About an hour later, the self-ringing clock in the small room clanged loudly.
It was time to test real skill.
Yu Chun rubbed her sore neck, blinked away tears from her strained eyes, wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt, and looked at the shop steward with a smile.
Inside the brain interface, everyone—even Daiyu—fell silent.
It was just a simple seam line. No real thinking required. The pattern had already been marked with chalk—just a rough men’s cotton garment.
Yu Chun had managed to follow the lines after repeatedly undoing stitches, but the needlework was uneven—some stitches large, some small. When flipped and arranged, it was crooked and misshapen, clearly ruining the fabric. Unsellable.
Chun: I told you, I don’t have the fingers for this.
Feng: Just admit you were born to be served, not to do menial work.
Li Wan: Feng’s needlework is better than yours. Any noble household mistress would have better skills.
Baochai: Needlework isn’t just sewing—it tests patience, perseverance, and orderliness. It reflects a woman’s dignity.
Tanchun: Aren’t there maids for that? Why must the mistress do everything?
Daiyu: Then… Ah Chun, among virtue, appearance, speech, and skill—which are you good at?
Chun: Um… I cook pretty well.
So in both modern and ancient times, her only skill was housework?
Where was she supposed to learn anything else?
When short videos dominated the world, she was job-hunting. When she was in school, messaging apps didn’t even exist. Her parents were simple farmers. She grew up confused and only learned housework.
Qiao Jie: Shops don’t hire female cooks unless they sell themselves. If you had a spinning wheel, I could teach you to spin silk thread.
Feng: Qiao—
Qiao Jie: Mother, it’s just one lifetime of hardship.
Everyone fell silent.
Qiao Jie’s hardships needed no explanation.
Chun: I don’t have the hands for that. How much silk does it take to spin thread? Could I make those beautiful clothes like in dramas?
Yu Chun didn’t really understand. To her, it just sounded like spinning thread—which she found interesting. Skills meant money.
She still treated transmigration like a game.
In her mind, silk in the Tang dynasty could be used as currency. This dynasty should be similar.
If she had raw silk and a spinning wheel, she could basically print money.
Qiao Jie: First, you need at least twenty strings of cash for a loom. With your ability, you’ll need over three months and at least ten loads of raw silk to practice.
Baochai: That means over a hundred strings just to learn, plus nearly three thousand for labor—on top of daily expenses.
Yu Chun’s head buzzed.
Inhale—exhale—
Chun: I can do the math. I’d need three peaceful months too. With that money, I’d rather buy property and rent it out!
Daiyu: Ah Chun, are you sure wives here have property rights? A loom can last thirty years. It’s an iron rice bowl. A skilled weaver’s status surpasses land ownership. Otherwise, why would my father send me into the Jia family?
Even Yu Chun understood now.
Chun: I’ll learn. But first, I need a job here.
Feng: Not completely hopeless, I see.
Chun: Hehe.
She wanted to retort but couldn’t find the words.
Taking a deep breath, she looked at the steward.
“May I take the clothes home to sew and return them in a few days?”
Then quickly added, “I’ll practice hard. I can leave a deposit!”
In modern times, this was normal.
“Bang.” The steward slammed down his charcoal pen.
“So you want us to make an exception for someone who can’t even sew straight lines? Take our goods to who-knows-where, possibly contaminate them, just to test your foolish idea?”
Yes, yes.
Yu Chun was two steps away from foolish.
“Is that not allowed?”
“You think this is a child’s game? Someone like you—when your husband dies, you’ll be begging in the streets!”
The sudden scolding felt like being drenched in foul fish blood. Her mind went blank, face burning, unable to respond.
“Don’t bully my mother! You’re the uncultured one!”
Cao Rong rushed forward, standing protectively before her.
“I apologize for my employee’s attitude. Yu Chun, your suggestion is excellent.”
A clear, cold voice came from the doorway.
A woman wearing a white jade crown stood there.
Graceful and striking, radiant and composed.
Yu Chun’s heart pounded.
She fell in love instantly.
“Thank you… thank you!”
She could only repeat those words, eyes filled with tears.
But she didn’t push her luck—just smiled, full of newfound confidence.
“Please come register,” another steward said calmly.
The woman left.
Yu Chun exchanged all her money for materials for five garments.
She had a job.
“You should have come to me earlier. How much should I pay you for such an idea?”
Yu Chun was stunned.
What just happened?
Feng: Don’t be surprised.
Baochai: When you are strong, justice follows. You met someone powerful today.
Chun: I wonder if I can rely on her.
Feng: Dream on.
Daiyu: I’ve never seen a woman like this. Truly remarkable.
Baoyu: Opportunities exist for all of us.
At the workshop office, Yu Chun realized how large this business was—like a massive fashion and luxury conglomerate.
She signed with the clothing department.
Each garment paid twenty coins.
An experienced worker could sew ten a day—two hundred coins.
She only had three hundred coins but received ten garments total.
Delivery was due in ten days.
She had to work hard.
But the volume in the warehouse…
Chun: Ten times ten times ten times one hundred…
Daiyu: One hundred thousand sets. If these are military supplies, that’s fifty thousand soldiers.
Chun: What?!
If they were preparing military uniforms, then the rulers were confident.
The chances of the enemy taking Chang’an were much lower.