That night a light rain fell. Qian Jiaoniang was woken by the chill. She tugged at the thin quilt around her, turned her head to see the empty space at her side, and a faint trace of loneliness slid past her heart.
Another month later, Qian Jiaoniang finished going over the embroidery shop’s accounts, her eyes crinkling with a smile. The year before last she had chosen Miss Chen You’s finally improved You Brocade, and worked day and night to embroider a robe of flowers and birds, which she sent as a birthday gift to Qingya. On the day of Qingya’s birthday, wearing that You Brocade robe, she shone with unmatched splendor, making Qian Jiaoniang’s embroidery famous once more and causing You Brocade to rise to sudden renown.
But Qian Jiaoniang had not again sent pieces to the Second Prince’s consort. That had been only a passing thought. Later, after discussing it with Xing Muzheng, she decided not to entangle herself with the imperial clan, and instead prepared another gift. Still, Qingya alone was enough to make Yongan’s noblewomen and young ladies flock in admiration. You Brocade embroidery became something money could hardly buy. Qian Jiaoniang invested silver into Miss Chen You’s weaving workshop, expanded the number of weavers, and became a managing partner. Now, with only three pieces of You Brocade embroidery produced in a year, the workshop and embroidery shop both brimmed with profit. Following her advisers’ counsel, Qian Jiaoniang also did not embroider too many—rarity makes things precious.
But Qian Jiaoniang did not stop there. The shop’s embroideresses also used other silks and brocades to make robes and skirts—though not as priceless as You Brocade, still valuable. The shop’s orders were always full. Yanluo said they had even turned many customers away; Zhou Cuilian suggested hiring more embroideresses to expand the shop, and eagerly proposed they open a jewelry shop alongside it. Qian Jiaoniang left it to her to manage.
These past two years, Qian Jiaoniang herself had devoted most of her energy to embroidering that large Pine and Mountain painting. It had been finished just before the New Year. Xing Muzheng personally delivered it to Master Liu Zihao, and when he returned, he told her Master Liu was overjoyed, even gifting back to Qian Jiaoniang a Ladies Spring Outing painting. Later she heard that after the Spring Festival, Master Liu had specially invited literary friends to view the embroidery painting and composed poems about it, which spread widely as a celebrated tale.
Qian Jiaoniang’s name rose again—she was no longer merely “Embroidress Qian,” but “Master Qian.” That pleased her far more than earning thousands of gold.
Now, besides embroidering two sets for Chou’er, one set for Di Qingya, and one set each year for Xing Muzheng, she no longer embroidered clothing. Xing Muzheng also did not want her to embroider too much.
Thinking of Xing Muzheng, Qian Jiaoniang frowned slightly. He had already been away more than two months. Before, though he went out, never had he been gone this long. And not a single letter had come back.
“Madam, Lord Xie Zhang is here, says he has urgent business to see you about.” Hongjuan came in to report.
Qian Jiaoniang immediately stood up. “Quickly, invite him in.”
Xie Zhang was brought in. But what he brought was not news of Xing Muzheng, rather another vexing matter. “Madam, there are many more refugees from Changzhou outside the city gates. This official is uncertain what to do, so I have come to ask whether we should admit them or not?”
Last year Changzhou had been struck by locusts, harvest lost. This year again. The disaster relief silver sent down from court vanished like stones into the sea, not a ripple left. Changzhou was filled with corpses of famine; refugees scattered everywhere. Yunzhou city had already admitted two waves. But the homeless could not be expected to stay obedient; thefts, riots, food snatching happened from time to time, and the commoners of Yunzhou had much resentment. Now Xing Muzheng was absent, and Xie Zhang feared the yamen’s manpower insufficient, dared not make his own decision. He had come to ask the only other person with authority to mobilize Yunzhou’s troops—the Marquis’s wife.
Xing Muzheng had spoken with Qian Jiaoniang about this, and she herself had seen refugees robbing meat buns on the street. Pressing her lips together, she said: “Of course we must admit them. If not for being unable to survive, who would abandon their homes? Lord Xie, I will have Ah Da lead a squad to join the yamen in receiving the refugees. As the Marquis did before, register them quickly, lodge them for the night, prepare extra dry rations, then escort them on to Zhiye.”
Zhiye County was sparsely populated, just right for opening wasteland. Since Xing Muzheng’s third uncle took office there, he had purged corrupt officials and boldly advanced people’s livelihood, demanding funds from Xing Muzheng without restraint.
Xie Zhang, receiving her instruction, hurried off. Suier sighed, “This servant thought it was the Marquis returning.”
