Chapter 79

Chapter 79

He added some lard to the pan, then tossed in sliced mushrooms, shredded carrots, and mung bean sprouts, quickly stir-frying them a few times before the final dish was ready. This was a meal Jiang Xian had specially prepared for Jin Niang. He had noticed that his wife, who spent long hours sitting and doing needlework, suffered from anemia and fatigue. She had started eating longan daily, but her periods remained heavy.

Thus, whenever he had time, Jiang Xian would cook light dishes or prepare nourishing soups for his wife.

Because she feared gaining weight, he skimmed the broth repeatedly. He dared say his culinary skills had improved significantly.

When he brought the dishes to the table, he found Jin Niang already seated obediently. Seeing him approach, her eyes crinkled with a smile—this was the moment he felt most accomplished.

"My dear, let me serve you some chicken soup," Jiang Xian said eagerly.

Jin Niang nodded. "Alright."

As they ate together, Jin Niang yawned and asked, "For next year’s provincial-level exam, did Zhuangyuan Jiang share any advice with you?"

Jiang Xian shook his head. "I only paid him a brief visit and exchanged a few words."

Sensitive to his mood, Jin Niang immediately asked, "Did he slight you?"

"No, it wasn’t exactly a slight. After all, he’s the top scholar, and I was the one seeking guidance—it’s only proper to pay respects as a disciple. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that Zhuangyuan Jiang seems to dislike me somehow." Jiang Xian was puzzled.

Jin Niang laughed. "That can’t be. You put your heart into everything you do—how could that be the case?"

Jiang Xian shrugged.

"Don’t worry. If one door closes, another opens. Once you pass the imperial examination, your talent will surely rise to prominence eventually. Our household is gradually improving too, so don’t let yourself feel down. If you’re upset, I’ll be upset too." Jin Niang held his hand reassuringly.

Jiang Xian chuckled. "It’s not that serious."

Jin Niang knew better than to overreact—doing so might make Jiang Xian reluctant to confide in her in the future. Now that her own livelihood was secure while Jiang Xian was on the rise, she didn’t want him to become insecure.

His wife’s concern warmed his heart. No matter where he was, he always seemed the most composed person, but in her presence, he was the one who needed care.

After the meal, they dismissed the serving girls to clear the table, leaving the couple alone to enjoy their private time together.

This was usually when Jin Niang would discuss court gazettes with him, share books she’d recently read, or simply chat for a while before returning to the embroidery shop to draft designs or continue her needlework until dinner reunited them.

This routine gave them both independence while keeping their bond strong—neither too clingy nor too distant, just the right balance for a married couple.

In the afternoons, her mother often visited the embroidery shop to share neighborhood news.

"Jin Niang, did you hear that Lady Hao from the east side was beaten?" Luo Yüeh said.

Jin Niang gasped. "Why?"

"Apparently, she caught her husband cheating, and he flew into a rage," Luo Yüeh whispered.

Lady Hao had taken a husband into her household, yet the man still fooled around. Jin Niang sighed. "Even though Lady Hao runs the estate meticulously and is a model wife, who’d have thought he’d be so shameless without a shred of decency?"

The others in the embroidery shop also voiced outrage on Lady Hao’s behalf.

"I heard Lady Hao chose him precisely because he seemed honest. She even bought land for his family—how could a mere clerk act like this otherwise?" Luo Yüeh couldn’t stand such ingratitude.

Jin Niang shook her head helplessly. "'Honest' is just a polite way of saying he’s dull. In my opinion, it just means the person has no real merits to speak of."

Even Zhu Xiuniang agreed. "You’ve hit the nail on the head. Take my husband, for example—back when we were affluent in our hometown, even though he had no such intentions, women still made advances. It was hard to fend off."

"It’s not just women fighting over men," Jin Niang added with a laugh. "I recently heard about a newly widowed woman nearby who had several men wooing her with every trick imaginable."

Not to mention the daughters of chancellors seeking husbands—how many usually aloof scholars would preen like peacocks.

This remark drew knowing smiles from everyone.

At that moment, a guild representative approached and said, "Guild Master Wei, the head of the Imperial College has come. He says they’d like to reward this year’s top three students with book bags embroidered with motifs symbolizing steady advancement or auspicious meanings."

Jin Niang readily agreed and added with a smile, "Our Wei Embroidery Shop specializes in turning embroidery into art—we’re perfectly suited for this task. We’ll handle it. But if the work is well received, we’d appreciate it if the head could inform us of the Imperial College’s exam dates in the future, so we can deliver our products directly to the gate."

Since becoming Guild Master, Jin Niang had rarely profited from contracts with the Embroidery Academy or military uniforms. Now she was simply offering a few free samples as advertisements, setting the stage to sell poetry pouches, pen cases, book satchels, and brush holders later.

Truly, every cloud has a silver lining. Business had not been great lately, but this was a fresh opportunity.

At dinner, Jin Niang discussed her plan for making book bags with Jiang Xian. She said, "At most, we’d waste just three bags. If the head is reasonable, our business could take off. I’ve just realized that scholars’ money isn’t hard to make."

"Absolutely. Even completing personal records requires visiting bookshops, where a single sheet costs 3 to 5 guan. Still, your idea is brilliant," Jiang Xian replied. He almost offered to help promote it himself but held back.

As usual, Jin Niang preferred handling things herself, especially within her area of expertise—unless it was something unfamiliar, like the farmland issue last time.

She already had an idea: scholars often carried poetry pouches while hiking. What if it rained? The poems would be ruined. Not everyone could afford expensive brocade, so waterproof book bags and poetry cases could be a standout feature.

The next day, she personally bought waxed cloth from shops and began designing, even incorporating practical compartments like modern bags. She considered where to place inkstones, books, and how many straps would prevent shoulder pain—all while ensuring waterproofing.

The first design used orange-red brocade with coiled floral patterns for all seasons, adorned with a crane embroidered on the flap. A stamp of Wei Embroidery Shop was placed at the bottom-right corner. The bag was elegant, practical, and waterproof.

Jiang Xian secretly touched it, but Jin Niang caught him. He quickly explained, "I just wanted to check if it’s truly waterproof."

"Of course! I wouldn’t boast otherwise. Here, let me show you." She stuffed his discarded drafts inside, fastened the bag, and splashed several cups of water over it before telling him to open it.

Jiang Xian was stunned—the papers inside remained completely dry.

Now he wanted it even more.

But he still said, "Dear, this is incredible. Your book bag is a hundred times better than any I’ve bought."

Since Jin Niang usually only sewed clothes for him and rarely had time for accessories, she was especially touched. Amused, she said, "If you like it, take it."

"Really?" He hesitated, not wanting to burden her.

Jin Niang shrugged. "Of course! You’re always my priority."

Jiang Xian was deeply moved—it was the first time she had expressed such feelings openly. Overjoyed, he firmly declined, "I’ll wait for you to make me an even better one when you’re free."

"No, this one’s yours. I’ve already decided—all three bags will have bamboo-motif linings. This one is for my husband." As she spoke, she draped her slender arm around his neck.

Their affection needed no words.

Each bamboo-motif lining varied: the top prize featured a white deer (symbolizing prosperity and advancement) embroidered with gold thread for vitality; the second prize had a bamboo panda (representing harmony and unity) outlined in silver; the third prize showcased a paradise flycatcher stitched with ordinary silk.

After delivering the bags, Jin Niang highlighted how waterproof they were and encouraged custom orders at Wei Embroidery Shop.

She had only intended to explore new markets beyond weddings and children’s wear, never expecting the Imperial College students to actually buy from her.

But the head turned out to be a great advocate. After receiving a complimentary poetry pouch, he spread the word throughout the college.

Jin Niang set three price tiers: simple cloth bags at 300 coppers (affordable for most), mid-range at 3 guan, and luxury tier at 10 guan.

She had Chen Xiaolang set up a stall outside to sell the goods, and by the winter solstice, they had actually earned fifty guan. Even the prestigious Zhang Jiulang sent a servant to buy one.

Besides the scholars who purchased them, some ladies also came in while ordering clothes, and A Ying seized the chance to pitch the items. These mothers cared more about their sons’ futures than the sons themselves did.

As for Jiang Xian, when he went hiking and composing poetry with Zhuangyuan Jiang, he proudly showed off the new poetry bag Jin Niang had made him, swelling with pride. Though his wife wasn’t from a wealthy merchant family, every penny she earned was honest.

When someone mentioned in front of Zhuangyuan Jiang that he had married a merchant’s daughter, Jiang Xian didn’t feel the slightest embarrassment. Instead, he said, “My wife is incredibly capable. To be honest, whether I pass the exams or not doesn’t matter to her at all—she never changes her attitude toward me based on my academic success.”

“In fact, I’m the one who married out of my league.”

Unbeknownst to him, these words changed Zhuangyuan Jiang’s impression of him. Originally, Zhuangyuan Jiang had thought Jiang Xian was slippery and calculating, lacking loyalty. But now, it seemed that wasn’t entirely true—he treated his wife very well. Unlike some men who coveted their merchant wives’ wealth while looking down on their in-laws, waiting to climb the ranks and bury their wives.

Worried that Jiang Xian might be slighted, Jin Niang specially made a complete set of poetry bags, book pouches, and more for Zhuangyuan Jiang—one in green tortoiseshell-patterned fabric (guibeiwen) and another in red lantern-patterned fabric (denglongwen)—and asked Jiang Xian to deliver them.

“You made them so beautifully, and now you’re giving them all away?” Jiang Xian hesitated.

Jin Niang laughed. “You know our situation—we can’t afford expensive antiques. These handmade items are the best we can offer. No one would see them as bribes; they’re just gestures of sincerity!”

Only then did Jiang Xian nod, taking Jin Niang’s hand. “I’d be lost without you.”

“Don’t say that! Who cooks my favorite meals? Who washes my hair and brings me tea at night? I’m just pulling my weight.” Jin Niang didn’t want to impose any heavy sense of obligation—she didn’t want him to feel pressured. Besides, Jiang Xian never even glanced at the income from his shops and estates before handing it all to her.

But Jiang Xian knew—his wife was brushing it off.

If someone was willing to spread your name, then these gifts paid dividends.

Since they were still in their room, their conversation gradually turned into kisses—until footsteps startled Jin Niang apart. “Off you go.”

Jiang Xian chuckled and buried his face in her shoulder.

Later, Jiang Xian visited Zhuangyuan Jiang’s residence, delivered the items Jin Niang had made, made small talk, then left.

Zhuangyuan Jiang didn’t show much reaction, but after Jiang Xian left, he tucked the gifts into his study. His wife, Madam Song, remarked, “He never comes empty-handed, does he?”

“He said his wife made them herself.” If they had been expensive, he could have refused them, but since they were handmade, it would have been impolite to return them.

Besides, Zhuangyuan Jiang lived by the principle: Better to slight a nobleman than a spiteful one.

Madam Song mused, “His wife has only visited our home once—she rarely goes out. Maybe I should invite her for tea.”

People visited out of respect for his scholarly title, but next year was the Provincial Exam, and once a new top scholar emerged, his laurels might fade.

So, despite her earlier enthusiasm, Madam Song didn’t want to offend anyone carelessly.

Two days later, Jin Niang received the invitation. Hearing it was from Madam Song, she showed the note to Jiang Xian.

“It’s nothing. Just go for tea and come back,” he said, knowing his wife wasn’t particularly fond of socializing. The class gap nagged at him—he didn’t want her slighted.

Jin Niang touched his face. “What’s the matter? I’ve been to her house before. Maybe she’s returning the favor after receiving our gifts. Her kind lives and breathes propriety.”

The more he loved her, the more he hated to see her slighted.

Coming from an official family himself, Jiang Xian knew how difficult it was to truly get close to such people, no matter how friendly they seemed.

But Jin Niang wasn’t going to make friends with them. Seeing Jiang Xian so tense, she smiled. “Look at you. Think of it as me socializing as the wife of a future imperial scholar. Sooner or later, this was bound to happen.”

“You’re right.” That brightened his mood. If he really passed the imperial exams, things would be much better.

Jin Niang happily accepted the invitation. She had A Ying style her hair in double-coiled buns (panji), adorned with a realistic faux-plum hairpin (xiangshenghua) in the center, a pair of gold hairpins at the back, and beaded tassels on either side. For her outfit, she wore a white tube top (moxiong), a single-layer robe embroidered with plum blossoms and tassels, and over it a green plum-colored long vest (beizi). The collar of the beizi was embroidered with peonies and long-tailed birds (shoudainiao), while the collar trim featured gold-foiled peony sprays (yinjin).

As she stepped out the door, she still carried a lingering glow of pearls and jade.

She had brought an infant’s swaddling cloth today. It was said that Madam Song was nearing her due date, so pink was obviously off-limits—what if she gave birth to a daughter? People might blame it on the color. So she chose bright red, which worked for either gender.

Jin Niang had made this mistake before. Once, a pregnant woman came to her shop to pick fabric for swaddling clothes, and Jin Niang happened to have a particularly soft pink piece. The moment she pulled it out, the woman chewed her out, accusing her of cursing her family with barrenness.

This time, when Jin Niang met Madam Song, she noticed the furnishings in her home were different again. With winter fast approaching, a “paper canopy” had been set up in the hall—four paper screens, three forming walls and one serving as a roof, with bamboo curtains draped around them.

Inside, *Snowy Spring Fragrance* incense was burning. Its scent was reminiscent of plum blossoms. In every way, Madam Song seemed like a woman with exquisite taste who knew how to live well.

After bowing politely, Jin Niang was invited inside.

Madam Song smiled. “I’ve just gotten some new tea and wanted someone to share it with—I thought of you right away.”

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Jin Niang replied. “My husband often says we’ve imposed on your hospitality.”

Madam Song was about to respond when several more guests arrived. Among them was Fourth Miss, along with two unfamiliar women whom Jin Niang assumed were recent disciples of Zhuangyuan Jiang.

They were clearly close to Madam Song, playing off each other in easy banter—not intentionally excluding Jin Niang, but simply because they were already familiar. Fourth Miss helped her chime in a couple of times, but only briefly.

To fit in with them, one just needed to drop by now and then, exchange a few words whenever they met, and familiarity would grow over time.

But Jin Niang wasn’t eager to do so. To her, such socializing felt pointless. If Zhuangyuan Jiang didn’t rise in status, no matter how high Madam Song stood, no one would bother flattering her anyway.

Back home, Jin Niang told Jiang Xian, “I can’t afford to neglect my business. Besides, Zhuangyuan Jiang may be well known among scholars, but he’s not yet the leader of the literary world. My dear, you still need to submit your exam writings—they matter—but only if they reflect your real talent.”

Truthfully, she thought all this was a waste of time—getting priorities backwards. To put it bluntly, what if Jiang Xian didn’t pass? What if the shops fell into disarray and no money was earned?

She worried he might think she wasn’t supporting him wholeheartedly, but honesty between spouses was better than pretending. Otherwise, the act would eventually wear thin and cause conflict.

To her surprise, Jiang Xian let out a sigh of relief. “My dear, I’m so glad you feel this way. You always worry about me suffering, but I fear even more for you. One day, I’ll make sure everyone flatters you.”

“I’ll dream about that,” Jin Niang said happily, then grew serious. “I don’t need others’ flattery. I just want you to fulfill your ambitions, so we never have to live under someone else’s shadow.”

Jiang Xian nodded. “Alright, I’ll listen to you and focus on studying at home.”

Jin Niang agreed. “In the future, you’ll be the great tree yourself—no need to lean on others.”

Now that the mourning period had passed, Jin Niang had shed her mourning clothes, and the couple reveled in their newfound intimacy.

Not long after, the manor delivered firewood, charcoal, and grain for the year. Taking Luo Da’s advice, Jin Niang set aside funds to buy piglets, chicks, and ducklings so fresh meat and vegetables could be sent regularly without needing to purchase them.

By year’s end, business was booming—especially bridal quilts and bed drapes. Over a dozen sets she had made earlier sold out in no time, bringing in over a hundred strings of cash.

She paid off five years of loans and even settled an extra year ahead of schedule. With only two years left, she decided to clear everything at once. She sent Chen Xiaolang to drive her to the loan offices and wealthy households where she had borrowed money, collecting receipts as she went.

At last, holding those final documents in hand, she felt oddly unburdened.

For years, debt had driven her relentlessly, like a noose around her neck. But now, finally, she could breathe easy.

Meanwhile, Madam Song gave birth at year’s end. Sun Shichen, who was now studying under Zhuangyuan Jiang, naturally went to help—even stepping into the delivery room to care for her. Their bond deepened quickly.

The newborn was wrapped in the swaddling cloth Jin Niang had made. The fabric had been washed and sun-dried beforehand, leaving no trace of the usual textile smell.

Fourth Miss found it amusing that Jin Niang hadn’t returned since that day. After all, asking for help always came with some humiliation—everyone had to endure it. Yet Jin Niang simply stopped coming.

Little did she know, Jin Niang was busy preparing medicinal herbs on Lou Siniang’s advice. Rumors of a plague outbreak outside the capital were spreading, though officials were keeping it hushed. Those in the medical field, however, were well aware.

“Thank you,” Jin Niang said. Last month, her mother had visited Lin Geer and Guan Geer. Though the brothers remained politely distant toward their maternal relatives, they were clearly doing better for themselves—only cozy with the Lous. ---

Lou Siniang laughed and said, "It's no big deal—just something I mentioned in passing."

In truth, she felt some guilt. Before Feng Sheng’s wife had passed away, she had harbored a quiet affection for him, wishing only they’d met before he was wed. Unexpectedly, after his wife died, her chance came—but even so, she still felt uneasy.

The Wei family also knew their place—they rarely visited, but never missed sending two sets of clothes yearly for the stepchildren, along with stationery.

After Lou Siniang left, Jin Niang first had someone bring pre-mixed herbal medicines and stored them in her room. She then told her parents, though her mother bristled at such talk, insisting it wouldn’t reach the capital. Fortunately, Jin Niang managed the household herself, so she had Ju Xiang pickle more vegetables, bought several baskets of eggs, and even new water vats to raise fish.

Jin Niang’s parents went out to buy groceries on Minor New Year’s Eve and found people frantically buying up vegetables—half the stalls were already empty—before they began to panic.

Many people like her parents assumed such plagues were far from their own homes, but Jin Niang remained highly vigilant. Ordinary people like them couldn’t risk getting sick.

“No wonder Ying Niang was wiping down every surface when she came to our house for dinner last time—she already knew but didn’t tell us,” Luo Yuer said angrily.

Jin Niang raised a hand to stop her. “We’ve already received an official notice—the market will be closed tomorrow, and patrols will be dispatched. We’ve got enough food at home, so don’t worry.”

But no one took it harder than Jiang Xian. He held his forehead and sighed, “During the provincial exams, my mother died. Now, just before next year’s exam, this plague strikes.”

Jin Niang gently swatted his hand away and looked at him tenderly. “Well then, congratulations are in order!”

“Huh?” Jiang Xian was both confused and a little angry.

Jin Niang laughed. “‘Thus, when Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility on any man, it will exercise his mind with suffering, subject his sinews and bones to hard work, expose his body to hunger, put him to poverty, place obstacles in the paths of his deeds, so as to stimulate his mind, harden his nature, and improve wherever he is incompetent.’ This *proves* you’re no ordinary man—greatness awaits! Truly!”

She emphasized the last word.

Jiang Xian was still worried something else might happen, but Jin Niang held his hand firmly. “I’ve got three months’ worth of medicine and food stocked up. So, you don’t need to worry about anything, alright?”

“My wife…” Jiang Xian gripped her hand in return, suddenly feeling immensely reassured.

Jin Niang added, “I’ve heard some scholars deliberately go to temples to study, seeking peace away from worldly distractions. Now, you can study right here at home, undisturbed. Perhaps by the time the plague ends, my husband will have honed his skills and won’t need to rely on anyone. You’ll rise like a mighty tree, and we little grasses will shelter under your shade.”

“No, *you’re* the mighty tree,” Jiang Xian replied, embarrassed by her praise.

“Good, you’re smiling now. No more doom and gloom,” Jin Niang teased.

His wife was truly his rock, his joy, his everything!

In the future, he too would grow into a towering tree, so she could thrive in his shelter.