"I'm getting on in years now—I don’t even enjoy tea much anymore, nor do I care for dressing up. The only thing that still sparks my interest is flowers and plants," said Madam Huang.
Today’s gathering consisted of the wives of the scholars under Huang’s tutelage, the eldest among them barely in her thirties. They were all rather reserved, not daring to speak too freely.
It was Madam Huang’s eldest daughter-in-law, Madame Ning, who lightened the mood. "Mother, the 'Luoyang Brocade' you transplanted from Silver Plum Garden—the one that blooms with both purple-red and pink-white flowers on the same branch—I heard they’ve given it a new name now: 'Two Qiaos.'"
The Two Qiaos peony would later become famous, but at this time, it had only just been cultivated in the Northern Song Dynasty.
The group then decided to go admire the peonies. Jin Niang and Fourth Miss Zhou lingered at the back. Jin Niang didn’t feel inferior to the Zhou family’s daughters—life had its ups and downs, after all, and nothing stayed the same forever.
Seeing the peonies in paintings was one thing, but witnessing the Two Qiaos in person was truly breathtaking.
"Madame Ning, may I sketch the Two Qiaos? They’re so stunning—I can hardly believe my eyes," Jin Niang thought to herself. If she could capture their beauty, she could use the "Luoyang Brocade" as inspiration for her embroidery work in May and June.
Madame Ning found Jin Niang gentle and shy at first glance, but now she was making such a request. Coming from a scholarly family herself, Madame Ning had no objections.
Ying always carried an inkstone and paper, and Jin Niang didn’t need much space. Specializing in the "bird-and-flower" style, she was already well-versed in peony stems and leaves. After preparing her ink, she outlined the flowers with a fine brush before mixing colors for shading.
She worked slowly, absorbed in her task for over an hour. When she finally looked up, the others had vanished.
"Where did everyone go?" Jin Niang asked.
Ying replied, "I think they went to play flower cards over there."
"Let’s join them, then," Jin Niang said with a smile.
The midday meal Madam Huang served wasn’t extravagant, but it was distinctly Fujianese—especially the beef soup. The broth was clear, with just a few slices of beef, slivers of ginger, and a sprinkle of scallions. Yet the flavor was perfectly balanced.
On their way home, Jin Niang remarked to Ying, "We should tell Juxiang about this dish—though I wonder if she could recreate it."
Ying answered bluntly, "Probably not. Juxiang’s skills are limited, and we only praise her out of kindness."
Jin Niang covered her mouth, laughing.
Outside, Jiang Xian was waiting, his concern evident. "How was it? Everything alright?"
Jin Niang remained composed. "Of course. What could possibly go wrong?"
"Good. Let’s head home," Jiang Xian said, eager to talk.
But Jin Niang shook her head. "You go ahead. Ying and I need to stop by the shop—I have urgent business." Inspired by the peonies, she was in a hurry to draft new embroidery patterns and had no time to spare.
Jiang Xian was taken aback.
Back at the embroidery shop, Jin Niang began designing a sleeveless jacket—a crimson gauze garment with a collar embroidered with purple peonies, Two Qiaos, and fluttering butterflies. The front would feature two more Two Qiaos blooms, and the edges would be adorned with peony motifs, accented with gold and colored ink.
Once inspiration struck, the design flowed effortlessly.
"I’ll sketch two more variations tomorrow," Jin Niang said, stretching.
Then she noticed Madame Zhu’s work and frowned. "Auntie Zhu, did you add these colors here?"
Auntie Zhu hurriedly explained, "I thought a few extra leaves would improve the composition."
"Auntie Zhu, every thread we use affects our costs. Your additions waste material and disrupt my layout. I hired you to follow my instructions, not to improvise," Jin Niang said bluntly.
Used to Jin Niang’s usual cheerfulness, Auntie Zhu was startled by her directness. "Of course! I’ll remove the stitches immediately—no one will ever know."
Jin Niang smiled. "That’s more like it."
At home, she found Jiang Xian lying on the daybed. "Why are you resting here without a blanket? You’ll catch a chill," she scolded, fetching a cover.
He had pretended to be asleep but sat up when she approached. "I’m sorry," he said, meeting her gaze.
"For what?" Jin Niang was puzzled.
"I didn’t know Fourth Miss Zhou would be there today. I wouldn’t have let you go if I’d known," Jiang Xian admitted.
Fourth Miss Zhou—the very same from the Zhou family. So that was it. How carefully he must have treaded through life before. Jin Niang softened. "What’s there to apologize for? You’ve lived too cautiously. I spent two years at the Shu Embroidery Workshop, then followed the master to the Zhou household to hone my skills. After a few years, I moved to the Imperial Embroidery Academy. I never saw myself as a servant—just someone who worked there. I never groveled to the Zhous, either. Times change, and fortunes shift. If anyone should feel uneasy, it’s her. In just a few years, I’ve risen to stand as her equal."
She wished Jiang Xian wouldn’t fret so much. To distract him, she described the Two Qiaos and showed him her sketches.
"Beautiful, aren’t they?"
Jiang Xian examined the intricate designs, marveling at how different Jin Niang was from what he’d imagined. "Gorgeous," he agreed, smiling. "I misjudged you. I tend to overthink—please don’t mind me."
"Not at all. Your worry shows you care, and that makes me happy. I’m the type who turns mud thrown at me into lotus flowers, then sells the roots for profit. Just promise you’ll talk to me openly. As long as we communicate, we’ll be fine."
Trust was everything in a marriage.
Jiang Xian’s eyes shone as he nodded. His wife was resilient, focused on what mattered, free of unnecessary melancholy—someone who could thrive anywhere.
By the Dragon Boat Festival, the embroidery shop was running smoothly. Jin Niang now reserved the most elaborate work for herself, delegating simpler pieces to Madame Zhu.
The peony jacket, however, was too intricate even for her swift hands—each took five days to complete. Soon, three finished pieces hung in the shop.
She had carpenters craft display racks, organizing garments by price. Madame Zhu contributed two sets of her own, along with sachets and pouches, giving the shop a respectable inventory.
Yet Madame Zhu worried. Business was slow, and she feared losing her position. Madam Wei provided three meals a day and generous wages—far better than elsewhere. Determined to stay, she buried herself in her work.
Jin Niang wasn’t worried. Most of the people who came to browse couldn’t afford her embroidered garments, as the price of such fine needlework naturally came with a certain threshold. She was currently working on a erqiao-patterned jacket to be gifted to Madam Huang by Jiang Xian. Older women couldn’t wear overly bright colors, but the peacock blue she chose was perfect—elegant and luxurious without being dull.
Before the Dragon Boat Festival, Jiang Xian visited the Huang residence and presented the jacket to Madam Huang, saying, "My wife admired your erqiao peonies last time and thought they were exquisite, so she specially made this garment for you."
Sometimes, in a household, a woman’s words carried more weight. Madam Huang, delighted by the craftsmanship and the inclusion of her beloved erqiao design, wore the jacket during the festival and later praised Jiang Xian generously to her husband, Scholar Huang.
As a result, Scholar Huang personally took Jiang Xian and another favored disciple under his wing for scholarly guidance.
When Madam Xu heard about this from the stablehand, she couldn’t tolerate it—especially since her ambition for status surpassed even her husband’s. She promptly went to Sixth Madam Jiang to stir trouble.
"I heard my sister-in-law sent a garment to Madam Huang. I wonder if Mother has received any new clothes? What designs does she favor? My sister-in-law’s patterns are always so refined," Madam Xu said, smug about her seemingly tactful words.
But Sixth Madam Jiang saw right through her. She smiled and replied, "Your sister-in-law sent me nightgowns, knowing I sweat easily at home and seldom go out. She’s a thoughtful girl—said the fabric was fine linen from Qiongzhou, very cooling."
Caught off guard by Jin Niang’s thoroughness, Madam Xu forced a smile. "How considerate of her."
"Now you know," Sixth Madam Jiang said pointedly, thinking how most people would discreetly correct a sister-in-law’s oversight rather than scheme against her.
Before the festival, Jin Niang sold two jackets for thirty strings of cash. After repaying six strings for materials, covering three strings in living expenses, and deducting costs, she was left with eighteen strings.
After half a month of hard work, she’d finally turned a small profit.
At home, Jiang Xian returned shortly after her. Dismissing the servants, he pulled Jin Niang onto his lap. "If not for the jacket you gifted Madam Huang, my teacher wouldn’t have favored me so."
"Nonsense," Jin Niang laughed. "Your talent speaks for itself. The jacket was just a finishing touch." She felt it was only fair—after all, she’d profited from Madam Huang’s erqiao peony design.
Her modesty endeared her even more to Jiang Xian. Unlike other women who flaunted their dowries or exaggerated minor contributions, Jin Niang remained unassuming.
Jiang Xian received a monthly allowance of two strings of cash, plus six strings earmarked for books and stationery—eight strings total, a rule established when Sixth Madam Jiang managed the household.
Reviewing the accounts, Madam Xu winced. Yet Jiang Xian’s stipend wasn’t even the largest expense. Between her mother-in-law’s medicine, the remaining concubine’s allowance (one string monthly after another was dismissed), and now Xuan'er’s schooling, the budget strained.
Gritting her teeth, she approached Sixth Madam Jiang. "It’s not that I begrudge the spending, but the coffers are stretched thin. Between my husband and Sixteenth Brother, their allowances alone cost 192 strings a year. Now with Xuan'er starting lessons, funds are tight."
Sixth Madam Jiang waited for the inevitable suggestion.
"I propose halving the study allowances for both. That would save over seventy strings yearly." Madam Xu made sure to target her own husband too, leaving Sixth Madam Jiang little room to refuse.
Though she knew the reasoning wasn’t unfounded, Sixth Madam Jiang also recognized hidden motives. Her health depended on costly treatments until her sons completed the imperial exams. Her daughter’s family, unable to stay in the main estate after Jiang Xian’s marriage, now rented outside. Come the eventual division of assets, her daughter might grow distant from her youngest brother.
And with Xuan'er’s education beginning, expenses would only rise.
"Very well. You’re managing the household now—do as you see fit," Sixth Madam Jiang conceded.
Madam Xu exhaled in relief, thanking her profusely before leaving.
Nanny Fang brought warm water, frowning. "Madam, has it truly come to this? Cutting the gentlemen’s study funds in half?"
"She’s not wrong about the strain," Sixth Madam Jiang admitted. "But it’s not quite so dire. The wedding gifts from Jiang Xian’s marriage went into the family coffers too. Still, for Xuan'er’s sake, I’ll let it pass."
In her prime, she’d have insisted on fairness. But weakened by illness, she recognized that Madam Xu, like her, was securing her children’s future.
Just then, Meng Dong entered cheerfully. "Madam, Sixteenth Young Master sent you freshly made butter pastry. Said he bought it the moment it was ready."
Sixth Madam Jiang brightened.
In truth, the treats were Jin Niang’s doing—but she knew her mother-in-law would prefer to believe they came from her son.
News of the allowance cuts reached Jin Niang sooner than expected, though she’d anticipated them. She waited for Jiang Xian to mention it first, knowing that freely offering money would diminish its value.
Meanwhile, she’d landed a major commission: Chancellor Song’s daughter, preparing for marriage, had ordered ten gowns featuring erqiao, weizi, yaohuang, and zhaofen peonies from her Luoyang Brocade collection.
"These ten pieces will take three months. We’ll deliver them personally," Jin Niang assured.
The Songs paid upfront, but Jin Niang still needed to sketch the peonies. Many officials in the capital opened their private gardens for a nominal fee, so after morning greetings to Sixth Madam Jiang and assigning embroidery tasks to Auntie Zhu, she spent her days sketching blooms.
As she drafted designs, Ying remarked, "Madam, they say Chancellor Song’s daughter has a dowry of 200,000 strings?"
"How much?" Jin Niang nearly dropped her brush.
"Two hundred thousand strings."
Jin Niang whistled. "Where do they even get that kind of money?"
Just then, Madam Bai entered with her mother—regular patrons here to order wedding attire. Jin Niang promptly brought out her bridal catalog. Since her own wedding, she’d realized how lucrative matrimonial preparations were, so she’d spent the Dragon Boat Festival organizing her designs.
Madam Bai noticed her daughter's gaze lingering on the pearl-adorned garments and couldn't help clearing her throat. "Our family values scholarly traditions. Your father has said there’s no need for excessive extravagance."
Madam Bai obediently flipped through the earlier pages of the catalog. Last month, through the matchmaking efforts of Madam Xun, the daughter-in-law of Imperial Accountant Liu, she had been betrothed to a young man from an official’s family. His elder brother was a jinshi, and his sister-in-law came from an official household as well. Though the groom-to-be was rather plain in appearance and held no notable rank, he was still a decent match.
At least it was better than the last prospect—a student from the Imperial Academy who had been snatched away by another family. That suitor’s family, though only holding hereditary office, was exceedingly wealthy, offering a dowry of five thousand strings of cash upfront. Naturally, she stood no chance against such competition.
She couldn’t even dream of a five-thousand-string dowry—five hundred was beyond her means. In truth, even two hundred strings were scraped together with great difficulty. Her father served as a vice prefect in a minor province, earning a meager monthly salary of just over ten strings, which had to support their entire household. With several brothers to provide for, funds were always tight.
With little dowry to her name, her only asset was her status as the daughter of an official. Her father would never allow her to marry beneath their station, into some merchant family. Yet, most people cared only about the dowry. Were it not for the Liu family’s connections, even this current match would have been hard to secure.
"Madam Wei, this set is quite lovely. How much does it cost?" Madam Bai asked with a smile.
Jin Niang glanced at the selection—a plain set with only minimal embroidery at the collar—and recognized it as a discounted item. "This one is eight strings," she replied.
Eight strings? Even cheaper than Madam Bai had expected. The deal was struck immediately.
This set would naturally be entrusted to Madame Zhu for the embroidery.
With a sudden windfall of one hundred fifty-eight strings in just a few days, Jin Niang spent fifteen strings at a furrier’s shop. She purchased a flawless tiger pelt—free of arrow marks, with thick, striking stripes—for ten strings, along with a deer hide for five. After enduring last winter’s bitter cold, she was determined to stock up early.
Another hundred strings went toward repaying a year and five months’ worth of outstanding loans at the pawnshop.
The entire month of May was a whirlwind of activity. Jiang Xian, meanwhile, was engrossed in preparations for the provincial exams, leaving the couple with less time for intimacy. Jin Niang deliberately restrained their encounters, fearing he might overexert himself.
At the month’s end, after settling accounts, Jin Niang treated Jiang Xian to a meal at the nearby Yuxian Lou. It marked their first proper outing as a married couple.
"I’ve heard the plum-blossom buns from Wanglou Mountain Cave are famous nearby. Let’s buy some for your mother," Jin Niang suggested cheerfully. "We can also bring back a jug of Yuxian Lou’s finest wine for your father. What do you think?"
"Whatever you say," Jiang Xian agreed readily. But when no one was looking, he whispered, "Tomorrow’s the first of the month. You can’t put me off any longer."
Jin Niang flushed. "Must you always think of such things? Have you no shame, talking like this in public?"
"My dear, sweet sister…" Jiang Xian tugged at her sleeve, his expression pitiful.
Unable to resist, Jin Niang relented—but with conditions. "Not too late, and none of… that."
"Fine, I’ll take care of you instead," Jiang Xian promised, downing three cups of wine in celebration.
On their way home, Jin Niang broached the subject of finances. "Money always seems to vanish by month’s end. Dou’er mentioned your sister-in-law slashed the study’s budget by half. Are you short on funds? If so, just take what you need from the box under my dressing table."
Jiang Xian shifted uncomfortably. Relying on his wife’s money didn’t sit well with his pride.
But Jin Niang waved off his hesitation. "Why stand on ceremony? If you hadn’t taken me to the Huang residence, I’d never have painted the Two Qiaos and earned this little sum. We complement each other. Besides, I spend on you because I care for you. Had I married someone else who treated me poorly, I wouldn’t be so generous."
Her words melted Jiang Xian’s reservations, and they chatted animatedly the rest of the way. Upon returning, Jiang Xian delivered the buns and wine to his parents, only for Madam Deng of the seventh branch to arrive unannounced.
"Fifteenth Sister-in-law," Jin Niang greeted politely, inviting her to sit.
Madam Deng, who had married just months before Jin Niang, was fair-skinned but notorious for her sharp tongue. "I’ve no patience for household accounts," she declared airily, "yet Mother insists I manage them. I finally reconciled everything on the very last day."
"How remarkably efficient," Jin Niang replied, indulging the woman’s penchant for self-aggrandizement.
After much preamble, Madam Deng revealed her purpose: "I’d like to borrow that red crane-patterned robe you wore recently—for a wedding banquet."
Though the seventh branch was slightly better off than the sixth, few could afford garments costing over ten strings. When buying wasn’t an option, borrowing became the norm.
Jin Niang, however, demurred. "That robe carries ceremonial significance. It wouldn’t be appropriate to lend."
Madam Deng laughed. "It’s not a wedding robe—yours was the bridal gown. Afraid I’ll stain it? Everyone knows how meticulous I am. I wouldn’t ask if I had time to sew a new one. Wearing it would actually help promote your taste."
"It’s not about willingness," Jin Niang countered. "I’ve had sensitive skin since childhood—rashes flare up if I wear others’ clothing after them."
The refusal was clear. Madam Deng left in a huff.
Once she was gone, Xi Qiu and Minzhi hurried in. "Last time she borrowed hairpins from Eleventh Master’s wife and returned them greasy beyond cleaning," they reported.
"Better to refuse once than ruin a gown and fall out later," Jin Niang reasoned.
When Jiang Xian returned, she confessed her unease, fearing he’d think her stingy. "That robe holds sentimental value—I wore it the day after our wedding. It didn’t feel right to lend."
Jiang Xian reassured her. "Quite right. If she wants finery, let her make her own. Large families breed all sorts—don’t dwell on it."
To lift her spirits, he added, "Mother and Father were delighted with the gifts. They praised you endlessly."
Jin Niang thought privately that while his parents were pleased, his sister-in-law Madam Xu likely wasn’t. The woman, unwilling to spend on her in-laws yet resentful of others’ generosity, constantly sought to undermine them.
Sure enough, the next day when Madam Xu came to pay respects, Sixth Madam Jiang mentioned the presents. Suggesting the buns be given to her grandson Xuan’er—who was strictly raised with few treats—she was met with refusal. Upon learning the gifts were from Jin Niang, Madam Xu hastily declined, citing concerns over the child’s digestion.
After Madam Xu left, Sixth Madam Jiang was naturally seething with anger: "Ever since Madam Wei entered this household, Madam Xu has repeatedly complained about her—I won’t even bother mentioning that. But as the elder sister-in-law, she deliberately excluded Madam Wei from social gatherings, keeping all the invitations to herself out of sheer jealousy, afraid that her younger sister-in-law might win people’s favor. It’s only because Madam Wei is broad-minded that she hasn’t made a fuss. If she ever found out she wasn’t even invited to my maternal aunt’s sixtieth birthday celebration, who knows how she’d react? And this is while I’m still here! If I were truly gone, I can’t imagine how much worse it would get."
Nanny Fang quickly tried to soothe her: "Don’t upset yourself, my lady. It’s not worth it, truly not worth it."
"Go," Sixth Madam Jiang commanded, her resolve firm. "Summon the Sixth Master at once. I’ve made up my mind—we’ll divide the family assets now, though we’ll remain under the same roof." She had finally settled on her decision: to separate the estate ahead of time.
