The Aunt was a strikingly beautiful woman, dressed with eyebrows arched sharply and adorned in glittering gold. She sized people up with a scrutinizing gaze, as if everything could be found wanting under her judgment.
Yet her daughter, Cousin Mei, was a delicate and gentle girl with a kind face. Unlike her mother, she smiled at Jin Niang when she approached.
Jin Niang heard the Aunt ask, "Are you a family servant?"
Jin Niang shook her head. "No, I was hired from outside."
There was a subtle shift—Jin Niang sensed the Aunt’s demeanor grow dismissive. She pressed sharply, "The seamstresses in our household are all seasoned veterans. Someone your age is far too inexperienced."
This was pure nitpicking. As the saying goes, "A guest should defer to the host," and what purpose did bullying servants serve? Jin Niang disliked the Aunt inwardly but maintained a polite smile. "Rest assured, I’ll do my best."
The Aunt lifted her chin. "If you do well, I might reward you."
After braving the heavy snow, Jin Niang hadn’t even been offered a sip of hot water, let alone a tip. The Aunt lived in a small courtyard behind the Third House, a good fifteen-minute walk from the Main House.
The cold wind seeped into her sleeves as Jin Niang hurried inside, where Jiang Shanjie called out, "Close the door! Quickly, before the snow blows in!"
Jin Niang deliberately rubbed her backside as she entered. "What a day—first the Aunt picks me apart, then I don’t even get tea, and to top it off, I took a nasty fall. Good thing I’m plump, or I’d have broken bones like you frail lot."
She knew her monthly allowance was higher than theirs, and she received more perks besides. With Madam Chen favoring her, a little complaining helped ease their resentment.
"Ouch… that really hurts…"
Qin Shuang'er teased, "The capable bear more burdens."
"So you’re saying this outfit was a waste?" Fang Qiaolian added.
Jin Niang nodded. "Lucky it’s just one set. Any more, and I’d never manage—not with the pouches and fan cases Madam Chen has us working on too."
She pulled off her shoes to warm them by the brazier, thinking to herself: They say the Aunt’s family is wealthy, and she’s a lady of high birth, yet she’s stingy as can be. What’s she doing back at her parents’ home right before the New Year?
Her suspicions were soon confirmed. At midday, after lunch, she visited the neighboring tea room, where Lan Xue came in rubbing her ears. "I just delivered pastries to the Aunt’s place. The cold out there nearly made me slip."
"You nearly slipped? I actually fell—and still didn’t get any tea. Came back frozen stiff, my hands numb," Jin Niang grumbled.
Lan Xue smirked. "She gave me two camel-hoof buns."
These were pan-fried dumplings shaped like horse hooves—the same ones Jin Niang had seen on the Aunt and Cousin Mei’s breakfast table. Jin Niang chuckled. "You’re worse off than a street delivery boy."
Here, "delivery boy" didn’t mean idlers—quite the opposite. It referred to couriers who delivered food. Unlike Jin Niang, who earned wages, Lan Xue and the other family servants lived entirely on occasional handouts—year-end silver coins, handkerchiefs, and the like. Even the seamstresses like Si'er and Xiaohe got no regular pay.
Lan Xue snorted at the remark.
By now, Jin Niang had figured it out: the Aunt’s nitpicking and bluster were likely a cover for her own shortcomings. If Jin Niang suffered under the Aunt, Madam Jiang—who disliked the Aunt—might treat her better. So she decided: lavish care on the Main House’s orders, but for the Aunt, stick to expensive yet unremarkable designs, replicating past styles.
Before New Year’s Eve, Qin Shuang'er noticed Jin Niang had submitted her pouches and finished Miss Mei’s dress. She bit back any criticism—Fang Qiaolian’s recent adoption by Nanny Kuang, the second steward’s wife, had stolen her attention.
After observing quietly, Qin Shuang'er concluded Jin Niang lacked social finesse. Though skilled, she’d never rise far. Glancing at Jin Niang’s plain green headscarf and lack of adornment, she thought: What a fool. Even if she went to the Eldest Miss’s quarters, she’d never outshine me.
Lately, she’d also heard Wei Jinniang talk of missing her parents, planning to send letters and gifts to Jiangling after the New Year. If she had a loving family, why stay a servant?
Jin Niang ignored such gossip. After finishing the pouches, she crafted a grand crimson brocade jacket with intricate lantern patterns for Miss Mei, paired with a delicate green satin skirt. She skipped elaborate embroidery, opting instead for gilded "full-pond blossoms" at the cuffs and collar—a technique she’d picked up from Madam Chen.
The outfit was lavish, but Miss Mei seemed to drown in it. Jin Niang knew no reward would come—the Aunt had treated her differently since learning she wasn’t a family servant. Since the Aunt clearly ruled the roost, the dress only needed to please her tastes.
Sure enough, the Aunt nitpicked: "This craftsmanship is shoddy—nothing like our Suzhou standards. Look at these uneven pleats! Wearing this outside would invite ridicule."
Jin Niang stood silently, head bowed, until dismissed. Once outside, she wrinkled her nose.
Only after Jin Niang left did the Aunt instruct her daughter: "No need to tip hired help. They’re temporary—any money given is wasted."
Miss Mei replied, "But Eldest Sister gives handfuls of coins to servants."
"Your eldest uncle holds a high post with a fat salary. They inherited the family fortune—of course they’re extravagant! It’s spoiled the maids with bad habits. I married poorly. After your grandparents passed, your father became a petty official. I’ve slaved to keep things afloat, yet he blames me for bearing no sons—spent five hundred strings of cash on two concubines! My dowry’s long gone." The Aunt fumed.
Miss Mei knew all too well that her father’s family had once been quite well-off. After he passed the imperial examination, he had even been "caught" as a son-in-law by her maternal grandmother’s family—a tradition reserved for promising scholars. What should have been the beginning of prosperity, however, quickly turned sour. Her paternal grandparents flaunted their official status at every turn, and when her aunt married, they nearly emptied the family coffers for her dowry. Soon after, her grandparents passed away one after another, and her father, still obsessed with maintaining appearances, sold off even the last of their ancestral farmland.
After years of mourning, her father finally managed to return to officialdom with the help of her uncle’s connections, only to resign out of timidity when faced with political intrigue. Left with nothing, her mother brought her to seek refuge with her maternal family.
She understood why her mother put on such airs—it was to keep others from realizing how poor they truly were, lest the servants grow even more negligent.
Truth be told, she had never worn such lavish garments at home—embroidered with gold, adorned with vibrant patterns, and crafted from the finest brocade.
