On the day of the Lantern Festival, Jin Niang sold three pleated skirts: one white damask skirt printed with gold, another white silk skirt embroidered with magnolia blossoms, and a third white skirt with hidden camellia embroidery. Altogether, she earned nine strings of cash.
By the middle of the month, she had sold one embroidered scroll, two fur-lined sleeves, twenty pairs of pouches, and the three skirts she had just sold—totaling twenty-four strings of cash. But the work was exhausting. That night, for the first time, she didn’t stay up late embroidering and decided to rest instead.
Unexpectedly, just then, Young Master Chen came upstairs and called for Ying, saying that Liu Dou'er had specially sent over a lantern.
Liu Dou'er was Jiang Xian’s servant, so it was clear this wasn’t a gift from the Jiang family elders but Jiang Xian’s own doing. The golden fish scales paired with the warm glow of the red candlelight created a rare sense of tranquil beauty.
“How lovely,” Jin Niang said with a smile.
She rarely took the time to admire anything, always feeling the pressure of life bearing down on her, as if she could never stop.
Ying watched as Jin Niang, her hair loose and her face no larger than a palm, stared at the lantern in a daze. For some reason, Ying felt a pang of sadness. In the Wei household, everything fell on Jin Niang’s shoulders. Though she earned well, she worked harder than anyone else, yet she never lost her temper and always remained reasonable.
Over the past year, the embroidery workshop had gained many repeat customers, almost entirely thanks to her efforts. She had an uncanny ability to quickly understand clients’ needs, crafting garments that exceeded their expectations—always swiftly, meticulously, and without fail.
Her happiest moments were when she could sit quietly with a book when there were no customers. But don’t mistake her for fragile—Ying had realized that while Father Wei appeared honest, he was actually rather stubborn and muddle-headed, and Mother Wei was highly emotional. Jin Niang was the one who kept them both in line. And it wasn’t just her parents—even the most difficult customers and competitors were no match for her.
Yet now, as she gazed at the lantern, she looked utterly innocent.
Meanwhile, Jiang Xian was at Fan Tower, engaged in a poetry contest. When Liu Dou'er returned after delivering the lantern, Jiang Xian gave a slight nod before resuming his writing.
Perhaps it was the company of the lovely lantern, but Jin Niang slept soundly that night and woke the next morning without any lingering soreness. She stretched, washed up, and prepared for work—only to be met with an unwelcome visitor as soon as she opened the door.
“Madam Wei, why did you refuse to sell to my maid yesterday?” A tall, fashionable young woman strode in.
She wore her hair in an elegant style, and her striking beauty was undeniable—but this beauty had caused trouble before. Every time she ordered a dress, paid for it, and took it home, she would return it within two days, demanding a refund. It was obvious she just wanted to wear the clothes for free, so Jin Niang had stopped doing business with her.
With a polite smile, Jin Niang replied, “We’ve made three dresses for you, and you returned all three. And since you’ve already worn them, no one else will buy them. I’ve lost money on each one—how could I dare sell to you again?”
Some people were shameless, and the only way to deal with them was to be blunt.
Madam Fu, however, was unreasonable. “If you’re open for business, you have to serve me. If I’m not satisfied, I can return things—isn’t that what you said? Or should I take this up with the guild leader?”
“Go ahead and complain. I wasn’t raised to be intimidated. A woman like me doesn’t run a shop in Kaifeng by cowering. Blocking someone’s livelihood is like killing their parents—if you want to cause trouble here, you’d better think twice. Ying, go fetch Constable Gao from the patrol office and call over a few workers.” Jin Niang slammed the table and glared at her.
The swindler, realizing she was outmatched, quickly scurried away.
Ying stepped outside, hands on her hips, and shouted a few more insults after her. When she came back in, she couldn’t hold back. “How dare that fraud come here and threaten us! We should report her to the guild leader and make sure no one else does business with her.”
“You’re right. Go to the guild leader later and explain what happened.” Jin Niang wasn’t one to back down from a fight.
The morning’s unpleasantness had soured her mood, so she decided to take a short break, asking Juxiang to brew her some longan tea. She had been staying up late and eating irregularly, and her monthly cycle was delayed by several days.
To her surprise, Juxiang served the tea in the lotus-leaf cup again—the same one that had once slipped from her hands in front of Jiang Xian during the summer, spilling onto her chest and leaving him both flustered and struggling to avert his gaze.
She had long known that Jiang Xian was merely handsome, dressed more elegantly than most men, and had a considerate, witty personality. He didn’t mind letting women take the lead—but that was all there was to it.
Shaking off the memory, she focused on the customer who had just arrived—a woman looking to commission a dress for her mother’s birthday. Jin Niang suggested, “How about embroidering peaches along the collar? A black satin base with festive peach designs would highlight the elder’s dignity.”
The customer agreed readily, and Jin Niang recommended several fabrics before settling on one. The labor alone would cost one string and eight hundred coins, not including materials.
The birthday order reminded Jin Niang that Jiang Xian’s eighteenth birthday was on the sixth day of the third month. She decided to make him a set of clothes in advance—this time with a delicate gold-printed trim along the edges.
She prepared a straight-collared, gold-patterned jacket, a deep brown pleated skirt, two pairs of socks, and a white silk blouse, sending the whole set over as a gift.
At the end of the month, while going over the accounts, Jin Niang calculated that she had only earned thirty-three strings of cash—far less than expected. Her delayed monthly cycle had forced her to rest for nearly ten nights, and she hadn’t worked on the Buddhist sutra embroidery, so her income had dropped.
Unexpectedly, Liu Dou'er arrived with two pots of peonies and a pair of pouches, each containing gold and silver ingots shaped like blooming peonies. “Our young master said you went to great trouble for him,” Liu Dou'er explained. “He saw these ingots and thought their meaning suited your character, so he sent them over.”
Peonies symbolized nobility, elegance, and prosperity—wealth with benevolence, status with virtue, and the ability to aid others.
Outwardly, Jin Niang appeared delicate and innocent, but she was far from indifferent or passive. She often reminded herself: If poor, cultivate virtue alone; if prosperous, benefit the world.
With a smile, she said, “Please thank your young master for me. I wish him a happy birthday and a lifetime of peace and good fortune.” She then had Ying reward Liu Dou'er with eight mace of silver.
Young Master Chen also handed him a handkerchief filled with snacks, making the boy grin from ear to ear.
As for Jin Niang, she happily examined the gold and silver ingots—worth over ten taels of silver. She had worried about falling short of her savings goal this month, but now she had an unexpected windfall.
On the other side, Jiang Xian was also wearing a robe made by Jin Niang. The fabric was patterned with interconnected spheres, symbolizing smooth pathways and prosperous official career—Madam Wei must have believed her future would be one of unhindered advancement. The pine-green hue was exquisite, and the collar was embroidered with bamboo motifs, representing continuous upward growth.
Dressed in his new attire, he went to pay respects to his parents. There, he noticed his elder brother still wore a robe from two years prior, its colors faded, making the brothers appear as if from different generations.
Sixth Madam Jiang, of course, noticed this too. However, since her eldest son was now married, his daily affairs were managed by Madam Xu. Even as his mother, she could hardly comment. As for her younger son, though Madam Wei had yet to formally enter the household, she had already shown great thoughtfulness—sending seasonal gifts and even specially presenting Jiang Xian with this robe for his birthday. The outer garment alone likely cost ten strings of cash, not to mention the inner layers.
As the old saying goes, where money is spent, love is shown.
Miss Jiang the Seventh had also returned home. She was quite adept at social graces, bringing a tile inkstone, two new books, and a load of longevity peach-shaped cakes. She even said to Jiang Xian, "If there’s anything you don’t understand, don’t hesitate to ask your brother-in-law."
Jiang Xian smiled in agreement before taking his leave.
After he departed, Miss Jiang the Seventh urged her mother, "You should rest a little."
Sixth Madam Jiang shook her head. "How can I rest? Next month, Sixteenth Son will marry, and everything feels so shabby."
Such remarks were hardly appropriate for a married daughter visiting her family. Miss Jiang knew their household was no longer as prosperous as in her childhood, when her father had the support of his uncle and the respect of his grandfather’s old acquaintances.
Now, her uncle had been posted far away to Fujian as an educational official, and the rest of their relatives were faring modestly—some even worse off than their own family.
Miss Jiang could only console her mother, "You mustn’t worry too much."
"Why should I worry? You married well—your husband is kind, his family has good traditions, and my grandson studies better than any of his uncles," Sixth Madam Jiang replied with a smile.
Her daughter refrained from commenting on Jiang Xian’s marriage not because she approved, but because voicing dissent would mean taking on responsibility. Her husband was still studying, and though Miss Jiang had brought a dowry of three thousand strings of cash when she married, five or six years had passed, and she could keenly sense her daughter’s financial struggles.
Indeed, Miss Jiang’s nurse later confided to Sixth Madam Jiang during a private visit: "Old Master Xue hails from a prominent clan in Hedong, a descendant of nobility and a renowned official. Their household values frugality above all. Since marrying in, our young mistress has been dutiful—spinning, sewing, and tending to her in-laws. But a few years ago, Old Madam Xue fell ill, requiring ginseng and Qizhou’s white-striped snake for medicine. After a year of treatment, she seemed to recover, only to succumb to a sudden chill. The funeral expenses were so steep that our mistress had to dip into her dowry just to manage. Now, what little remains must fund her husband’s studies, their son’s education, and social obligations. Life is hard."
In the past, Sixth Madam Jiang would have helped without hesitation—this was her daughter’s most difficult time, and she’d have lifted her over the hurdle. When her children were young, she’d lived comfortably, never fretting over money. But arranging their marriages had nearly bankrupted the family.
The Xues were prestigious, and her son-in-law’s father was an upright official with an impeccable reputation. Yet medical treatments had been exorbitant—four taels of white-striped snake alone cost ten strings of cash, and ginseng was even pricier. The funeral rites demanded strict adherence to customs, and with her son-in-law still without income, her daughter was likely surviving on her dwindling dowry.
But now, their own family was strapped. Her younger son’s betrothal gifts amounted to five hundred strings of cash, with additional expenses for betrothal formalities. All she had left was a small private stash, which she must reserve for him.
So, Sixth Madam Jiang could only steel herself and say, "Once your husband passes the imperial exams, everything will improve."
The nurse left, disheartened.
Meanwhile, Jin Niang moved one pot of peonies into her embroidery room and gifted another to her mother, Luo Yu'e, who adored gardening but seldom had time amid her business.
Luo Yu'e admired the peony and remarked, "Sixteenth Son appreciates flowers—unlike you, who always complains their fragrance is overpowering. You wouldn’t even let me plant osmanthus."
"Mother, really! That heavy scent is unbearable—I’d hold my nose walking past if I could," Jin Niang retorted, disliking strong floral aromas.
Undeterred, Luo Yu'e placed a pot of bougainvillea in Jin Niang’s embroidery room, declaring, "See how lovely this is!"
Amid their laughter, a beam of spring sunlight streamed through the window, warm and golden.
Inspired, Jin Niang designed a spring ensemble—lightweight, preferably of sheer silk. A peach-pink blouse paired with a pale green skirt, embroidered with subtle peony motifs for elegance. While Song dynasty fashions emphasized elaborate collars, Jin Niang kept hers simple with white piping, instead adorning the back with delicate peach blossoms and using bud-shaped clasps for the sash.
The outfit took considerable effort. When she first wore it, she styled her hair in twin buns adorned with fresh peach blossoms clipped from a tree, complemented by a silk flower centerpiece.
"If my lady were a celestial maiden, she’d surely be the Peach Blossom Fairy," Ying teased.
Jin Niang examined her reflection. "The real triumph will be if someone buys it."
Orders for the spring attire surpassed expectations. Jin Niang noted them down: "Lady Liang from the west-side rice shop wants one set, a merchant staying at the Heavenly Suite in Huixian Tower requests another…"
Four sets in total, priced at four strings of cash each. With costs at three strings per set, the profit would be thirteen strings.
Even for Jin Niang’s swift hands, completing them would take twelve days—embroidery was time-consuming. Yet she also had to innovate. As she worked, she brainstormed designs for the next collection.
Mid-sketch, Chen Xiaolang rushed in. "Miss, bad news! The Wangs’ silk shop has hired new embroiderers. Customers are having garments made on-site after buying fabric. They’ve copied your spring designs but sell them for just one string per set!"
Copycats were inevitable, undercutting originality with cheap imitations.
"That’s why we must keep innovating. Once these sell out, I’ll unveil new styles. Let them try copying everything—do they even have the skill?" Jin Niang had always targeted mid-range buyers, avoiding price wars.
Her silk cost two strings per bolt—colorfast and premium. Would their rivals invest in such quality?
Chen Xiaolang added, "They’re even giving away handkerchiefs with purchases over one string! Shameless, copying us outright!"
Immediately, Jin Niang wrote eight large characters for him to display outside:
No competitors allowed; confrontation will be undignified.
This excitement seemed to spark Jin Niang's creativity. For her second design, she decided to use silver-red satin for the undergarment, paired with a water-red gauzy wide-sleeved robe, and a white sheer skirt embroidered with scattered crimson butterflies. Over it all, she draped a white half-sleeved sheer outer garment. The ensemble was elegant and refined, ethereal yet grounded—red was present, but only as an accent.
After finishing the garment in a rush, Jin Niang personally trimmed the loose threads and had Ying press it neatly. The next day, she sent Chen Xiaolang to deliver it door-to-door according to the addresses provided.
Once the deliveries were done, Jin Niang changed into a new spring outfit and adorned her fish-shaped headdress. The dress complemented the headpiece perfectly, elevating her entire presence.
While Ying was upfront showcasing the design catalog, the customers hesitated—until Jin Niang stepped out. Then, they immediately placed their orders.
"How much does this set cost?"
"That depends on the fabric you choose. The one I’m wearing is woven with gold thread—if you want the same, the materials and labor would cost at least fifty strings of cash. But if you opt for crepe silk, it’s thirty-six strings, and for spring gauze, twenty-five strings. However, I must warn you—if the fabric is too cheap, it won’t have that dreamy, moonlit effect," Jin Niang explained with a smile.
The customer replied, "Then I’ll take the basic gauze—twenty-five strings covers everything, right?"
"Exactly, including the fabric and embroidery thread. Ying, show this customer the crepe silk," Jin Niang instructed.
"How long will it take to make?"
"Normally about half a month. You can leave your address, and we’ll deliver it to your residence."
The customer hesitated but ultimately didn’t commit. Jin Niang didn’t press the matter—after all, not everyone could afford such a price.
Chen Xiaolang soon returned and reported, "Miss, I saw her heading to Wang’s Silk Emporium."
"Let her go," Jin Niang said, unconcerned.
"But what if they copy our design again?" Chen Xiaolang fretted.
Jin Niang chuckled. "That’s exactly why I inflated the price. In reality, this set only costs ten strings to make."
Over at Wang’s Silk Emporium, the shopkeeper gloated, "Madam Wei’s prices are outrageous. We’ll sell ours for fifteen strings—still a tidy profit."
Wang’s hired six embroiderers, each earning four strings a month. They worked tirelessly to produce ten replicas. After all, while Wei’s shop was small, her designs were highly sought after. Wang’s didn’t just copy Jin Niang—they also mimicked the famed Bin Yun Lou from the embroidery district.
Bin Yun Lou had originally sold wigs but pivoted to embroidery after financial struggles. Their designs were showcased at gatherings, earning them recognition.
Meanwhile, Jin Niang had already designed another set—a lotus-root-hued undergarment, a pearl-white sheer pleated skirt, and a pine-blossom-colored overdress embroidered with peach blossoms, trimmed with pale pink piping. It was understated yet refined.
As for the previous red set, it caught the eye of a noblewoman from the Duke of Han’s household while she was visiting the temple. She ordered two sets for her daughters.
Wang’s ten replicas, however, gathered dust. Ying was puzzled. "Their version is cheaper—why hasn’t a single one sold?"
"Silly girl, you just answered your own question. My design is for women who can afford headdresses—their clientele wouldn’t buy it even at ten strings. But our customers are well-off enough to stretch their budgets for quality. This was just a lesson for them."
Rumor had it that Wang’s ten dresses remained unsold. Instead of reflecting on their plagiarism, the owner slashed the embroiderers’ wages from four strings to one—a move that left Jin Niang speechless.
While Wei’s Embroidery Shop didn’t have the foot traffic of larger establishments, its loyal clientele kept business steady. Women who didn’t know what to wear always came to Jin Niang, trusting her taste implicitly.
Like today, when Madam Bai returned. The daughter of a newly returned magistrate, she came from a frugal household—her mother, Madam Bai, often lamented her husband’s inflexibility, which left them financially strained.
Madam Bai, now past marriageable age, still needed elegant attire. Jin Niang’s reasonably priced, finely crafted pieces suited her perfectly.
When she saw Jin Niang wearing the pine-blossom set, she insisted on buying it off her back.
"Madam Wei, I need it urgently for tomorrow. Since we’re of similar build, just sell me the one you’re wearing."
Jin Niang reluctantly agreed, selling the entire set—undergarment, overdress, and skirt—for six strings. The embroidery was minimal, and Madam Bai left satisfied.
Outside, Madam Bai exchanged a knowing glance with her mother. "Your father and Minister Liu are old colleagues," Madam Bai murmured. "Minister Liu’s wife hinted at a potential match for you."
Madam Bai blushed.
Back in the shop, Jin Niang tallied her earnings. By the 26th of the second month, she had made thirty-nine strings from finished garments.
With thirty-three strings left, she would finally reach her dowry goal of five hundred strings.
Then, unexpectedly, Shopkeeper Tao sent four strings for the remaining stock sold from her old workplace, Jin Xiu Ge.
Jin Niang laughed. "I always seem to have a bit of luck when I’m close to a round number."
Ying disagreed. "Luck? You’ve worked nonstop for days!"
"True, but not everyone who works hard earns as much. Now, let’s focus on embroidering my dowry—I’ve barely started the bed curtains. Well, at least the visible parts will be done." Jin Niang was like a chef—meticulous for others, lax for herself.
Elsewhere, Madam Liu hosted a gathering to showcase her new rare flowers. Madam Jiang brought along Fourth Miss Zhou and her daughter-in-law, Lady Zhang. Fourth Miss Zhou, soon to marry far away, was being introduced to influential connections for her future husband’s career.
To her surprise, Fourth Miss Zhou encountered Madam Bai. She was stunned—in the original tale, Madam Bai was Jiang Xian’s wife. The book claimed that the Jiang brothers’ feud stemmed from the discord between their wives, Madam Bai and Madam Xu, leading one to become a revered statesman and the other a villain.
But in this life, Jiang Xian was already betrothed—Madam Bai would never be part of that story.
Such is the unpredictability of fate.
Jin Niang couldn't help but sigh at the unpredictability of life—who would have thought that Feng Sheng and Rongniang, a couple who had always seemed so devoted, would now be on the verge of divorce?
