Shen Nianyi headed straight for the familiar “Renji Hall.”
This apothecary had always been her first choice for sourcing madder root—used both as medicinal material and as a premium red dye.
The old shopkeeper behind the counter saw her and, before she could even speak, hurriedly clasped his hands in greeting, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were chewing bitter coptis:
“Manager Shen, this time… this old man sees things clearly. But Brocade Splendor Atelier has issued a stern warning: if anyone dares to spare you even half a root of madder, their embroiderers’ medicinal teas and nourishing soups will have nothing to do with that shop from now on! You tell me, that’s a business that could support half a shop. With these old bones of mine…”
Shen Nianyi could only force out an understanding smile. “I understand. Business is difficult. I’ve put you in a difficult position, Nianyi.”
Next, she rushed to eight more medicinal herb shops and nine dye stores, but the results were largely the same:
Shopkeeper Wang on East Street saw her coming and immediately cried “Aiyo!”, clutching his waist and complaining of soreness, saying he had caught a chill last night and couldn’t move.
Shopkeeper Li in West Alley pointed at the empty shelves, pounding his chest and stamping his feet, claiming his elderly mother had visited him in a dream last night, dreaming that a whole warehouse of madder root had grown legs and run away.
Even worse, that usually most enthusiastic Hu merchant in the South Market actually pointed out the window on the spot and exclaimed in alarm, “Look! There’s a flying donkey in the sky!” By the time Shen Nianyi instinctively turned her head, he had already slipped away faster than a rabbit.
Even those moldy old materials from previous years, which were usually shunned for being too smoky even for firewood, had been scavenged clean as a bowl licked by a dog, so spotless you could see your reflection.
When Shen Nianyi returned to Cloud Silk Atelier, her face was as dark as the bottom of a pot. She plunged headlong into the dyeing workshop in the backyard.
“A Man! Bring out everything else from the storeroom that can dye red!”
She rolled up her sleeves, two small flames burning in her eyes—did Chen Wanqing think she could strangle her with a few measly roots? The reason Shen Nianyi had managed to keep this shop afloat until today wasn’t by sitting around waiting for death!
Sappanwood was thrown into boiling water. The steam rose with a dull smell, and the cloth it dyed came out a wilted, drooping red, like autumn persimmons beaten by frost.
Cinnabar was ground finely. The red it produced was indeed bright, but it floated on the fabric’s surface with a greasy, oily sheen.
Shen Nianyi’s brows knitted into a tight twist. “No good. This color is garish. If Miss Li wears it, she might be mistaken for a newlywed she-demon.”
Finally, in desperation, she mixed gromwell root with alum. The result was a vat churning with a murky, indescribable color that was neither red nor purple.
A Man lifted the soggy cloth with a bamboo pole, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Manager, this color… even the temple door gods would find it unappealing! If Miss Li were to wear this, she’d probably become the laughingstock of all Chang’an!”
Shen Nianyi stared at the vat of murky water, her expression even more spectacular than the ruined cloth. She remained silent, a low-pressure aura enveloping her entire being.
A Man was frightened by her appearance. She swallowed all the complaints that followed and exchanged a worried glance with Da Chun and Xiao Ya. The three of them fell as silent as cicadas in winter, even lightening their breaths.
For a moment, the only sounds in the dyeing workshop were the occasional crackle of firewood and the steady drip-drip of cloth.
A Man couldn’t stand the dead silence any longer. She quietly tugged on Da Chun’s sleeve and whispered into his ear with a breathy voice: “At a critical juncture like this… if only Young Master Pei were here.”
Da Chun nodded in deep agreement. “Exactly! When Young Master Pei was around, Manager Shen would at most grab the abacus and chase after him. Nothing like now…” He glanced at Shen Nianyi’s back and swallowed the rest of his words, “like a firecracker that won’t go off.”
Shen Nianyi abruptly threw the stirring rod she was holding into the dye vat. A few drops of murky dye splashed out, landing on her skirt and blooming into muddy blossoms. Without even looking, she turned and strode back to the front shop, her face dark.
A Man cautiously followed her out and poured her a cup of tea.
“Manager, don’t… don’t worry too much. There must still be a way…” Her own words sounded feeble even to her.
Exhausted, Shen Nianyi sank into a chair. Facing the rosewood abacus that had accompanied her for years, she flicked the beads, the clicks echoing sharply, yet no solution emerged from the calculations.
“The day after tomorrow… Miss Li will come to collect the goods. If we can’t deliver the Rouge Crimson, according to the contract… it’s triple compensation.”
Her voice carried an uncontrollable sob. “Cloud Silk Atelier’s reputation, built over three years… will truly be ruined by my hands.”
Just as the suffocating tension grew unbearable, Pei Yanshu sauntered in, carrying a bulging cloth bundle still stained with fresh soil.
His smile was dazzling, as if he were completely blind to the gloom filling the room.
“Well, what’s going on here?” His gaze swept over the mournful faces before finally settling on Shen Nianyi’s weary one. “Everyone looks like frostbitten eggplants. Is the shop about to close for good?”
“Young Master Pei!”
“You’re finally back!”
A Man and Da Chun cried out simultaneously, and even Xiao Ya’s eyes lit up as if spotting a savior.
But behind the counter, Shen Nianyi remained motionless, not even lifting her eyelids, as if the person standing before her were merely a wisp of air.
Pei Yanshu raised an eyebrow slightly and walked over to the counter with the grimy bundle, deliberately tapping the surface with his knuckles.
“Manager Shen,” he drawled, leaning forward, “seeing the general manager return, and you don’t even rise to greet him? What about the shop’s rules?”
Shen Nianyi remained silent, only her fingers gripping the abacus tightening slightly.
Seeing her stubborn, unyielding demeanor—not even willing to argue—a flicker of understanding passed through Pei Yanshu’s eyes.
“What’s wrong? Angry that I disappeared first thing in the morning… or have you really run into some trouble and can’t manage without me?”
A wave of bitterness surged straight to Shen Nianyi’s nose.
Here she was, frantic and overwhelmed, while he had the nerve to spout such careless, mocking words. She didn’t even have the energy to get angry, yet he insisted on poking at her heart with that playful grin.
Shen Nianyi abruptly turned her head away, tightly shutting her eyes, leaving him only with her profile.
Pei Yanshu refused to relent. He deliberately paced around to the side where he could see her face, then leaned in close, almost pressing against her. At this distance, he finally clearly saw the dampness clinging to her eyelashes.
“Oh dear,” his voice suddenly softened, carrying that familiar teasing tone, “are you shedding golden tears now? Didn’t I say I’m most afraid of seeing young ladies cry?”
Those words, that tone, instantly dragged Shen Nianyi back to the chaotic Silk Competition.
“You… you still dare say that! It’s all your fault! If it weren’t for you… if it weren’t for you…”
Shen Nianyi wanted to scold him, but sobs choked her throat, transforming into nothing but a glare mixed with grievance and fury.
Seeing her finally react, a smile returned to Pei Yanshu’s eyes. He straightened up and patted the grimy bundle.
“Alright, enough glaring. Wasn’t I just out finding the antidote for you?”
At his words, the three anxious assistants nearby let out a collective sigh of relief.
A Man patted her chest and exchanged a “we’re saved” look with Da Chun.
Da Chun even secretly gave Pei Yanshu a thumbs-up in his direction, mouthing to A Man: “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!”
Xiao Ya also pursed her lips into a smile and nimbly went to pour tea for Pei Yanshu.
Enjoying the assistants’ admiring gazes, Pei Yanshu deliberately began untying the mud-caked knot of the bundle at a leisurely pace. As he worked, he glanced at Shen Nianyi. “Manager Shen, would you mind lending a hand? This knot is tied rather tight.”
Shen Nianyi looked at the dirty bundle he held out before her, then raised her eyes to meet his smiling gaze. She bit her lower lip and finally reached out, clumsily tugging at the stubborn knot.
Seeing her willing to help, Pei Yanshu’s smile deepened, and he undid the bundle in a few deft moves.
The contents spilled out onto the counter with a clatter—a pile of low-grade madder roots of extremely poor quality, dark in color, some even bearing obvious mold spots. Mixed in were some blackish-brown bark fragments and a few oddly mottled mineral stones.
Everyone stared in stunned silence.
A Man was the first to shriek, pointing at the pile of junk. “Young Master Pei! What… what are you doing bringing back this trash?!”
“For dyeing cloth, of course,” Pei Yanshu replied matter-of-factly, even lightly poking the most heavily molded madder root with his fan as if admiring some treasure. He picked up a piece and examined it carefully against the light. “Look at this mold—perfectly distributed. It’s proof of natural fermentation.”
A Man stamped her foot in frustration. “That’s proof it’s gone bad! If you ask me, what decent color could this possibly dye? More like dog shit yellow!”
Pei Yanshu snapped his folding fan shut with a “thwack.” “Hey! That’s a great name! Our Cloud Silk Atelier’s new color shall be called Dog Shit Yellow!”
The absurd name finally made Shen Nianyi, who had been keeping a stern face, burst out with a “pfft” of laughter. Though she immediately covered her mouth with her hand, her almond-shaped eyes were already sparkling with amusement.
Seeing her laugh, Pei Yanshu turned a bit more serious. “No time to waste. Let’s start dyeing!”
He briskly rolled up his sleeves and casually tossed the moldy madder root to Da Chun. “Go, grind all of these into powder. The finer, the better.”
Da Chun fumbled to catch it, still hesitant. “Young Master Pei, will this really work…”
“Just do as I say.” Pei Yanshu didn’t even look back, picking up a mineral stone and weighing it in his hand. “A Man, go fetch the finest white silk. Xiao Ya, light the fire—a gentle flame.”
After giving his orders, he turned to Shen Nianyi, an unusually earnest look in his eyes. “Manager Shen, aren’t you coming?”
Shen Nianyi looked at his suddenly serious demeanor and muttered inwardly: Just a moment ago he was all smiles, and now he puts on this act. He can’t really be planning to use this junk…
She eyed Pei Yanshu suspiciously, but saw he had already turned and walked toward the dyeing workshop, his steps calm and confident, as if he truly had a plan.
“…Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she mumbled under her breath and followed him.
As soon as he entered the dyeing workshop, Pei Yanshu shed his casual demeanor.
He first sorted the pile of “treasures” into categories:
The moldy madder roots were carefully ground into a fine, even powder using a stone mortar.
The dark brown tree bark was personally scraped with a small knife to collect the inner layer, gathered in a porcelain bowl.
A few mottled mineral stones were picked out and set aside for later use.
“Bring the thickest clay pot,” he instructed Xiao Ya. “These mineral stones are prone to cracking when heated, so we need a thick pot and a slow, gentle fire.”
Watching his skilled movements, Shen Nianyi felt her doubts lessen slightly and focused her mind on participating as well.
She directed A Man to cut the finest raw silk white silk from the storeroom into several small samples, then personally fetched clear water from the well to thoroughly clean the dye vat.
Everything was ready.
Da Chun poured the madder powder into the clear water, while A Man, following Pei Yanshu’s instructions, added the scraped tree bark shavings and crushed mineral powder one after another. Xiao Ya crouched in front of the stove, carefully controlling the flame.
The dyeing workshop was filled with swirling smoke, permeated by a strange odor blending mildew, minerals, and vinegar.
Shen Nianyi stared at the pot of murky, turbid liquid boiling before her—made from moldy madder, unknown tree bark, and peculiar mineral stones—and her initial mindset of “trying anything as a last resort” began to waver.
How was this dyeing fabric? It looked more like brewing some kind of poison! If this piece of white silk were tossed in, wouldn’t it instantly dissolve into ashes!