Zhao Mingyan’s face flushed red at Wang Shuang’s words. She quickly covered her cheeks. “Sister Shuang, I’m not like that!”
“No need to be shy. At your age, you’re at your most beautiful—this is the time to shine. But…” Wang Shuang looked her up and down. “Your clothes are too plain. They don’t suit your age or your good looks. Today we’ll go out and buy some fine fabric, and I’ll have a few pretty new outfits made for you!”
“That’s not necessary,” Zhao Mingyan quickly declined.
When she left the Pleasure Bureau, she hadn’t been allowed to bring any of the silks or gauze dresses. The matrons there had given her only a coarse linen outfit—the one she was wearing now.
She truly had no other clothes, but fabric was expensive in these times. To casually add a new set of clothes made her feel embarrassed.
“This isn’t my idea—it’s your lord’s. Before leaving this morning, he told me to get you some new clothes. After breakfast, we’ll go to the market together. If you dare disobey, I’ll tell him!”
Zhao Mingyan: “……”
So it was Nan Yan himself who had suggested it. She closed her mouth and smiled obediently.
Soon, Zhao Mingyan and Wang Shuang finished breakfast.
The bowls and cleaning were left to the old maid, while Wang Shuang bustled out with Zhao Mingyan. They went on foot.
The Nan residence had only one carriage, reserved for Nan Yan’s court duties. In daily life, Wang Shuang walked wherever she needed to go.
Occasionally, when attending gatherings, the host would send a carriage to fetch her. Even the two young daughters studying outside were transported back and forth by the academy’s carriage, not their own.
After two days in the Nan household, Zhao Mingyan realized it was not particularly wealthy. Strange, really. For someone like Nan Yan, favored by the emperor and rising swiftly in rank, wealth should have been easy to come by. Surely many people must have tried to send him gifts or curry favor.
Turning it over in her mind, Zhao Mingyan understood: Nan Yan simply refused to accept such things. Her own Zhao family had extended countless olive branches to him before. If he had accepted even once, endless streams of gold and silver would have flowed his way.
But Nan Yan had never responded.
“Our lord is an honest official. He doesn’t take bribes or messy gifts, and he forbids me from accepting them too. Compared to others, our household is poorer,” Wang Shuang said beside her.
“But our household isn’t short of money. Later, choose carefully—whatever you like, buy it! Your lord would never let you go without in this regard.”
Zhao Mingyan: “……”
She was a little puzzled. Why did Wang Shuang, when speaking of Nan Yan, sometimes call him by name, and other times say *your lord*? Wasn’t he supposed to be her husband?
By now, Zhao Mingyan and Wang Shuang had arrived at a fabric shop.
Zhao Mingyan had been here before. It was one of the largest in the capital, with a wide variety of styles, patterns, and prices—some fine, some ordinary.
In the past, most of the time, the shop’s steward would personally bring the newest, finest fabrics to the Ministry household, letting the women there choose and have clothes tailored on the spot.
Hearing Wang Shuang’s words, Zhao Mingyan smiled faintly and was about to head toward the cheaper section to pick fabric when a familiar voice reached her ears.
“Is that Fifth Miss Zhao?!” The shopkeeper recognized her at once, hurrying forward with great enthusiasm and surprise.
“Manager Ding,” Zhao Mingyan turned at the sound of his voice.
“It really is Fifth Miss Zhao! Why are you dressed…” Manager Ding’s voice faltered. Seeing her in coarse linen, he remembered—the Zhao family had suffered disaster.
“Manager Ding, I’ve come to choose some fabric.” Zhao Mingyan noticed the change in his expression, but her own face remained calm, still wearing a gentle smile.
The shrewd shopkeeper immediately understood and dared not ask further. He only said, “Of course, of course, Fifth Miss Zhao. As it happens, we’ve just received a batch of the finest fabrics today—the very first cut. Let me show you!”
Before Zhao Mingyan could refuse, Manager Ding had already ordered a clerk to bring out rolls from the back cabinets, laying them out before Zhao Mingyan and Wang Shuang. They were luxurious, brightly colored, exquisitely crafted—fine Su brocades, every piece irresistible.
Wang Shuang’s eyes widened at the sight. “How come every time I come here, you never show me such beautiful fabrics!” she exclaimed.
The steward clearly didn’t know who Wang Shuang really was. After all, she always came on foot. In these times, any official’s wife of standing would travel by carriage. And whenever she came, she chose from the cheaper fabrics, sometimes even arguing with clerks over the price, insisting they lower it.
After several such visits, Manager Ding had simply assumed she was the wife of some minor seventh‑ or eighth‑rank official. He had no idea she was the wife of the youngest grand secretary in the capital.
Manager Ding kept his smile. “Madam, please don’t misunderstand. At Caiyi Cloth House, we have countless varieties of fabric. If we introduced every single one to each customer, they’d be here for three days and nights without finishing! So we recommend fabrics based on your needs, to match what suits you best.”
Even Wang Shuang, blunt as she was, understood that. “You mean I can’t afford them, is that it?”
Manager Ding looked at her straightforwardness and replied, “Madam, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then just tell me—how much are these fabrics?”
His eyes lit up. “This batch is guaranteed to be the finest and most unique in the entire capital. The price is fair and honest—any madam or lady who buys them pays eighty taels of silver per bolt.”
Eighty taels per bolt!
That price, for the noble families of the capital, was indeed considered fair and not excessive. But in reality, an ordinary laborer in the city earned only three to five taels of silver for an entire year’s work.
Nan Yan’s current positions—besides the honorary title of Grand Secretary—were Hanlin Academician, Vice Minister of Personnel, and Minister of Rites. His annual salary was about one thousand taels of silver.
So one bolt of fabric at eighty taels was nearly equal to a month’s salary.
“Eighty taels a bolt! That’s daylight robbery!” Wang Shuang exclaimed in shock.
The fabrics she usually bought were under ten taels. Occasionally, she had purchased bolts of twenty‑tael silk for her two daughters, and even that had felt extravagant. Eighty taels was outrageous.
Manager Ding’s eyes betrayed a flicker of disdain at her words.
Just then, a familiar voice reached Zhao Mingyan’s ears from behind.
“Only eighty taels a bolt? So cheap—I’ll take them all.”
Everyone turned their heads.
There stood Zhao Mingzhu, dressed in dazzling finery, adorned with gold and silver, clad in silks and brocades, her arm linked with that of a handsome young nobleman as they entered.