Never in a million years did I expect Third Uncle to meet such an end. Her mother remarked, "Your Third Aunt said she wants your father to bring the body back with our donkey cart? Can you believe the nerve?"
Not only did Third Uncle's household already have their own donkey cart—she simply refused to use her own to transport the deceased—but even Ying Niang's family had one. How could they dump the entire responsibility on her parents?
Jin Niang looked at Wei Xiong. "You didn't agree, did you?"
Wei Xiong had nearly said yes, given how distraught he was over his younger brother's sudden death. But his wife had objected, so he refused. When Jin Niang asked, he quickly shook his head. "N-no, of course not."
"Good. You should focus on your own affairs. If they ask what to do, just tell them to figure it out themselves. He had children and a wife—you can offer some help, but that's it." Jin Niang issued her orders.
There was no helping it—her father was like this, utterly inept at handling emergencies. She had to take charge, spoon-feeding him every word.
Just as she was about to bring up her resignation from the Embroidery Bureau, her mother added, "Your grandmother was sighing too, saying your Third Uncle worked his whole life for money, only for it all to end up in your Third Aunt's hands."
"What? Didn’t Third Aunt always manage the household finances?" Jin Niang was stunned.
Wei Xiong nodded. "Yes, your Third Uncle was the one who handled the money in their home."
Jin Niang turned to her parents. "Then you two should stay away. The moment any money goes missing in Third Uncle’s estate, they won’t blame their own—they’ll point fingers at you."
Without Wei Xiong as the main helper, the burden fell on An Ping, Ying Niang’s husband. He threw himself into arranging the funeral, even neglecting his own duties, working tirelessly. The reason? Third Aunt refused to lift a finger—anything troublesome or laborious, she wanted no part of it.
In fact, Third Aunt even said, "I told your Third Uncle not to go, but he wouldn’t listen."
The sheer audacity of that lie made Jin Niang shake her head in disbelief.
As for Jin Niang’s resignation from the Embroidery Bureau, she had expected her mother to react strongly, but it was her father who panicked the most.
"Jin Niang, why don’t we go see Broker Cheng again? A government job is stable—what if you can’t repay all that debt every month?" Wei Xiong fretted, momentarily forgetting his brother’s death.
He had his reasons. Years ago, after leaving the Imperial Guards, he’d thought his future was bright—only to watch his life decline while former comrades became county magistrates or officials in the Kaifeng government. He was left with nothing.
Jin Niang replied, "Father, my contract at the Embroidery Bureau was only for three years. It expired last winter. If I re-sign, what if my pay stays at two strings a month? While the house isn’t finished, I can work from home and supply Brocade Pavilion. Once I open my own shop, I won’t need to rely on anyone."
Wei Xiong kept arguing, but unexpectedly, Younger Brother Yang spoke up. "Father, Sister’s right. No matter how good the Embroidery Bureau is, it’s still working for others. Why shouldn’t she work for herself later?"
"Exactly. She knows what she’s doing," Luo Yu'e agreed, siding with Jin Niang.
Wei Xiong mumbled, "I just thought working outside would help her meet more people…"
"Enough. Worry about your own affairs—like Grandmother’s situation. Stop fussing over me. I’m handling my own debts; it’s not like you’re paying them." Jin Niang scowled.
Faced with his daughter’s sternness, Wei Xiong didn’t dare say another word.
Over at Third Uncle’s, Brother Sheng had just started at a timber yard but didn’t take a single day off. Ying was being cared for by her mother-in-law during her confinement, while An Ping spent a full month keeping vigil, organizing the funeral, liquidating Third Uncle’s shop, and arranging for Third Aunt and Grandmother to escort the ashes back to Jiangling for burial.
Though this resolved the issue of Grandmother living with them, Jin Niang found it odd. "Why is An Ping going to such lengths? Even a filial son wouldn’t put in this much effort."
When Third Uncle’s ashes were sent back, it was spring. Ying’s child had just turned a month old, and Jin Niang accompanied her parents to the An family.
To her surprise, the Ans had a new carriage horse—standing at four feet seven inches. Wei Xiong, familiar with horses, remarked, "That beast must’ve cost at least thirty strings."
"How can they afford a new horse? I heard they borrowed money for Third Uncle’s funeral," Jin Niang said.
After all, Ying’s dowry had included not just the house debt but also a two-hundred-string bride price loan—no small sum.
Only Ying knew the truth. Her mother had been too lazy to handle the funeral, but thankfully, An Ping had uncovered Third Uncle’s savings—two hundred strings went to her mother, while she pocketed the remaining five hundred.
Thirty strings bought the horse, four hundred paid off debts, and she kept seventy for herself. No wonder she seemed so at ease.
Yet she still played the poor widow in front of relatives.
Jin Niang saw through the act. Ying’s lack of grief revealed the truth—what a farce! In the end, Third Aunt thought she was clever, taking the money and fleeing under the guise of accompanying Grandmother to Jiangling, afraid relatives would stop her. But there’s always someone shrewder.
By June, the new house’s walls had been layered with rammed earth mixed with hemp. The craftsmen planned to let it dry before applying lime plaster, then hiring painters for murals.
Jin Niang skipped the last step. Unlike the Tang Dynasty, colorful wall paintings were now seen as outdated and costly. Instead, she opted for hanging scrolls—the latest trend.
She decided to paint them herself, recreating familiar floral patterns in seven colors: yellow from Zhao Chang’s Bees and Flowers, pink from Xu Xi’s Red Peonies, white from Huang Quan’s Dancing Butterflies, purple wisteria from the Imperial Art Academy, cyan from Gu Deqian’s Lotus Pond and Waterfowl, blue from Cui Bai’s Peacock and Loquats, and orange from the Academy’s Trumpet Vine.
Mornings were for painting; afternoons, needlework. Without a fixed job, she had to manage everything herself.
Framing was expensive, so she mounted the paintings on plain paper first. Younger Brother Yang surprised her by crafting wooden frames, making them look exquisite.
That month, she earned twenty strings from Brocade Pavilion—but before she could savor it, the money went straight to Foreman Gong.
Jin Niang looked at the money in her hand—there were still a hundred strings of cash left. Only then did she let out a sigh of relief. Budgeting was one thing, but the actual construction of the house had involved far too many unexpected expenses. Fortunately, she had managed to resist temptation.
While she was at home painting, she heard that Ying Niang and An Ping had come to visit. Jin Niang went out to greet them. "Oh, what brings the two of you here?"
Ying Niang replied, "We just stopped by Second Uncle's shop and spoke with Second Uncle and Second Aunt. Tomorrow is Eldest Sister and Eldest Sister's Husband's housewarming. They mentioned it to us, and since we were passing by, we thought we’d let you know."
After delivering the message, the couple excused themselves, saying they had other matters to attend to, and left.
When her parents returned, Jin Niang relayed the news. "They didn’t even invite us. We only found out because Ying Niang happened to hear about it. They’re clearly looking down on us, so I won’t be going."
Wei Xiong agreed. "They didn’t even send a servant to formally invite us."
"Then let’s just ignore them. Must we always be the ones bending to their whims? Aren’t we allowed to stand our ground?" Jin Niang said indifferently.
Rongniang, of course, knew nothing of this. In her view, they were all family, and since it was a housewarming celebration, they would naturally attend. She had already arranged for chickens, ducks, fish, and even managed to procure some beef through connections, intending to host their relatives and friends generously.
Feng Sheng had a wide social circle. This time, he had invited over ten tables of guests—and this was still considered a modest gathering.
"Rongniang, Chief Physician Zhao will be attending, as will Old Master Zhang. Make sure they’re seated on the eastern side and not mixed with your Second Uncle’s family," Feng Sheng said, thinking of Wei Xiong’s shabby appearance and deciding he shouldn’t mingle with distinguished guests.
Rongniang nodded. "Understood."
She wasn’t particularly fond of Second Uncle’s family either. Jin Niang was too eccentric, and Second Aunt had a temper—neither seemed fit for refined company.
On the day of their housewarming, the event was nothing short of splendid. Rongniang, now in her early twenties, was at the peak of a woman’s beauty. Naturally attractive, she brought Feng Sheng much face.
There was even a sense that a wife’s beauty was a husband’s pride.
As usual, Feng Sheng reviewed the gift ledger, which reflected the relationships people had with him. He remarked, "Ying Niang and her husband sent half a pig, several baskets of fruit, and a bolt of cloth. Quite generous, considering their circumstances."
"Ying Niang just recently left her confinement after childbirth," Rongniang said, feeling a closer kinship with her.
Feng Sheng chuckled. "Old Master Zhang was also quite thoughtful—he sent premium lamb rolls and even gifted our boys fine Duan inkstones."
The couple went through the list, only realizing at the end, "Your Second Uncle’s family didn’t come?"
Rongniang pressed her fingers to her temples. "It seems they didn’t."
"Probably trying to avoid contributing to the gifts," Feng Sheng mused. "Jin Niang must’ve spent all her money on that house of hers. I heard she even left the Embroidery Bureau. No doubt she’s broke now."
Rongniang shook her head. "Surely not."
Feng Sheng raised an eyebrow. "Hard to say. In the past, perhaps not, but now? Without the Embroidery Bureau’s income, those side earnings were never reliable. And with monthly loan repayments… Tsk. Sometimes, a woman’s ambition can be her downfall."
Rongniang fell silent.
By the Qixi Festival, Jin Niang had delivered garments to the Brocade Pavilion and visited her new house. The door was already installed, and the interior walls had just been polished. The house’s location was excellent—facing south with a northern exposure.
However, the wooden pillars stood out against the walls. Jin Niang asked, "Foreman Gong, is there any way to make the front hall’s pillars blend with the walls?"
Foreman Gong smiled. "Easy. You can buy starch paper, and I’ll paste it for you—fifty coins per sheet. We’ve already polished the lime plaster to near-white. This’ll do the trick."
So Jin Niang went to the bookshop and bought thirty-two sheets of starch paper, spending a total of one string and six hundred coins. She then paid Foreman Gong an additional two hundred coins for labor to cover the pillars.
The main hall had a counter in front and shelves for storage behind. To the east stood a round table with embroidered stools and a daybed, all made of ordinary wood. But Jin Niang transformed them—she cut a brocade into a tablecloth, strung beads into tassels, and draped it over the table, instantly elevating it to luxury.
The daybed, though plain at first glance, was adorned with brocade cushions stuffed with silk floss and an array of embroidered pillows in soft hues of pink, green, and cream, each stitched with vibrant flowers—utterly charming.
To her, this was her public showcase. The living quarters at the back didn’t need such refinement.
Once the front hall was nearly complete, she had her father place a water-filled vat by the entrance. She then asked a florist to bring in mud, planting lotus rhizomes horizontally before covering them with another layer of soil.
The florist grinned. "Once the water lilies bloom, it’ll be a sight to behold. Just remember to turn the soil occasionally."
Jin Niang nodded slightly. "Noted."
As for the counter, she decorated it with fifty-coin paper flowers. The choice between real and artificial flowers had sparked a debate between her and her mother. Jin Niang insisted, "We’ll place a single real flower by the main entrance. The rest can be fake—these paper peonies are stunning, affordable, and won’t wilt. Real flowers require constant care, and I don’t have the time."
She then had a lemon tree brought in—lush green leaves and bright yellow fruit, radiating freshness. It had cost her over two hundred coins.
Luo Yu'e protested, "Fake flowers indoors will invite ridicule. It’s bad luck."
"Mother, you can grow real ones on the balcony or the veranda," Jin Niang replied with a smile.
Luo Yu'e knew she couldn’t win this argument. Her daughter’s determination was unshakable. If only they’d given her a better start in life—perhaps she wouldn’t have become such a stubborn crow. With that thought, she dropped the matter.
Jin Niang even dictated where the clotheslines should go, leaving no room for debate.
After locking up the new house, Jin Niang covered her nose. "The windows have just been painted. Once the smell fades in a few months, we can move in."
"Let’s settle in by New Year’s," Luo Yu'e said eagerly.
Jin Niang agreed. "That’s what I was thinking too."
"What about the fabrics for your embroidery shop? Shouldn’t you check on those?" Luo Yu'e asked, concerned.
Jin Niang shook her head. "No rush. Once the shop sign goes up, the silk merchants, thread vendors, and yarn dealers will come knocking. That’ll be bothersome enough."
"But if you don't prepare early, what will you do if business slows down? You have quite a bit to repay each month. The funds at Brocade Pavilion aren’t exactly plentiful either. Ah, this is truly troublesome—who knows who might be scheming to take your position?" Luo Yu'e said.
Jin Niang smiled. "It must be those retired palace maids. They always seek such positions after leaving the palace. But let’s not dwell on the past. I actually have a better plan—a way to make people seek me out without even needing to see my craftsmanship."
Luo Yu'e looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Mother, this time I’m truly determined to lose weight. Once I slim down, won’t I become a living advertisement?" Jin Niang replied cheerfully.
To her surprise, Luo Yu'e burst into laughter, utterly unconvinced. "You’ve said that eight hundred times before!"
"That was when I still had duties to attend to. Now that I’m solely focused on needlework at home, why can’t I do it? Besides, back then, I had nothing—even if I were beautiful, I was just a poor girl. But now I have assets and beauty. At the very least, I can weed out half of those who dare overestimate themselves," Jin Niang declared confidently.
In places like the Zhou Family, beauty wasn’t a blessing—it made you a target for those with power, especially if you were a servant who didn’t even own your own body. The Embroidery Bureau was no different. Only after leaving could she finally reveal her true appearance.
Losing weight required both money and time. Those constantly on the move had no choice but to fill their stomachs with carb-heavy or greasy foods, staying up late—conditions that made weight loss impossible.
Because of this, Jin Niang could no longer work late into the night. All her sewing had to be done during the day.
Given her current size, running was out of the question—not to mention the odd looks she’d attract. She had to start with controlling her diet. In her past life, she’d lost weight using the 16:8 method—fasting for sixteen hours and eating within an eight-hour window. Starvation was never an option; it only led to hair loss.
Her family didn’t take her weight loss seriously, but Jin Niang began keeping a daily record: a small bowl of lotus leaf porridge and an egg in the morning, a fist-sized portion of rice, two fists of vegetables, and a fist of protein at noon. If she was too lazy to cook, she’d buy two vegetable-stuffed buns. Dinner, however, was tricky.
Her parents often prepared rich dishes, like tonight’s mutton stewed with pickled cabbage, generously spiced and simmered into a tangy, spicy delight—temptingly easy to overeat.
She had to stop herself.
Seeing her daughter eat only one bowl, Luo Yu'e fretted, "Jin Niang, this mutton was specially reserved for you. It’s nourishing—good for your blood and energy. Your father and I are busy with work all day and can’t watch what you eat. Let me get you another serving—"
"No, no, I’m really full," Jin Niang insisted before retreating to her room.
Worried her daughter might go hungry, Luo Yu'e sighed and set aside some mutton. "I’ll leave this here in case she gets hungry later. She works hard every day—how can she not eat properly?"
Back in her room, Jin Niang resumed her needlework. But after about an hour, her stomach began to ache. In the past, she’d have snacked on sesame cakes or meat pies, but now she had to endure the hunger.
Only when the pain became unbearable did she go to bed. When it grew too sharp, she ate a piece of the mutton her mother had left.
Fearing her diet might disrupt her monthly cycle, she bought red dates and longan as snacks but made sure not to eat them after dinner.
She avoided going out while dieting—temptations lurked everywhere.
When Rongniang’s birthday came around, she invited Jin Niang’s parents for a feast. Jin Niang, of course, declined.
Rongniang asked Luo Yu'e, "Why didn’t Younger Sister Jin Niang come?"
"She’s busy and couldn’t make it," Luo Yu'e replied, heeding her daughter’s request to keep her weight loss a secret.
Rongniang feigned understanding. "Next time, don’t bring gifts. Just come as family—it’s only a meal."
Luo Yu'e recalled how Feng Sheng and Rongniang had personally delivered mooncakes during the Mid-Autumn Festival, likely to make up for a previous oversight. Cutting ties wasn’t an option.
Still, she smiled. "It’s nothing much."
Rongniang, however, assumed the second branch of the family had fallen into hardship after buying their house. That’s why she’d sent fruits and mooncakes earlier—and now, she’d arranged this feast so they could indulge.
After all, Jin Niang was still her cousin.
Unaware of these thoughts, Luo Yu'e sat at the table, eyeing the lavish spread—especially the crab, fried in sesame oil and dressed with soy sauce and vinegar, its rich aroma irresistible.
"Rongniang, I’d like to take some dishes back for Jin Niang."
No matter that her daughter was twenty, to Luo Yu'e, she’d always be her child. Whenever she found something delicious, she wanted to share it. Rongniang agreed readily, even providing a food container. Luo Yu'e packed a bit of everything and thanked her.
Rongniang waved it off. "It’s nothing."
Strangely, she didn’t ask about Jin Niang’s new house. Ying Niang, however, inquired, "How’s Second Sister’s house coming along?"
Luo Yu'e brightened. "Almost done! There’s still some paint smell, so we’ll move in after the New Year. You must all come visit then!"
Ying Niang gave a vague agreement.
During the meal, Luo Yu'e chatted with other guests from the Feng family, including Ying Niang’s mother-in-law, Fourth Aunt An, who praised Jin Niang: "The Wei family’s daughters are all exceptional—so capable!"
"Oh, you flatter us. We’re just getting by—nothing remarkable," Luo Yu'e demurred.
Rongniang sighed inwardly. Once, people had sought Jin Niang’s hand in marriage. Now, no one dared. Yet her uncle and aunt acted as if nothing was wrong.
Luo Yu'e truly seemed unbothered. She brought the leftovers to Jin Niang, just as she always brought back treats for her children—even a single piece of candy given by someone else.
Jin Niang picked at the crab and ate half a bowl of rice. Luo Yu'e watched fondly before exclaiming, "You need soup! This is too dry. Let me make you some egg drop soup."
"Mother, don’t trouble yourself. Hot water is enough," Jin Niang said, touching her face.
Luo Yu'e nodded approvingly. "This is wonderful. I never thought you’d really stick to it this time."
Jin Niang shook her head: "It's still early, there are two more months to go. I need to lose a bit more weight."
Apart from visiting the new house to have the plaque and colorful banners hung, Jin Niang rarely went out. Finally, on the eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, she prepared to move into her new residence. Relatives, curious about Jin Niang's new home, all came to visit.
Ying Niang was the first to arrive. Just as she reached the gate, she spotted a woman and froze in place—this woman was breathtakingly beautiful. How could such a stunning figure appear in this humble alley? Her face was like a peach blossom, her pearly teeth slightly visible, exuding an air of delicate elegance. Yet, with a slight tilt of her head, there was also a hint of charming innocence, making her appear lively and spirited.
But there was something familiar about her. As the woman approached, she smiled and said, "Ying Niang, why are you staring at me like that?"
This woman turned out to be Second Sister Jin Niang. Ying Niang was utterly shocked.
Jin Niang, however, simply smiled warmly. She had always had delicate features, not particularly striking or bold, so when she was heavier, her facial contours had blurred—her almond-shaped eyes appeared narrow, her double chin and broad cheeks obscuring her natural beauty. But after losing weight and staying indoors often, her skin had become so fair it was almost translucent, and her refined features now harmonized perfectly with her bone structure.
Ying Niang seemed to dash inside to ask her mother, "Second Aunt, how did Second Sister become so beautiful?"
No sooner had she spoken than Rongniang entered. Though she never flaunted her beauty, she was well aware of her own good looks—after all, Feng Sheng still couldn’t get over her. But upon seeing Jin Niang, radiant like polished jade, gentle and graceful, serene yet captivating, the two exchanged glances, each silently sizing the other up.
Meanwhile, Ying Niang, watching her eldest and second sisters standing side by side, couldn’t resist asking her husband, "You’re a man—tell me, which of them is more beautiful?"
"I don’t know," An Ping replied, knowing better than to answer such questions.
"You must say!" Ying Niang snapped.
An Ping looked over. Rongniang’s features were exquisite, striking at first glance—bold and charming. But the longer he looked, the more he sensed a fragility about her, as if she might startle easily. Jin Niang, on the other hand, appeared delicate and pitiable, like a pale lilac blossom on the verge of breaking. Yet her gaze was steady, her demeanor calm, and when her eyes flickered, they seemed to speak volumes.
But these thoughts remained locked in his heart. Facing Ying Niang, he said firmly, "Neither of them compares to you."
