Chapter 123: Selling Embroidery Patterns Again

Embroider Maiden nestled in Wu Wei’s arms. The weather wasn’t too hot yet, and after more than a month in prison, Wu Wei had long since grown accustomed to the local temperatures. Even in the hottest days of summer, the two of them had slept entwined together, so this moment was nothing special.

Though both Embroider Maiden and Wu Wei had been busy all day and their bodies ached with exhaustion, neither felt the least bit sleepy.

Wu Wei softly recounted the events from outside.

Gao Ningxue’s reply wouldn’t arrive for another month, Prince Pingyan had left Taizhou Prefecture, so his help was unlikely now, and Zhang Cheng’s plight truly moved Embroider Maiden to pity.

“How could things turn out like this?” Embroider Maiden murmured from the warmth of Wu Wei’s embrace, her voice dazed.

Embroider Maiden’s understanding mirrored the old Zhang Cheng’s: the imperial examinations were the hardest part, and once one passed, the path ahead would be smooth. As long as an official kept the people in mind, he would be a good one.

Wasn’t that how all the plays depicted it?

Wu Wei sighed helplessly. “Truth be told, I thought the same deep down. If I were in Zhang Cheng’s shoes, I probably wouldn’t fare much better. Maybe… we’re just not cut out for officialdom. All that schmoozing, playing both sides—we can’t do it. And if you can’t, you make enemies. If you have connections, you’re fine, but as a commoner without backing, one misstep and you’re paralyzed. Everything you do is wrong. Just like Zhang Cheng. He said the policies he issues become waste paper the moment they leave the yamen. No one listens, no one cares. Even the lowly clerks around him brush him off with ease, dismissing the county magistrate himself with a few clever words.”

Silence fell over the room once more. After a long while, Embroider Maiden spoke again, her voice drifting in bewilderment. “Weiwei, what should we do from now on?”

A flurry of thoughts raced through Wu Wei’s mind in that instant. Then she heard Embroider Maiden continue, “I’ve heard my mother say that our family used to be quite well-off. Both parents were alive, there were many brothers, fertile fields—life was prosperous. But one year, drought struck out of nowhere. Though the elders used their handed-down soil-tasting skills to detect something amiss, even they were powerless against a heavenly disaster. That summer, the earth cracked open, crops withered to nothing. Several uncles split the family and fled the famine. My grandparents stayed behind with Mother, guarding the old house and what little grain remained. In the end, even tree bark and wild grass were gone. When the rains finally came, they had no seed left, so they sold off some fields for seeds and a bit of food. A fine family crumbled just like that. Later, Mother married Father and came to Little Locust Village, but none of those uncles ever returned. Decades have passed in a blink, and Mother still tears up talking about it.”

“Weiwei.”

“Mm?”

“If—if things really turn out like Mother described, with a poor harvest, what do we do?”

Wu Wei pondered deeply before answering gravely, “I’ve never understood why I ended up here, but lately, some ideas have started forming. If disaster truly looms, we save who we can, hoard grain early, prepare as best we can. At the very least, we survive. Only by living do we have hope.”

“Mm.”

…

That night, Embroider Maiden and Wu Wei talked at length—about the past, the future—until the first faint light of dawn, when they finally drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, Old Lady Liu prepared breakfast and came to call them, but only Embroider Maiden emerged.

She held a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture toward Old Lady Liu and whispered, “Mother, Weiwei traveled far and wore herself out. Let her sleep a bit longer.”

Old Lady Liu nodded. Embroider Maiden portioned out some of the food, set it warming in the pot, finished her breakfast, and then led Old Lady Liu out to the fields.

When Wu Wei finally rose, the house was empty save for herself. On the kang table lay a note from Embroider Maiden: she had taken Old Lady Liu to check the fields and think of some solutions.

After breakfast, Wu Wei first headed to the ice cave in the back hills. With so much ice stored, it had created a natural cold locker effect. Sheltered from wind and sunlight, the blocks showed no signs of melting. Wu Wei fetched some unused straw mats and hung them on stakes at the entrance, adding an extra layer of protection to the cave.

Next, she checked the root cellar, taking stock of their reserves. Including the travel money left for Dongfang Rui and Embroider Maiden’s separation funds, they had nearly two hundred taels of silver. In a place like Zhang Family Village, that put Wu Wei and Embroider Maiden’s household solidly in the upper ranks. Yet Wu Wei wasn’t optimistic.

After heavenly disaster came human calamity. Their family of three were all newcomers, and relatively wealthy ones at that. In peaceful times, all was well, but if famine struck, who knew what might happen. They needed a secure plan, and fast.

Wu Wei pulled out paper and pen for some calculations. At local prices this year, one shi of fine rice cost three taels of silver, while coarse grains were cheaper, varying by type—the cheapest running about one tael per shi.

The catch was that dou and shi were volume measures, not weight. Coarse grains took up more space per unit than rice, so in terms of jin, one shi of coarse grain wasn’t much more filling than one shi of rice. Still, coarse grains did last longer in the belly.

Figuring one shi of rice at 120 jin and coarse grain at 100 jin, a family of three needed two shi a year just to get by.

With the silver on hand, bargaining for the cheapest coarse grain, she could buy at most two hundred shi. Assuming no looting or riots, that might feed around three hundred people. Zhang Shuisheng had once said Zhang Family Village had several hundred households, over a thousand mouths.

And that was just Qinglu County—never mind neighboring Clear River County.

A drop in the bucket!

Her modest savings wouldn’t sustain daily porridge handouts for long once disaster hit.

As Wu Wei chewed on her pen in frustration, Old Lady Liu and Embroider Maiden returned. Wu Wei saw no point in hiding anything; she laid out the gold leaves, silver ingots, and loose change on the kang.

Embroider Maiden and Old Lady Liu jumped at the sight upon entering. Old Lady Liu was especially stunned. She knew Wu Wei had a decent nest egg, but not this much—and gold, too!

“Weiwei, what’s happened?” Why drag out the entire household fortune?

Old Lady Liu moved to leave, but Wu Wei stopped her. “Aunt Liu, please sit.”

Only then did Old Lady Liu perch on the edge of the kang. She glanced over the pile of money but didn’t touch it.

“I’ve done the math. This’ll buy us two hundred shi of grain at most. Plenty for our own needs, but a drop in the bucket if we want to help others. How are the fields? Any ideas?”

Embroider Maiden and Old Lady Liu exchanged a look and shook their heads. “Mother went and tasted the soil again,” Embroider Maiden said. “Maybe because there’s been no rain lately—even with Eldest Sister Li’s family hauling water to irrigate, it doesn’t look good. Come autumn… we might not harvest much.”

Wu Wei reassured her, “Ours are hillside fields, thin soil that can’t compare to the fertile valleys below. Don’t take it too hard. No matter what, we’ll have enough grain at home. I’m only worried about one thing right now…”

“What?”

“We’re newcomers, all three of us womenfolk. If famine really hits, I’m afraid some opportunists might come stealing or robbing our grain!”

“No way,” Embroider Maiden said. Zhang Family Village had always seemed so nice to her; she hated to believe it.

Before Wu Wei could reply, the usually taciturn Old Lady Liu spoke up unexpectedly. “Why not? Our family was poor back then, but we’d never known true hardship. The famine year of my childhood—tree bark and wild grass all dug up—what didn’t people eat? They sold sons and daughters, even dug up the Desolate Burial Mound…” Her lips trembled; she couldn’t finish.

Old Lady Liu let out a long sigh, her wrinkled face twisting in remembered agony, pains from decades past still raw.

“Weiwei’s right. We might want to help others, but they won’t all remember our kindness. A house full of women—we’re the easiest targets. Even if the villagers leave us be, what about starving folk from other villages, sneaking in once desperation sets in? Who’d protect us then?”

Embroider Maiden looked frightened by Old Lady Liu’s words, turning beseeching eyes to Wu Wei. Wu Wei patted her hand. “Don’t worry. We can’t let what-ifs paralyze us. But this year’s weather doesn’t look promising either. Remember last year at this time—those downpours?”

Embroider Maiden thought back. “Last year was rainy. We patched the thatch roof several times from leaks around now.”

“Exactly. Plenty of rain then. But this year, from spring till now—just two showers. One a drizzle, the other barely two hours before stopping. The day before yesterday, walking the roads, I saw plenty of farmers already carrying water to irrigate. It’s only been days since sowing, and already drought?”

Embroider Maiden bowed her head in silence for a moment before suddenly raising it again. Light returned to her eyes as she looked straight into Wu Wei’s and said, “Let’s take up needlework again! It’s true I haven’t done any sewing in two years, but my embroidery skills haven’t slipped at all. In the past, we couldn’t travel far, but now we have Chou Chou. We can sell my patterns in Qinglu County—or even farther away! We’re short on silver, aren’t we? I’ll earn some, as much as I can!”

Wu Wei noticed Aunt Liu’s hesitant expression, as if she wanted to speak but held back. She asked gently, “Aunt Liu, Embroider Maiden’s embroidery patterns were selling fine one day and then suddenly no one would buy them. What happened? Can you tell us?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Embroider Maiden added. “How could perfectly good patterns suddenly be worth nothing to anyone?”

Aunt Liu wrestled with her thoughts for a long while before finally revealing the truth to Wu Wei and Embroider Maiden.

“It was the Wu Family—the same Wu Family that had arranged your betrothal before. Their young master was sickly from childhood. They said some expert had divined that he needed someone with an auspicious birth chart to marry him and bring good luck, which would help him recover bit by bit. Your birth chart was just right for strengthening his, so the matchmaker came calling. But that young master didn’t make it and passed away. Afterward, someone from the Wu Family came to your father. They still wanted Embroider Maiden to marry into the family—a ghost marriage with a rooster standing in for the groom. Then, in a few years, they’d adopt a son from a side branch of the clan to carry on the young master’s line, so his household wouldn’t end with him and there’d be someone to honor his ancestors decades from now.”

Aunt Liu wiped her tears with her sleeve and continued, “Your father never argued with anyone when he was alive, but he loved you most of all. How could he let his good daughter go straight from a happy life into widowhood without even a single good day? He quarreled with the Wu Family people and got shoved, falling hard. Combined with the anger bottled up inside him, he didn’t last much longer. Before he passed, he had just one dying wish: He made your eldest sister and her husband swear to split you off from the family so you could live independently.”

She went on, “When they talked it over at the Village Head’s place, the Wu Family flew into a rage on the spot. They swore that from then on, not a single one of our embroidery patterns would sell. They’re a wealthy family in the county, and they’ve ordered all the shops in the markets not to take our patterns anymore.”