The Zhao family’s Treasure Collection Pavilion was a compound of courtyards. The central path led to the ancestral hall. The eastern side housed the Zhao family’s collection of precious brocades, while the western courtyard contained a small weaving workshop.
After their initial education at age five, the Zhao family’s direct heirs spent half of each day studying in this compound. The curriculum included the history and culture of Shu brocade, stories of Zhao family brocades, as well as learning how to weave, identify silk threads, and judge craftsmanship quality. In short, it was a life journey of becoming a brocade expert.
Three side rooms had been combined into one spacious workshop containing four looms.
The looms were built from bamboo and wood, with thousands of parts joined by wooden wedges. They could be dismantled and reassembled as needed for different patterns.
The compound’s gate was locked behind Zhao Xiuyuan. From now on, he and six carefully selected master weavers would live and work here, taking shifts day and night until they completed the competition brocade.
“Let’s begin,” Zhao Xiuyuan said calmly.
This Lingjiang Xian chrysanthemum brocade had his poetic design, and color matching refined by the Zhao family’s master weavers and their hereditary weaving techniques. He believed no better brocade could be produced by the Zhao family for this year’s competition.
As night deepened, the creaking sounds of the loom mechanisms spread through the air.
Outside the courtyard, Elder Master Zhao lingered, reluctant to leave.
For over twenty years, they had hoped each year to win fame in the competition, only to fail each time. Sometimes they had matched the first-place winner but still missed the crown. The Yang family had become synonymous with the Brocade King title, their connections with officials growing ever closer. For the Zhao family to reclaim the title would be incredibly difficult.
The words “Brocade King” weighed like a mountain on the hearts of the Zhao family.
Elder Master Zhao was greatly comforted that Zhao Xiuyuan had pulled back from blindly placing his confidence in Second Miss Ji. He felt increasingly confident in choosing him as the next family head.
However, his desire to win back the Brocade King plaque for the Zhao family was so urgent that Elder Master Zhao couldn’t help wondering if Second Miss Ji might indeed think of better color combinations.
In the main courtyard’s Moon Brocade Hall, Madam Zhao was sneering: “If we let that Second Miss Ji come up with something, wouldn’t that be a slap in the face to our Zhao family? Is our hundred-year family heritage worth nothing? Less than a dye shop girl? I think our Second Young Master is simply besotted with her, so afraid she’ll be slighted after marrying into the Zhao family that he’s trying to elevate her status in advance.”
This time Zhao Binsung didn’t contradict her. He didn’t think his wife’s words were wrong. Yet he recalled what his son had said when asking to marry Second Miss Ji: “Do you know why Grandfather values me more than Elder Brother? When my designs are recolored by her, the resulting brocades are more vibrant than Elder Brother’s.”
He was secretly shocked—could it be that his son, who had always outshone his elder brother at home, wasn’t as excellent as imagined? Zhao Binsung was frightened by his thoughts.
At this crucial moment of competing for both the position of future family head and the Brocade King title, he dared not reveal his thoughts.
Fortunately, Second Miss Ji had said she couldn’t match better colors. Hopefully, this chrysanthemum brocade would surpass the Yang family’s Ten Pattern Brocade.
After several days of observation, Ji Yingying felt as if a veil covered her eyes. The idea was right there, needing only the veil to be lifted to grasp it. Like a mischievous child, it had her chasing until she was dog-tired.
Under Madam Ji’s instructions, Ling’er boldly tried to persuade her, only to have Ji Yingying point at her nose and scold her for nagging like a married woman, suggesting she might as well be married off to become one truly. Neither maid dared say another word of persuasion.
Ji Yingying observed for three days. Early this morning, she finally stretched her neck, yawned, and stood up from her chair: “I need to go out for a walk.”
Xiang’er automatically stepped forward. Ji Yingying, as if suddenly conscience-stricken, pointed to Ling’er: “Xiang’er, have someone return these flowers to Mother and Brother. I’ll bring you back some brown sugar pancakes.”
As she walked out, she noticed no one following. Turning back to see Ling’er helping Xiang’er clean up, Ji Yingying said impatiently: “Ling’er, I’m talking to you. Come with me.”
Ling’er looked at her uncertainly.
“You’ve been tired these past few days, come shopping with me for fun.”
Xiang’er suppressed a smile as she pushed Ling’er, whispering: “The Miss has a sharp tongue but a soft heart, hurry along.”
That the Miss would actually want her service brought tears to Ling’er’s eyes, and she hurriedly followed Ji Yingying.
Madam Ji knew Ji Yingying was concerned about the Zhao family’s brocade. Seeing her no longer obsessing, she generously gave her a hundred coins: “Go buy some snacks. Bring back some of Zhang’s cold bean jelly when you return.”
Ji Yingying agreed, had Ling’er pocket the money purse, and happily set out.
On this clear autumn day, the mistress and maid strolled along Huanhua Stream. Groups of women washing silk and cloth gathered by the river, their colorful materials dyeing the sunlit water in brilliant hues, like a flowing rainbow of dyes. Vendors selling specifically to women set up snack stalls along the bank. Others carried poles with tofu pudding, cold bean jelly, and noodles, calling out their wares along the river.
“Tofu pudding seller, two bowls!” Following Ji Yingying’s words, Ling’er called a vendor.
The vendor set down his load under a tree, lifted the wooden bucket’s lid, and steam rose from the trembling white tofu pudding that made one’s eyes dance.
“Extra fried soybeans, please.”
“Coming right up!”
The vendor took out bowls and chopsticks from the other bucket on his pole, using a wooden ladle to carefully scoop two bowls along the edges of the tofu pudding. He added sesame oil, soy sauce, and vinegar. Diced pickled brown mustard greens were sprinkled on top, followed by a layer of green scallions and fresh cilantro. He added two small spoonfuls of crispy fried soybeans and finally took out a tiny porcelain bottle to carefully sprinkle some ground pepper.
The distinct colors and fragrant aroma were mouthwatering.
Ji Yingying and Ling’er each took a bowl and sat under the large tree to eat.
Nearby stood a house whose back garden faced Huanhua Stream, with a bamboo fence for its wall. A rose bush climbed the fence. As the weather was still warm, the roses hadn’t completely withered, pink and white flowers dotting the branches and leaves, creating a lovely sight.
Ji Yingying shook her head—she had become foolish from looking at flowers these past days, staring at every bloom she saw. She lowered her head to eat a spoonful of tofu pudding.
Just then, a white horse came trotting along. It was truly beautiful, without a single mixed-colored hair. Its saddle and bridle were made of brilliant silver, extremely magnificent. The rider wore a white brocade robe with curling grass patterns. His flowing brocade clothes were dazzling.
Ji Yingying and Ling’er couldn’t help but stare at him.
The rider happened to stop outside that small courtyard’s back gate.
An elderly man who had been watering flowers in the back garden put down his water scoop to open the door, bowing to the brocade-clad rider and welcoming him inside.
Ji Yingying, spoon in mouth, sneered: “Young Master Yang, you dare come to Sandaoyan?”
As if finding a new source of excitement, Ji Yingying quickly finished her tofu pudding and tiptoed over. Without looking back, she ordered: “Stay right here and wait for me.”
Holding her bowl, Ling’er dared not disobey. She quickly finished her tofu pudding, paid the vendor six coins, and stood under the tree watching her mistress approach the house’s courtyard like a thief.
Ji Yingying walked to the fence, bent down to brush aside the branches, and peered inside.
Yang Jingyuan’s horse snorted, pawing the ground anxiously.
Ji Yingying moved forward.
No longer crouching behind the horse, it gradually lost its anxiety and tilted its head curiously to watch her.
Yang Jingyuan and the elderly man were inside. Through the window, she could see them sitting knee to knee, the elder taking out a scroll that Yang Jingyuan was examining.
Ji Yingying watched for a while, seeing the elder bring out tea implements and begin brewing. She knew Yang Jingyuan wouldn’t leave anytime soon.
“How should I teach him a lesson?” Her eyes rolled mischievously as she turned back to see the white horse watching her with curious glass-like eyes. Ji Yingying smiled.