Fortunately, she had once taken up embroidery on a whim, and now those skills came in handy, drawing exclamations of admiration from everyone. After receiving the base fabric, she began selecting threads and weaving patterns. Suddenly, Jin Niang thought that if she hadn’t learned embroidery, she might have taken up weaving instead—it wouldn’t have been a bad alternative.
Even Zou Yue'e couldn’t help but glance at her. "Jin Niang, I never knew you had such talent."
"I just picked it up casually," Jin Niang replied with a smile.
The others were thoroughly impressed.
Looking around, Jin Niang couldn’t help but curl her lips slightly. Only true skill could keep one invincible! Third Sister Xu’s scheme had failed, and Jin Niang, never one to endure hardship, had felt humiliated and used the excuse of needing to rest for her "pregnancy" to dissolve the contract.
At the same time, she didn’t receive the bonus she had expected. While everyone else was given two or three strings of cash at the end of the year, Jin Niang exchanged hers for copper coins, strung them herself, and distributed them one by one, leaving everyone delighted.
Of course, the happiest news for Jin Niang was the reopening of Brocade Pavilion. Though foot traffic wasn’t as strong as before, the clothes she had made over the past two months finally had a place to be sold. However, having missed the season, they only earned her twelve strings of cash by year’s end.
Luo Yu'e didn’t know exactly how much her daughter had made, only that Jin Niang complained it was too little. "Whether it’s a lot or a little, the fact that Brocade Pavilion is open again is good news for you," Luo Yu'e said.
But Jin Niang shook her head. "Mother, it’s like how the landlord raises the rent as soon as your business improves. Brocade Pavilion closed on a whim, and even my position at the embroidery workshop might not last. If we had our own house and shop, we wouldn’t be at others’ mercy."
Soon, it would be three years since they had leased their current home. If the owner decided to reclaim it, they would have no choice but to move elsewhere.
"Who doesn’t understand that? But how could our family ever afford such things?" Luo Yu'e didn’t even dare to dream of it.
Jin Niang only smiled faintly.
Meanwhile, Ying Niang’s wedding proceeded as scheduled. Rumor had it that the An family had borrowed from relatives, pawned belongings, and even taken loans to scrape together the funds.
Even Rongniang remarked to Luo Yu'e, "Why go to such lengths? In the end, the debt will fall on Ying Niang and her husband. They’re just burdening themselves for no reason."
"Exactly! Besides, An Ping contributed to that house too," Luo Yu'e said, cracking melon seeds with a hint of satisfaction. She knew she was being petty, but after Third Aunt had mocked her daughter for being unmarried, seeing Ying Niang’s wedding turn into such a struggle felt like justice.
Rongniang, however, preferred to stay out of the conflict between the second and third branches of the family. She changed the subject, asking casually, "How is Second Sister doing? It’s a shame I don’t know anyone who could help."
Luo Yu'e wasn’t fooled. Jin Niang had long since warned her that Rongniang and her husband never truly lifted a finger to help but loved prying into others’ affairs.
So she replied, "We don’t rely on others. Jin Niang’s marriage will happen when it’s meant to. She’s doing well now—earning as much as anyone else and living comfortably at home. As long as she’s happy, we’re happy."
Though the matter of her daughter’s marriage weighed on her heart like a heavy stone, Luo Yu'e no longer wore her worries openly. She had even begun to overlook the issue, convinced that Jin Niang’s character and talent surpassed what most men could match.
The thought brought her some peace.
After returning home, Rongniang said to Feng Sheng, "Ying Niang is about to marry, but Second Sister is already eighteen (by Chinese reckoning), and Second Aunt doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. Why is that?"
She didn’t understand, but Feng Sheng thought he had it all figured out. "Jin Niang earns ten strings of cash a month at Brocade Pavilion, and as deputy head of the embroidery workshop, she gets another six. Your Second Uncle and Aunt see her as a cash cow—keeping her at home saves them expenses."
"That can’t be! How could a mother do that to her own daughter?" Rongniang refused to believe Feng Sheng’s cynical view.
Feng Sheng shrugged. "Isn’t it obvious? The money Jin Niang makes might not seem like much, but for the second branch, it’s significant."
Though Rongniang had borne two sons, she remained slender and beautiful. Yet Feng Sheng couldn’t resist adding, "Why didn’t you attend the matchmaking event at Squire Xu’s the other day?"
"Why should I? I don’t even know the man." In Rongniang’s eyes, her husband was just a physician—he should focus on his work instead of social climbing. She disliked forcing herself to ingratiate with strangers.
Feng Sheng explained, "Squire Xu’s family has been in medicine for generations, originally from Jiangnan. You don’t realize it, but Chief Physician Zhao has hired several new doctors. Who knows if there’ll still be a place for me? If I could build ties with Squire Xu, it would benefit us both. Besides, you’re not like Jin Niang with her difficult personality—you’re capable and charming. Why not use that?"
If Rongniang were shy or inept, he wouldn’t push her. But she had a natural ease in social settings, warm and attentive, able to liven any gathering. She outshone both her sisters—Jin Niang was too proud and sharp-tongued, while Ying Niang was two-faced, envious, and quick to shift blame.
Yet the most capable of them all held herself back, never fully committing to the family’s advancement.
He was grateful for her—she had cared for his ailing mother for three months, and his elder brother and sister-in-law adored her. But when it came to networking, she simply wouldn’t engage.
"I do my part in normal social exchanges," Rongniang said firmly. "But I won’t grovel at strangers’ doors."
Feng Sheng rubbed his temples. "All I asked was for you to deliver a gift and exchange a few pleasantries. How is that degrading?"
Neither would yield, but by the day of Ying Niang’s wedding, they presented a united front, attending together in harmony.
However, before Rongniang could even greet Jin Niang, Luo Yu'e and her husband arrived with their son. When asked, Luo Yu'e smiled. "She had other matters to attend to, so she couldn’t come."
In truth, Luo Yu'e had urged her daughter to socialize, but Jin Niang refused. "At my age and unmarried, I’d only endure endless nosy comments if I showed up. I’d rather stay home by the fire and sketch embroidery patterns."
So Luo Yu'e covered for her.
Rongniang thought Jin Niang was too willful—such a temperament would make marriage difficult for her, likely earning disfavor from future in-laws. Unless she married a man willing to live under her roof, but those who relied on their wives’ wealth were hardly upstanding.
The more she pondered, the more Jin Niang unsettled her. A person so out of step with convention was more formidable than the openly domineering.
Jin Niang, however, lived contentedly. At noon, she bought her favorite snacks from the alleyway vendor and returned home to lose herself in romantic novels. It was strange—in real life, she was thoroughly pragmatic, yet the stories moved her deeply, even bringing her to tears once. Perhaps it was because she struggled to believe in genuine affection in the world, so she sought it all in books.
By the time Luo Yu'e and the others returned, Jin Niang had composed herself.
"Talk about ill omens," Luo Yu'e said. "Yesterday was all sunshine, but today, on your Third Sister Xu’s wedding, the banquet tent collapsed under snow!"
Jin Niang was startled. Though she didn’t believe in superstitions, a collapsed tent on a wedding day was undeniably bad luck. She quickly changed the subject. "Why are you back so late?"
Wei Xiong replied, "The An family came from Xiangfu County for the bride. There’s another banquet at their place tomorrow, so I had to arrange lodging for the men. I made several trips escorting them."
Though Wei Xiong voiced no complaint, Luo Yu'e scoffed. "Your Third Uncle squeezes every drop from family. Too scared to impose on Feng Sheng, he preys on your father’s meekness. The wedding was today, yet he only bought groceries yesterday—your father handled the firewood, the food, the transportation. And what did he get? A cup of wine, which he drank like it was some grand honor."
Wei Xiong had always been plagued by insecurity, believing that being asked for favors meant he was valued.
Without a trace of reproach, Jin Niang remarked, "Father, that donkey cart belongs to me too, not just you. Third Uncle has plenty of friends—he’s close to Brother-in-law Feng and the others. But when it’s time for feasts, he never invites you. It’s only when there’s thankless work that he remembers you. Even I treat you to meals when we collaborate."
Such words could only come from Jin Niang. She never cast blame, only stated facts.
Wei Xiong, easily swayed, fell silent at her words. Luo Yu'e could never phrase things so deftly—she’d have erupted in a shouting match. Hearing Jin Niang articulate her own grievances, she sneered. "Third Uncle is a swindler. Now the An family is saddled with two hundred strings of cash in bride price debts. The moment Ying Niang steps into their household, she’ll be buried in IOUs."
"Enough," Jin Niang cut in. "We’ve attended the wedding, given our gifts. How they manage their affairs is none of our concern." If this went on, the complaints would never end.
The mention of gifts soured Luo Yu'e further. "Your father and I gave a full string of cash as a gift, plus five mace of silver each to Ying Niang and An Ping. And then I remembered—when your grandfather died, Third Uncle and Third Aunt didn’t contribute a single coin."
Jin Niang knew dwelling on regrets was pointless. The only way was to learn from them. "Next time they host, we simply won’t give."
She, too, had once been prone to regret, but her greatest strength was correcting mistakes and refining her path. Unconsciously, she’d become the family’s steadying force.
After the Third Uncle’s wedding festivities, the New Year arrived. With gambling permitted during the celebrations, Third Uncle reportedly won big at dice.
Jin Niang thought her mother was right—leopards don’t change their spots.
Her parents’ shop rent had risen. Business had improved slightly since its opening, but most of their earnings went to her younger brother’s education. Supporting a scholar in a poor family was no small feat—paper, ink, brushes, and tutors all demanded silver.
In truth, Jin Niang lived as though she and her parents were separate households. She covered half the family’s expenses, but her dowry was largely her own savings. At most, her parents could spare a dozen strings of cash for quilts and a bridal chamber pot.
After the New Year, business at Brocade Pavilion picked up. Even Jin Niang noticed her embroidered garments selling faster—in just three months, she’d earned nearly forty strings of cash in extra income.
By the end of spring, Ying Niang invited them to a housewarming, presenting a box of malt candy and preparing a feast at her new two-courtyard home, purchased for two thousand taels.
It was Jin Niang’s first visit. Ying Niang, delighted, pushed open the vermilion gate and gestured to a row of three side rooms. "These are for guests—or servants, if we ever hire any."
Luo Yu'e peered curiously. "The place looks brand new. Did you rebuild after buying?"
An Ping chuckled. "It was constructed just a few years ago. Only the furniture is ours—the rest came as is." He excused himself to join the men.
Nearby, Third Aunt boasted to Luo Yu'e, "The deed is solely in Ying Niang’s name."
Luo Yu'e whispered to Jin Niang, "Ying Niang’s earnings go to debts, An Ping’s pay covers expenses, yet the house is under her name alone."
Jin Niang stifled a laugh and pointed ahead.
Between the gatehouse and the inner courtyard stood carriages and horses. Beyond the second gate lay the main hall flanked by east and west wings—the east near the kitchen, the west by the latrine.
"We only furnished the basics. I hope it’s not too crude," Ying Niang said modestly.
Jin Niang smiled. "It’s lovely—a proper home in a good location."
Ying Niang grinned. "Don’t let the number of rooms fool you—each is quite small. But there are excellent elementary schools nearby." Her expression dimmed. "We’re buried in debt for this place."
"Come now," Jin Niang teased. "You’re making plenty selling medicines for Merchant Zhang."
Apothecaries had always profited handsomely.
Ying Niang brightened at the praise. Though Feng Sheng had pointed the way, her own skill secured her footing. Secretly, her father had helped—giving them promissory notes from old loans, telling them to collect what they could.
Between shifts at the pharmacy, she and An Ping had chased debts, nibbling on parched, throat-clogging flatbreads. The hardships, of course, were not for outsiders to know.
The gathering was supposedly to celebrate the housewarming, and at noon, Third Uncle prepared a lamb dish. Jin Niang had only taken a few bites when Rongniang presented her housewarming gift—two bolts of fine fabric, one in indigo blue and the other in watery pink, along with two hundred copper coins wrapped for Ying Niang.
Jin Niang found it odd. Why hadn’t her elder sister exchanged these coins for silver? Back in the Zhou household, she had often seen gold and silver ingots or silver bars. Later, when she visited a silver exchange shop, she learned that not all silver had to be those heavy, unwieldy lumps—those were reserved for the extremely wealthy and noble families. So, the last time, she had her parents exchange for smaller silver pieces of five and eight fen, which could be neatly tucked into pouches as gifts. Much more presentable.
Logically, as a seasoned matron and with her husband frequently treating noble clients, Rongniang should have known better. Handing out raw coins might seem generous, but it lacked refinement.
Jin Niang’s parents decided against giving money to Third Uncle in the future. But since Ying Niang had married into another family, they prepared a basket of fresh fruit, two boxes of dried fruit, three potted crabapple plants, and four persimmon-shaped coarse porcelain cups. Each cup held fifty coins strung together with red silk thread—utterly exquisite.
“These are lovely! Where did you buy these persimmon cups?” Ying Niang was delighted.
Luo Yu'e smiled. “Your second sister found them at the ghost market. They’re not expensive, but the symbolism is perfect—‘everything as you wish.’”
Though Ying Niang and Jin Niang didn’t get along, she admired Jin Niang’s taste. She thought to herself that this was how gifts should be given—beautiful and meaningful.
In truth, Jin Niang’s family’s gifts cost far less than Rongniang’s. Rongniang’s two bolts of fabric alone cost a full string of cash, while Jin Niang’s basket of tangerines was only thirty-five coins, the dried fruit sixty coins, the potted crabapples another sixty, and the persimmon cups—a mere one coin for two. Excluding the cash gifts, the total was just over a hundred coins.
Yet, despite spending less, Jin Niang’s family had outshone Rongniang. Feng Sheng, of course, couldn’t let that slide. After a few rounds of drinks, he turned to Jin Niang and asked, “Jin Niang, isn’t an embroidered screen worth about two hundred strings these days? The last household I treated had a young girl who made hundreds of strings from selling just one. What about you?”
“I barely make enough to get by,” Jin Niang replied coolly. Inside, she scoffed. Her brother-in-law was just trying to belittle her. Embroidery required investment—frames, silk threads, tools, pattern books, and even painting skills. Who was he to act so high and mighty?
In the past, Jin Niang might have argued or exposed his ignorance. Now, she preferred to let her skills do the talking.
Feng Sheng raised his cup with a drunken smirk and toasted Third Uncle. “Third Uncle, your lamb dishes just keep getting better.”
Naturally, Third Uncle wouldn’t side with Jin Niang. But as the family prepared to leave, he did say to Jin Niang’s parents, “Your brother-in-law is under a lot of pressure. Treating nobles means if he succeeds, all’s well. If he fails, he faces consequences. His carriage is always stocked with premium tobacco and raw silk—bribes for wealthy households.”
“So much scheming even in medicine?” Jin Niang gasped.
Third Uncle chuckled. “Why else would nobles pick him over other physicians? It’s not like he’s from the imperial palace.”
Jin Niang wasn’t impressed.
Her eighteenth birthday passed uneventfully. Three months later, Jin Niang found herself with four hundred strings to her name. On her days off, she began frequenting property agents, her parents in tow.
With the old ward system abolished, properties could now serve as both residences and storefronts.
As she studied a city map, her mother couldn’t help but fret. “Jin Niang, are you planning to follow Ying Niang’s footsteps? If you buy a house now, and your future husband has one too, won’t that leave you with an extra property? Besides, we already have this house. If the owner doesn’t reclaim it after the lease, it’ll be part of your dowry.”
Jin Niang shook her head with a smile. “Mother, the water in Stinky Water Alley is foul, the courtyard’s cramped—you and my brother are squeezed into divided rooms. The neighborhood’s unsafe, thefts are rampant. We need to move somewhere better. I’m even thinking of converting the front into a shop. Maybe start my own business someday.”
Some embroiderers in the Imperial Embroidery Bureau worked their whole lives without daring to leave, yet their earnings paled compared to the nuns in Embroidery Lane.
She had originally wanted to explore Embroidery Lane, but it was packed tight, with no room to squeeze in.
Luo Yu'e worried. “What if you can’t repay the loan?”
“I’ll have to see for myself,” Jin Niang replied.
Their first stop was Agent Fan’s. His properties were prime—large and well-located—but the prices were steep.
Jin Niang smiled. “I’m only looking for a single-courtyard house.”
“Miss, even those start at sixteen hundred strings,” Agent Fan said.
Jin Niang immediately set the idea aside. Agent Fan added, “The nobles all live in South Fragrance Ward. Our properties near Golden Bright Bridge are quite decent.”
Still, Jin Niang declined. Ten days later, she visited two more agents. Many in Bianjing now bought properties near South Fragrance Ward, but those houses cost at least two thousand taels.
Defeated, she was about to give up when an agent suggested, “You could always buy land first. Build when you have the funds.”
Jin Niang looked into lumber prices and found them reasonable—common wood cost just over six hundred coins per log, bricks about thirteen coins each from the official kilns (cheaper in bulk), paving tiles under ten coins, and stone pillars two strings apiece.
The agent also introduced her to “finishing craftsmen”—modern-day renovators. Having decorated her own home in a past life, Jin Niang sketched her own design.
“I’d like to convert the front rooms into a shop, divide the courtyard into two sections with a moon gate, build a wall here, skip the western wing for a covered corridor, add a kitchen and privy to the east, and at the back, a two-story main house with triple ridges…”
Three craftsmen quoted around one hundred twenty strings (excluding furniture). Custom furnishings would push it past two hundred.
Jin Niang had four hundred strings of cash on hand, but could only spare three hundred for a loan to purchase land. Currently earning six strings per month, she learned that typical loan terms spanned eight to ten years. If she opted for an eight-year loan, the plot’s price would need to stay around nine hundred strings.
At the time, most people preferred buying ready-made houses to move in immediately, unwilling to go through the hassle. But Jin Niang was different—her family already had a home, so she had time to spare. Her monthly earnings would cover the loan repayments, while side income could fund renovations.
A nine-hundred-string plot was manageable. Near Embroidery Lane lay Sweetwater Alley, where such a parcel was available. The owner, strapped for cash to build, sought a quick sale. This land had been cleared behind Embroidery Lane the previous year, bordered by the Grand Xiangguo Temple to the front and connected to Embroidery Lane on the east. The alley’s entrance was lined with blooming apricot trees, and the area bustled with activity.
The property agent chuckled, "Miss Wei, perhaps you’d like to take a few days to think it over? Usually, buyers take three—"
"No, I want it now. But I’ll need a loan, and I’ll take those three steps at the front as part of the deal," Jin Niang declared firmly.
The agent widened his eyes, deeming her impulsive. Yet Jin Niang knew her decisiveness was backed by preparation.
Through a real estate broker, she secured three hundred strings to pay the seller. Then, with the broker’s referral, she obtained a six-hundred-string loan from a pawnshop using a property deed as collateral, at a monthly interest rate of 0.4%, roughly six strings per month.
In the Song Dynasty, the sale or mortgage of estates required four copies of a contract: one for the buyer, one for the seller, one for the tax office, and one kept by the Kaifeng prefecture.
For instance, Jin Niang paid a 4% tax (forty strings per thousand), after which the deed was stamped with an official red seal, becoming a "red contract." Some shortsighted folks skipped taxes to save money, but Jin Niang would never cut corners.
She locked the red contract away in a drawer, took a deep breath, and smiled—soon, she’d be a homeowner!
Clenching her fists, then exhaling, she felt relieved to have secured her own property before the new year. Renovations would start after the festivities, and by her nineteenth birthday, the house would be complete—the perfect gift to herself.
That New Year, Jin Niang noticed her parents holding their heads higher. Third Aunt asked her, "What have you been busy with lately? You didn’t even attend the matchmaking I arranged."
Jin Niang replied mildly, "Nothing much. Just bought some land. Construction starts after the new year. We’ve hired craftsmen, but I’ll still keep an eye on things."
"Bought land? Not that stinking ditch in Filthy Water Alley, I hope?" Ying Niang pressed, eager to belittle her. She looked down on Rongniang for relying on her husband, whereas she prided herself on independence.
Jin Niang smiled. "No, it’s in Sweetwater Alley."
Feng Sheng finally paid attention. "Near the Grand Xiangguo Temple?"
Jin Niang nodded. "Yes."
Ying Niang gasped. "Second Sister, did you mortgage the Filthy Water Alley house again?"
Jin Niang shook her head. "Of course not. I saved up myself."
"Surely not that rundown area? I remember it crammed with tattered awnings, impossible to walk through, the ground flooded with mud," Feng Sheng frowned.
"Brother-in-law, that’s ancient history. A fire wiped out the old structures. Now the alley’s lined with apricot trees, a new well, and tidy paths. The patrol station’s right at the entrance. Many jewelers and scholars live there—lively yet peaceful." Jin Niang met his gaze squarely, countering each point.
Feng Sheng inexplicably felt a shiver under her sharp stare. Before he could speak, she added, "I’ve even got the red contract. No need to worry."
His face darkened, but Jin Niang cheerfully helped herself to another bowl of rice. Rongniang watched her cousin, struck by her unyielding confidence—the first time she’d seen Feng Sheng bested.
Ying Niang had planned both lunch and dinner, but Feng Sheng left after the midday meal, skipping the evening gathering.
On the way home, Luo Yu'e observed Jin Niang’s expression. "Your brother-in-law will probably buy a house now—a bigger one, no doubt."
Jin Niang smirked. "Exactly my goal. Let him compete."
She’d claimed her property had two courtyards; Feng Sheng would surely aim for three. Having visited over twenty agents, she knew a three-courtyard estate cost at least five thousand taels. This time, she’d drain his coffers—or her name wasn’t Jin Niang.
Revenge is a dish best served cold. Feng Sheng, just you wait.
