The streets of the capital, which had been bustling with noise and excitement just days before, had suddenly turned as quiet as an empty city. Shops naturally remained closed, and Jin Niang took the opportunity to sleep in.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, Ying brought up breakfast—a bowl of millet porridge, two pieces of layered pancake, and an egg. Jin Niang sat on the bed, finishing her meal on the small table before finally getting up.
Ying smiled and said, "Would you like to rise now? Let me help you."
"Alright. It’s been a while since I’ve rested like this," Jin Niang replied, stretching lazily.
Soon after, Ying brought over her clothes and helped her dress, then assisted her with washing up. Since there was no need to go out to the shop, Jin Niang skipped applying powder and simply tied her hair into a bun, wrapping it with a scarf.
Meanwhile, Minzhi brought Sister Jun over. Nanny Luo chuckled, "The little miss has been eager to come see you, but I thought you deserved some extra sleep, so I played with her for a while first."
Originally, the wet nurse had been hired under a two-year contract, but with the recent plague scare, Jin Niang considered that only two months remained. She didn’t want the woman to be trapped here, separated from her own children. Though the wet nurse was reluctant to leave, Luo Yu'e revealed that her husband wasn’t actually dead—she had lied to secure the job. The woman, ashamed, knelt and confessed.
Jin Niang didn’t blame her, giving her twenty catties of rice and flour, a packet of medicine, and letting her pack her belongings before departing.
At first, the child cried for two days after weaning, but soon adjusted.
Jin Niang held her daughter, teaching her to read, but children have little patience. After a short while, Sister Jun wanted to go play. Jin Niang let Minzhi take her away while she reclined on the couch with a book, only to doze off again.
Winter days grew dark quickly. That evening, she and her husband, Jiang Xian, dined together in his study. After eating, Jin Niang stood for a while before settling back on the couch with her book.
Jiang Xian couldn’t help but laugh. "My wife is truly foresighted, stocking up on so many candles. Now we have no worries."
"I wonder how the folks back at the old estate are faring," Jin Niang mused.
Jiang Xian shook his head. "That’s beyond our control."
Since Madam Zheng married Master Jiang the Sixth over a year ago, the couple had lived extravagantly. Though Jiang Xian showed no outward resentment, he privately felt Madam Zheng had usurped his late mother’s place, dismissing loyal servants like Nanny Fang. His opinion of her remained low.
Now, Master Jiang the Sixth and Madam Zheng spent money as if there were no tomorrow.
Madam Xu, full of grievances, grew even tighter with finances, her relationship with Madam Zheng now openly hostile.
"At least I didn’t buy any New Year gifts this year. Otherwise, it would’ve all gone to waste," Jin Niang remarked, relieved to have saved about twenty strings of cash.
With New Year supplies stocked, starvation wasn’t an immediate concern, and Jin Niang believed the epidemic wouldn’t last long.
In truth, many struggled. The Zhuangyuan’s family fared better—Madam Song, well-connected, had moved her household to an isolated countryside estate, safe from infection.
The wealthy always had their ways, securing early news and fleeing far in advance.
But for those without savings or plans, like Third Young Master Peng’s family, survival grew dire. After ten days, their food ran out. Even Master Jiang the Sixth and Madam Zheng, usually lavish, now practiced extreme frugality. Madam Zheng proved resourceful—a chicken that once lasted a day now stretched over ten: the head one day, wings two days, meat three days, and feet two days. Fish was eaten for three days before turning into fish jelly.
While the masters at least avoided hunger, servants fought over pickled vegetables.
A month later, even pickles became a luxury.
In Jin Niang’s household, dinner featured fish balls, steamed egg custard, and stir-fried preserved pork with pickled cabbage. Servants, though eating simpler fare, still each received a bowl of rice, a spoonful of pickles, and a piece of meat.
"Have Juxiang prepare white radish soup for everyone—it clears heat and aids digestion," Jin Niang instructed.
Lately, she had the kitchen rotate between pear soup, radish soup, mung bean soup, and even diluted honey water—all believed to detoxify.
With little work to do, everyone rested indoors. Even Younger Brother Yang, once thin as a bamboo pole, had filled out slightly.
Just then, Ying entered. "Madam, a neighbor is at the gate asking to borrow food."
Jiang Xian hesitated, torn. He didn’t want to lend—after a month of plague, helping one neighbor might oblige him to help others, risking his own family’s hunger. Yet his wife was kind-hearted...
As he wavered, Jin Niang decisively said, "Tell them through the gate that our supplies are running low too."
Her pragmatism prioritized her family’s survival, and she felt no guilt.
Jiang Xian exhaled in relief.
After a month of rest, Jin Niang realized her monthly courses hadn’t come. As an experienced woman, she understood and shared the news. Jiang Xian, overjoyed yet anxious, earned her playful demand: "Stay with me more, and I’ll be just fine."
"Of course I’ll stay with you," he murmured, kissing her forehead.
Upon learning of the pregnancy, Luo Yu'e considered how her family of three occupied two rooms in Jin Niang’s home. She resolved to find a new place once the epidemic passed.
But Jin Niang had other plans. "Mother, this child won’t arrive until around the eighth or ninth month. We have three rooms upstairs, and the main hall can be partitioned. By August, your son-in-law will take the provincial exams. If he succeeds and becomes an official, we’ll likely be posted elsewhere. You can stay here to mind the house. If he doesn’t pass, our lease expires next year. If the owner doesn’t reclaim it, we can buy it for twenty or thirty strings of cash, renovate, and move in then."
"But this house was your dowry—it’s yours to keep," Luo Yu'e protested.
Jin Niang smiled and said, "Don’t worry about me. I’ve already paid off the loan for the house in Sweetwater Lane, and I still have some cash on hand. If you don’t want to live in Stinkwater Lane anymore, we can go to the Housing Bureau and rent a decent place. We can still lease out the Stinkwater Lane house for extra income. When Younger Brother Yang is older and ready to marry, we can sell the Stinkwater Lane house and use the money, along with your savings, to buy a single-courtyard home for him. That way, he can pay off his own loan and still live in a new house."
Truthfully, she had never intended to keep the dowry house her parents gave her. Back then, she only accepted it to save face for her parents. Now that she had a plan, she shared it openly.
She even considered lending money to her younger brother if he fell short when buying a house in the future, but she couldn’t mention that yet.
For one, no one knew what her own circumstances would be by then. Secondly, she knew her parents too well—if they had such expectations, they might grow complacent.
Her father never bothered to think things through, even collecting counterfeit coins without noticing. Her mother was slightly better but prone to impulsive decisions. That’s why Jin Niang had always kept them close, afraid they’d get into trouble.
But after marriage, she had her own family to tend to, and a person’s energy was limited. Her parents and brother had their own lives to live, and she couldn’t meddle too much.
Her words were clearly well-considered, and Luo Yu'e found them reasonable.
Jin Niang then took her mother’s hand and said, "Mother, you mustn’t let the servants catch wind of your plans to move out."
"Why not?" Luo Yu'e didn’t understand.
Jin Niang chuckled. "As the saying goes, 'When the man’s away, the tea turns cold.' If they know you’re leaving, they’ll slack off."
Luo Yu'e protested, "That can’t be. They all seem quite honest."
Jin Niang shook her head. "They behave because I keep them in line. Everyone has their own motives. Even if they don’t fawn over the powerful or bully the weak, they’ll grow lax once they realize you’re no longer the mistress."
Hearing this, Luo Yu'e realized her daughter trusted no one. If not for the master-servant distinction, one might have thought Jin Niang treated the maids like sisters.
Jin Niang advised her mother not to even discuss these arrangements with her father—everything depended on how things unfolded.
"Jin Niang, our family would be lost without you," Luo Yu'e sighed, feeling her daughter was the backbone of the household.
Jin Niang smiled. "Mother, you’ve changed a lot—you’re much more patient now. As for Younger Brother Yang, I’ve already discussed it with your son-in-law. If he passes the imperial exams, he’ll recommend Yang to a better academy."
Luo Yu'e was overjoyed.
Jin Niang lowered her voice. "But don’t tell Yang yet, or he might slack off. We still have to rely on ourselves."
"You’re right. Yang told me his brother-in-law teaches him better than his tutor," Luo Yu'e said. With her daughter well-married and settled, her biggest worry now was her son, who wasn’t even fifteen yet.
The mother and daughter shared more private words before parting.
The plague raged for nearly two months before life returned to normal. Jiang Xian had spent those months buried in study, oblivious to the outside world. Only after stepping out did he learn that one of his former classmates from Minister Liu’s study group had died.
Scholar Xiao, whom Jin Niang had once introduced through her clothing connections, had also passed away. Others had succumbed to illnesses they couldn’t treat while confined at home.
Jin Niang cautiously delayed reopening her shop for another month. With crowds rushing in right after the lockdown, she couldn’t risk exposure—especially now that she was pregnant.
Even Sister Jun wasn’t allowed near outsiders. If her parents went out for business, they had to wash up and change clothes before seeing their granddaughter.
Coincidentally, the first customer after reopening was Madam Bai, who had returned to the capital with her brother and sister-in-law for his official reassignment. She had grown noticeably fuller since their last meeting. During their chat, Jin Niang learned Madam Bai had given birth to two sons and was now expecting again.
With a smile, Jin Niang suggested, "We have a lovely selection of children’s wear. Would Madam Bai like to take a look?"
"How much are they?" Madam Bai asked.
Jin Niang pointed out, "This red satin set with floral embroidery is pricier—around two strings of cash. The blue one with branch patterns costs one string and three hundred coins."
This time, Madam Bai was surprisingly generous. She bought two sets of children’s clothes and a new outfit for herself, parting with five strings of cash without hesitation. After the money was tucked away, Jin Niang suddenly craved strawberries and sent Chen Ziang to fetch a basket.
She dared not eat too many herself, arranging just a few on a gilded porcelain plate. The rest were sent to Jiang Xian, her parents, and Sister Jun.
One advantage of running her own household was doing as she pleased—eating whatever she fancied, whenever she wanted.
Chen Ziang remarked, "Madam, you wouldn’t believe the frenzy—I had to fight to get these strawberries. People were buying them at any price."
"After being cooped up for so long, everyone’s gone a bit wild," Jin Niang mused. This presented an opportunity for her clothing business.
Post-plague, customers might prioritize practicality over extravagance. Instead of high-end fabrics, she could focus on affordable yet stylish designs.
Adjusting her strategy, Jin Niang no longer sourced fabrics near Donghua Gate or stocked much gold and silver foil.
Pregnancy, however, limited her energy. She reluctantly gave up her hard-won position as guild leader after just a year.
Sometimes Jin Niang resented how women, though no less capable than men, bore the burden of childbearing.
She sighed, rubbing her belly. One couldn’t have it all. Managing her shop alone was exhausting enough—let alone overseeing the guild.
Luo Yu'e, however, was thrilled. "You’re older than your husband. If he passes the exams, even if he doesn’t suggest it himself, others will pressure him to take a concubine if you lack a son. Besides, with all your assets, would you really let outsiders inherit them? A son would secure your future."
"We could leave it all to Sister Jun," Jin Niang said. After all, she couldn’t control the baby’s gender.
Luo Yu'e shook her head. "Your relationship with your brother-in-law’s family is strained, and Madam Xu already drove you out of Nanxun Ward. You can’t rely on the clan. Even if you give Sister Jun a younger brother, he’ll still be her support."
"I must tell you, the practice of preying on heirless families isn’t just limited to rural areas. Any household with some wealth but no sons will find others swooping in without mercy. Yes, the law states that daughters can inherit property, but actually fighting for it in court is nearly impossible."
This was her personal experience—why else had her sister-in-law and mother-in-law seized their house and land back then? She had no one to turn to for help, all because she had borne Jin Niang but no sons afterward.
Jin Niang knew her mother meant well and smiled. "I understand. But if this child is another daughter, don’t be upset."
"Of course I won’t," Luo Yu'e quickly reassured her.
As for Sister Jun’s swaddling clothes and infant garments, Jin Niang had the servants wash and prepare them all for the second child, so nothing would go to waste. Sister Jun’s old clothes were still practically new—children grew so fast that none of them fit her anymore.
There was no need to make new clothes for the second child, saving everyone the effort. Instead, they focused on spring attire. Minzhi now earned the same wages as Madame Zhu but continued specializing in children’s clothing.
With so many couples confined together these past months, pregnancies had become common. Naturally, business at pharmacies and clinics boomed—even the neighboring shops had converted into medicine stores.
Before the Cold Food Festival, Jin Niang’s workshop rushed to produce a batch of spring outfits: cherry-pink undergarments, pink jackets embroidered with floral branches, and crimson-trimmed sets. Others included pale yellow blouses, jade-green undershirts, and ivory pleated skirts, along with her signature peach-blossom designs.
A full set cost no more than one string of cash, with specials as low as eight hundred coins. A sign outside advertised them as the "top choice for spring outings."
Before the festival, many came to buy children’s clothes or spring attire as gifts. Surprisingly, this month’s earnings reached fifty-six strings of cash—even though the clothes were cheaper than before.
Now that Sister Jun was over two, Jin Niang assigned Xi Qiu to care for her. Nanny Luo, after all, was getting older—her snoring had grown louder, and she slept too deeply. Nanny Luo’s daughter-in-law was transferred to the kitchen, which pleased everyone.
Every afternoon, Jin Niang napped with Sister Jun before taking her to Jiang Xian’s study. In one corner, she kept picture books for her daughter, spending half an hour there each day before returning to the embroidery shop.
Sometimes Jiang Xian would be reading; other times, he’d recline on the daybed, watching them fondly and reaching out to hold Jin Niang’s hand.
"Don’t worry about me at night. You’re not sleeping well as it is," Jin Niang said. This pregnancy often left her restless, and when she couldn’t sleep, she craved snacks.
Jiang Xian never minded, preparing whatever she desired. Even if she lost her appetite by the time he brought it, he never showed irritation—only concern.
"Wife, you’ve suffered so much," he sighed softly.
Jin Niang rubbed her belly. "I’m halfway through. Let’s not dwell on it—the more you fuss, the more I notice how hard it is."
Jiang Xian chuckled. That was his wife—steadfast and uncomplaining, tougher than ten men.
Lately, he’d grown accustomed to studying at home. Revisiting texts he once found obscure, he now grasped deeper meanings. Still, he visited the Liu family—without patrons, one remained insignificant.
"Wife, I’ll go to the Lius this afternoon," he said.
Jin Niang nodded and asked if he needed to bring a gift. Jiang Xian hesitated. "The Finance Minister shares my passion for calligraphy. I thought of gifting an inkstone."
But it was expensive...
Jin Niang waved it off. "Take the keys and fetch it from the chest."
"But that Duan inkstone costs twenty strings of cash."
"I’ve heard Duan inkstones grind ink like wind, smooth as oil, never drying or freezing, with no drag. Such a treasure suits a minister well," she reasoned.
Jiang Xian was speechless. Even his late mother would’ve called this extravagant, yet his frugal wife spared no expense for him.
Jin Niang, however, recalled how Chen Ziang once spent a fortune to break a zither for fame. Twenty strings were nothing compared to the cost of banquets and poetry gatherings.
The inkstone won the Finance Minister’s favor. Already impressed by Jiang Xian’s talent, he now held him in higher esteem. One of his disciples—a leading literary figure—praised Jiang Xian as "born with extraordinary bearing, fit to be a minister." Overnight, Jiang Xian’s reputation soared.
Scholars sought him out at home to discuss classics.
News soon reached the top scholar, Jiang. His wife, Madam Song, served him tea and remarked, "See? He found your path too slow and climbed another."
Women often held moral standards to strict account.
But Scholar Jiang saw differently. "No, his rising fame makes it harder for me to recruit him later."
Talent was indispensable. Principles alone couldn’t compensate for incompetence—and Jiang Xian was undeniably capable. During his stint at the Ministry of Revenue, he’d resolved matters efficiently within days, balancing superiors and subordinates with equal finesse.
Madam Song brightened. "Many submit writings at my father’s door. Why not boost his fame ourselves? Then we’d be his patrons too."
"Don’t count on gratitude. Men like him aren’t won by small favors," Scholar Jiang said wisely.
Indeed, Jiang Xian shared this view. The Finance Minister favored him for his talent—but had once dismissed him without hesitation.
Fame changed nothing. He kept studying at home.
After lunch, Jin Niang yawned. With the Dragon Boat Festival approaching, new outfits were needed. Though she couldn’t sit for long, she refused to idle.
"Jiang Xian, could you buy grapes, oranges, and strawberries this afternoon?" she asked.
"Of course," he said. "Shall I add bananas too?"
Bananas eased her leg cramps, so she agreed eagerly.
But before he left, an invitation arrived—Scholar Jiang requested his presence at the Song family’s gathering. Jin Niang beamed. "How wonderful!"
Jiang Xian, however, scoffed. "They scorned me before. I always said Sun Shichen was useless. Now they remember me?"
Jin Niang smiled and said, "No matter what, he recommended you to the Song family to help you gain recognition. Just bring your best essays when you go—after all, it benefits us too."
"There’s no rush. Let me buy the fruits for you first," Jiang Xian replied.
Jin Niang thought to herself that Jiang Xian had the mindset of a modern-day worker—whoever offered better treatment, he’d go to them. Unlike some who, once given an opportunity, would pledge unwavering loyalty out of gratitude, Jiang Xian simply believed in his own talent and saw it as others seeking his skills.
He wasn’t one to be swayed by empty promises either. Whoever paid more earned his service, and in turn, he secured his own interests.
Of course, Jiang Xian was also quite personable, never belittling others and even showing a touch of warmth.
True enough, Jiang Xian made a remarkable impression at the Song household, much to Jin Niang’s delight.
Meanwhile, after hearing about it from Sun Shichen, Fourth Miss Zhou wondered why she hadn’t used her close ties with Madam Song to boost her own husband’s reputation.
Jin Niang, however, mused, "Indeed, one must rely on their own strength." Though some who thrived on connections might scoff at the idea, without true capability, forced promotion would only invite misfortune.
Her husband had clearly taken her words to heart—just look at him now, still burning the midnight oil in his study.
