The servants of the Zhao family’s Moon Brocade Hall stood in the courtyard, desperately wishing they could stretch their ears through the tightly closed carved wooden doors.
Inside the hall, Zhao Xiuyuan stood with a smile, emanating the dignity of green pines and cypresses.
“I want to marry Second Miss Ji. I decided this when I was six years old.”
With the servants dismissed, only three members of the main branch remained in the room. Madam Zhao Shen’s voice was as weak as if she hadn’t eaten for days: “Son, your parents want what’s best for you. You’ll have to maintain the family’s standing in the future, and your wife must manage the inner household. The Ji family is too humble—Second Miss Ji will only hold you back.”
Before Zhao Bingsong could speak, he saw his son’s lips curl into a smile: “Haven’t I been the one supporting you and Father all these years?”
The Zhao couple was instantly silenced.
This was the main branch’s secret. When Zhao Bingsong was designated as the next patriarch, the Zhao Elder had stepped back after his sixtieth birthday. His two disgruntled younger brothers had constantly undermined him. In the early years, the Elder had helped clean up the mess, but after Zhao Bingsong took full control, the Zhao family remained unstable—when one problem was fixed in the east, another would arise in the west. Despite Zhao Bingsong’s best efforts, he couldn’t handle his two brothers protecting their territories, refusing to help, and being passive-aggressive, leaving him constantly putting out fires.
Since age twelve, Zhao Xiuyuan had secretly helped his father manage accounts and devise strategies. Only when the next generation of Zhao children grew up did Second Master Zhao and Third Master Zhao finally settle down, focusing instead on grooming their sons to compete for the patriarch position. Only in recent years had Zhao Bingsong earned the Elder’s fair assessment: “You’ve maintained our standing without decline—that makes you a meritorious servant of the Zhao family.”
“Do you know why Grandfather values me more than First Brother?” Zhao Xiuyuan sighed at his parents. “Second Miss Ji has an innate sensitivity to color. When she adjusts the colors of my design sketches, the woven brocades become more vibrant than First Brother’s. Though she can’t learn the Ji family’s secret formulas, she has an exceptional talent for dyeing silk. If she marries into our family, I’ll build her a dye house—she might even produce better top-grade silk threads than the Ji family. We grew up together and love each other. With her talents, marrying her would only add glory to glory. Does the Zhao family need a bride’s dowry?”
Thinking of First Young Master’s wife Lady Liu’s three shops, Madam Zhao Shen still couldn’t swallow her pride, muttering: “Are you marrying a wife or hiring a dyer?”
Zhao Xiuyuan raised his eyebrows: “I want to marry a woman who can help me reclaim the Brocade Crown for the Zhao family and elevate our brocades to greater heights.”
After long thought, Zhao Bingsong said: “Second Son, if we were to take her as a concubine…”
“She will not suffer the indignity of being a concubine. If the Ji family coveted the Zhao family’s wealth and status, Mrs. Ji would have married my Third Uncle long ago. First Young Master Ji has made it clear—if I don’t marry her, she won’t cling to me.” Zhao Xiuyuan lifted his robe and knelt before his parents. “For my sake and the Zhao family’s sake, I beg you to grant us your blessing.”
The Zhao couple stood up in shock. Before they could speak, Zhao Xiuyuan smiled and said: “Grandfather has already agreed. He praised my judgment and said we could discuss the marriage with the Ji family after the brocade competition.”
The couple exchanged glances, thinking: if the Elder had agreed, how could they object? Zhao Bingsong helped his son up and said: “In that case, your mother and I have no objections. Focus on preparing for the brocade competition these next two months.”
Having easily convinced his parents, Zhao Xiuyuan bowed satisfied, and left.
As soon as he departed, Madam Zhao Shen’s spirit returned: “I just can’t accept Second Miss Ji!”
“The Elder has agreed—don’t cause any more trouble. You’ll only risk Second Son losing his position as future patriarch.” Zhao Bingsong warned his wife, shaking his head with a bitter smile. “How did we end up with such a son? He’s got his parents completely under his thumb.”
Madam Zhao Shen snorted and turned to enter the inner chamber.
Late at night, Mrs. Ji and Ji Yaoting entered the dye house. As they went into the dye room, Old Nanny Ji closed the door and stood guard outside.
The spacious, tall room was lined with dozens of man-height dyeing vats.
Mrs. Ji walked slowly between the vats, remembering when she used to come here late at night with Master Ji. She looked at her son with satisfaction—no matter what, he had grown to seventeen and would marry this year. She prayed to Buddha that Lady Zhang would provide heirs for the Ji family after the wedding. And Yingying was sixteen now—time for her engagement. Today someone from the Zhao family had come, speaking vaguely about intending to form a marriage alliance after the brocade competition. The Zhao family was wealthy and prestigious, and Yingying and Second Young Master Zhao were in love. It would be a good match.
At the back of the room was a small chamber.
“Mother, the key.” Ji Yaoting turned back to find Mrs. Ji lost in thought.
Mrs. Ji snapped back to attention, shaking her head. She was usually extremely focused when mixing dyes. Why was she so distracted today? She collected herself and took out the key to open the door.
The room wasn’t much smaller than the outer area but contained only four dyeing vats. This was where they mixed the dyes.
Long shelves lined all four walls. Fine bamboo baskets held undyed silk threads. Coarse pottery jars contained various dyes.
Mrs. Ji took a black cloth from her sleeve and blindfolded Ji Yaoting. She then took a bundle of silk threads from a basket and handed them to him.
Ji Yaoting took the threads and smiled: “Mother, I’ve handled silk threads since childhood. These feel rough—tussah silk. Tussah silkworms are mostly found in the north, feeding on oak leaves. The color is dull but strong—good for quilt covers.”
“You’ve handled them since childhood, but never again? Skills get rusty without practice.” Mrs. Ji chided him gently, handing him another bundle of silk.
“This is mulberry silk, but not from our region—should be from Jiangnan.”
“This bundle isn’t degummed well enough for top-grade silk.”
“Both bundles are top-grade silk, but this one feels slightly rougher, not as smooth as the other.”
After Ji Yaoting finished identifying the silk, Mrs. Ji removed the blindfold and said softly: “The silk from various prefectures in the Jiannan Circuit has uniform thickness and gentle luster—perfect for weaving Shu brocade. Our Ji family’s Shu red silk is a shade brighter than others, not just because we select the best threads, but also thanks to our secret formula.”
“Mother, you’ve said this thousands of times.” Ji Yaoting smiled as he lifted the covers of the four dyeing vats, measuring dye from the coarse pottery jars and adding clear water in proper proportions.
Ji Yaoting tied a handkerchief around his forehead, took off his outer robe, wearing only his middle garment as he climbed up the small wooden ladder and began stirring vigorously with a pole.
“Son, do you remember the secret formula I taught you? The order of ingredients cannot be wrong at any step. Remember, we use safflower for red and must add Chinese plum at the end, not rice paste. The cinnabar must be top-grade from Yushan in Pengshui, sifted twelve times until finer than face powder, and the binding agent must include glue made from fish bones. This one extra ingredient is what makes the Ji family’s secret formula. Remember, you can’t tell Yingying a single word—the Ji family’s secret is not passed to daughters.”
“I think she could dye it without the secret formula,” Ji Yaoting muttered.
Mrs. Ji hadn’t heard clearly and looked up to ask: “What did you say?”
“Nothing!”
Worried about sweat dripping into the vats, he didn’t remove his middle garment. After stirring all four vats of dye, Ji Yaoting’s clothes were soaked through.
Sitting aside to catch his breath, he drank the water Mrs. Ji handed him and asked: “With the brocade competition on the ninth of the tenth month approaching, the Zhao family still needs to dye new silk and weave a new brocade painting. Do you think they can beat the Yang family, the Brocade Kings of Yizhou City, this year?”
Mrs. Ji wiped her son’s sweat with a handkerchief, smiling: “The Zhao family is in a hurry, so I accepted two hundred taels of silver as payment. I don’t care who wins the Brocade Crown. I only care about selling our silk.”
Ji Yaoting couldn’t help saying: “Mother, our dye house could dye several hundred more catties of silk each year. Why don’t we?”
“Even with an annual tribute of one to two thousand bolts of brocade, neither the Yang nor Zhao weaving houses can monopolize it. With smaller quantities, other dye houses can still make a living. If we produced too much top-grade silk, we’d be hated for taking others’ rice bowls. Besides, how could we demand such high prices if top-grade silk were easy to dye? Our workshop is small. We couldn’t handle expanding the dye house with so few family members. We couldn’t protect the secret formula either. I just hope for more grandsons so you’ll have help.”
Mrs. Ji had always followed the late Master Ji’s instructions. Precious things should be rare—whether Shu red silk or their signature Huanhua silk, they only used the secret formula to dye three to four hundred catties each year.
Ji Yaoting smiled sheepishly and held his mother’s hand: “You’ve worked so hard, Mother. Once Lady Zhang arrives, you can rest more.”
Her son’s filial piety filled Mrs. Ji’s heart with sweetness: “Now I only worry about your sister’s marriage.”
Ji Yaoting’s heart trembled. Putting on his clothes, he followed Mrs. Ji out with a grin, asking softly: “Mother, someone from the Zhao family came a few days ago?”
Mrs. Ji glanced at him and warned: “Don’t tell Yingying yet. Wait until after the brocade competition, when the Zhao family comes to propose.”
Ji Yaoting was secretly delighted for his sister and nodded in agreement.
Having convinced his parents so easily, he couldn’t help but admire Zhao Xiuyuan.