Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Although the annex was only a temporary residence for the Second Young Master, no expense was spared in its arrangement. A newly set-up small study featured a raised-end desk in the center, with an armchair placed behind it. A mother-of-pearl screen divided the area, and behind it lay a small daybed flanked by a rosewood bookcase and an incense table.

On the incense table sat a potted slender bamboo plant in an orchid-patterned porcelain pot. Jin Niang spotted it immediately and went over to take a cutting.

Cui Xian, standing nearby, remarked, "Our Second Young Master often rests here when he’s tired from studying."

Jin Niang snipped the thinnest stalk and thought to herself, *I didn’t ask, so why tell me this?* But out of politeness, she smiled and said, "Is that so? Hehe."

She preferred to keep her distance from these young masters. Even the eldest young lady’s quarters were full of intrigue—how much worse must it be here?

After cutting the bamboo, she sat down in the outer room. Without time for small talk, she measured the length needed for the bamboo-weave garment, marked it, and cut it. Then she began separating the threads—a skill she had mastered on her very first day of embroidery training.

Once the thread was prepared, she carefully smoothed the edges of the bamboo segments. It was delicate work; the slightest misstep could snap the fragile pieces.

As she focused, Bi E, one of the Second Young Master’s maidservants, brought over a plate of lard pastries. "These aren’t anything special," she said. "The kitchen made them for the mistress’s birthday and sent some our way—for good luck."

Despite their humble name, the pastries were time-consuming to make, pressed with floral molds. Jin Niang thanked her promptly. "Such delicious treats—thank you for sharing them with me. I’ll try them once I’m done."

Bi E noticed Jin Niang’s quiet concentration and left her undisturbed.

No matter where one was, ability and good judgment commanded respect. Those who lacked either were easily dismissed.

Qin Shuanger, however, thought differently. Determined to stay in the Zhou household, she had once been the daughter of an official. Had her father not passed away, she would never have become a servant. Now, at a loss and exposed by Wei Jinniang’s sharp eyes, she feared further slander.

*Perhaps I should strike first.* With that thought, Qin Shuanger slipped to Fang Qiaolian’s table. In her haste earlier, Fang had left behind a prized beaded hairpin—a gift from the old mistress—on the side table.

Clutching the hairpin, Qin Shuanger’s hands trembled, her feet went cold with fear. But after a moment’s hesitation, she resolutely hid it in the basket behind Jin Niang’s bed. She knew Jin Niang was too focused on her embroidery to clean.

The last time Fang Qiaolian lost twenty copper coins—when only she and Jin Niang were working together—she looked at everyone suspiciously. Theft was a grave offense in this household.

Once the deed was done, Qin Shuanger took the chance to slip away.

Just as Jin Niang finished smoothing the bamboo segments and began weaving them with ramie thread, Zhou Cunzhi strode in, displeased. "Why hasn’t my bamboo-weave garment been delivered yet?"

"Don’t ask! We sent it to outside embroiderers first, but none could fix it. Luckily, our own seamstress here knows how—but she needed fine bamboo, so we let her work on it here," Cui Xian quickly explained.

Zhou Cunzhi entered the inner chamber. Jin Niang rose to bow, but he motioned for her to stay seated. "How much longer?"

"Second Young Master, it should take about forty-five minutes at the earliest," Jin Niang replied.

Hands clasped behind his back, Zhou Cunzhi observed her. Though ordinary-looking, her deft fingers moved with remarkable agility, the fine thread flitting like a butterfly through foliage. *Such skill,* he marveled silently.

The bamboo-weave garment was a gift for a close friend—something money couldn’t easily buy. Deciding to wait, he took a seat nearby.

In Zhou Cunzhi’s presence, even the usually haughty Bi E served tea with graceful hands, while Cui Xian brought out eight varieties of fine pastries. Yet Zhou Cunzhi showed little interest in the refreshments, his attention fixed solely on the bamboo-weave garment’s progress.

Still, he remained patient.

The repair was no easy task. Jin Niang was grateful she’d read that book. She threaded an ultra-fine ramie strand through the last bamboo segment, then tied it to the adjacent thread. Finally, she let out a relieved breath.

"Young Master, the garment is mended."

Zhou Cunzhi had expected a much longer wait. To his surprise, it was done in less time than it took to drink a cup of tea. He had Cui Xian bring it over for inspection—flawless, with no trace of repair. "Excellent, excellent, excellent," he praised three times.

Cui Xian chimed in, "We asked Madam Chen first, but she couldn’t do it. Only Jin Niang could. Young Master, you ought to reward her well."

Zhou Cunzhi smiled at Jin Niang. "What would you like as a reward?"

"If it is possible, I beg the Second Master to grant me a set of paints. I rarely have the chance to go out, and the ones I currently use were given by my former instructor long ago. They’ve already run out, and I’ve been worried about where to buy more," Jin Niang said.

Zhou Cunzhi had expected her to modestly decline or say it was her duty, but instead, she asked for paints. Young yet highly skilled, untainted by worldly concerns—he immediately agreed and asked, "How did you know about bamboo garments—a type of lightweight bamboo-woven undergarment?"

Jin Niang replied, "The Second Mistress once gave me a copy of *Records of Diverse Matters*. I read that bamboo garments existed as far back as the Tang Dynasty, so I knew a little about them."

"So you’re literate as well," Zhou Cunzhi nodded slightly, impressed. "Good. Rest assured, I happen to have a set of paints—forty-two colors in total. I’ll have someone send them over later."

Jin Niang was overjoyed.

Cui Xian personally saw her out and handed her two rings wrapped in a handkerchief: "If it weren’t for you, I’d have been in trouble today. These aren’t worth much, but take them."

Jin Niang looked closely—one was a copper ring with a small pearl, the other a gold ring shaped like a bracelet. She shook her head in refusal, but Cui Xian insisted, "I have plenty more. Just take them."

Only then did Jin Niang accept them.

Right after leaving the old mistress’s quarters, she bumped into Si Er, who urgently whispered, "Sister Jin Niang, you asked me to keep an eye on your room. I secretly saw Qin Shuanger put Qiao Lian’s hairpin in the basket behind your bed. What should we do?"

Si Er and Xiao He had been indentured to the household the previous year. The Zhou family had paid their parents outright, but how could someone like Concubine Chen or others casually share their trade secrets? It was a craft, after all. Jin Niang had observed them for a while before deciding Si Er was loyal, having helped her several times. She quietly looked out for Si Er, even speaking up for her when she was scolded, saving her from punishment.

So, when Jin Niang wasn’t in the embroidery room, she had Si Er serve as her lookout.

Naturally, if Si Er proved truly helpful, Jin Niang would value her more and even teach her some embroidery. Truth be told, times were tough for everyone. If they ever left, Si Er would at least have a skill to rely on.

Unlike Qin Shuanger, who had friends everywhere—someone in every household, recognized by all—Jin Niang focused on securing loyalty within her own sphere.

"Come closer, I’ll tell you what to do," Jin Niang whispered into Si Er’s ear and added, "You’re quick on your feet. Go handle it and come back."

*How dare you plot something so wicked!*

It wasn’t until evening that Qin Shuanger returned. Entering the room, she saw Jin Niang and Fang Qiaolian washing their hair, both wringing it dry with cloths.

She overheard Jin Niang ask, "Have you seen Qiao Lian’s hairpin? It’s vanished without a trace."

Qin Shuanger felt a pang of guilt but put on a calm front, shaking her head. "I don’t know. You wouldn’t believe how busy the First Mistress’s birthday banquet was—I was dragged there all day." Then, with feigned concern, she turned to Fang Qiaolian. "What happened? First your coins disappeared, and now your hairpin. Do we have a thief among us?"

"I don’t know either," Fang Qiaolian chided herself for her carelessness. She’d thought she’d be back quickly, but Concubine Miao had kept her busy.

As for the missing coins, she didn’t know who took them. At the time, only Jin Niang was present, and she doubted Jin Niang would steal—her monthly stipend was higher than theirs. But who could say for sure?

Every little bit counts.

Seeing Fang Qiaolian’s hesitation, Qin Shuanger seized the opportunity eagerly: "We can’t let suspicion divide our embroidery room, can we? You suspect me, I suspect you—soon we’ll all be estranged. Why go through that? Let’s just search each other’s belongings."

She glanced at Jin Niang, who, oblivious, casually agreed, "Sure."

Fang Qiaolian hesitated. "There’s no need for that, is there?"

Qin Shuanger pronounced self-righteously, "As the saying goes, a clear conscience fears no accusation. We’re all close here, even if we bicker sometimes. But theft is a serious crime."

Jin Niang smirked, faking a yawn. "Then who goes first?"

To prove her own innocence, Qin Shuanger volunteered, "Search me first. Jin Niang, you check my things, and later I’ll search yours."

"Fine," Jin Niang yawned again. "Let’s hurry up and get this over with. I’m exhausted."

As she spoke, she pulled open Qin Shuanger’s drawers and rummaged through them. Qin Shuanger stood with an air of righteousness, even urging, "You can check the boxes inside too."

*Soon you’ll see what I can do.*

But unexpectedly, when Jin Niang noticed the shoes over there, Qin Shuanger grew nervous—her monthly wages were hidden inside. Though she hadn’t taken the hairpin, she didn’t want others to know about her savings. She quickly said, "The shoes are foul-smelling. Best not rummage through them. Don’t soil your hands."

"Don’t worry. As you said, we should search thoroughly. If nothing is found, no one need harbor suspicions." Covering her nose, Jin Niang tossed two pairs of shoes aside. When she reached for the third pair, she hissed, "Feels like a hairpin."

She yanked it out immediately, and Fang Qiaolian instantly exclaimed, "That’s my hairpin!"

Qin Shuanger was at a loss—how could the hairpin that should have been in Jin Niang’s possession end up in hers? Yet Jin Niang said, "Be certain before accusing. Don’t falsely charge an innocent person."

Fang Qiaolian took the hairpin and examined it carefully. "No mistake. This is mine. Look, the design matches those from the old madam’s collection."

Qin Shuanger stood tongue-tied, unable to defend herself. "Qiao Lian, I don’t know how it got there. I swear I didn’t steal it."

"Then why did you try to stop me from searching your shoes earlier?" Jin Niang muttered under her breath.

Qin Shuanger hurriedly opened her small jewelry box. "It’s not as if I’m without jewelry. Why would I steal hers?"

"But your whole collection couldn’t buy one of the old madam’s. Tomorrow, we’ll tell Madam Chen and Madam Kuang," Jin Niang added, glancing at Fang Qiaolian.

"No, you can’t!" Qin Shuanger protested. If she were branded a thief, she’d be ruined.

Fang Qiaolian, having recovered her item, wasn’t inclined to press further, though she had no intention of forgiving Qin Shuanger. She simply remained silent.

"No problem. I’ll write a note. If you promise and press your fingerprint, vowing never to cause trouble again, we won’t tell Madam Chen or speak of this outside. But if you refuse, don’t blame us," Jin Niang sneered.

Qin Shuanger had no choice but to agree.

Jin Niang wrote out two copies. The note read: On such-and-such date, a hairpin belonging to Fang Qiaolian was found in Qin Shuanger’s room. From now on, she vows never to repeat such actions. This serves as proof, and all parties shall let bygones be bygones. Otherwise, formal accusations will follow.

Qin Shuanger sank to the floor, reluctantly pressing her fingerprint. Jin Niang turned to Fang Qiaolian and said, "Now we’ve settled this."