Jin Niang had always considered herself rather ordinary, so why had Head Embroiderer Gu taken such a fancy to her? Even going so far as to offer substantial benefits.
It was true that wealth came from taking risks. If she had no parents or relatives, entering the palace as a court lady might have been an excellent choice—she might even have struggled to find a way in. But now, she had no need to resort to such dangerous measures. Once you entered the palace gates, the depths were unfathomable. While this dynasty did not execute scholar-officials, the lives of maids and palace servants were fraught with peril.
Back when she was with the Zhou family, her survival had been uncertain day by day. Head Embroiderer Gu was clearly dangling a grand promise in front of her to make her risk her life. With Head Embroiderer Gu’s beauty, she could easily have become a palace concubine, yet she had been relegated to a minor position in the Embroidery Bureau. They wanted Jin Niang to enter the palace precisely because she was plain—unlikely to steal favor—and because, as a poor girl, she would be easy to control.
Truly, merchants knew how to paint grand illusions. Making her risk her life for their benefit, all while pretending it was for her own good.
At once, Jin Niang smiled and said, "Head Embroiderer Gu, I’m deeply grateful for your appreciation. But I’ve always been a free spirit, unruly by nature. Besides, I have parents to care for, so I’m afraid this path to riches and glory is one I must decline."
Unexpectedly, Head Embroiderer Gu found her response all the more convincing. This embroiderer, recruited from the common folk, was meticulous in her work. She had observed her for a long time—once, she had deliberately dropped a silver ingot worth twenty-five taels near her, only to see Jin Niang ignore it completely. Later, when Head Embroiderer Gu returned, Jin Niang pointed it out to her.
From her usual observations, Head Embroiderer Gu knew Wei Jinniang came from poverty, yet she never pocketed a single coin that wasn’t hers—her integrity was impeccable.
Thus, Head Embroiderer Gu pressed on, "If I ever rise to prominence, I will surely regard you as my most trusted confidante."
The implication was clear: if she became an imperial consort, Jin Niang would be elevated to a high-ranking palace official. But Jin Niang’s thoughts ran differently—first, let’s see you actually enter the palace and climb to such a position. Second, making deals with tigers never ended well. If Head Embroiderer Gu couldn’t even contend with the palace concubines now, she’d likely throw Jin Niang to the wolves when trouble came.
Take that other embroiderer, for instance—favored by the emperor at the behest of a beloved consort, she had been ordered to create garments that exceeded regulations. When the officials impeached the consort, the embroiderer was sacrificed as a scapegoat. No, Jin Niang would respectfully decline.
So she replied, "I truly appreciate your kindness, but my family has already arranged a marriage for me..."
"Ah, I see." Head Embroiderer Gu could hardly insist after that.
Jin Niang exhaled in relief. Of course, the engagement was just an excuse—she had met with several matchmakers before, but none of the prospects seemed reliable. She needed to raise her own standing so that not just anyone would dare come knocking.
Why rely on others’ charity when she could grow into a towering tree herself?
Before the New Year, Jin Niang had completed two embroidered jackets for the Brocade Pavilion, and along with the shoes and pouches she had made in previous months, she earned a total of thirty strings of cash. She kept this sum hidden from her family—whenever asked, she claimed she made thirteen strings a month: three from the Embroidery Bureau and ten from side work. This amount was enough to avoid scorn but not so much as to invite envy.
Her parents rarely inquired about her earnings anyway. Their business was doing much better now than before, and their faces had softened with contentment.
For now, it was best not to convert the money into paper notes—those were overissued, and some couldn’t even be redeemed. As for hiding her savings, Jin Niang had three secret stashes. The silver ingots and jewelry she had acquired from the Zhou family were all locked in a small chest, secured with a copper lock and buried beneath clothes at the bottom of her wardrobe—none of it for daily expenses.
The other two hiding spots were known only to her, not even her parents.
"Jin Niang, come out and have some soup!"
Hearing her mother’s call, Jin Niang hurried out. Luo Yu'e had prepared pigeon soup, a nourishing dish. After finishing a bowl, Jin Niang helped herself to some steamed buns—leftovers from the shop that her parents always brought home.
When her parents had secured their new shop, Third Uncle had willingly lent them twenty-five strings of cash, leaving Jin Niang astonished. Later, she realized why Third Uncle had so many friends—he often lent money to others. He lived frugally, in a dim, cramped home, yet craved respect, so he maintained his status through loans.
Case in point: after lunch, Third Uncle arrived with an account book and said to her father, "I’m off to collect some debts—mind if I borrow your donkey cart?"
Wei Xiong laughed. "Take it, by all means. You really ought to buy your own cart—it’d make travel much easier."
Third Uncle sighed. "I’d like to, but how could I?"
Jin Niang and Luo Yu'e exchanged a glance—they both knew Third Aunt would never allow it. She had once sworn she’d make life unbearable if he ever bought one. Wei Xiong handed over the cart, and Third Uncle graciously promised to send over some stewed mutton later, courtesy of Ying Niang.
Once he left, Luo Yu'e mended her husband’s clothes and asked Jin Niang, "You mentioned a shop with good cotton batting before—I’d like to make your father a proper padded jacket. He hasn’t had decent clothes in years."
Jin Niang barely had time to sew for her own family these days—most of her spare hours were spent on commissions for the Brocade Pavilion. "There’s a tailor named Zhao. Bring your fabric there—he has batting. A padded jacket costs three hundred coppers, but if he quotes too high, try elsewhere."
"Good, I’ll go later." Luo Yu'e’s heart ached for her husband.
Thanks to Third Uncle’s loan, their family relations had thawed somewhat. But they hardly interacted with Rongniang’s family anymore—all because of Rongniang herself. Feng Sheng was an outsider, with no emotional ties to them, so while Jin Niang resented his actions, she didn’t dwell on them. But Rongniang was family.
Just like Third Aunt’s behavior—Third Uncle was the one trying to mend fences.
This New Year was far more comfortable than the last. The courtyard racks were laden with cured meats and ribs, the kitchen stocked with jars of pickles, the rice bins overflowing, and a large basket of eggs sat nearby.
Stretching, Jin Niang returned to her room to count her savings. When she left the Zhou family, she had taken over a hundred strings of cash. Thirty had been spent on household expenses, leaving a hundred. This year, she had earned another hundred and thirty—more than three years’ worth at the Zhou family.
Now she had over two hundred strings. A sum she’d never dared dream of before. But a thousand strings was still eight hundred away—she was far from reaching the middle class.
Clenching her fists, Jin Niang wondered if it was the pigeon soup, but she slept soundly that night.
That evening, the parents had already prepared the meal, and Younger Brother Yang was reading by the lamplight. When Jin Niang came out, the family was in cheerful spirits. Luo Yu'e turned to Jin Niang and asked, "You didn’t listen to Head Embroiderer Gu—won’t she make things difficult for you?"
"Make things difficult? No. Head Embroiderer Gu is quite beautiful, which already makes her a target of envy. If she were to act spiteful now, she’d completely ruin her chances of entering the palace," Jin Niang replied.
Besides, Head Embroiderer Gu wasn’t that kind of person. After working together for nearly a year, Jin Niang could tell. The Gu family had lofty ambitions, seeking benefits for their clan and themselves, but Head Embroiderer Gu was already in her twenties. If she were truly exceptional, she wouldn’t have been stuck at this rank for so long. Even if she did enter the palace, her favor wouldn’t last more than a few years.
Luo Yu'e was still worried for her daughter. "Once you enter the palace, it’s like stepping into an abyss," she sighed.
"You’ve learned to say such things now," Jin Niang laughed.
The next day at the embroidery workshop, the final touches were being put on a robe for the Empress. Jin Niang privately thought the design was unappealing, but the ceremonial attire of the Empress was not something they could question. In the embroidery workshop, they were called "embroiderers" for a reason—all garments had to follow strict protocols, with no room for creativity. Everyone adhered to their roles, and no matter how many ideas one had, they had to stay within the bounds of tradition.
It was tedious, repeating the same patterns over and over.
Fortunately, it would only last a few more days. The New Year break was approaching, and after enduring the final stretch, Jin Niang rested at home for three days before resuming her sewing. She hadn’t had a proper break in years, but with a goal in mind, she didn’t feel the exhaustion.
On the morning of New Year’s Eve, Wei Xiong went out to dispose of the night soil and was startled to see several ragged men loitering at the alley entrance. He hurried back inside and told Luo Yu'e about it.
Jin Niang knew why they were there. She often read the local gazettes—yes, even in this era of the Northern Song Dynasty, there were privately published newspapers, filled with all sorts of gossip and sold cheaply for entertainment.
"I’ve heard there’s a drought in several regions, and refugees have flooded into Kaifeng. We should keep our doors locked tight. Mother, let’s not cook meat today—better to avoid drawing attention. The court will surely provide relief soon," Jin Niang suggested.
Common folk like Jin Niang didn’t read the gazettes for grand ambitions, but they could avoid trouble this way.
Wei Xiong had bought a fish the day before, intending to braise it for the feast, but after hearing his daughter’s words, he agreed. "Alright, we’ll stay inside and avoid going out unless necessary."
"Under the Emperor’s very nose, refugees dare to roam freely?" Luo Yu'e was skeptical.
Jin Niang nodded. "It’s true. Wen Shuhui from the embroidery workshop had her family’s meat, rice, and money stolen. They’re still lamenting their losses."
Most residents of their alley rented their homes, with few owning property outright. The last time someone tried to harass them, the moment they learned Jin Niang’s family owned their house, they backed off.
Jin Niang was vigilant, but others weren’t so cautious. Their neighbor, Granny Cai, was one such person—she loved to show off, often boasting about getting gold teeth and once even flaunted her gold necklace and bracelets right in front of Luo Yu'e.
Granny Cai and her daughter-in-law were preparing smoked chicken, a specialty reserved for the New Year. The process was meticulous—soaking the chicken in water for an hour, steaming it briefly, coating it in a secret sauce, then slow-roasting it over a small clay stove. It had to be turned evenly to avoid burning.
The aroma was irresistible—not just to the refugees outside, but even Jin Niang felt her stomach growl.
"Sister, it smells so good," Younger Brother Yang said.
Jin Niang patted his shoulder. "Hold on. I’ve got almond cakes and candied hawthorns for you later."
The family ate a quick, unsatisfying lunch and decided to nap, planning to cook properly in the afternoon if the coast was clear. After all, it was New Year’s Eve.
Jin Niang’s prediction was correct—they were awakened from their nap by Granny Cai’s wailing. Jin Niang and Luo Yu'e went to check and found the old woman’s ear bleeding. "Those damned thieves! They tore my gold earrings right off!" she sobbed.
Granny Cai’s daughter-in-law was also in tears—their smoked chicken, meat buns, and steamed bread had all been stolen. They’d reported it to the authorities, but the culprits were long gone.
Feeling sorry for them, Jin Niang’s family gave them some rice cakes and grain. As for eggs and meat, Luo Yu'e, for once, didn’t give in to her charitable impulses. "No need to let others know what we have, or we’ll never shake them off," she said.
Back in Jiangling, Jin Niang had been too busy studying and honing her craft to truly understand her parents. Now, observing them anew, she saw them differently. Her father, outwardly meek and moralistic, acted out of obligation rather than genuine kindness. Her mother, though hot-tempered, had a soft heart—anyone who played the victim could easily sway her.
Over the past year, Jin Niang had gently guided them toward self-preservation.
"Mother’s right. Father, go check if the area’s clear. If there are no strangers around, we’ll start preparing the New Year’s feast," Jin Niang said cheerfully.
The thieves, having gotten what they wanted, were gone. Luo Yu'e and Wei Xiong busied themselves with cooking, and even Jin Niang helped by shelling quail eggs. The house soon buzzed with activity.
The Zhou family was similarly festive. A year had passed, and the eldest Zhou daughter was now married and expecting—the family’s greatest joy. Even more exciting was that the second son, Zhou Cunzhi, had passed the provincial exams and was preparing for the palace examinations.
Lady Zhang served Madam Jiang a bowl of almond paste. "Cunzhi will soon face the palace exams. Now that you’re managing the household, remember to treat his peers with respect and maintain proper relations," Madam Jiang advised.
In official circles, every word and action was scrutinized.
Lady Zhang, though well aware of this, still listened deferentially.
After attending to her mother-in-law, she headed back for her meal but encountered Fourth Miss Zhou in the corridor. The girl greeted her politely, and Lady Zhang softened with affection.
Fourth Miss Zhou, having lost her birth mother, lived a difficult life yet remained kind and upright—unlike her mother.
"Where are you off to, Fourth Miss?" Lady Zhang asked.
Fourth Miss Zhou smiled. "I’m going to see Grandmother. Cousin Mei Pan'er asked me for some embroidery patterns."
After bidding farewell to each other, the Fourth Miss Zhou found herself overwhelmed with sorrow as she walked alone through the deserted path. She had never imagined that Miao Xiaoniang would meet such a tragic fate—both mother and child lost during childbirth. Just before her labor, Miao Xiaoniang had been cheerfully talking about the future if she were to bear another son. Yet, in the blink of an eye, she was gone. What made it worse was that all the servants who had attended to Miao Xiaoniang in her lifetime were dismissed, and a mere ten taels of silver were spent on her coffin.
But the Fourth Miss Zhou was no fool. She suspected that Miao Xiaoniang had been dealt with by Wu Luan ahead of time. However, for some reason, Miao Xiaoniang’s death had occurred years earlier than in the original timeline.
In the novel The Strategy of Becoming a Second Wife, Miao Xiaoniang had persuaded Brother Qin’s wet nurse to harm him, nearly causing Wu Luan to die alongside her unborn child. But in this life, perhaps due to her own transmigration, the plot had completely diverged. Wu Luan had preemptively dealt with those around Brother Qin, safely giving birth, while Miao Xiaoniang was the one who perished.
Now, with her three elder sisters already betrothed, the Fourth Miss Zhou had no one to rely on. She had no choice but to tread carefully and ingratiate herself with others. The old madam became her target of flattery—though advanced in age and not in the best health, the novel had mentioned that this old lady outlived nearly everyone else.
The old madam’s quarters were lively, with Mei Pan'er and the Third Miss present. The Third Miss, now engaged to a renowned scholar, carried herself with serene confidence. Recalling past conflicts with the Fourth Miss Zhou, she had softened toward her now that the latter had lost her birth mother, and their relationship had improved.
As the Fourth Miss Zhou entered, she noticed Mei Pan'er’s brows furrowed with quiet melancholy. She understood that Mei Pan'er’s situation was even more precarious than her own. Though she had lost Miao Xiaoniang, she still had a younger brother from the same mother and was a legitimate daughter of the household. She and Mei Pan'er were close—after Miao Xiaoniang’s death, Mei Pan'er had personally introduced her to the old madam.
It was a case of "You throw a peach to me, I give you a white jade for friendship."
When the old madam grew weary, the Fourth Miss Zhou whispered to Mei Pan'er, "Cousin, I must congratulate you on your impending good fortune."
"What nonsense are you spouting, you little imp?" Mei Pan'er’s marriage prospects were neither here nor there. Until her future was settled, how could she possibly feel at ease?
The Fourth Miss Zhou had overheard snippets of conversation the day before while paying respects to Madam Jiang. Though Lady Zhang was now managing the household, Madam Jiang had not relinquished her authority so easily.
"Cousin Han Xiao has passed the provincial examination. I hear he is exceptionally talented."
Mei Pan'er could only offer a bitter smile at these words.
The Fourth Miss Zhou knew the story well—in the novel, Han Xiao, also known as Seventh Young Master Han, had eventually been enfeoffed as a duke and appointed as a chancellor. A Song dynasty jinshi was an invaluable title, and with her father now promoted within the Ministry of Revenue, Mei Pan'er—granddaughter of the old madam’s Han family—was a fitting match for Han Xiao.
But Mei Pan'er sighed. "Silly girl, that arrangement is likely for you."
Her? The Fourth Miss Zhou shook her head. The novel had never mentioned her marrying a scholar—instead, she was wedded as a second wife to her eldest sister’s widower.
On the first day of the new year, Jin Niang accompanied her parents to the northern outskirts of the city, where colorful tents lined the streets, and vendors displayed an array of hats, combs, jewelry, hair ornaments, garments, and embroidered collars.
Luo Yu'e wanted to buy flowers for Jin Niang to wear, but Jin Niang refused. "The ones you bought me before are still unused. I’ll dress up once I’ve slimmed down."
"You keep saying you’ll lose weight, but with how busy you are, you’ve only grown rounder," Luo Yu'e chided.
She added, "Who says plump girls can’t adorn themselves? The fuller the figure, the more one ought to dress beautifully."
Once the new year passed, Jin Niang would be seventeen—already considered somewhat old for marriage. Most girls her age were either preparing for weddings or already wedded, yet Jin Niang’s own prospects remained unsettled. Her parents were anxious, but their daughter was stubbornly independent, impossible to persuade.
Jin Niang was determined to maintain control over her own fate. She examined the embroidery at each stall with keen interest. Working in the Imperial Embroidery Bureau, she was accustomed to strict adherence to patterns, never daring to overstep. Though she occasionally visited the Brocade Pavilion, she rarely had the chance to study truly personal embroidery techniques.
Only by learning from diverse sources could she refine her craft.
Truthfully, if a woman could cast aside the expectations of marriage and childbirth—the so-called "right age for the right things"—she could truly master her profession and live freely.
"Mother, look—this person has stitched narcissus flowers using strands of hair!" Jin Niang tugged her mother over to see.
Luo Yu'e gasped, then pointed to another handkerchief embroidered with narcissus blossoms. "I still think this one is prettier."
Jin Niang laughed. As professionals, they judged embroidery by technique, but ordinary buyers cared only for aesthetics.
Ah, the narcissus paired with Indian cress was truly striking—the vibrant crimson of the cress against the green of the narcissus created a vivid, lively contrast, neither gaudy nor dull.
This outing had been worthwhile. One couldn’t innovate while shut indoors.
The next day, her family planned to visit the Great Xiangguo Temple, but Jin Niang refused to go, absorbed in sketching new floral patterns and designs.
Feng Sheng was equally busy. Though he had been accompanying his wife and daughter, he was abruptly summoned to treat a patient. Without powerful connections, his medical skills, though competent, left him vulnerable to blame for others’ mistakes.
But his diligence had paid off—his monthly earnings now exceeded fifty strings of cash. Though exhausting, it meant he could eventually afford a grand residence in the capital, ensuring his sons studied under renowned scholars. That alone would make his life’s toil worthwhile.
Thus, at the first call for help, he immediately sent his carriage ahead, instructing servants to escort Rongniang and her son home.
Yet the Feng household was short-staffed. In the crowd, Rongniang and her child were nearly separated, and she was almost assaulted before the servants found her in time.
…
While others celebrated the new year or faced life-and-death struggles, Jin Niang’s triumph was completing a new garment—one that sold during the Lantern Festival. If her calculations were correct, she stood to earn at least fifteen strings of cash.
However, the Imperial Embroidery Bureau soon grew busier. With the new jinshi soon to be announced at the Eastern Glory Gate, the court required robes for the scholars, a task assigned to Jin Niang and her peers.
They would draft the initial designs, adjusting sizes only after meeting the scholars in person.
Consequently, Jin Niang had little time for private commissions.
The Eastern Glory Gate ceremony was the pinnacle of a scholar’s achievement. Zhou Cunzhi, though young, ranked sixth in the first-class honors list. Yet just as he should have been basking in glory, his gaze fell upon Han Xiao—a mere nineteen-year-old whose rank surpassed his own.
Zhou Cunzhi was no petty man, but he had always believed himself Han Xiao’s superior. To be overtaken so decisively was a bitter pill to swallow.
After the roll call ceremony concluded, a group of green-robed court ladies approached, interrupting Zhou Cunzhi's thoughts. The person standing before him to take his measurements looked oddly familiar.
Jin Niang, upon seeing Zhou Cunzhi, also felt a sense of familiarity. She hadn’t expected to encounter someone she knew here. Quickly stepping forward, she smiled and congratulated him, "Second Young Master, congratulations on your success in the Donghua examination."
"It's you—the plump... Jin Niang," Zhou Cunzhi said, never one to forget a face or a name.
Jin Niang laughed. "Indeed, it’s me. What an honor to have the chance to make clothes for you again, Second Young Master."
Zhou Cunzhi had initially thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but running into an acquaintance did lift his spirits—though his notoriously sharp tongue and disdain for foolishness made it hard for him to show it. "Now that you’re a court lady, mind your appearance," he remarked coolly. "No matter how clever you are inside, if you look like a fool on the outside, His Majesty won’t spare you a second glance."
Jin Niang, who had been in high spirits, realized he’d mistaken her for a court lady. She couldn’t exactly correct him, but was that really the way to speak to a young woman about her looks and figure?
"Hmph!" Jin Niang, incensed by his tactless words, stamped her foot and turned away, marching off to measure the other scholars instead.
Leaving Zhou Cunzhi standing there, utterly bewildered.
