Feng Sheng believed that the man he had found for the match was of higher status than the woman, so he only arranged for the man to evaluate the woman without informing the woman’s family beforehand. He planned to discuss the matter with Wei Xiong and Luo Yu'e only after the banquet concluded.
In his eyes, Wei Xiong was a timid man with no opinions of his own, while Luo Yu'e, though somewhat temperamental, was actually narrow-minded and usually quite obedient to his suggestions. As for Jin Niang, he didn’t even consider her opinion—he wasn’t doing this for a matchmaker’s fee but out of genuine concern.
Jin Niang and her mother were unaware of these arrangements. The women were dining in the smaller courtyard at the back, where the food was indeed lavish. Third Aunt kept eating without pause, while Jin Niang’s mother was more restrained, as their household no longer lacked for rich dishes.
Among the dishes was a plate of fried meatballs—crispy on the outside, tender inside, and not overly greasy. Jin Niang remarked, "These fried meatballs are quite good. At least they’re not overcooked like the last batch I had, which were coated in thick sauce."
Rongniang smiled. "I’m glad you like them. Here, try some of this sweet eight-treasure rice too." She made a move to serve Jin Niang, who quickly protested, "Let me do it myself."
Rongniang then praised Jin Niang at the table. "Second Aunt, Jin Niang’s complexion looks much fairer now, and the dark circles under her eyes have faded."
"Of course," Luo Yu'e replied. Though she believed her daughter ought to be thinner, what mother wouldn’t be pleased to hear her child complimented?
The meal passed pleasantly, but after the banquet, when Feng Sheng and his wife called Wei Xiong and Luo Yu'e aside for a private discussion, Jin Niang sensed something amiss.
When Luo Yu'e and her husband emerged, she boarded the carriage and immediately told Jin Niang about the matter.
Jin Niang was furious. "How dare they presume to arrange my marriage? A widower, no less! Did you two ask him to find me a match? Let me make this clear—if anyone tries to force me, I won’t go down quietly. If I suffer, they’ll suffer too. Does he think I can’t retaliate?"
She was not one to be trifled with. Though she usually kept to herself, now they had overstepped.
Luo Yu'e watched as her daughter’s temper flared like an unsheathed sword, sharp and unrelenting. "I also thought it improper, but your brother-in-law said the man has four or five servants at home, so you wouldn’t have to work hard—"
"That’s no excuse! The man is more than a decade older than me, plain-looking, and has a child. I may not be accomplished, but in this life, I will never marry a widower or become a concubine!" Jin Niang scoffed coldly.
Luo Yu'e tried to soothe her. "We never asked your brother-in-law to find you a match. He brought this up suddenly, and I was caught off guard."
Jin Niang retorted, "I won’t step foot in their house again. He can play master in his own home, but he has no right to meddle in my affairs. What’s so great about that man? Or about him, for that matter? Given time, I might surpass any of them."
Jin Niang’s outburst left Luo Yu'e shaken. She later told Rongniang, "Jin Niang is beyond furious. She said she never offended her brother-in-law, so why would he pair her with such a man? She feels deeply insulted that they arranged for someone to evaluate her without even consulting us first."
Rongniang was at a loss. "Second Aunt, we truly meant well. That physician earns hundreds of strings of cash a year—it’s not as if we were demeaning her..."
"From now on, don’t concern yourselves with my daughter’s marriage," Luo Yu'e snapped, her own temper rising.
After Luo Yu'e stormed off, Rongniang sat down, holding her belly, and complained to Feng Sheng. "Matchmaking has turned into making enemies. Does Second Aunt think her daughter is a goddess descended from heaven?"
In her eyes, Jin Niang was plain, couldn’t cook, and had a difficult personality. Her only advantage was her youth—sixteen—but they were wasting it.
Feng Sheng raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Let’s see what kind of ‘perfect’ husband she ends up with."
With Jin Niang’s marriage prospects soured and their business struggling, Luo Yu'e was looking for a new shopfront when, in the sixth month, the rains came to Bianjing. At first, it was just light showers, but soon it poured relentlessly, forcing the embroidery workshop to send everyone home.
The capital was severely flooded. Jin Niang’s family had enough rice and grain—this time, instead of selling their rations at the oil shop, they kept them at home.
But Jin Niang’s side income from the embroidery workshop had vanished.
She had planned to earn a hundred strings of cash this year, but now her plans were ruined. Truly, fortune was unpredictable, and disaster could strike at any moment.
Well, since things had turned out this way, she might as well reflect on her shortcomings in embroidery. The workshop had true masters—some skilled in two-sided embroidery with different colors, others even in three-sided embroidery. Head Embroiderer Gu, for instance, had trained under renowned embroiderers since childhood. Her family ran restaurants and clothing businesses, with twelve major shops in Pingjiang Prefecture and Lin'an Prefecture, her father holding over thirty percent of the shares.
Women like Jin Niang, selected for the workshop, weren’t really taught advanced techniques. She had once spent money treating the double-sided embroidery expert to a meal, but the woman only gave superficial advice, revealing nothing substantial.
As for Head Embroiderer Gu and the others, they had been learning the most intricate techniques since they were young.
Jin Niang had realized the truth—no one would teach her their skills. She might spend her whole life as a mediocre embroiderer.
But then...
She stood up and smiled. Not everyone could afford the most exquisite embroidery anyway. Most customers were ordinary officials or wealthy families. If she couldn’t be the best, she could still aim to be above average.
Just as with the imperial exams—only ten candidates made the top rank, but the emperor governed the realm with more than just those ten.
A person had to know their place. She had already mastered gold-stamping and gold-tracing techniques, but these required expensive gold leaf, and few customers could afford such luxuries.
She had been too fixated on the wrong things.
What she needed now wasn’t extravagant crafts but to develop her own unique floral patterns—moving from imitation to creation.
Moreover, she excelled at floral and bird embroidery. She should specialize in that instead of chasing fleeting trends.
Classics never went out of style.
Days later, the rains ceased, the sun returned, and the gloom lifted.
A few tiles on Jin Niang’s roof had blown off. Her father hired a roofer to fix them. Prices in the capital had risen sharply. Third Uncle’s family, who rented the poorest two-room house, had a tree collapse on their home, crushing half of it.
Third Aunt tried to send her children to Jin Niang’s house, but Jin Niang’s mother refused outright. "Our own roof leaks. The four of us are already crammed together—we can’t take in anyone else."
Ying Niang couldn't help but think that her desperate efforts to buy a house had indeed been worthwhile—at least she wouldn’t have to live under someone else’s control like this. She had always felt suffocated by the heavy debt, but now she realized it was the right decision.
By July, the weather grew scorching, and the embroidery workshop reduced working hours to half a day. Jin Niang and the others would check in early in the morning and return by noon for meals. She propped open the window and began painting in her room.
Previously, she had only copied others' works, but now she was creating her own designs. In summer, women typically wore tube tops, vests, and single-layered robes paired with closed-crotch trousers. Jin Niang adored pink, so most of her clothes were in soft, rosy hues. Her tube top was a delicate shade of powdered pink, layered with a plain lilac gauze vest and another of the same color in crepe.
She embroidered small clusters of wisteria flowers on her robe, believing it exuded refined elegance. Yet, by the end of the month, she had only earned a little over three strings of cash.
Undeterred, she pressed on. She had assumed simplicity and grace would appeal to buyers, but her designs proved too niche. Even the shopkeeper had hinted as much.
So, before the Mid-Autumn Festival, Jin Niang hurriedly crafted a new set of garments. This time, she nailed the trend: she embroidered pomegranates, tangerines, and grapes along the collar—a playful yet elegant motif with an auspicious meaning, aptly named "Auspicious Abundance of Sons."
Thanks to this lucky symbolism, the set sold for nineteen strings of cash, leaving Jin Niang both amused and exasperated.
As Mid-Autumn approached, her parents rented a shop near a village school, paying only three months' rent upfront. Meanwhile, Jin Niang bought steamed buns from popular shops near the State Bridge Bridge to bring home.
"I’ve always believed that if we’re in the food business, we should taste what’s selling well elsewhere. That’s the only way to improve our own flavors," Jin Niang said, admiring the resilience of those who came from other regions to make a living in Bianjing. The capital was teeming with food vendors—even pedestrians carried baskets of snacks. Standing out wasn’t easy.
Luo Yu'e wholeheartedly agreed. "You’re right, Jin Niang. Let me break one open and see."
The filling of these famous buns wasn’t as meaty as their own, but the juice was rich, plentiful, and not overly greasy. The oil even glistened through the wrapper.
Once her parents wrapped up their morning business, Jin Niang took the family to the Roasted Pork Courtyard at Xiangguo Temple for grilled meat.
Grilled meat wasn’t unusual in modern times, with countless barbecue joints tantalizing taste buds. But the Roasted Pork Courtyard of the Song Dynasty held its own.
"You’re saying a monk is the one roasting the pork?" Luo Yu'e asked, incredulous.
Jin Niang laughed and nodded. "Yes, a monk named Hui Ming." Noticing the bustling crowd, she quickly added, "Hurry, let’s grab a seat as soon as we get in."
Once seated, they marveled at the lively surroundings. Hawkers peddled nuts, wine, and side dishes nearby. Jin Niang ordered pickled plums, preserved plums, a plate of fruits, a small jug of wine, and three cups of herbal drinks.
The roasted pork arrived late but was worth the wait. She had chosen the belly cut—crispy-skinned and bursting with flavor. Wrapped in perilla leaves, it was pure delight.
Even the pickiest eater, Younger Brother Yang, devoured it messily, juices dripping everywhere, as if he wanted to use both hands and feet.
As they ate, they overheard a conversation behind them. A man sighed, "If I fail the imperial exams this time, I’ll have no face left to see my parents, wife, and children."
Another chuckled, "Brother Shen, you’re from the Wuxing Shen family. For you, becoming a jinshi is as easy as reaching into a bag."
Brother Shen replied warmly, "Brother Lin, we’ve hit it off. Do you have children? If I pass this time, why not arrange a marriage between our families?"
Jin Niang smiled to herself. This was typical of the Song Dynasty—passing the exams could transform one’s fate overnight. A peasant at dawn could dine with the emperor by dusk.
Brother Lin demurred, "I’m not yet married. My mother insists I wait until I become a jinshi."
Brother Shen nodded approvingly. "Your mother has high hopes for you."
After a few more drinks, the two men left. Seeing her parents’ confusion, Jin Niang explained, "Many men remain unmarried into their later years, waiting to pass the exams. Once they do, they can marry into official families, securing generous dowries and rapid advancement. If they’re from humble backgrounds and marry too early, they’ll lack influential connections in their careers."
"So, when you’re still struggling, you should focus on building yourself up. Once you’ve gained enough strength, you can choose a suitable partner—one that benefits both sides. Marrying recklessly only leads to resentment if one outpaces the other later."
Ordinary people couldn’t afford to "lift others out of poverty." Even her father had once grumbled that if he’d married an officer’s daughter, he wouldn’t be in this state. Fortunately, her mother was quick to anger but quicker to forget, never holding grudges.
Luo Yu'e handed Younger Brother Yang a handkerchief to wipe his mouth and admitted, "I’ve always worried you’d miss your prime marrying age. Marrying a daughter off too young could doom her to a lifetime of unhappiness."
"Look at our family—your father and I barely scrape by with our small business. But with your support, we eat three meals of white rice a day, enjoy meat now and then, and even dine out occasionally. It’s not luxury, but it’s a comfortable life."
Jin Niang understood her parents’ limited perspective. They’d known only one way of life until they met diverse people and realized not everyone thought alike.
Like her—though still just an embroiderer, she was quietly building her skills. Who knew what opportunities lay ahead?
After leaving the Roasted Pork Courtyard, Jin Niang strolled through the Great Xiangguo Temple. By afternoon, the crowds had thinned, but the temple retained its charm.
Spotting a picture-book vendor, Luo Yu'e asked, "Jin Niang, do you want to buy one?"
"Not this time." Jin Niang had learned her lesson with clothing designs—sticking to proven styles sold better than chasing uniqueness. It was like scriptwriting in her past life: master one genre before experimenting.
"If you don’t want pictures, let’s get some sugar-roasted chestnuts instead," Luo Yu'e said, smacking her lips.
Jin Niang laughed. "You and your chestnuts! Haven’t you had enough? Fine, I’ll go with you."
Truthfully, Luo Yu'e dreaded the thought of Jin Niang marrying away. Her approval of Shao Shengping stemmed from hoping he’d move in with them, keeping the family together. That’s why she was willing to spend all their savings on a house.
In the ninth month, Rongniang went into labor. Luo Yu'e and Wei Xiong both claimed they were too busy with work to visit, saying they would send gifts later when hosting a celebration. This was their way of showing solidarity.
A family must stand together, or else their daughter would resent them. If the parents acted as if nothing had happened, wouldn’t it make their daughter lose face?
This time, Rongniang gave birth to another son, which was naturally a double blessing. However, since the second uncle’s family did not attend, she and Feng Sheng assumed it was likely because of Jin Niang.
But these matters no longer affected Jin Niang. She and the others had begun learning three new embroidery techniques. Previously, they had only grasped the basics, but now they were delving deeper. It wasn’t that the artisans were eager to teach them—rather, they were soon to embroider official robes. The rolling stitch was used for water ripples, clouds, and willow branches; the scattered stitch had uneven needlework but natural color transitions, ideal for flowers, birds, and animals; and the dot stitch was for freehand floral designs.
Before, they had worked mechanically as mere embroiderers. Now, due to job requirements, they were finally being taught proper techniques.
Jin Niang wasn’t exceptionally clever, so she diligently recorded each method in her notebook and even practiced them herself. With average intelligence, diligence, and a bit of talent, she was steadily progressing toward becoming a mid-to-high-tier embroiderer.
After teaching the stitches, Head Embroiderer Gu announced, "Her Majesty the Consort has commissioned a jacket made of sheer silk, to be embroidered with a hundred butterflies. The lead embroiderer has already drawn the designs—the five of you will work on it together."
The task was divided among them. Jin Niang volunteered, "I’ll sketch the twenty butterflies assigned to me first and start embroidering directly."
No one objected. After all, though Jin Niang might not have been the most skilled embroiderer, she was undoubtedly the fastest and most error-free.
The butterflies were exquisitely drawn. Jin Niang had considered creating her own designs but decided against it, instead carefully copying an extra set to take home. Unlike modern times, where information was abundant, ancient society was rigidly hierarchical. Finding such professional patterns later might prove impossible.
The jacket took nearly a month to complete, as each butterfly was unique and required coordination among the embroiderers.
Yet, it was said that after all their painstaking effort, the Consort had stained the jacket with pomegranate juice and discarded it. Head Embroiderer Gu took it in stride, telling Jin Niang and the others, "Though His Majesty is frugal, the consorts have their allowances. Discarding a single jacket means little. As long as we do our work well, that’s what matters."
"Yes, Head Embroiderer," Jin Niang and the others replied obediently.
Unlike her colleagues in the Zhou household, those at the Embroidery Bureau kept to themselves during work hours, only interacting with a few close acquaintances.
During a quiet moment, they gathered for tea and snacks. Third Sister Xu had brought pastries, saying, "These were gifted to my family. I thought they were quite good, so I brought some for you all to try."
Her husband was a minor official, so their household often received gifts. Jin Niang took a bite and remarked, "Not bad—similar to the pastries I had at the Zhouqiao Night Market."
Since everyone earned fixed wages, there was no reason for rivalry. Jin Niang also shared hawthorn cakes she had bought from Granny Huang’s stall the day before. "These are to whet your appetite. There was quite a queue, but I managed to get some."
Suddenly, several eunuchs stormed in and dragged away one of the embroiderers. Jin Niang and the others were startled, holding their breaths until the commotion passed. Only then did Head Embroiderer Gu explain, "She violated regulations by embroidering a skirt beyond her rank. Palace rules must be enforced."
It turned out the embroiderer had secretly accepted payment from a consort to embellish a skirt. Only the Empress Dowager and Empress were permitted garments adorned with twenty-four floral motifs, while consorts were restricted to eighteen.
Jin Niang had once thought this place safe, but now she realized it carried life-or-death risks.
When Head Embroiderer Gu summoned her privately, Jin Niang was surprised. The Embroidery Bureau employed three hundred people, with over seventy in the floral-and-bird division. Among them, ten held official titles but did no actual work—they drew salaries while others like Jin Niang filled their vacancies.
These substitutes had no permanent status, were not registered as artisans, and worked under three-year contracts. After that, they might stay or leave.
So why had Head Embroiderer Gu called her?
Entering cautiously, Jin Niang greeted her, "Head Embroiderer."
"Sit. I’ve heard you can read?" Head Embroiderer Gu smiled.
Jin Niang nodded. "Only a few characters, nothing extensive."
"Don’t be nervous. I wanted to ask—do you know about our dynasty’s system for female officials?"
Jin Niang shook her head. "I’m just a country girl who focuses on manual labor. I know nothing of female officials."
Head Embroiderer Gu smiled kindly. "There are two paths to becoming a female official. The first is through imperial examinations, usually taken by noblewomen. The second is promotion from within the palace, starting as a maid. The former are few; the latter, many. I’ve noticed your embroidery is excellent, you’re diligent, and you can read. I’d like to recommend you for the selection, bypassing the maid route."
Jin Niang had never considered becoming a female official. "What do they do? And why recommend me? Many here are more skilled."
"Not necessarily. Female officials are ranked in eight grades, from highest to lowest: Imperial Lecturer, Imperial Preacher, Imperial Policy Advisor, Imperial Secretariat, Palace Steward, Inner Censor, Inner Selector, and Inner Scholar. The lowest two ranks, Inner Selector and Inner Scholar, only attend the Empress and Empress Dowager at banquets. Higher ranks like Palace Steward and Inner Censor manage the Emperor’s documents and even advise him. Typically, female officials serve eight years, but if favored by Their Majesties, they may stay longer."
It sounded prestigious—holding rank and influencing politics. Yet Jin Niang asked, "But why recommend me instead of someone from your own family?"
After all, Head Embroiderer Gu herself had once been a female official.
Head Embroiderer Gu was surprisingly candid: "I hail from the Jiangnan Gu clan, where my family held great expectations for me. Yet, due to certain obstructions, I’ve never been able to secure advancement. The imperial court favors those from humble backgrounds—much like how most top scholars tend to come from modest families. You, appearing rootless, are more likely to receive such favor. Naturally, I’m not asking you to do anything against your conscience. All I need is for you to pass a word or two to the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, or the Grand Empress Dowager. With that stepping stone, I’ll surely rise swiftly, and in the future, I’ll repay you handsomely."
"No need to rush your decision. Take your time to consider it. Give me your answer in three days."
