The matter of Shao Shengping was just a minor episode for Jin Niang, and for the Wei family as well—none of them took it to heart. For the Weis, the most important thing was still making money.
"Mother, how much did you sell today?" Jin Niang asked.
Luo Yu'e replied weakly, "Only about two or three hundred coins. You wouldn’t believe it—your father and I just started making rice wine and oil cakes, and business was good for a few days. But the shop across the street immediately copied us exactly. How can there be such people in the world? Whatever others do, they just follow suit."
Jin Niang could only comfort her, "At least you and Father have learned how to make oil cakes in this shop. In a few months, we can find a better location."
Running a business was truly not easy. Even for skilled people like her parents, it was difficult to establish themselves in Bianjing. The tastes differed between the north and south, the climate was different, and their capital was limited—carving out a place for themselves wasn’t simple.
Luo Yu'e knew her daughter had a strong temper and was full of ideas, but she was also incredibly persistent. Even when she and her husband grew discouraged, Jin Niang remained patient.
Seeing her daughter like this, what else could she say? She clenched her fist. "Well, your father and I will just take it one day at a time. At the very least, we can still barely cover your brother’s expenses and the household costs."
Jin Niang smiled. "Tomorrow is our day off. Why don’t we all go to the bathhouse?"
The so-called "fragrant bath" was simply bathing. Before, her parents had been too shy, saying they’d only go during the New Year. They were reluctant to spend money on such things, but Jin Niang made it a habit to go every rest day—soaking, washing her hair, and emerging feeling refreshed and fragrant. It was the ultimate relaxation.
Luo Yu'e, as usual, wouldn’t bathe but insisted on accompanying her daughter. "I’ll go with you to the one nearby. Don’t forget to bring the soap and towels, or else you’ll have to buy them there."
Bathhouses were mostly frequented by men. The women’s bath cost two coins more—a true "pink tax" of the Song Dynasty.
As mother and daughter stepped out, they ran into Third Aunt, who was carrying a bag of fruit. Seeing Jin Niang and Luo Yu'e, she reluctantly offered, "Jin Niang, take a couple of pieces."
"No need, thank you, Third Aunt. I’m heading to the bathhouse," Jin Niang declined. She knew this aunt was frugal to a fault—buying spoiled fruit, eating spoiled food, and once even serving undercooked beans to save firewood, poisoning the whole family and leaving them vomiting and weak.
When Third Aunt realized they wouldn’t take anything, she chased after them. "I heard a certain Scholar Shao came by? That’s good news, isn’t it?"
Jin Niang knew exactly what she meant. Third Aunt thought Jin Niang, being plump and plain, should be grateful anyone showed interest. How dare she turn him away? But Luo Yu'e, fiercely protective, shot back, "How’s the dowry for Third Daughter coming along? Aren’t you and your husband contributing anything?"
Struck dumb, Third Aunt scurried off.
Watching her flee, mother and daughter burst into laughter. Still, Luo Yu'e did the math. "That Scholar Shao’s village school only has ten students. He claims he earns three strings of coins a month, but it’s probably much less. Thinking about it, he really wasn’t suitable. You were right to refuse."
Jin Niang hugged her mother’s arm. "I know you’re anxious. In two months, I’ll be sixteen. All my cousins are either married or betrothed—only I remain unattached. But marriage is a lifetime matter. We deliberate over spending ten coins on a bath, weighing every option—how can we rush into something so important? If things go badly, wouldn’t all the effort you and Father put into raising and educating me be wasted?"
"True," Luo Yu'e sighed.
They’d haggle fiercely over a single coin for vegetables, yet when it came to marriage, people acted as if any unmarried pair of the right age would do.
Arriving early, Jin Niang enjoyed a thorough wash, feeling pounds lighter afterward. She wrapped her damp hair in a cloth and headed home.
But before she could even take a few sips of water at home, a servant from the Feng family arrived with news—her elder sister Rongniang was pregnant.
"So soon?" Jin Niang nearly spat out her water.
Luo Yu'e laughed. "What’s an unmarried girl like you saying that for? It’s not really that fast—Little Lin is almost two. This is perfect timing."
Jin Niang scratched her head. "I suppose. Time flies when you’re home. I just think with Brother-in-law often away and the child still so young, how will they manage another?"
"More children mean more blessings. Your brother-in-law is well-off—they’ll just hire a couple more servants," Luo Yu'e said dismissively.
Jin Niang nodded. "Right. With money, you can have help raising children. Makes life easier."
Once her hair dried, Third Aunt and Ying Niang arrived, urging them to visit the Fengs—clearly angling for a ride in their donkey cart. Jin Niang suggested, "Mother, I still have a bag of dates and some untouched pastries from yesterday. Let’s take those instead of buying more."
"No," Luo Yu'e insisted. "You’re still young—you don’t know. A woman with child needs eggs." She hurried to the kitchen to fetch some.
Third Aunt, suddenly in a rush, exclaimed, "Second Sister-in-law, I’ll go buy something to bring too. Wait for me!"
Jin Niang glanced at her, realizing Third Aunt and Ying Niang had planned to show up empty-handed.
Left alone in the main room with Ying Niang, Jin Niang maintained a surface-level civility with her cousin. Ying Niang was better at keeping up appearances than her mother, but to Jin Niang’s surprise, she took an interest in her marital prospects.
"Second Sister, you’re almost sixteen, aren’t you?" she asked.
Jin Niang nodded. "I’ll be sixteen soon."
"You really should find a family. It’s time," Ying Niang said, as if stating the obvious.
Jin Niang didn’t understand why some people couldn’t mind their own business. Without looking up, she retorted, "Enough. Worry about yourself. Why do you always meddle in others’ affairs?"
Ying Niang sipped her tea. "I’m just speaking from experience."
"You know why some people live to ninety-nine? Because they don’t stick their noses where they don’t belong," Jin Niang shot back. When Ying Niang fell silent, she stood and went to find her mother.
Never bottling things up, Jin Niang would always retort back—whatever you said, she wouldn’t even take it to heart, steadfastly pursuing her own goals.
After her mother came out, they waited for Third Aunt for quite a while before the whole family set off together.
Rongniang hadn’t expected to conceive so soon and still felt somewhat unreal about it. She and Feng Sheng had a very harmonious relationship, partly because she wasn’t particularly materialistic. Even now, she rarely managed the household finances. Whenever Feng Sheng gave her money, she didn’t want to take it, knowing he’d later ask how she’d saved or spent it. Secondly, their intimate life was exceptionally fulfilling.
Her beauty was her greatest advantage.
But now that she was expecting, she couldn’t help worrying about developing spots or gaining weight.
Yet when relatives came to visit, Rongniang greeted them with a smile, aware that her current life was something many could only dream of.
While her mother and the others exchanged pleasantries, Jin Niang sipped tea nearby. Ying Niang, who had just been snubbed by Jin Niang earlier, now held little Lin Ge’er in her arms to show affection, deliberately remarking, “Little Lin Ge’er is such a delight. It seems he’s always loved being held by pretty people since he was a baby.”
“Haha~” Jin Niang nearly laughed herself to tears. This was precisely why she couldn’t be bothered to play mind games with these relatives—their tactics were too transparent, their schemes too simplistic.
Luo Yu'e, unaware of what had amused her daughter, only understood after Jin Niang explained it at home: “Third Aunt and her daughter are just worried about the saying, ‘The barley isn’t ripe, but the wheat has already yellowed.’”
Quick-witted as ever, Jin Niang immediately grasped the implication: “Ah, so that’s it.”
The saying referred to the younger sister marrying before the elder, which might invite gossip that the younger was in a hurry, possibly due to an unfavorable match.
“We’ve already split from the main family. Why do they still care so much?” Jin Niang rolled her eyes.
Luo Yu'e replied, “Well, our Jin Niang must marry a truly worthy man.”
After the incident with Shao Shengping, Luo Yu'e had grown less anxious. She wanted her daughter to find someone truly suitable in every aspect. Besides, she now had the family business to focus on and couldn’t spare much time for matchmaking.
Meanwhile, Jin Niang began crafting spring attire. With the Cold Food Festival and Qingming Festival in April, ladies would soon be out enjoying the scenery, vying to outshine one another—perfect timing to sell new garments. Then came the Dragon Boat Festival in May, calling for embroidered sachets and five-colored silk cords.
Her plans were ambitious, but with her days occupied at the embroidery workshop, she could only work on these projects at night. A single outfit took about half a month to complete.
This spring ensemble featured a harmonious blend of yellow and green, ideal for April. Her undergarment was a light bamboo-patterned stomacher, paired with a pale yellow gauze outer robe. The collar was adorned with embroidered butterflies and crabapple blossoms—soft yellow butterflies deepening into amber, set against budding crimson blooms.
The skirt matched the robe’s pale hue but was crafted from patterned sheer silk instead of gauze.
This set had consumed considerable effort, and Jin Niang would’ve been content with eight strings of cash. To her surprise, the Brocade Pavilion sold it for over ten strings.
Even after splitting the profit with the shop, she marveled at the thought: if only she could own a storefront like those in the Embroidery Lane, she’d keep the full twenty strings.
This month’s earnings totaled thirteen strings—one for daily expenses, leaving twelve to save. Astonishingly, this equaled a year’s wages from the Zhou household. Better still, keeping the money at home spared her the usual exchange fees, allowing her to save every coin.
By May, the weather had warmed enough for Jin Niang to walk to the workshop instead of relying on her father’s escort.
Upon arrival, Zou Yue'e handed her some hawthorn strips. Jin Niang nibbled one and smiled, “Where’d you get these? They’re quite tasty.”
“Bought them near Golden Ming Pond,” Zou Yue'e replied. “My younger sister sells flowers there.”
Jin Niang had heard about Zou Yue'e’s sister, skilled in horticulture, who often sold blossoms to passing visitors.
“Wish I had time to visit Golden Ming Pond these days,” Jin Nighed sighed, awaiting Head Embroiderer Gu’s assignments.
Among the five newcomers, Jin Niang had quickly risen to prominence. While others specialized in certain techniques, her speed, precision, and ability to cut fabric set her apart. Unlike Zou Yue'e and Third Sister Xu, who excelled in embroidery but struggled with tailoring, Jin Niang’s versatility allowed her to take on side projects.
Today’s task was predictably seasonal—embroidering little tigers on pomegranate-red skirts for the Dragon Boat Festival. Jin Niang sketched the design first, then selected threads and began stitching. Workshop patterns were typically collected afterward, but she’d quickly duplicate one to take home.
Head Embroiderer Gu assigned her another task: “For the upper garment, you’ll outline these gilt tigers. Draft a small version first, then pass it to the craftsmen.”
They’d all learned gilding techniques together, but mistakes meant paying for materials. Jin Niang, having practiced at home with purchased gold powder, now aced every attempt. The others, fearing deductions, gladly left such tasks to her.
She didn’t blame them—unlike the Zhou household where bonuses rewarded extra work, the workshop paid fixed wages. Without incentives, everyone clocked out promptly.
“Don’t worry,” Jin Niang assured, “I’ll start sketching right away.”
Progress came through repetition. Where others might trace patterns, she could now replicate designs by sight—a small triumph to some, but a significant leap for her.
Absorbed in drawing, she made little progress on her embroidery. That evening, she’d need to transfer the tiger sketches to her pattern book, leaving scant time for needlework.
Yawning, she kicked off her slippers and collapsed into bed.
While she slept late, her parents rose at cockcrow to prepare for their breakfast stall. Luo Yu'e reminded her husband, “Keep quiet—don’t wake the children.”
“I know,” Wei Xiong grunted, heaving dough and meat fillings onto the donkey cart.
Their daughter had to deliver her brother to school before heading to the workshop each morning. “Let’s buy a chicken today,” Luo Yu'e suggested. “She needs nourishment, staying up so late every night.”
Wei Xiong readily agreed.
Yet the chicken soup she had painstakingly prepared hadn’t even been tasted by her own daughter when Rongniang, supporting her pregnant belly, arrived. Luo Yu'e served her a bowl. To Rongniang, whose family was now well-off, a simple bowl of chicken soup meant little. She even considered it a favor to Jin Niang by offering her business.
"Second Aunt, I have some fabric here. I’d like to commission Jin Niang to make me a set of clothes. Here’s the payment." Normally, hiring a tailor would cost no more than five hundred coins, but she was offering a full string of cash—acting as though she were doing Jin Niang a favor.
Luo Yu'e didn’t dare make decisions for her daughter and replied, "I’ll have to ask her first and see if she has time."
Rongniang found this odd. "I’m not in a hurry. I just wanted to give her this business."
"It’s not that. Jin Niang is currently working at Brocade Pavilion and is very busy. I’m not even sure if she has spare time for extra work," Luo Yu'e explained honestly.
Rongniang’s eyes widened. "How much does Jin Niang earn in a month now?"
Luo Yu'e smiled. "Around a dozen strings of cash. It wasn’t that much at first, but now it includes her monthly wages."
Jin Niang was already earning over a dozen strings a month? Rongniang felt an inexplicable unease.
When she later visited Third Uncle’s house, he specially bought fish and meat to entertain her. During the meal, Third Aunt mentioned that Third Sister was now earning over twenty strings a month.
Ying Niang chimed in, "We finally got our house, but I have hefty monthly repayments. Thankfully, the deed is solely in my name."
Rongniang thought Ying Niang was shameless—not only had she used her fiancé’s family’s land sale money to secure the house, but she’d also registered it under her own name. Though she was now repaying the debt herself, the whole scheme was underhanded.
Third Aunt’s smug, gloating demeanor only made it worse.
On her way home, Rongniang recounted the events to Feng Sheng, who was surprised. "Jin Niang is already earning over a dozen strings a month?"
"Absolutely. Second Aunt wouldn’t lie. Who would’ve thought? Not long ago, she was just a maid earning a pittance and still cheerful about it." Rongniang found it hard to believe.
Ying Niang was another matter. Though she earned well, she had to grovel to sell medicines, endure scoldings when failing to meet quotas, and many quit after just a few days, preferring backbreaking labor instead.
But Jin Niang’s path was steady and sure.
Feng Sheng asked his wife, "How does Jin Niang usually handle things?"
"She’s literate, but a bit stubborn and overly competitive." Rongniang believed her assessment was fair.
Feng Sheng began forming an idea.
When Jin Niang returned home and heard Luo Yu'e’s account, she shook her head. "Mother, I still have paintings to finish today. Besides, a single string of cash isn’t worth the effort. Tell Eldest Sister to find another tailor."
Mixing money with relatives only bred resentment.
If you did the work, they’d think you were profiting off them. If you refused, you’d only be labeled uncooperative. But agreeing would invite endless future requests.
Luo Yu'e used to make decisions for her daughter, but now Jin Niang was fiercely independent, and the family even relied on her income. Jin Niang noticed her parents’ changed attitude—proof that financial standing elevated one’s status.
It wasn’t that her parents were fawning over her, but earning money proved one’s capability.
"If that’s your stance, I’ll return the fabric tomorrow," Luo Yu'e said.
Jin Niang asked, "How will you explain it?"
"I’ll just tell the truth."
"That wouldn’t be wise. Just say the embroidery workshop is swamped, and I’m even working nights, so I can’t take on extra tasks. Even if she sees through it, at least there’s a plausible excuse."
Jin Niang had once been quick to confront others but now preferred avoiding outright conflict. Unless one cut ties completely, strained relations made future interactions awkward.
The next day, Luo Yu'e relayed Jin Niang’s words to Rongniang, expecting anger. Instead, Rongniang not only took it well but invited them for a meal during Jin Niang’s day off, as thanks for the gifts sent during her pregnancy.
Jin Niang spent three days embroidering a tiger-patterned skirt before Meng Liniang visited. Human relationships were strange—Zou Yue'e had initially been friendly with Jin Niang, but they never grew close. In contrast, a chance conversation with Meng Liniang had forged a deep bond.
Meng Liniang was warm-hearted but a hopeless romantic.
As she lamented now: "He’s from the capital, with one elder sister and a younger sister. His family owns a house and a shop, but they don’t seem to like me. His sister acts like I’m invisible."
They’d met when she went to buy soy sauce at his family’s shop—love at first sight.
Meng Liniang’s parents were small-town merchants, not wealthy but far from poor. She was literate, could play the moon lute, and her family hoped to marry her off advantageously. Yet she’d fallen for the soy sauce shop’s young master.
Jin Niang advised, "You’re skilled in needlework and educated. Earn well, and even if you marry him, you won’t depend on him. Unless a woman’s family is gone, she can’t register as an independent household. Private wealth is only recognized as dowry."
The Song Dynasty offered women more property rights than other eras. If Meng Liniang had a substantial dowry, his family might overlook her background. Beauty had its uses, but people were ultimately driven by profit.
Meng Liniang sighed. "I work here all day, then do chores at my sister’s house at night. When would I have time?"
Earning three strings a month already felt like a fortune to her. Between making clothes and exhausting chores at her sister’s, she was perpetually drained.
Between friends, some advice was enough.
Little did Jin Niang know that while she advised others to prepare generous dowries for a secure future, her own earning ability had quietly drawn attention. On her day off, she visited Rongniang’s home and spotted a young boy in the courtyard. Jin Niang had little patience for children and walked right past him.
Rongniang, holding her belly, said, "Jin Niang, why don’t you play with the children for a while? The other one is the son of your brother-in-law’s colleague."
"Fine, let them come inside and play with the nine-linked rings," Jin Niang replied. She only had one day off every ten days—she wasn’t here to babysit.
However, upon entering, she saw her brother-in-law Feng Sheng speaking with a man in his thirties. The man had a square face, average height, and wore a headscarf. He glanced at her, leaving Jin Niang puzzled before she retreated into the inner chamber.
Feng Sheng, meanwhile, smiled and offered the man tea, thinking to himself: True, the man is already thirty and a widower, but his monthly earnings match mine. Sure, he has a son, but if he were perfect in every way, he wouldn’t be considering Jin Niang.
Jin Niang may be a bit plump, but she’s still in the bloom of youth. Given her earning skills, she’ll likely save up three to five hundred strings of cash for her dowry—quite a substantial sum.
Compared to that scholar Shao Shengping who sent a matchmaker before, this man is far wealthier. This is truly an excellent match.
