After winter set in, two events occurred in Yandu. Several of the officials responsible for opening the gates of Zuoliang Pass and causing its fall were removed from office. Among the ringleaders, two families fled overnight with their households and vanished without a trace; word among the common folk had it they’d died at the hands of the Tan people.
Ordinarily, once a person died, the debt died with them—with no way to prove otherwise, the matter would simply end there. Who could have guessed that these two families had instead fled to a foreign land, only to be secretly sent back in the end—all twenty-some members of both households, not a single one having escaped, transported back locked in animal cages from some place called Gaoxi.
This frightened quite a number of people. Watching the emperor grow ever more formidable—that even those who committed crimes in Daliang and fled abroad could be captured down to the last person and brought back to face justice—the Yang family’s hold on the throne seemed unfathomably deep.
These two unlucky households were captured in a state of confusion, but their deaths were anything but careless. Despite it being the wrong season for executions, His Majesty personally fasted and confessed before Heaven, then sentenced them to the cruel punishment of extermination of three generations of kin—killing the chicken to warn the monkeys, so to speak.
He gave them no chance to see the New Year. His Majesty’s meaning was clear: of all crimes in this world, treason alone could never be forgiven.
Yandu once again ran with blood. While the common people applauded, some with guilty consciences found their steps growing lighter as they walked, and even the court gambling dens that used to operate openly had gone quiet, gathering dust.
No one dared casually send out invitations or deliberately provoke the tiger’s whiskers.
Once the executions were complete, Emperor Wu did something else—he took the Buddhist ritual objects gathered during the campaign to unify the realm and divided them in two, bestowing half upon North Huguo Temple and half upon South Huguo Temple. This made things all the more interesting.
As for Meng Dingchen, he was thoroughly displeased, and during this period hadn’t brought a single new lady of pleasure into his household.
But the court was the court, and the common folk were the common folk—no matter how much of a stir things caused in Yandu, it was still someone else’s family business.
There were plenty of officials in the capital, and everyone had seen enough rises and falls, births and deaths.
Gossip from out of town that lingered for months would circulate endlessly in the capital too—there was fresh talk every single day.
Only a few years separated the two dynasties. The current reign was known for its leniency, but the previous dynasty hadn’t been without its cases of extermination to the ninth degree of kinship either. To those who had never witnessed a family’s estate confiscated and its line wiped out, it was easy to say lightly, “What’s the big deal? We’ve seen plenty of this before, no need to even look.”
And so, the gatherings among noble ladies and young mistresses went on as always. Only, since the bamboo-cottage chess tragedy hadn’t happened too long ago, poetry gatherings and chess meetings all felt somewhat inappropriate for the moment. So the eldest lady of the Tang family brought out her family’s heirloom Treasured Embroidery Manual and planned to host a needlework gathering instead.
This lady was never one to sit idle, and naturally Qinwei Lane received its share of invitations, which was a mark of prestige.
Qiqian’er had never attended a gathering like this before. After receiving the invitation, she called Zhang Wanru and the others over to ask, “Do you think this means they want us to compare needlework? I haven’t done any embroidery in ages.”
Zhang Wanru covered her mouth and laughed. “What are you saying, sister-in-law? This is just a gathering for bored ladies to gossip—needlework? Ask around all of Quanhou Street, how many head-of-household wives actually do needlework themselves?”
Qiqian’er pointed at her own nose, laughing. “Me.”
Madam Lu laughed too. “Don’t count yourself—you’re different from everyone else.”
Qiqian’er blinked, then pointed, somewhat indignantly, at Ding Yuniang, who sat with her head bowed over her needlework. Zhang Wanru immediately swatted her hand with the back-scratcher she was holding.
Ding Yuniang, unable to hear, muttered under her breath, “Our sister-in-law can’t hear us—Elder Madam Tang didn’t even send her an invitation.”
To be blunt, both sides felt awkward about it—every time, Elder Sister-in-law Ding ended up doing needlework at other people’s houses. She felt the two households weren’t far apart, so it seemed natural to help out with needlework there, but neither side wanted to bring it up directly.
Ding Yuniang looked up and smiled, and seeing everyone else smiling too, she lowered her head again to keep mending, patching up all the spots on Yu Qingguan’s new clothes that wore out easily.
There was nothing to be done about it—it was simply an inborn shortcoming. What else could they do but have the whole lane’s sisters-in-law look after her? They were one family, after all, and no one dared look down on her for it.
Qiqian’er sent someone to Quanqian Street to fetch Da Niu over to discuss matters, since her mother couldn’t attend and the Yu household needed someone to represent the family’s domestic affairs when going out. Fortunately, Da Niu managed the household quite well; with her aunts looking out for her, she’d grown accustomed to it and had made friends among the other ladies, so in the future she’d be able to take her younger sister out in society like an elder sister standing in for their mother.
As for Yuniang, she could do as she pleased—her health wasn’t good, so everyone simply hoped she’d live long and comfortably; no one troubled her with anything difficult.
Once Siyue had left, Qiqian’er turned to ask Zhang Wanru, “This is my first time attending this kind of gathering—clearly we’re supposed to bring something along?”
Zhang Wanru nodded. “Of course you bring something. That elder madam brought out her family’s heirloom embroidery manual—did you think that manual was just some ordinary thing? Honestly, I’ve long heard of it and admired it endlessly. Just this one volume covers preparing embroidery, guiding the needle, needle techniques, pattern formulas, finished-piece grading, and eight chapters on embroidery essentials. Just take the ‘preparing embroidery’ section alone—my family’s heirloom copy covers frames, scissors, needles, and thread in barely a dozen pages, but theirs is stacked volume upon volume, several feet high.”
Hearing this, Qiqian’er felt a pang of longing too, sighing, “Something so precious—whoever manages to learn it would have a skill to support a family for generations, enough for a married-out daughter to protect herself for life. And to think she’s willing to share it.”
Zhang Wanru said, “What are you talking about—she doesn’t even know embroidery herself! None of the ladies in her circle rely on this to support a family. These are just generations of experience compiled by the Li family’s needlework workshop—the fruits of those needlework women’s labor.”
Madam Lu added, “The Tang household probably doesn’t even look at it themselves. Frankly, it’s just to live up to those flowery phrases—virtuous hands, embroidery that could ‘carve clouds and cut the moon’—reputations that noble ladies love to boast about. Besides, among proper families, which young lady goes out purely intending to do needlework? Only small, humble households value being clever with their hands, working the stove and fields. My family used to run an embroidery workshop back in the day—plenty of madams and ladies secretly bought embroidered pieces at high prices, then claimed afterward it was their own daughters’ handiwork. And that’s just among ordinary families. As for someone like Elder Madam Tang, she married in with her own embroidery and weaving maids in tow. It’s a good thing we were born here in Qingfeng Prefecture—the place is so grand, nothing seems rare anymore.”
In her previous life, Qiqian’er’s social circle had all been the likes of the Wan and Yang families.
Back in the manor, even Madam Wang had personally sewn undergarments for her late husband to show she was accomplished both within and without, virtuous and capable.
Who would have thought there was more to it than that?
Zhang Wanru said, “Doing needlework is really just something we do to pass the time, but if Elder Madam Tang only did that, Official Tang wouldn’t be pleased. If anything, he’d be delighted for his wife to host more elegant gatherings—after all, the Tang family are newcomers here. Every household is different, each in its own way.”
Qiqian’er nodded seriously, feigning understanding. “That’s exactly it—but if the elder madam is bringing out her embroidery manual, what will you bring?”
Zhang Wanru blinked. “My mother prepared several sets for me long ago. I’m planning to bring a few volumes of belt-pattern books. My family’s not that wealthy, so this book everyone already has—my sisters-in-law and cousins all use these too whenever there’s a needlework gathering.”
Belt-pattern books referred to guides on the various color pairings, weaves, and inlay styles for sashes.
She finished, then said proudly, “You wouldn’t believe it—once there was a needlework gathering at a vice minister’s household in the capital. My aunt took my younger sister, and when they arrived, they discovered that even among my own sisters-in-law, four of them had brought the exact same set. Hah!”
Zhang Wanru laughed so hard she nearly doubled over, but Madam Lu sighed. “You official-family young ladies really don’t know the value of firewood and rice, not having to manage a household yourselves. Do you know how my family’s embroidery workshop finally went under? It was because we were too close to Yandu—no matter how much silver you spent hiring the finest embroiderers, or how much money you quietly gathered up new patterns with, you still couldn’t keep up with how fast the capital’s fashions changed. People just had to walk a bit further to buy goods straight from the capital instead.
Back then, I was especially fascinated by these kinds of needlework gatherings, and desperately tried to curry favor with the young ladies and madams who came to our shop, hoping they’d take me along a few times. I figured if I got the chance, I wouldn’t do anything else—just copy down the patterns, and that alone would keep my family’s business going for generations. Hmph, but they looked down on me back then, sneering that I was just a merchant’s daughter.”
Madam Pan and Madam Chai, sitting off to the side drinking tea, couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer.
Madam Lu rolled her eyes. “What are you laughing at? Don’t tell me you two have one as well?”
Madam Pan nodded. “We do, but it belongs to my sister-in-law’s maiden family. My own family’s too humble for something like that—my sister-in-law’s family is much the same, just one worn-out old leaf-dyeing recipe book that everyone in the capital already has. My sisters and I all take that one out whenever we go, though no one ever really looks at it anyway.”
Madam Chai said, “My family has quite a few pattern books—I could just grab any one of them and it’d do.”
She then turned to Madam Lu. “Now that you can have your wish, sister-in-law, copy as much as you like tomorrow—no need to stand on ceremony with me. Whatever my family has, feel free to copy it.”
But now Madam Lu no longer cared for such things. She waved her hand helplessly. “Where would I even find the time for that? Busy from morning to night every single day—sitting down to sew a garment for my husband is already my idea of rest. As for your brother—I won’t even go into it. Born under the fifth phase of earth, layered thick as ash—he can’t just walk anywhere, he practically rolls in and rolls out. This household, inside and out, rests entirely on my shoulders. The children are still small too. I don’t get to enjoy such luxuries these days.”
The other ladies nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of her words.
Madam Lu sighed. “Now that I have some free time, I keep thinking back—back when I lived at my maiden family’s home, above the shop. Sometimes I’d read, sometimes I’d embroider, and when I got bored I’d crack the window open just a sliver and peek outside. My father always scolded me for not being proper about it, and I’d get so annoyed—thinking, once I’m married, no one will nag me anymore. Who would have thought—that turned out to be the best time of my whole life.”
Her words struck a chord with all the ladies present. In Qinwei Lane, “leisure” meant leisure in terms of household connections, but the actual toil—both physical and mental—was something no household’s wife could match.
Whether or not you had a mother-in-law, there was always some difficulty—no one escaped without suffering some hidden hardship or another.
And so, even Qiqian’er found herself nodding along with a sigh.
Madam Chai thought of how Cui Erdian never asked what was on her mind—handing over his salary each month, he felt he’d done his duty. Yet she longed to share her heart with the person she’d spend her whole life with, to truly connect.
Her mother had told her not to be ungrateful, that it would ruin her fortune, so she strove to be the best wife she could be.
Meanwhile, Pan Baqiao thought that she seemed to have grown up all at once the moment she married—her husband turned into something like a monkey. While other wives followed their husbands’ lead in proper harmony, she spent every day unable to find her husband on the ground, having to search in trees and hidden corners for him instead.
Her elder brother had told her that her husband was a man who’d suffered great hardship and carried old wounds in his heart, that she’d married well above her station and should be grateful. But when would she ever get to open her eyes each morning and simply see her husband beside her? And when would he stop sleeping while clutching that terrifying great blade of his?
As for Zhang Wanru, she was rather content with her lot, though she did look down on Tong Jintai for secretly hoarding private funds. She had her own dowry, so that didn’t bother her much, but what she couldn’t stand was reaching for her husband in bed at midnight only to find, instead, a griddle cake or a large steamed bun. Those were the mild cases—whenever he came back from a banquet, she’d often find chicken legs or chicken carcasses in the bed, and once even an entire duck, greasy and dripping, which she’d fished out with her own hands.
She’d clutched her hundred-pattern quilt worth a hundred strings of cash and cried, watching him gnaw on that duck in his sleep.
He’d finished the entire thing while still fast asleep.
Indeed, it seemed all of Lao Dao’s sons-in-law shared this peculiar habit of eating in their dreams with their eyes closed.
Qiqian’er, noticing everyone’s odd expressions, asked curiously, “What’s wrong with all of you? Is something troubling you?”
Madam Pan shook her head immediately. “Not at all. My husband denies me nothing.”
Madam Chai added, “My only trouble is with those manor estates—I still haven’t sorted them out properly, and I’m learning from my maiden family about it now.”
Zhang Wanru also broke into a sweet smile. “What are you talking about? I’m so idle—eating well, drinking well every day. My husband treats my parents better than their own son would, and turns away anyone who tries to send people into our household. What trouble could I possibly have? None! I was just thinking—this year, big treasure-flower patterned robes seem to be all the fashion in the capital, and I haven’t made a single one. What will I even wear tomorrow?”
Madam Chai immediately chimed in, nodding awkwardly with a smile. “Exactly, exactly. What will we wear tomorrow?”
In the end, whatever happened under the covers—teeth-grinding, farting, duck-gnawing and all—stayed strictly a private matter. To speak of it outside would be foolish, so no one did. As far as anyone else knew, they were the happiest household-managing wives in all of Daliang.
Everyone said Qiqian’er handled everything, inside and out, without a single misstep in managing the entire household. There wasn’t a soul who could claim any hardship or grievance in front of her—except this one sister-in-law.
Madam Pan, who guarded money most carefully and managed her household best, went out only in a handful of proper, dignified outfits, feeling no need to chase trends. She turned to Qiqian’er with a smile instead. “Sister-in-law, which pattern book will you be bringing?”
Qiqian’er didn’t have anything of the sort. Her skills had been built on a foundation from the needlework women at the manor in her earlier years, and after becoming a widow, she’d picked up more from various aunts and figured out the rest herself.
Now that the household had two needlework rooms, she was too busy to think much about such things.
The old madam’s side had one needlework room; the weaving workshop over at the princely residence had seventeen rooms, employing over thirty people whose sole job was making clothes for their family alone.
Positions like overall supervisor, warp-and-weft manager, those in charge of round warps, flat gold thread, colored floss, counting threads, pattern books, embroiderers, fabric inspectors, pattern-catchers, flower artisans, loom operators—whatever the case, even a single plain-colored sash her own father casually wore took these people half a month of work to produce. The family never wore clothes bought from outside.
She and Chen Dasheng, on the other hand, were the least particular about such things—they even bought ready-made fabric from shops in Yandu for A’Nai to sew and wear herself, which made Father somewhat disapproving, saying they didn’t know how to enjoy life’s comforts.
But—with several storehouses full of fine silks and satins, eating well and dressing warmly, wasn’t that already enjoying life’s comforts? How much more comfort could one want?
Seeing the sisters-in-law asking which pattern book she’d bring, when they already had needlework rooms, did they really still need pattern books too?
Qiqian’er was straightforward with the old madam, straightforward with her own family, but with these ladies—showing weakness wasn’t an option! It was just some needlework nonsense, wasn’t it… Well, when in doubt, call for Jixiang.
Qiqian’er lifted her head and smiled at everyone. “So many of them—how would I know which one to bring?”
Before anyone could press further, she quickly called toward the door. “Sister Jixiang.”
Jixiang’s wife came in smiling, greeting all the ladies present, then turned to Qiqian’er. “Does my lady have instructions?”
With everyone watching, Qiqian’er couldn’t so much as blink wrong. Steeling herself, she put on an expression as though to say our family has mountains of these books, and even if we don’t, you’d better conjure some up for me, and asked, “The Tang family lady on the street has brought out that Treasured Embroidery Manual to host a needlework gathering—which one should we bring?”
Jixiang’s wife answered with an unchanged expression, “In reply to my lady, our old estate has plenty of these. Why not send someone to fetch a few from the capital for you to choose from?”
Ah. Safe.
Qiqian’er cleared her throat and said, feigning indifference, “No need to go to such trouble—just use what we already have here, bring it along casually to make up the numbers. They won’t even look closely anyway!”
Jixiang’s wife smiled. “You’re quite right, my lady. It’s just that our She family’s collection is far richer than the Tang family’s—their few volumes are old things, while ours are much finer. We currently have on hand Hairpin Flowers, Pattern Compendium, and Color Pairing Record—all former palace pattern books that go with everything. Please choose which one you’d like to use.”
We have things like this at home? Why didn’t I know about it?
Qiqian’er wanted to ask but held herself back. She had no idea that, in matters of needlework and clothing these days, the family first had to report to the managing steward’s wife, who would then consult the weaving workshop at the princely residence in Yandu, which would provide the matching pattern books for them to select thread colors and cut fabric themselves upon return.
The household stewards here weren’t ordinary ones—there were things Qiqian’er simply didn’t need to oversee in detail.
As for Qiqian’er, her understanding only extended to knowing how much fabric cost, how much firewood, cotton, and fur cost each year. In the end, her background wasn’t especially high, and there were things she simply didn’t know she should be keeping track of.
She Qingling knew she had this shortcoming but didn’t press her on it, instead letting her grow and discover things gradually, just as Chen Dasheng had.
And today, it seemed, was one such moment of growth.
Qiqian’er thought it over and, since she truly didn’t know, admitted as much, asking with a smile despite the audience, “Hairpin Flowers sounds like something for artisans. For a needlework gathering, you mentioned Pattern Compendium and Color Pairing Record—what exactly are those like?”
Jixiang’s wife replied, “In reply to my lady, since you favor wearing ready-made brocades, you use fewer patterns. This volume is suited to the old madam’s tastes—cloud patterns, treasure-flower patterns, eight-treasure patterns, longevity-character patterns, flower-bud patterns, ruyi patterns, and swastika patterns—all in keeping with the old madam’s dignified, formal style.
As for our color-pairing book, though it’s a small volume, it holds our family’s own unique dyeing methods. Our shades of deep red, light red, flesh-red, silver-red, elegant blue, sky-blue, grass-green, and dawn-light color—none of these match what’s used elsewhere. In the past, whenever people from our household went out, they never wore the same colors as anyone else. The Li family’s color pairings, though, just follow the popular trend—that Treasured Embroidery Manual is really just the common standard, plenty of households have it!”
Well. This one was prouder than Qiqian’er herself—no surprise, being a family retainer of many generations.
Her stream of explanation left Qiqian’er utterly dumbfounded. After a long moment, she said, rather like a country bumpkin, “Well, if you put it that way, I can’t bear to part with any of them.”
Not just her—Zhang Wanru and the others were equally stunned. Status truly did differ tier by tier; marrying well was one thing, but this was on a whole other level.
If anyone had married well, it was Qiqian’er.
Reluctant as Qiqian’er was, Jixiang’s wife seemed utterly unbothered. “My lady’s forgotten—our workshops all use the palace-commissioned pattern books now. These old ones are just for the old madam’s side to practice with.”
This remark left everyone quietly stunned. Zhang Wanru spat out a mouthful of tea. Once Jixiang’s wife left, still smiling, she walked over to Qiqian’er and said, “Dear sister-in-law, since your family doesn’t use these anymore, why not let us copy them?”
The other sisters-in-law’s eyes lit up at once. Even Madam Lu stood, holding her teacup as she came over. “Little sister-in-law, drink this cup of tea from me first, then do us this good turn. We’ve all had daughters, and we need to plan ahead for them early. Now that your family uses palace-commissioned pattern books and craftsmen, why not let us copy the ones you’ve set aside? That way our children won’t be left behind when it’s their turn to go out into society.”
With Jixiang absent, it became clear that these ladies—including Zhang Wanru—all came from families without generations of wealth behind them.
Qiqian’er hesitated slightly, but Madam Chai pressed further. “Little sister-in-law, why let this fortune flow to outsiders? Tomorrow at that gathering, just use our things to make up appearances—which lady there would be shameless enough to stand and openly examine them? As for what’s in your hands, let’s just learn it for ourselves, shall we?”
Well! What was there not to agree to—it was only three books after all.
Qiqian’er had someone fetch the pattern books and let them happily take them off to copy and trace the dye patterns.
As for herself, she called Jixiang’s wife into her room that evening and asked just what exactly her family possessed.
It was only by asking that she found out—a household of this standing, beyond its outward affairs, also held eighteen family crafts passed down through dynasties spanning hundreds of years: grain cultivation, textile weaving, dyeing, oil and fat processing, papermaking… among these, metal smelting and forging were explicitly forbidden by the imperial court, and yet the She family possessed that knowledge too—dating back to an era when noble clans kept private armed retainers and had begun secretly researching such things on their own.
In the past, the She family’s holdings had been confiscated, but the new dynasty’s new emperor had returned everything without reservation. Yet, given how much time had passed, much had been lost, and inevitably many secrets from other families had gotten mixed in, all lumped together and given back to the She family in one broad stroke.
This was what it meant to be an old noble clan—no wonder emperors throughout history had always resented them.
Qiqian’er felt as though a whole new world had opened before her—having lived two lives, this still weighed heavily on her heart. This was different from those things at Wenshan Temple; this was true wealth.
Somewhat hesitant, she went to seek out her father, and rather embarrassed, told him about these things, mentioning that she’d also shared some with the Lao Dao family.
To her surprise, She Qingling didn’t care in the least. He even said with a smile, “Let whoever wants to copy them do so. The Ministry of Works has had all this for ages already.”
Qiqian’er looked up at her father in surprise. “Already had it?”
She Qingling looked pleased. “Ah, even if they hadn’t before, from the founding of the Daliang dynasty onward, all those moldering, hidden things—our emperor has had them all dug out and revealed. Did you really think these were such precious treasures? Some of this is already outdated. Truthfully, the Ministry of Works ought to be allocated more funds to properly study and refine these crafts—that’s the real path to benefiting and nurturing the people. These needlework matters are trivial things, Qian’er, you needn’t worry over them. In the end, a family’s prosperity depends on its people—raising children well is the true legacy a family passes down.”
Qiqian’er stood in silence for a long moment before finally bowing with deep respect. “Father, rest at ease. This has always been how I’ve thought of it.”
Author’s Note: Some of the knowledge here uses old expressions from Tiangong Kaiwu, particularly those regarding textile weaving. That book was actually banned early on by feudal emperors as a restricted technical text. In older time-travel novels, characters would often distill alcohol and make perfume—later, some books stopped including that. In truth, distillation technology existed as early as the Han dynasty, but was monopolized by a special class and forbidden from being spread; the common folk, and the books available to them, simply never recorded it. It wasn’t until the excavation of the Haihunhou tomb that some of these things saw the light of day again. This is why, historically, emperors could never fully deal with the great clans—these clans predated the dynasties themselves, and the techniques they held were sometimes things even the imperial family lacked, much like some of the metallurgical techniques from Qin Shi Huang’s tomb, now lost to history. Even today, technological monopoly remains an ongoing issue—recent news has made that clear enough. Young people, please study hard for your country’s sake—otherwise, if others wish to take advantage of you, there truly will be nothing you can do about it.