Qiu Bo stared at Little Fish, who had been standing in the rain at his gate since early morning, and felt his head splitting down the middle. He’d barely managed to send away that bottomless little food barrel yesterday — how on earth had another one turned up today?

“Ahem, Little Fish — didn’t your aunt say she only needed to introduce one person, Mutang, into Xiande Manor?”

Little Fish stepped forward with a smile, warmly hooking her arm through Qiu Bo’s. “Qiu Bo, this is Lady Fang — my good elder sister. You’re already such a kind person; won’t you do her a kindness too and give Sister Fang a chance?”

Qiu Bo raised an eyebrow. So this young woman was the sweetheart of that little food barrel. She looked to be around seventeen or eighteen, nothing particularly striking about her appearance — nowhere near as good-looking as that little food barrel — but those eyes of hers were full of life and spirit, with a quality of upward drive.

Though her frame — really, far too slight and frail.

“Yesterday Mutang came to try out. He’s a grown man and even he fainted from exhaustion. Can a delicate young woman like yourself manage?”

Lin Sui’an cupped her hands respectfully. “Qiu Bo, what you don’t know is that Mutang has been frail since childhood — he lives off other people’s hard work. All the heavy lifting at home falls on me.”

Qiu Bo: “……”

He had to admit, that little food barrel did indeed have the face of someone who lives off other people’s hard work.

Lin Sui’an: “I can do a trial day here at the manor. If I pass muster, you keep me on. If I don’t, you owe me nothing for the day’s work. What do you say?”

Qiu Bo glanced at Little Fish. Little Fish hugged his arm and wheedled, “Whether it works out or not, I’ll send a month’s worth of Hundred-Flower Tea to you and Auntie. Deal?”

Qiu Bo teased, “You’re so invested — you’ve taken a fancy to the Persian boy from the Fang Clinic, haven’t you?”

Little Fish flushed red and made a dismissive sound.

“All right then — a one-day trial.” Qiu Bo patted Little Fish on the head.

Little Fish let out a cheer and went bouncing off toward the street corner. Ita came running over with an answering cry of delight, and the two little rascals leapt up and high-fived midair, knocking each other’s umbrellas clean off. Both Qiu Bo and Lin Sui’an laughed.

“Lady Fang, I’ll say the unpleasant part upfront. If you cannot pass the trial, it doesn’t matter who comes to vouch for you — not even Little Fish.” Qiu Bo said.

“Rest easy, Qiu Bo. I’ve worked hard since I was small, I’m strong, and I can easily do the work of ten people on my own.” Lin Sui’an replied.

Qiu Bo smiled politely, privately unconvinced. This young woman and that little food barrel were really a perfect pair — both of them with mouths bigger than the sky. She’d probably be crying her eyes out before two full hours had passed.

Zhu’s mother stared at the young gentleman standing at her gate with a gift box of pastries, genuinely wondering if her ears had stopped working.

“You said what?”

Hua Yitang smiled his most brilliant smile, pressing the pastries into Zhu’s mother’s arms. “This humble one is of little talent, but wishes to take up a position at Four-Sides Workshop and make something of himself.”

Zhu’s mother was caught between amusement and exasperation. Just what were this young couple up to? Yesterday Lady Fang had shown up with all manner of excuses, wept and wailed about wanting to work at Four-Sides Workshop, and then turned out to know nothing about embroidery, nothing about weaving, and absolutely nothing about pattern-drawing, cutting, or any other step in the process — and on top of that, had destroyed several dozen of the workshop’s needles and several bolts of cloth. She had nearly exhausted herself getting that formidable guest out the door. And now here was this young man again?

“Didn’t Young Master Fang go to Xiande Manor to make his way?” Zhu’s mother asked. “Why come to my Four-Sides Workshop?”

Hua Yitang heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Auntie Zhu, what you don’t know is that I’ve been frail since childhood and can’t handle heavy work. I can only get by on my looks. Xiande Manor’s work was far too grueling — I simply couldn’t do it. When I got home last night and Dr. Fang heard I couldn’t get into Xiande Manor, he gave me quite the scolding. It’s lucky my Lady Fang told me that Four-Sides Workshop is where my talents lie, and that Auntie Zhu is a warm-hearted person with a good nature who is sure to help me.”

He then flashed a gleaming smile. “Chief Clerk Zhu and I have met on several occasions — we’re acquainted, after all. If Auntie Zhu is willing to help me with this, I will spare no effort to persuade Chief Clerk Zhu, hold nothing back, speak till the rivers run dry, and guarantee that he’ll be married within the year and welcoming his second child within three. Auntie, what do you say?”

That last line struck Zhu’s mother right where it hurt most.

Her greatest worry in the world was Zhu Dachang’s marriage. When her son had been away in Nanpu County, there had been nothing she could do but fret from a distance. Now that he was back, she had arranged for him to meet over thirty young women — but Zhu Dachang was impervious to all of it, refusing to marry no matter what, dragging his feet time and again. The Qiu family had even sent over their sixteenth daughter — if this went on much longer, they would surely give offense to the entire Qiu clan, and the Zhu family’s standing in Cheng County would grow more precarious by the day.

Based on her encounter with the young Lady Fang the day before, Zhu’s mother felt she was a woman of decisive character. For this young Lord Mu to have caught her eye at his age, he surely had some talent when it came to matters of the heart. Perhaps having him talk some sense into Zhu Dachang would produce a different result.

Zhu’s mother gave a small nod. “Can you spin thread?”

Hua Yitang shook his head. “Cannot.”

“Can you weave cloth?”

“Never tried.”

“Can you cut fabric or embroider?”

“Never learned.”

Zhu’s mother thought: Is this young man here to make a fool of me?

Hua Yitang bared twelve gleaming white teeth. “I excel at painting and can sketch embroidery patterns.”

Zhu’s mother smiled politely, privately unconvinced. Look at this smooth-tongued rascal — he’s clearly some street urchin who grew up in the alleys. He probably can’t even read a handful of characters, let alone produce anything worth looking at.

Half an hour later.

Zhu’s mother stood gaping at the small mountain of embroidery pattern sketches before her, rubbing her eyelids vigorously.

“Were — were all of these drawn by you?!”

Hua Yitang made an easy bow. “My brushwork is crude — I wonder if any of these will find favor with the ladies?”

“They will, they will, they absolutely will!”

“More than enough!”

The embroidery women and weavers of Four-Sides Workshop had gathered into a crowd, passing the pattern sketches among themselves with gleeful excitement, discussing them in animated voices.

“Oh, look at this peony — just like the real thing, all delicate pink, truly lovely.”

“Quick, look at this plum blossom — the red is red, the black is black, the white is white. It’ll be stunning once it’s embroidered.”

“I think the orchid is best — the stems stand so straight and the petals look so crisp. First time I’ve ever seen an orchid drawn with such spirit.”

“Look — there are landscapes too! We’ve never embroidered landscapes before. What stitching technique would we even use?”

Zhu’s mother carefully picked up several sheets, her astonishment growing with each one. She was no scholar of painting, but ten years of needlework had given her some discernment when it came to embroidery patterns.

An embroidery pattern is different from an ordinary painting. Some paintings look lovely but cannot actually be translated into embroidery. Others look plain but produce heirloom pieces when stitched — the intricacies are difficult to explain to an outsider. Even after ten years of the craft, she had only scratched the surface.

A good embroidery pattern, she had come to believe, could be assessed on three levels: “Simple,” “Exquisite,” and “Alive.”

“Simple” referred to the linework of the pattern — clean, clear, and unambiguous, with no clutter of unnecessary or vague strokes. The standard for smooth, flowing brushwork was exceptionally high; only a painter with a true mastery of fine-line technique could achieve it.

The second level, “Exquisite,” was about the “atmosphere” of the pattern. Embroidered goods were mostly worn or displayed, and what clients prized most were patterns that conveyed auspiciousness and prosperity. This quality of “joyful radiance” was very difficult to control, requiring years of devoted practice before even a hint of it could be achieved.

The highest level, “Alive,” meant having “vitality” — flowers must bloom, grass must be tender, butterflies must seem to fly, and water must seem to flow. The brushwork must carry “spirit.” If “Simple” and “Exquisite” could be attained through dedicated effort, then “Alive” was a matter of pure natural talent.

An ordinary embroidery pattern artist who achieved the first level of “Simple” had already done something commendable. One who reached “Exquisite” could count themselves among the ranks of high-level pattern artists. Those who truly grasped the level of “Alive” — across the entire nation of Tang — were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. This Mutang’s patterns, while not quite reaching the realm of “Alive,” had attained “Simple” and “Exquisite” at their absolute peak. To Zhu’s mother’s knowledge, only the top-tier embroidery houses in Yangdu and Yidu could afford a pattern artist of this caliber.

“Young Lord Mu, did you perhaps work in a large embroidery house before?” Zhu’s mother asked.

Hua Yitang: “I spent a few years in Yangdu in the past and picked up a few things through observation.”

Zhu’s mother felt a surge of elation in her heart — what a prize she had stumbled upon.

The embroidery women were equally thrilled, crowding around Hua Yitang with their pattern sheets to ask for his guidance. Hua Yitang turned no one away, patiently answering every question — whether about variations in stitching technique or the balance of thread colors, he spoke to each point with clarity and authority, carrying himself with the ease of a true master.

Zhu’s mother watched for a good while, thoroughly satisfied. “Young Lord Mu, starting today, you’ll work at Four-Sides Workshop. The daily wage is ten coins — how does that suit you?”

Hua Yitang gave a bright, warm smile and clasped his hands. “Many thanks, Auntie Zhu. This humble one will devote every effort to painting the finest embroidery patterns I can!”

Qiu Bo stood with his jaw dropped, staring at the mountain of firewood piled up in the courtyard, rubbing his eyelids vigorously, convinced he was seeing things.

Lin Sui’an stood under the eave, an axe over her shoulder, brushing the rain-soaked fringe out of her eyes, and smiled. “All the wood in the woodshed has been chopped. Qiu Bo, are you satisfied?”

Qiu Bo: “You chopped all of this yourself?”

Lin Sui’an nodded.

“In half an hour?”

“Fifteen minutes, to be exact,” Lin Sui’an said. “Once I finished the chopping, I noticed the water vats over there were empty — so I carried a few extra buckets to fill them as well.”

Qiu Bo rushed to the kitchen, lifted the lid off the nearest vat, and looked inside. All ten large vats were filled to the brim. His eyes nearly fell out of his head.

Under ordinary circumstances, that amount of firewood would take three people three full days to chop. Those ten vats of water would take five people two full hours to fill. Yet this — this Lady Fang had done it all on her own.

“You — you really did all of this yourself?” Qiu Bo couldn’t believe it and asked again.

Lin Sui’an smiled. “I was born with great natural strength. Work like this is nothing to me.”

Qiu Bo was nearly fifty years old and had seen his share of gifted individuals — but someone with raw physical strength like this was simply something he had never heard of in all his days. He thought it over and decided he still wasn’t entirely confident.

“Xiande Manor’s business can’t be done on brute force alone,” Qiu Bo said. “Lady Fang, would you be willing to take a turn with me in the training ground?”

Well now — after a whole morning’s work, the main event had finally arrived.

Lin Sui’an was overjoyed inside, but kept her face perfectly neutral. “I am entirely at Qiu Bo’s disposal.”

Based on Hua Yitang’s description, Xiande Manor was a six-courtyard estate. Qiu Bo led Lin Sui’an in through a side gate, and their movements were confined to the woodshed, kitchen, and storehouse — the outermost fringe of the manor. To investigate what lay at Xiande Manor’s core, she would need to find a way deeper into the inner compound.

Exiting the outer courtyard, they came to a Qingzhou-style covered walkway that encircled the entire manor. Following the walkway through left and right turns, passing through two small corner gates, they arrived at a broad and open sandy ground — roughly the size of two basketball courts — with gates at the south and north ends and elevated walkways built along all four sides, but no other structures. A full month of rain had washed the fine gravel clean and gleaming, like a scattering of tiny crushed gems across the ground.

On the east and west sides stood seven or eight tiers of weapons racks, with broadswords, spears, straight swords, halberds, axes, crescent blades, hooks, and fork-spears arranged by category — each blade gleaming with cold, wet light in the fine drizzle.

A dozen or more burly men sat lounging on the covered walkways with their feet up, picking at snacks, drinking aged spirits, and chattering noisily. When they saw Qiu Bo, they promptly stood and greeted him: “Qiu Bo, well met.”

Qiu Bo stepped aside, revealing Lin Sui’an behind him. “This is Lady Fang. She’s looking for a position at Xiande Manor, and I’ve brought her along to test her mettle.”

The burly men looked at one another, then — pfft — burst out laughing as one.

“Qiu Bo, you really know how to tell a good joke! This little woman isn’t even as thick as a willow branch — how could she possibly handle the kind of work we do at Xiande?”

“Little miss, you’d be better off going to Four-Sides Workshop to embroider and weave. That’s what women are supposed to do.”

“Qiu Bo, even if we’re short-handed, we can’t just take anyone who shows up. Yesterday you brought us a little food barrel — one man eating the rations of three, but apart from eating, completely useless. Today it’s even more absurd — you’ve brought a little slip of a girl. Take a look at those arms and legs — one sneeze from me and they’d snap clean off.”

At the mention of yesterday’s little food barrel Mutang, Qiu Bo felt his own face flush with embarrassment. He gave a dry cough. “Yesterday was a lapse in my judgment. Today’s candidate —” he glanced at Lin Sui’an and thought: today can’t possibly go wrong again, can it?

Wait — this young woman had been so talkative just now, so why had she suddenly gone quiet? Could it be that these fierce, intimidating men had frightened her witless?

Lin Sui’an was not frightened in the least. She was busy studying the men across from her: judging by height, build, and muscle distribution, they were all strength-based fighters. Looking at their shoe soles, she noted that the heels were worn much more than the toes — they rarely used the balls of their feet for quick movement, meaning their bodily agility was poor. When they’d laughed just now, the sound was loud but the breath behind it unsteady, the core hollow —

It seemed Jin Ruo was right. The fighters Xiande Manor had recruited were second-rate at best.

This posed a certain problem, Lin Sui’an thought. If she fought at her true level, these dozen-odd men wouldn’t be enough to give her a decent warm-up. But the issue was that she had just made a spectacular scene at Dragon God Temple — if her abilities were exposed, and given the ties between Xiande Manor and Dragon God Temple, Shanren Xuanming would identify her in an instant, and all the protective cover they had built would be destroyed in one fell swoop.

So winning wasn’t the problem. The point was to win in a way that left no trace — to win without revealing her true martial arts or movement techniques.

“I saw this young woman yesterday — she does have some strength to her.” Qiu Laoba stepped out from among the men, and raised his hands respectfully toward Lin Sui’an. “Qiu Laoba nominates himself. Your move, please!”

With that, he swung his wolf-tooth club and leaped into the training ground.

The men erupted in cheers. Qiu Bo made a gesture inviting Lin Sui’an forward.

Lin Sui’an’s heart was quietly pounding. She walked slowly onto the training ground. Qiu Laoba watched carefully, and seeing that Lin Sui’an had no intention of taking any weapon, was visibly puzzled. “Lady Fang, are you planning to face me barehanded?”

“I’ve never learned to use weapons,” Lin Sui’an said with an awkward smile.

For this visit to Xiande Manor, she hadn’t even brought Qian Jing on her person, let alone a weapon. If she picked one up and her muscle memory triggered the techniques from the Ten Purity Collection, she’d be exposed immediately.

Qiu Laoba’s expression sobered. His wolf-tooth club let out a hum as he raised it and charged straight at her.

“Laoba, mighty!”

“Don’t shame our manor!”

“Attack!”

The men hollered and cheered.

Lin Sui’an fixed her eyes on Qiu Laoba’s movements. With her dynamic field of vision, his speed was tragically slow. The wolf-tooth club swings were wide-open and undisciplined — generous on power, nonexistent on technique. The defense was practically zero, the footing unstable, and the momentum of the heavy club threatened to throw him off balance with every swing —

While these thoughts passed through her mind, Qiu Laoba had already charged within reach. The wolf-tooth club whistled through the air and came crashing down toward the crown of her head. Lin Sui’an calmly angled her body sideways and dropped her shoulder — the club skimmed past the tip of her nose. Qiu Laoba’s swing was already fully spent; the enormous momentum of the weapon was pulling his whole body out of balance. Lin Sui’an unhurriedly sank into her stance, flipped her hand upward and slapped the inside of Qiu Laoba’s elbow from below. Qiu Laoba let out a yell — the wolf-tooth club flew from his grip. Lin Sui’an smoothly followed through, turning her palm downward and driving her elbow forward to strike Qiu Laoba in the abdomen. Qiu Laoba shot backward like a burst sack of flour — slamming into the ground a full ten-plus paces away, landing in a tremendous crash.

The entire training ground went dead silent. Qiu Laoba was in too much pain to cry out. The watching men had lost their voices. Qiu Bo forgot to breathe.

To their eyes, all they had seen was Qiu Laoba charging in — and then the young woman seemed to flicker out of existence and back again — a snap and a crack — the wolf-tooth club and Qiu Laoba were simultaneously airborne. As for what her feet had done, and exactly how her hands had struck, none of them had caught a single detail.

Lin Sui’an assumed a neutral stance and let out a sigh of genuine regret.

The truth was, she had originally planned to exchange three to five moves with Qiu Laoba before seizing an opportunity to pretend she’d barely squeaked out a win. Unfortunately, her actual level of skill simply didn’t permit such subtlety.

Crisp, clear applause suddenly rang out — clap, clap, clap. A white-haired, white-bearded elder strolled along the covered walkway, smiling and clapping.

“Impressive technique.”

Qiu Bo and the men were instantly on high alert. They all bowed in unison. “Our respects to the Manor Lord!”

“I am the master of Xiande Manor, Qiu Wen,” the elder said with a smile. “I wonder, Lady Fang, if you would honor me by joining me in the garden for tea?”

Well now — look at that bearing, that air, that manner of dress. A new boss character, perhaps?

Lin Sui’an’s interest was immediately piqued. She smiled and clasped her hands. “I would not dare to refuse.”