Madam Zhao Shen’s smile was as brilliant as the peonies blooming on her skirt as she casually praised Ji Yingying: “…such a pretty face, and skilled at embroidery too. Anyone can see she’s a clever girl. Several of Second Young Master’s clan brothers are fine young men, and they’re asking me to act as a matchmaker. I should have a good talk with your mother soon. Let her meet them. If things work out well, I might even get to drink the matchmaker’s wine.”

Poor Yingying—why was she so foolish? Why did she have to fall for Zhao Xiuyuan? Although Ji Yaoting had expected this outcome, he still felt sorry for his sister.

Apart from their social status difference, Ji Yaoting didn’t think his sister was unworthy of Zhao Xiuyuan at all. With the Zhao family’s deep courtyards, he worried they would stifle Ji Yingying. Since the Zhao family showed no interest, the Ji family would not shamelessly persist. Ji Yaoting resolved to convince his sister to give up.

“Thank you for your concern about my sister’s marriage prospects. As her brother, I naturally hope for her to find a good match. Mother is waiting for my news at home, so I should take my leave now,” Ji Yaoting maintained a casual demeanor as he stood to leave, politely adding, “If Madam has time, please come to Huanhua Dye House for a cup of wedding wine at year’s end.”

After Ji Yaoting left, Madam Zhao Shen let out a cold snort and said mockingly, “The Ji family’s secret formula is passed to daughters-in-law, not daughters. What benefit would marrying Ji Yingying bring my Second Son? Does the Zhao family lack embroiderers?”

Lady Gu, wearing the blue floral brocade, was Madam Zhao Shen’s wet nurse. She helped Madam Zhao stand, gently advising, “Madam, don’t upset yourself. How could a small family like the Ji’s aspire to marry into ours? However… Madam should carefully persuade Second Young Master, lest mother and son grow apart.”

Madam Zhao Shen patted her hand and left the flower hall, heading toward the back courtyard via the corridor. Her delicately shaped eyebrows furrowed with worry: “If not for your attentiveness, I wouldn’t have known that Second Son has been meeting that girl in secret. Tell Zhao Ping to watch his mouth. If he doesn’t want to be beaten to death according to family law, he should just let Second Son know about this.”

Last month, when Zhao Xiuyuan returned home, he begged Madam Zhao Shen to propose marriage to the Ji family. Shocked, she had placated her son by saying they would discuss marriage after the brocade competition. As the family matriarch, she immediately summoned Zhao Xiuyuan’s attendant Zhao Ping for questioning. Upon hearing his testimony, Madam Zhao Shen nearly fainted from anger. She never imagined that her son and Ji Yingying, separated by just one street, would gaze at each other, use flower arrangements as signals, and frequently meet at the Bamboo Grove Temple in the suburbs.

The main branch of the Zhao family had three brothers’ households living in the main residence. Among the legitimate sons who could compete with Zhao Xiuyuan for the position of family head, there were nine in total. Seventh Young Master was Madam Zhao Shen’s youngest son, only six years old. Among the other legitimate sons, Third Young Master, the eldest, was only fourteen. The only real competitor for Zhao Xiuyuan was the First Young Master from the second branch. Last year, Zhao First Young Master married the legitimate daughter of the Liu family, another major brocade household in Yizhou Prefecture. With his wife’s family’s support, the second branch’s bid for family headship had suddenly gained momentum.

Watching his grandsons gradually come of age, the Zhao family’s Old Master had announced that whoever could win back the Brocade King title for the Zhao family this year would become the next family head. Once the successor was determined, a series of training would begin to gradually transfer control of the family business from the current head. Only through continuous generational inheritance could the family business avoid decline. Everyone understood that the Old Master had already decided to choose between First Young Master Zhao and Second Young Master Zhao.

Century-old families were extremely careful in choosing their heirs. The Zhao family’s legitimate sons practiced their inherited brocade-weaving skills diligently and could only marry after turning eighteen. Zhao Xiuyuan had just turned eighteen this year, which was why he dared to ask his mother to propose to the Ji family.

Madam Zhao Shen had been grooming her son to be the next family head since childhood, hoping to keep the authority within the main branch. In her mind, Zhao Xiuyuan’s wife could never be a modest beauty like Ji Yingying.

“This servant understands,” Lady Gu accompanied her for a while before adding, “Madam, perhaps we should move Second Young Master out of the Vine Garden? To prevent him from seeing signals from Young Miss Ji asking to meet.”

“Don’t you know his temperament by now? Rather than forcefully stopping him, it’s better to reason with him thoroughly. Otherwise, the household will surely be thrown into chaos. This troublemaker—if he doesn’t marry a capable wife who can help him, how can he compete with his cousin for family headship? After his father and I pass away, should we let the Moon Brocade Hall go to the second branch?” Madam Zhao Shen grew increasingly angry as she spoke, stopping at the second gate. “No, I must talk to Second Son, or I won’t be able to rest easy.”

“Madam, the other day you used the Old Master’s words to keep Second Young Master at home, precisely to avoid explicitly forbidding his meetings with Young Miss Ji and damaging the mother-son relationship. I think if we want to persuade the Second Young Master to change his mind, we should start with the Ji family. If Young Miss Ji becomes engaged, Second Young Master will grieve for a while but eventually give up.”

After some hesitation, Madam Zhao Shen heeded her wet nurse’s advice and turned to enter the second gate: “After he’s married, if he wants to take Ji Yingying as a concubine, I’ll personally go propose for her to be an honored concubine without a word of protest. But he wants me to send a matchmaker to propose to her as his principal wife! If it weren’t for the annual brocade competition and our need for Huanhua Dye House’s top-quality silk threads… for such a small dye house, why should I be so cautious?”

The tribute brocade submitted annually didn’t necessarily require silk threads dyed with the Ji family’s secret formula. Huanhua Dye House couldn’t produce that much silk anyway. But the competition was different. For the annual brocade competition in Yizhou Prefecture, each family only needed to submit one piece. For the glory of the Brocade King title and fame in the competition, every aspect—from design, finalizing drafts, selecting craftsmen, pattern planning, loom setup, to weaving—was carefully chosen and repeatedly deliberated by each family. The quality of the silk threads determined the excellence of the brocade.

Thus, the top-quality bright red silk and Huanhua silk dyed with the secret formula became highly sought after.

Madam Zhao Shen hated that her son had fallen for Ji Yingying, and hated Ji Yingying even more for seducing Zhao Xiuyuan. Yet she had to be cautious, leaving her with pent-up anger she couldn’t release.

“Go see if the master has returned,” she said.

Her son had always been strong-willed. Madam Zhao Shen could only hope her husband would find a way to end Zhao Xiuyuan’s infatuation.

Two ancient, sturdy vines grew in the Vine Garden, their intertwining branches shading half the courtyard. The main building was two stories tall—the ground floor housed Zhao Xiuyuan’s study and weaving room, while the upper floor contained his living quarters and bedroom.

Purple flowers hung in cascading clusters from the vines, forming a misty purple curtain. Where the vines climbed to the eaves, the flowers resembled strings of purple jewels adorning the windows. Below the four wide-open red-lacquered carved wooden windows sat a broad huanghuali wood desk. A small water lily floated in the celadon Dragon’s Well water bowl on the desk. Two yellowed bamboo paperweights held down a sheet of snow-white Jiajiang bamboo paper.

The flower-dappled study exuded quiet elegance.

Eighteen-year-old Zhao Xiuyuan wore a blue light silk robe, its sleeves rolled up with matching cloth ties, as he concentrated on his drawing.

Soft sunlight filtering through the vines and flowers fell upon him, tinting his eyebrows as verdant as green mountains, making him appear as refined as a painting. One wanted to soften their breathing just looking at him, reluctant to disturb his concentration.

The brocade used in the competition wasn’t a full piece, but rather a three-chi brocade painting. The competition judged patterns, color, and weaving skills. A full piece of Shu brocade took too long to weave. This requirement allowed participating families to produce new brocade paintings in a short time.

The Zhao brothers and the family’s master weavers had all presented their finest brocade paintings. The Old Master’s greatest wish in his remaining years was to win the Brocade King title once more. He hadn’t told anyone which piece he’d chosen for the competition. Instead, he gave all the selected craftsmen two months to weave another piece.

Two months was enough time for a small brocade painting. When Ji Yingying placed a poinsettia on her embroidery room windowsill, Zhao Xiuyuan had been persuaded by his mother to stay home. He’d sent Zhao Ping to inform Ji Yingying at the Bamboo Grove Temple. But Zhao Ping, frightened by Madam Zhao Shen, didn’t dare go to the temple and instead lied to Zhao Xiuyuan.

His brush paused. Zhao Xiuyuan set it down, crumpled up the drawing paper and threw it away, then spread out a fresh sheet of bamboo paper. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to make a single stroke. He felt unsettled.

After staring at the cloud-white bamboo paper for a while, Zhao Xiuyuan’s lips curved slightly: “Yingying, if I could see you just once, I’m sure I could create an even better piece.”

He untied his sleeve ties and left the study for the upper floor. Opening the wooden window with its intricate carving of the Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea, he gazed toward Ji Yingying’s small side courtyard a street away.

A tall Chinese hackberry tree grew in the Ji family’s courtyard. Its branches, which shaded most of the yard, seemed to deliberately leave one corner clear, revealing the embroidery room window. Zhao Xiuyuan couldn’t help murmuring, “Yingying, if you share my feelings, let me see you just once.”

As soon as he spoke, someone pushed open the wooden window with its rose-red gauze screen.

From across the street, Zhao Xiuyuan couldn’t make out the woman’s features, only seeing a graceful silhouette by the window. But he knew it wasn’t a Ji family maid—it was Ji Yingying.

The hackberry tree’s branches stretched to the eaves. Against the black tiles and white walls, the rose-red window gauze complementing that touch of pale green resembled a tender spring shoot emerging from a branch, exquisitely delicate. His heart sank into spring waters as he couldn’t help calling out softly again: “Yingying, I’m here.”

Tired from embroidering sutras, Ji Yingying yawned and raised her head listlessly. Instantly, she spotted the flowing blue robes on the distant upper floor. Her eyes brightened as she waved her arms toward him.

Zhao Xiuyuan’s mood lifted like it had been swept clean by the wind, feeling utterly refreshed. Unable to contain his joy and longing, he smiled and opened his arms wide.

The blue sleeves billowed in the wind, like his open embrace. Understanding Zhao Xiuyuan’s meaning, Ji Yingying’s face suddenly grew hot. She gazed at him lovingly, and only after Zhao Xiuyuan waved to her did she shyly leave the window. Still reluctant to part, she hid to the side and secretly peeked out. Only after Zhao Xiuyuan’s figure disappeared did Ji Yingying finally leave, touching her burning cheeks.

Ling’er entered the room, saw the wide-open window, and hurried to close it, muttering to herself: “Who knows how many mosquitoes got in? We’ll need to burn more mugwort tonight.”

Ji Yingying, as if her secret had been exposed, unusually offered no retort. She sat at her embroidery frame grinning foolishly, staring at the half-finished sutra for a long time without taking a single stitch.