Chapter 41

Chapter 41

The matter of Shao Shengping was just a minor episode for Jin Niang, and also for the Wei family—they didn’t take it to heart. For the Wei family, after all, the most important thing was still making money.

“Mother, how much did you sell today?” Jin Niang asked.

Luo Yue replied weakly, “Just two or three hundred coppers. You wouldn’t believe it—your father and I had just started selling fresh rice wine and oil cakes, business picked up for a few days, and then the shop across the street started selling the exact same things. How can there be people like this in the world? Whatever others do, they just follow suit?”

Jin Niang could only comfort her: “At least you and Father have learned how to make oil cakes in this shop. In a few months, we can find a better storefront.”

Running a business truly wasn’t easy. Even skilled people like her parents found it hard to get established in Bianjing. The tastes and climate were different between north and south, and their capital was limited—it wasn’t easy to make their mark.

Luo Yue knew her daughter had a strong temper and was very strong-willed. She was also incredibly persistent. Even when she and her husband often felt discouraged, their daughter remained patient.

With her daughter being like this, what more could she say? She clenched her fists and said, “Well, your father and I will just keep going day by day. No matter what, we can still barely cover your brother’s expenses and the household costs.”

Jin Niang smiled. “Tomorrow is our day of rest. Why don’t we all go for a scented bath?”

The so-called “scented bath” meant simply bathing. Before, her parents had been too shy and only went during the New Year, unwilling to spend money on it. But Jin Niang made it a habit to go on her days off—soaking, washing her hair, and emerging feeling fresh and fragrant. It was a great way to relax.

Luo Yue, as usual, didn’t bathe but insisted on accompanying her daughter. “I’ll go with you to the bathhouse nearby. Don’t forget to bring the soap cakes and towels, or else you’ll have to buy them there.”

Bathhouses were mostly frequented by men, and women’s baths cost two coins more—a classic example of the “pink tax” (a modern term for gender-based pricing) in the Song Dynasty.

As mother and daughter stepped out, they happened to meet Third Aunt, who was carrying a bag of fruit. Seeing Jin Niang and her mother, she reluctantly offered, “Jin Niang, have some fruit.”

“No need, thank you, Third Aunt. I’m heading to the bathhouse,” Jin Niang replied. She knew this aunt was penny-pinching—buying spoiled fruit, eating stale food, and once even undercooked beans to save firewood, making the whole family sick.

When they refused, Third Aunt chased after them. “I heard a Scholar Shao came to your door? That’s good news, isn’t it?”

Jin Niang knew exactly what she meant—she thought Jin Niang, being full-figured and plain-looking, should be grateful anyone wanted her at all. But Luo Yue had a short fuse and fiercely protected her own. She retorted, “How’s the saving up for Third Daughter’s marriage going? Aren’t you and your husband planning to contribute anything?”

At that, Third Aunt was speechless and quickly took off.

Watching her flee, the mother and daughter burst into laughter. Still, Luo Yue did some mental calculations. “That Scholar Shao’s neighborhood school only has ten students. He said he earns three guan a month, but it’s probably much less. Thinking about it, it really isn’t suitable. You were right to refuse.”

Jin Niang hugged her mother’s arm. “I know you’re anxious. In two months, I’ll be sixteen. All my cousins are either married or betrothed—only I’m still unspoken for. But marriage is a lifetime matter. Even for a ten-coin bath, we compare prices and ask around. How can we be so careless about something that lasts a lifetime? If things go badly, wouldn’t all the effort you and Father put into raising and educating me be wasted?”

“True,” Luo Yue sighed.

They could argue fiercely over saving a single coin on vegetables, yet when it came to marriage, they’d marry off anyone who’s of age without a second thought?

Since they went early, Jin Niang enjoyed a thorough bath, feeling like a new person afterward. She dried her wet hair, wrapped it in a scarf, and walked home.

But before she could even take a few sips of water at home, a servant from the Feng family arrived with happy news—Eldest Sister Rong Niang was pregnant.

“So soon?” Jin Niang nearly spat out her water.

Luo Yue laughed. “What’s an unmarried girl like you saying? It’s not really that soon—Little Brother Lin is nearly two. This pregnancy is just right.”

Jin Niang scratched her head. “I suppose. Time seems to fly after coming home. I just think—with Brother-in-law often away, and the child still so young, how will they handle another baby?”

“More children mean more blessings. Your brother-in-law is wealthy—he can just hire a couple more servants to help,” Luo Yue said, seeing no issue.

Jin Niang nodded. “True. With money, people can hire help to raise children, making life much easier.”

Once her hair dried, Third Aunt and Ying Niang came over, urging them to visit the Feng family together—of course, to share the ride on the Wei family’s donkey cart. Jin Niang discussed with her mother, “Mother, I still have a bag of dates and some pastries we didn’t eat from yesterday. Let’s take those—no need to buy more.”

“No,” Luo Yue said firmly. “You wouldn’t know this yet. Pregnant women should eat eggs. I’ll get some from the rice bin.” She hurried to the kitchen to get the eggs ready.

At this moment, Third Aunt also looked flustered and quickly said, "Eldest sister-in-law, I'll go ahead and buy something to bring over too. Wait for me a moment."

Jin Niang shot her a glance and realized that Third Aunt and Ying Niang had actually planned to show up empty-handed.

In the main hall, only Ying Niang and Jin Niang remained. Their relationship was civil on the surface, though Ying Niang put on a better facade than her mother. Unexpectedly, she also seemed concerned about Jin Niang's marriage prospects.

"Second sister, you're almost sixteen, aren't you?" she asked.

Jin Niang nodded. "I'll be sixteen soon."

"You really should find a good match. It’s time," Ying Niang said, as if her comment were perfectly innocent.

Jin Niang didn’t understand why some people were so obsessed with meddling in others' affairs. Without looking up, she replied, "Enough already. Worry about yourself. Why do you always stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?"

Ying Niang took a sip of tea. "Just sharing my thoughts."

"Do you know why some people live to ninety-nine? It’s because they mind their own business," Jin Niang retorted sharply. Seeing Ying Niang fall silent, she stood up to check on her mother.

Jin Niang never internalized conflicts—whatever someone said, she would clap back without a second thought. She never let their words get to her and always focused on her own goals.

After her mother came out, they waited for Third Aunt for quite a while before the whole family finally set off together.

Rong Niang hadn’t expected to conceive again so soon and still felt a little surreal about it. She and Feng Sheng had a very good relationship—partly because she wasn’t one to fuss over money. Even now, she barely managed the household finances. Whenever Feng Sheng gave her money, she often refused, knowing he would later ask how she spent it. Secondly, their marital relations were extremely harmonious.

Her looks were her strong suit.

But now that she was pregnant, she worried about getting blotchy or putting on weight.

Still, when relatives came to visit, Rong Niang greeted them with a smile, knowing full well that her current life was what many women prayed for.

As Jin Niang listened to her mother and the others exchange pleasantries, she sipped her tea nearby. Ying Niang, still stung by Jin Niang’s earlier remark, now held Lin Geer in her arms to put on a show of affection and deliberately remarked, "Little Lin Geer is so adorable. It seems he’s always liked being held by pretty people since he was a baby."

"Haha—" Jin Niang burst into laughter, tears nearly streaming down her face. This was exactly why she couldn’t be bothered to play mind games with these relatives—their moves were too obvious, their thinking too simple.

Luo Yu’e, hearing her daughter laugh, was puzzled until Jin Niang explained it later at home. She then said, "Your Third Aunt and her daughter act this way because they’re afraid of the saying, 'The barley isn’t yellow, but the wheat is already ripe.'*"

Jin Niang, quick as ever, immediately understood. "Ah, so that’s it."

*A saying about younger sisters marrying before elder ones, implying haste.

"Even though we’ve divided the family estate, they still care so much," Jin Niang sighed in exasperation.

Luo Yu’e replied, "Exactly. Our Jin Niang must find a truly good match."

After the incident with Shao Shengping, Luo Yu’e had grown less anxious. She realized her daughter needed to find someone truly worthy, and besides, she had to focus on their business and no longer had as much time to spare.

Meanwhile, Jin Niang began working on spring outfits. With the Cold Food Festival and Qingming Festival in April, ladies would be out enjoying the scenery, competing to showcase their finest attire. Then came the Dragon Boat Festival in May, requiring embroidered pouches and five-thread bracelets.

Her vision was grand, but with her days spent working at the Embroidery Academy, she could only sew at night. A single outfit took about half a month to complete.

This spring ensemble was a mix of yellow and green—perfect for April, Jin Niang thought. The undergarment was a light bamboo print, the outer robe a soft yellow gauze, while the collar featured embroidered crabapple blossoms and butterflies—pale yellow fading into deeper hues, paired with deep pink blossoms, evoking buds about to bloom.

The skirt matched the robe in color—a light yellow—but instead of gauze, it was made of figured sheer silk.

This set had taken considerable effort, and Jin Niang would have been content with eight strings of cash. To her surprise, the outfit sold for over ten strings of cash at Brocade Pavilion.

Even after the pavilion took half the profit, she couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have her own shop like those in the embroidery district—then she’d earn twenty strings outright.

This month’s earnings totaled thirteen strings. Setting aside one for daily expenses, she could save twelve—as much as the Zhou family made in a year. And now, with no need to exchange silver for paper currency and pay fees, she could save every last coin.

Once May came around, the days grew hotter, and Jin Niang no longer needed her father to accompany her. Each morning she got up early and walked straight to the Embroidery Academy.

As soon as she arrived, Yue'e passed her some hawthorn strips. Jin Niang took a bite and smiled. "Where did you get these? They're pretty tasty."

Zou Yue’e replied, "I bought them near Jinming Pond. My younger sister sells flowers there."

Jin Niang had heard that Zou Yue’e's sister had a green thumb and often sold flowers to tourists.

"I haven't had time to go near Jinming Pond lately," Jin Niang said, then began waiting for Embroidery Master Gu to hand out the day’s work.

Among the five newcomers, Jin Niang had pulled ahead. She hadn’t started with any particular specialty like the others, but her work was quick and polished. She could even cut fabric—unlike Zou Yue’e and Xu Sanjie, who were skilled in embroidery but neglected tailoring.

That was also why they didn’t pick up extra work like her.

Today’s task was Dragon Boat Festival-themed: embroidering small tigers on pomegranate skirts. Jin Niang first sketched the design, then selected threads and began stitching. The Embroidery Academy collected all their patterns, but Jin Niang quickly drew an extra copy to take home.

Embroidery Master Gu instructed Jin Niang, "For the upper garment, you’ll need to create a small gold-leaf-sprinkled tiger. Sketch a smaller version first, then leave the rest to the workshop."

Originally, they had all learned gold-leaf tracing and sprinkling together. But since mistakes meant paying fines, Jin Niang bought gold powder and practiced at home, so she succeeded on the first try. The others feared deductions, so naturally those jobs passed to her.

Still, Jin Niang didn’t blame them. At the Embroidery Academy, everyone got a set wage—unlike at the Zhou family’s, where there were bonuses for extra work.

Without additional rewards, no one lifted a finger beyond their duties once the time was up.

Jin Niang smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll sketch it right away.”

Only through repetition and practice could one accumulate small gains into major progress. Jin Niang didn’t know how others felt, but for her, drawing had improved from tracing paper to copying what she saw nearby. It might seem trivial to others, but for her, it was a big step forward.

She sketched slowly, leaving little time for actual embroidery. That evening, she still had to copy the tiger sketch into her own notebook, so she had little time left for needlework.

Stretching, she dragged herself to bed in her slippers.

She worked late into the night, while her parents were up before dawn for their shop. Breakfast stalls meant predawn starts. Luo Yun whispered to her husband, “Be quiet—don’t wake them.”

“I know,” Wei Xiong grunted as he loaded minced meat and dough onto the donkey cart.

Their daughter had to send her younger brother to school before heading to the Embroidery Academy. Luo Yun sighed, “Let’s buy a chicken today to build her up. She stays up so late.”

Wei Xiong naturally agreed.

But before her daughter could taste the chicken soup, Rong Niang arrived, hand on her belly. Luo Yun served her a bowl. For Rong Niang, whose family lived comfortably, a bowl of soup wasn’t much—she considered it part of her business with Jin Niang.

“Auntie, I’ve got some cloth here. I’d like Jin Niang to make me a dress. Here’s the payment.” Normally, a tailor would charge five hundred coins—a full string of cash was generous.

Luo Yun hesitated. “I’ll check with her first to see if she has time.”

Rong Niang found it odd. “I’m not in a rush—I just wanted to do business with her.”

“It’s not that. Jin Niang is busy with work at Brocade House now. I don’t know if she has spare time,” Luo Yun explained honestly.

Rong Niang widened her eyes. “How much does Jin Niang earn a month now?”

Luo Yun smiled. “Ten-odd strings. It wasn’t that much at first, but now with the monthly bonus…”

Ten-odd strings a month? For some reason, Rong Niang felt a pang of envy.

Later, visiting her third uncle’s house, he specially bought fish and meat to treat her. At dinner, her third aunt mentioned that her third daughter now earned over twenty strings a month.

Ying Niang added, “We finally got our house. I have a hefty monthly payment, but at least it’s under my name alone.”

Rong Niang thought Ying Niang was downright greedy—she not only took all the money from her fiancé's family selling land to get something for nothing, but she also put everything in her own name. Although she was paying off the debts herself now, it was still downright shady.

Especially Third Auntie, whose smug, gloating attitude made Rong Niang’s skin crawl.

So when she got home, she told Feng Sheng what had happened. He seemed a little surprised: “Jin Niang already earns over ten strings of cash a month?”

“That’s right. Second Auntie wouldn’t lie. Who would’ve thought? Not long ago, when she worked as a maid, she earned just a tael a month and was still happy about it,” said Rong Niang, still finding it hard to believe.

Ying Niang was another story—though she could make money, she had to sweet-talk people with gifts and play up to them just to sell medicine, and if she didn’t meet her targets, she’d be scolded constantly. It wasn’t easy work—many gave up after a few days and preferred to do manual labor instead.

But Jin Niang was on solid ground.

Feng Sheng asked his wife, “How does Jin Niang usually handle things?”

“She’s well-read, but stubborn and overly competitive.” Rong Niang felt that was a fair assessment.

Feng Sheng then started forming an idea in his mind.

When Jin Niang returned home and heard what her mother had to say, she shook her head immediately: “Mother, I have drawings to finish today. Besides, one string isn’t worth the trouble. Let Eldest Sister find another tailor.”

Relatives and money don’t mix—it breeds resentment.

If you make clothes for her, she’ll feel like you’re ripping her off. If you refuse, you look uncooperative. But once you agree, there’s no end to what she’ll ask.

Luo Yue used to make decisions for her daughter, but now Jin Niang was strong-willed. Her parents even relied on her financially these days, so they agreed. Jin Niang noticed how differently her parents treated her now. Just goes to show, money changes everything—because she earned well, her status had risen.

It wasn’t that her parents were fawning; it was just that making money proved she had ability.

“If you say so, then I’ll return the fabric tomorrow,” said Luo Yue.

Jin Niang asked, “What will you tell her?”

“Just tell her the truth.”

“That’s not a good idea. Just say the Embroidery Academy is busy and that I’m working late every night, so I can’t take it on. Even if she sees through it, at least there’s an excuse.”

In the past, Jin Niang used to confront people directly, but she’d learned that it was better not to burn bridges. People could read between the lines anyway. Unless you never plan to see someone again, keeping things civil avoids awkwardness later.

The next day, Luo Yue passed along Jin Niang’s message to Rong Niang. She expected Rong Niang to be upset, but instead, she didn’t bat an eye. She even offered to cook a meal for them on Jin Niang’s day off, saying she wanted to thank them for all the food gifts during her pregnancy.

It took Jin Niang three days to finish the skirt embroidered with a tiger pattern before Meng Liniang came by. Relationships worked in funny ways—Zou Yuee had been friendly with her at first, but they’d never really bonded. With Meng Liniang, they’d only spoken once or twice, yet became close friends.

Meng Liniang was kind but a hopeless romantic.

Like now, she said, “He’s from the capital, has one older sister and a younger sister, and their family owns property and shops. But his family doesn’t seem to like me—they act like I’m invisible.”

They met when she bought soy sauce at his family’s shop, and they hit it off right away.

Meng Liniang’s parents were small-town merchants—not rich, but not poor either. She was literate and could play the moon lute. They had hopes of marrying her into a good family, but she’d fallen for the young master of the soy sauce shop.

Jin Niang advised, “You’re skilled with needlework and literate. Save up your earnings, and even if you marry him, you won’t need to depend on him. Unless a woman has no male relatives left, she can’t set up her own household. Women can only keep private wealth as dowry.”

The Song Dynasty protected women’s property more than most dynasties. If Meng Liniang brought a generous dowry, the groom’s family wouldn’t dare mistreat her. Beauty helps, but everyone’s out for themselves—money matters most.

Meng Liniang looked at Jin Niang: “I work here all day and do chores at my sister’s at night. When would I ever have time?”

She already thought earning three strings a month was great. Between making her own clothes and helping out at her sister’s house, she was worn out.

Between friends, some things went unsaid.

Little did Jin Niang know that while she advised others to build up generous dowries for financial security later, her own earning ability had quietly drawn interest. On her day off, she visited Rong Niang’s home and saw a young boy in the courtyard. Kids weren’t her thing, so she simply walked past. Rong Niang, resting a hand on her belly, called out, “Jin Niang, why don’t you play with the kids for a bit? The other one is your brother-in-law’s colleague’s son.”

“Fine, let them come in and play with the Chinese rings,” Jin Niang replied. She only got one day off every ten days—she wasn’t here to babysit.

To her surprise, when she went inside, she found her brother-in-law Feng Sheng chatting with a man in his thirties. The man had a square face, was of average height, wore a headscarf, and gave her a quick once-over. Puzzled, Jin Niang headed straight into the inner room.

Feng Sheng, however, smiled and offered the man tea, thinking to himself: *Sure, he’s in his thirties and a widower, but he makes as much as I do. Okay, he has a son, but then again, if he were perfect, he wouldn’t be looking at Jin Niang either. She may be a bit plump, but she’s still in her prime. With how much she earns, she’ll probably save up three to five hundred guan by the time she marries—nothing to scoff at.*

This was nothing like that penniless scholar Shao who’d sent a matchmaker before. Now this—this was a real catch.