements, Mei Pan’er even gifted her a silver hairpin. "Thank you for your trouble, elder sister."
Jin Niang declined. "This is too generous, Cousin. There’s no need."
But Mei Pan’er insisted. "Last time I was here, I caused some trouble without realizing it. Please take it—you’re so busy, yet you’re making time for me."
"You’re too kind," Jin Niang said, finally accepting the hairpin.
Now residing in a side chamber near the old lady’s quarters—unlike before, when she stayed behind Third Master’s residence—Mei Pan’er enjoyed the matriarch’s protection. Jin Niang reflected that daughters of official families, even if their mothers had behaved disgracefully, could still find leniency as long as they had powerful backers.
But someone like Sister Shan—one misstep had led to beatings and expulsion, her life plummeting from grace.
Even if she worked at the Shu Embroidery Workshop, she’d forever remain a mere embroiderer. Meanwhile, Jin Niang and the others, under Madam Chen’s guidance, were learning new skills. The Zhou family paid handsomely, too—once they completed Eldest Miss Zhou’s dowry, they could seek employment elsewhere with wages several times higher. Sister Shan would never have that chance.
While Jin Niang took on private commissions, others in the sewing workshop did the same—except Qin Shuang’er, who was truly piling hardship upon hardship. She never learned her lesson. In her first year, she’d lagged behind, with Jin Niang finishing pillowcases while Qin Shuang’er still struggled with the bridal quilt. Now, she was secretly making clothes for Second Madam.
Lady Zhang, now pregnant, needed new outfits as her old ones no longer fit. Her nursemaid suggested, "A string of cash is enough to hire the sewing workshop’s embroiderers. Why look outside? Their work is just as good."
"Really? Just a string of cash?" Lady Zhang found it hard to believe.
The servant confirmed, "It’s true. They already receive monthly wages, and the household provides their meals, so their private work comes cheap."
Lady Zhang shrugged. "Fine, have them make one set then."
Thus, Qin Shuang’er’s nights grew ever longer. Though Jin Niang also burned the midnight oil, her workload paled in comparison.
Mei Pan’er, too, lay awake. Since returning to the capital from home, everything had changed. The meals, though never extravagant, had once been refined and delicious. Now, even the rice was of middling quality. Had her aunt grown to resent her?
Under her grandmother’s wing, she was safe for now—but the old lady wouldn’t live forever. Alone in the capital, what would become of her?
Had her letters home even reached her family? In these troubled times, she prayed they were safe.
Biting her lip, she set aside her sewing and retired to bed.
After finishing the cousin’s dress, Jin Niang had to contribute to gifts for servants’ weddings and childbirths. The string of cash she’d just earned vanished quickly—she even had to buy gifts for Lv Ying’s birthday.
It wasn’t just Jin Niang. Even young maids like Si’er had to give presents to the stewardesses. Jin Niang lent her two hundred coins to make up the sum.
Si’er...
Spring...
"Enough already! As long as someone holds a higher status than us, we have to send them money. When will this ever end?"
"That’s never going to happen. Just focus on your embroidery work. If you earn more rewards later, you won’t have to worry about it," Jin Niang replied.
Truth be told, Si'er was already quite skilled at mending clothes, making pouches, preparing shoe uppers, and drafting patterns. For instance, the shoe uppers for Cousin Mei Pan'er were her handiwork—she was clearly getting the hang of it.
Speaking of which, the snow-and-plum blossom embroidery Jin Niang had stitched onto Mei Pan'er's gown made her stand out even more. Even Jin Niang herself felt that the young mistress had blossomed, becoming so strikingly beautiful that it was hard to look away.
In terms of looks, neither Third Miss nor Fourth Miss Zhou were lacking, but their beauty was the innocent kind typical of young girls. Cousin Mei, however, had a natural allure about her.
Yet, such beauty didn’t hold much weight in the Zhou household. During the old matriarch’s birthday celebration, many noble ladies were invited, and the young misses were presented to the guests. When they learned that Lord Zhou’s two elder daughters were already betrothed, and saw how refined and delicate Third Miss was, no fewer than five or six matchmakers came knocking.
Madam Jiang and Madam Lü, who had once been mistress and servant and remained on good terms, couldn’t just casually agree to any proposal. They found most of the suitors unimpressive and dismissed them outright.
Even the still-young Fourth Miss Zhou received a few inquiries, but Cousin Mei was completely overlooked.
It was then that Jin Niang had an epiphany: beauty might bring advantages, but in the face of family background, it was worthless. To some extent, marriage was an exchange of interests. No matter how stunning you were, if you lacked value, it meant nothing.
The day before the winter solstice, Jin Niang took a day off to visit her cousin Rongniang—though in truth, she used the trip as an excuse to consult a few brokers along the way.
Now familiar with the route, she no longer needed the Zhou family’s carriage. After slipping out through the side gate, she walked out of Magpie Lane and stopped at a nearby shop to buy some seasonal treats: a pound of pears, a pound of clams, and a bag of sugar-glazed buns.
With the capital currently facing a food shortage, bringing edibles as gifts was the best choice. Besides, Jin Niang was the type who never visited empty-handed.
Sure enough, when she arrived at Rongniang’s home, her cousin scolded her: "You always bring so much stuff—it’s too much! We’re not lacking here."
"Oh, it’s just some small things I picked up along the way. Since I won’t be able to come out tomorrow for the solstice, I thought I’d drop by today. Last I heard, there were floods down south—I wonder if our hometown was affected. I sent a letter, but there’s been no reply yet," Jin Niang sighed.
Rongniang paused. Since moving to the capital after her parents’ deaths, she had devoted herself entirely to her life with Feng Sheng and hadn’t given much thought to such matters. "Don’t worry," she said. "I’ll ask your brother-in-law to look into it."
Jin Niang brightened. "Thank you both so much!"
Her little nephew already had a name—Feng Lin, with "Lin" meaning "unicorn."
"Lin? As in the mythical qilin? Sister, it seems Brother-in-law hopes this little one will grow into an extraordinary man," Jin Niang teased, thinking the expectations were quite high.
Rongniang laughed. "Your brother-in-law has already planned out which Zhou family school he’ll attend and where he’ll study."
In the past, Jin Niang might have urged Rongniang to strive harder since her husband was so ambitious. But she knew such advice would be unwelcome now, so she simply feigned admiration: "Elder Sister, you’re truly blessed. With Brother-in-law like this, you’ve got nothing to worry about."
Rongniang preened at the praise, then eyed Jin Niang critically—still dressed in her plain purple jacket, hair unadorned, dark circles under her eyes, lips chapped. She looked downright unkempt.
"Young ladies should at least make some effort with their appearance," Rongniang chided. "You’re at the age where you should be thinking about marriage."
Jin Niang disagreed. Unless it was a grand occasion, she preferred simplicity. Besides, her clothes were of far better quality than Rongniang’s. What irked her most was the constant pressure about marriage, as if everything she did was for that purpose.
Her expression soured. "Elder Sister, I understand. But I’m not considering that yet."
Rongniang pressed on, "Fine, I won’t nag. Oh—Ying Niang is getting married. Are you going?"
"Absolutely not," Jin Niang said quickly, waving her hands.
Ying Niang was Third Uncle’s daughter. Back when Jin Niang’s mother hadn’t yet borne a son, Third Aunt had repeatedly mocked her in private. Later, she even schemed with her family to seize Jin Niang’s family land. When Jin Niang’s father built a house in the countryside, he initially excluded Uncle the Elder, who had said he wouldn’t return. At the time, Third Uncle was still unmarried, so the house was meant for him. But after Third Aunt married in, Jin Niang’s father joined the imperial guards. Third Uncle then offered to buy half the house at a ridiculously low price—less than five strings of cash—and Jin Niang’s father agreed.
Later, Third Uncle traveled as a petty merchant, leaving their grandparents to manage his affairs while boasting that he’d be the one to care for them in their old age. Yet when Grandfather fell ill and passed, he and Third Aunt reneged on their promises.
After Grandfather’s death, the family feud erupted. Third Aunt spread vicious rumors, accusing Jin Niang’s parents of stealing family assets and land deeds. The two branches became sworn enemies.
So even though Jin Niang knew Third Uncle and Third Aunt had moved to a shabby alley in the eastern city two months prior, she refused to visit. Not only were they estranged, but Third Aunt was a notorious miser. Despite running a thriving bun shop, they lived in a crumbling rental costing just a hundred coins. They bought rotten fruit, and if a customer dared ask for an extra bowl of rice, they’d get glared at.
There was no way Jin Niang would step foot in such a place.
Rongniang tried to mediate: "They’re still family. Why hold a grudge? Ying Niang works as a tea-server at Pan Tower now, and her fiancé is a waiter there. Third Uncle and Aunt aren’t thrilled, but she’s set on him..."
"Elder Sister, I have other matters to attend to. I should go," Jin Niang cut in, rising abruptly.
Uncle the Elder had left home long ago, cutting ties and only showing his polished side. When Third Uncle or other relatives visited Anlu Prefecture, they saw only prosperity and treated the family with deference. That was why Rongniang only remembered the kindness.
Jin Niang’s father was a soft-hearted and muddle-headed man. Even if you thought you were doing good for others, they still felt you hadn’t done enough. As a result, their family’s wealth was nearly drained away, and Jin Niang encountered far more malice than kindness in her life. She had grown weary of hearing such things. Third Uncle and his family had relied on Rongniang to establish themselves in the capital, so of course they flattered her, and Rongniang’s feelings toward the third branch of the family were different as well.
After Jin Niang left, Rongniang felt awkward and somewhat resentful, thinking Jin Niang’s actions seemed like a deliberate cut-off—too harsh.
Stepping outside, Jin Niang exhaled in relief and then visited several brokerage houses in succession. She didn’t dare go to the smaller, less reputable ones, opting instead for a proper establishment. Legitimate brokers carried identification badges, and since Jin Niang was literate, she couldn’t be easily deceived.
After verifying Broker Cheng’s credentials, she asked about the Embroidery Academy. "Uncle, could you tell me when the Embroidery Academy might be hiring?"
Broker Cheng, seeing that Jin Niang had promptly paid a hundred coins, replied, "Getting into the Embroidery Academy isn’t easy. Once you’re in, you must commit to at least three years."
"That’s fine, I’m willing," Jin Niang blurted out, surprising even herself. She quickly covered her mouth and added, "Right now, I’m doing embroidery work for a household, toiling day and night. The academy wouldn’t be even more exhausting, would it?" She couldn’t bear it if the work was excessively grueling.
Broker Cheng paused, then chuckled. "No, no. You’d work only during the day, with one day off every ten days, and holidays during the three major festivals. The monthly pay is two dan of grain and six dou of rice and beans—much lighter than most places."
Two dan of grain and six dou of rice and beans translated to about two strings of cash per month—not a fortune. But the work was manageable, and she’d have access to pattern books from the Imperial Painting Academy. She could even take on private commissions from embroidery workshops in her spare time. Jin Niang said earnestly, "I’d really like to go. Thank you for your help, Broker Cheng."
Broker Cheng nodded. "Very well. Once the hiring notice is posted, leave me your address, and I’ll have someone send word to you."
Jin Niang left her address and finally let out a sigh of relief.
