A’Chun carefully pondered Shen Weizhen’s meaning.
Was he saying that one ought to have backbone, not allow oneself to be bullied by others, and not lose face for him?
Scholars were truly a headache; her elder brother’s handsome looks were plain as day, yet his words curved and twisted through nine bends and eighteen turns.
If only his speech could be as plainly visible as his handsome face.
No wonder Shen Shiru used to say that it was fine not to read books, for reading too much only brought endless troubles.
Now it seemed that reading also brought troubles upon others.
A’Chun let out a gloomy sigh, lowering her head to look at the rough, frayed silk thread.
This was silk thread produced in Liaodong, possessing a unique, faint emerald-green sheen. It was expensive and specifically meant for fine embroidery. Having been accustomed to heavy manual labor, the calluses on her hands kept snagging and roughing up the delicate threads.
The Qixi Festival was fast approaching.
Nanwu Prefecture had many holidays and did not celebrate Qixi with great pomp. In A’Chun’s memory, during the four or five days around Qixi, one simply needed to hit the streets to look at lantern fairs and buy snacks. Who would have thought there were so many rules in the capital?
Setting aside other matters, within the estate alone, preparations had begun at the start of the month to build a decorated tower by the lotus pond called the “Tower for Praying for Skill.” On the nights of the sixth and seventh, offerings like carved melons, roasted meats, needles, thread, brush, and inkstone would be arranged beneath the tower to pray for dexterity, cleverness, and wisdom.
A’Chun didn’t need to help build the tower, but on the night of Qixi, she was still expected to present her own embroidered handiwork as an offering.
The last time she had held a needle and thread was merely to patch up a tear in her skirt.
Qiushuang had been equally dumbfounded, never expecting that the cousin lady couldn’t do needlework at all.
Forget fine embroidery—A’Chun couldn’t even sew a straight line of stitching, her uneven stitches resembling a jagged scar.
Even with Qiushuang’s array of skills, there was little she could do now. All ten of A’Chun’s fingers, including her palms, bore calluses from hard labor that couldn’t be smoothed out in a short time. Embroidery, however, was delicate work, and those calluses would constantly snag the silk thread into fuzzy pills; even if forced onto the cloth, it wouldn’t look neat.
In the end, they devised a solution: find some fine fabric and have her sew a simple sachet to present as an offering.
“It’s mostly for good sentiment and to join in the spirit of the occasion,” Qiushuang said. “It wouldn’t look right if everyone else presented something and we didn’t.”
A’Chun agreed.
The estate had embroideresses dedicated to needlework. With only a few days left, A’Chun went over every day to seek instruction, not aiming for anything remarkable, nor even average—just hoping her stitches would be even.
Yet this too required money.
At present, A’Chun’s monthly allowance was four taels, the same as the other young ladies. Knowing she had suffered and had no savings, the Matriarch occasionally gave her extra rewards. Third Sister Shen Zongshu was also considerate of her younger cousin; knowing A’Chun was newly arrived and understood little, whenever her maids went to buy rouge and powder, she would purchase an extra portion for A’Chun.
A’Chun didn’t dare spend recklessly, saving everything apart from daily expenses and tips. She treasured her belongings immensely, refusing to discard a piece of practice cloth until there was no bare space left to strike a needle.
With fewer than four days remaining until Qixi, A’Chun practiced with even greater diligence. The square practice cloth pinned with a needle never left her side, and whenever she had a moment of leisure, she sat down to practice sewing.
Even when paying her respects to the Matriarch, A’Chun kept her mind on her needlework.
After drinking tea and chatting, the Matriarch mentioned with a smile that Shen Weizhen had just returned from the academy and brought back some Qixi novelties for his sisters, telling them each to choose what they liked.
A’Chun guessed they might be small holiday trinkets, like wax-molded ducks or water birds, or perhaps grain boards and carved melons—things Shen Shiru used to buy—or even “Moheler” figurines presented in red gauze cages.
To her surprise, they turned out to be hairpins, hair ornaments, and delicate clasps, mostly crafted from gold inset with pearls and jade. There were eight pieces in total—evidently calculated in advance so that, including A’Chun, the four sisters in the estate could each choose two.
The most eye-catching piece was a golden camellia hairpin. The camellia petals were carved from pink tourmaline, and its stamens were woven from fine gold wire set with yellow sapphires, exquisitely crafted beyond measure.
The young ladies all kept their eyes fixed on it, and A’Chun was no exception.
It was simply too beautiful.
Her name meant camellia, and her hometown of Nanwu Prefecture was filled with wild camellias, giving her a special fondness for the flower.
Fifth Sister Shen Xiangmei gasped in admiration, her eyes filled with envy: “What a stunning golden camellia hairpin.”
The Matriarch spoke up: “Usually we go by order of age, but since A’Chun has just arrived at the estate, I’ll take the lead this time and let A’Chun choose first.”
A’Chun politely deferred, saying they should stick to the order of seniority and invited Third Sister Shen Zongshu to choose first. Shen Zongshu naturally deferred as well, but in the end, the Matriarch made the final call for A’Chun to pick first, after which the rest would choose.
Shen Linying, being the youngest, didn’t mind. She was used to picking last anyway, and since everything Shen Weizhen brought back was of fine quality, any piece would be wonderful.
Shen Zongshu was equally indifferent; composed by nature and deeply cherished by her parents, she had been taught from a young age to respect and love her sisters.
Only Shen Xiangmei couldn’t hold back, saying, “Cousin Jinghui, it’s the Old Ancestor’s kind intention, and look how wonderful that golden camellia hairpin is—she left it specifically for you, so just accept it.”
The Matriarch let out a quiet sigh in her heart.
She knew these girls were close in age and still young, so competing over hair ornaments and clothes was normal. Yet if one truly liked something, stating so openly and gracefully would earn the Matriarch’s appreciation for straightforwardness. Speaking with such subtle jealousy, however, was not the upbringing expected of a well-bred young lady.
Regardless of whether A’Chun wanted that golden camellia hairpin or not, the moment Shen Xiangmei uttered those words, A’Chun’s gentle nature made it impossible for her to take it.
Sure enough, as the first to choose, A’Chun did not pick the golden camellia hairpin, selecting instead two butterfly hairpins.
Shen Zongshu did not take it either.
That golden camellia hairpin ultimately ended up in Shen Xiangmei’s hands.
Delighted, Shen Xiangmei examined it back and forth. While the other young ladies thought nothing of it, the Matriarch looked at Shen Zongshu and thought to herself that the girls still needed to learn more.
If a mere hairpin could make Shen Xiangmei behave this way, what would happen if she encountered greater treasures in the future? Would she compete and squabble with her sisters?
A’Chun carefully held the pair of butterfly hairpins in her hands.
To her, every single thing she received was precious. She was not a legitimate daughter of the estate to begin with, and she already felt blessed enough.
Because of this, she pondered for a long time on how to repay Shen Weizhen.
As it happened, on Qixi night, the embroidered sachet presented as an offering could be taken down and given as a gift.
Shen Zongshu was already engaged, so after the offering, she would send a pageboy to deliver her sachet to her betrothed. Shen Xiangmei and Shen Linying both had brothers and would naturally give theirs to their brothers—
A’Chun thought that her sachet could be given to Shen Weizhen.
It would serve to express her gratitude for him coming to her defense last time and gifting the fine hairpins this time.
With this intention in mind, A’Chun worked even harder.
She practiced by day and worked by night. By the sixth day of the month, she had actually managed to sew a proper, presentable sachet. Recalling the fragrance she had smelled when she bumped into her elder brother that evening, she had a pageboy purchase various spices and blended them one by one.
A’Chun possessed a keen sense of smell; any scent she had breathed in, she could replicate through blending without the slightest error.
This was a skill she had picked up while working at a spice shop in her past.
On the night of the seventh day of July, a family banquet was set in the pavilion at the center of the lotus pond. This time everyone was present, seated separately by gender. The gauze curtains beneath the pavilion fluttered gently in the breeze, which carried the sweet fragrance of lotus blossoms.
Shen Xiangmei and Shen Linying were chatting together, while Shen Zongshu was learning household management from Lady Li, leaving A’Chun alone for the moment.
A’Chun quietly listened to Shen Xiangmei and Shen Linying’s conversation. Knowing few people in the capital, she couldn’t join in, so she quietly shelled lotus seeds one by one, picking out the bitter green sprouts from inside and placing the clean seeds on a pristine white jade plate.
When Shen Weizhen arrived, this was the scene that met his eyes.
Amid the laughter and chatter, only A’Chun, dressed in a lake-green gown with a lotus-leaf green sash draped over her arms, was slowly shelling lotus seeds. Her hands were slender and long, with faint scars remaining on the backs of her hands. Having been nurtured in the estate for some time, her skin had grown much fairer than when she first arrived—resembling a peony branch slowly shedding its woody bark from the bottom up to sprout delicate, supple green shoots.
Around her slender wrist hung a pair of translucent, watery-green jade bangles that clinked softly, yet even their luster paled in comparison to her radiant skin.
Behind her stretched the summer night lotus pond filled with blooming water lilies; she looked like a lotus flower resting on land.
Pausing in his tracks, A’Chun noticed him first.
Surprised and delighted, she called out: “Bro… Young Master!”
A simple form of address proved so difficult for her.
Shen Weizhen nodded. With everyone present, he could not leave her unacknowledged, so he walked over to her side and looked at the lotus seeds: “Do you like eating lotus seeds?”
“They are for the Old Ancestor,” A’Chun explained. “She mentioned feeling dry in her mouth and sleeping poorly these past two days, likely due to internal heat. I heard from the kitchen mammies that lotus seeds are best for clearing heart-fire, so I wanted to shell some for her.”
She had shelled these two lotus pods with utmost care, leaving every single seed perfectly intact and lovely to behold.
Shen Weizhen glanced at them: “Since you know lotus seeds clear internal heat, how is it you don’t know that the bitter sprouts you just removed are the very part that cools internal heat the most?”
“Ah? I thought the sprouts were bitter, and the Old Ancestor doesn’t like bitter tastes—”
“It is good that you care for the Old Ancestor’s health, but her meals and daily routine are attended to by servants. Having the intention is enough,” Shen Weizhen said. “There is no need to shell more; eat them yourself.”
Before he could finish, A’Chun lifted the white porcelain plate with both hands, holding it up to him: “Would Young Master like to have some?”
“I am no longer a child; if I wish to eat lotus seeds, I do not need others to shell them for me,” Shen Weizhen said indifferently. “Do not call me Young Master in the future. I have no time to keep explaining it to others—call me Brother.”
A’Chun was very obedient, lowering her head: “Brother.”
As her head bowed, Shen Weizhen caught sight of the two butterfly hairpins pinned in her hair.
He asked, “Do you dislike camellias?”
It was a peculiar question, leaving A’Chun temporarily bewildered: “I like them very much—why does Brother ask?”
Shen Weizhen remarked that it was nothing, turned, and walked away.
During the banquet, A’Chun noticed that Shen Xiangmei was wearing that golden camellia hairpin, shimmering with radiant light in the flickering candlelight.
Suddenly, A’Chun wondered to herself.
Could that golden camellia hairpin have been meant for her from Shen Weizhen all along?
No, that couldn’t be right—how could Shen Weizhen possibly know she liked camellias? He had said himself that he did not like her as a sister; moreover, according to the Matriarch, the sisters always chose gifts in order of age and seniority.
How could he have been certain that she would be the first to choose?
Puzzled, A’Chun couldn’t help but glance a few times at the golden camellia hairpin in Shen Xiangmei’s hair.
Noticing her gaze, Shen Xiangmei felt all the more triumphant.
She knew it: A’Chun was from some remote backwater and might not even recognize fine treasures. Leaving behind good things for nothing—though those two butterfly hairpins were pretty, they were ultimately far less exquisite than this golden camellia hairpin.
After all, in the capital, camellias were extraordinarily costly, notoriously difficult to cultivate, delicate, and quite rare.
Looking at the golden camellia hairpin in her hair so repeatedly now—could she be regretting her choice?
A’Chun, however, harbored no such thoughts. She passed the family banquet in quiet tranquility, and later went to the kitchen to ask an older mammy how to brew lotus plumule tea.
The next day, as A’Chun was washing and grooming herself, she heard someone calling outside.
“Sister Qiushuang,” Changdeng said, “the Eldest Master sent someone to deliver items to the young lady.”
A’Chun heard it too and leaned forward to ask, “What items?”
“Replying to Young Lady, it’s a rosewood casket,” Changdeng replied.
Her duty was to pass messages between the inner and outer courtyards, so she could not enter the young lady’s room and had to wait at the door. Qiushuang stepped outside, brought the casket in, and set it on the table.
A’Chun opened it and gasped: “Ah!”
It was a filigree gold hairpin inlaid with gems—a camellia blossom crafted from delicate gold wire and pigeon-blood rubies, with three dangling tassels made of pearls and red tourmaline beads. The gold wire was as fine as hair and intricately woven, while pigeon-blood rubies of such size were exceedingly rare, leaving even Qiushuang—who had seen plenty of fine treasures—marveling in astonishment.
There was another layer to the rosewood casket. Opening it gently revealed a pair of bangles resting quietly inside, a vibrant imperial green and crystal clear. A’Chun understood little about jadeite, yet she found them exquisitely beautiful.
Qiushuang exclaimed in awe, “Jadeite of such fine quality—I’ve only seen it a few times even at the Matriarch’s!”
Shen Weizhen had not instructed the messenger to pass along any extra words; he simply said they were for her, without giving a reason.
A’Chun walked out of the room and asked Changdeng loudly, “Where is the person who delivered the gifts?”
“They just left,” Changdeng said. “What’s wrong, Miss?”
“In which direction?”
Changdeng pointed, “That way, I believe.”
A’Chun lifted her skirt and ran out.
Qiushuang’s vision went dark: “Miss, mind your deportment!!!”
A’Chun paid no mind to deportment.
For reasons unknown, she naturally felt an innate sense of affinity toward Shen Weizhen—even though she was intimidated by his cold demeanor whenever they met, she still couldn’t resist wanting to draw closer to him.
She ran so fast that she startled the sweeping maid; just outside the courtyard gate, she caught sight of the messenger maid who hadn’t walked far. Intercepting her, A’Chun asked directly, “Where is the Eldest Master right now?”
The maid, Helu, was taken aback, staring blankly for a moment before recognizing her as the newly arrived cousin lady, and answered, “The Eldest Master is going to pay his respects to the Old Ancestor now, and then head to the academy to study…”
A’Chun caught up with Shen Weizhen at the entrance of Renshou Hall.
Shen Weizhen had already paid his respects and was instructing a pageboy to fetch his horse. Seeing A’Chun standing by the courtyard gate, he was startled, then immediately knit his brows.
A’Chun stepped forward: “Brother.”
“Mm,” Shen Weizhen had business to attend to and, before she could speak, clarified first, “The items sent to you this morning were merely to make up for what you were owed. Whenever the sisters in the household reach the age of fifteen, I, as their elder brother, gift them jewelry. Zongshu and the others all received theirs.”
A’Chun froze.
Yesterday, she really had overthought things.
A rush of heat flushed her cheeks, yet she still curtsied: “Thank you, Brother.”
Shen Weizhen glanced behind her: “Why is no one following you? Where is Qiushuang?”
A’Chun’s face turned even redder: “I was worried Brother had already left for the academy and that I wouldn’t get to see you, so I ran out…”
She regretted it.
Shen Weizhen was strict and bound by propriety; he would surely consider her unrefined now.
Qiushuang had already told her that young ladies of noble families were not supposed to run.
Yet Shen Weizhen did not reprimand her, asking instead, “Do you have urgent business with me?”
“Yes,” A’Chun quickly pulled the sachet from her sleeve, held it up, and presented it to Shen Weizhen. “This is for Brother.”
Shen Weizhen recognized it.
On Qixi night beneath the Tower for Praying for Skill, men offered inkstones while women offered needlework.
Yesterday when placing his inkstone under the moonlight, among several delicate embroidered handkerchiefs and sachets, Shen Weizhen had recognized this completely unembroidered sachet at a single glance, thinking to himself right then that it must be hers.
Sure enough.
He did not accept it: “I have already said that those were merely to make up for your fifteen-year gift—they were neither an exception nor meant to please you. You do not need to give a gift in return.”
A’Chun’s eyes widened in bewilderment.
Shen Weizhen did not wish to have too much contact with her.
Laying things bare now made matters far simpler.
He knew she wasn’t foolish.
“I know, Brother,” A’Chun said. “Ever since I entered the residence, Brother has been very considerate of me, frequently sending me fabrics and jewelry. I am deeply grateful in my heart and don’t know how to repay you. I have nothing else worthy to offer, but this sachet is the one thing I managed to make decently well.”
She lowered her head, thought for a moment, then looked up: “Brother, I come from the countryside, I don’t know many characters, and I don’t know how to say pleasing words. Brother says that sending me the gold hairpin and bangles was neither an exception nor meant to make me happy, but my sending this sachet to Brother is truly because I want to make Brother happy.”