“Second Sister, look at this cuff. If we tighten it, won’t it keep the wind from getting in?”
Chen Erxiu leaned over the sheet of rough paper, tracing the crooked lines Chen Zui had drawn with her finger in the air.
They were sketches of modern windbreakers and down jackets. Chen Zui had deliberately designed the cuffs and hems to be adjustable and snug. In this era, wide sleeves and loose robes were the norm. Even work clothes had open cuffs. During winter labor, icy wind would rush straight inside, leaving wrists chapped and covered in sores.
“Tighten it…” Chen Erxiu murmured.
The timid look that usually filled her eyes suddenly brightened as she studied the drawings.
Nearby, Li Shi was measuring their newly purchased fabric with a ruler, her brows furrowed deeply.
“We bought enough cotton,” she sighed, turning the bolts of cloth over and over as she calculated, “but we didn’t buy enough outer fabric. If we make padded jackets for your father and Little Six, then Eldest Girl and Second Girl will only have thin clothes. If we spread it around evenly, everyone will still end up cold.”
They had been in such a hurry when shopping that they focused mostly on food. The fabric had seemed plentiful at first, but for a family of five that needed new clothes from head to toe, it was nowhere near enough.
“Mother, don’t worry.”
Chen Erxiu suddenly spoke up.
Her voice was still soft, but her hands never stopped moving.
She walked over to the pile of discarded old clothes and began sorting through them.
These were the tattered garments they had brought from the old family home—patched upon patches, faded nearly white from countless washings, with holes worn through in places.
“The lining of these old clothes is actually still pretty sturdy,” Chen Erxiu said, picking up a pair of scissors. Without the slightest hesitation, she cut along the underarm seam of an old shirt.
Snip.
“Second Girl, what are you doing?” Li Shi jumped in alarm. No matter how worn out they were, cloth was still cloth.
“Patchwork,” Chen Zui answered before her sister could. Holding a scrap of red fabric and a faded blue piece side by side, she demonstrated. “Mother, this is called color blocking. We cut out the usable parts of the old clothes and combine them with new fabric. Then we cover any damaged areas with embroidery.”
Clearly, Chen Erxiu understood exactly what her younger sister meant.
She sat down on the kang bed, threaded a needle, and pulled through the thread.
The rusty iron needle seemed to come alive in her hands.
Resting her chin on her palm, Chen Zui watched quietly.
Normally, Chen Erxiu was the least noticeable member of the family. She never dared speak loudly, walked with her back pressed to the walls, and when Grandmother scolded her, she would only hide under a blanket and cry.
But the moment she picked up a needle and thread, she became a different person.
Her back straightened.
Her eyes no longer darted nervously.
Her fingers were long and dry, callused lightly at the tips. Holding the needle delicately, she flicked her wrist, and the silver point darted through the fabric like a tiny snake.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
The thread slipped rapidly through layer after layer of cloth.
She never used a ruler.
Everything was done by instinct.
The scissors glided across the fabric. She cut the newly purchased dark-blue cotton into the body of the jacket, then fashioned sleeves and a collar from pale-blue cloth salvaged from old garments.
“The body wears out fastest, so it should use new cloth. The cuffs need tightening—we can make gathered pleats from the old fabric, like an elastic band.”
She muttered to herself, completely absorbed in her own world.
Chen Zui watched in fascination.
This was talent.
Heaven had closed the door to boldness for her second sister, but opened a window for extraordinary craftsmanship.
Two hours later, a cotton jacket sized perfectly for Chen Zui was finished.
It looked nothing like the bulky padded coats common in the village.
The body was dark blue, the sleeves pale blue. The collar and cuffs were gathered with neat, dense stitches. Inside was stuffed with fluffy new cotton.
Where the two fabrics joined, Chen Erxiu had used leftover red thread to embroider a simple ring of plum blossom patterns. The embroidery concealed the seams while adding a playful touch to the otherwise subdued colors.
“Little Six, come try it on.”
Chen Erxiu bit off the thread, shook out the jacket, and a faint blush of nervousness colored her cheeks.
Chen Zui hopped off the bed and slipped it on.
Warm.
That was her first impression.
The fluffy new cotton wrapped around her body like a cloud.
Then came the second impression.
Comfort.
She swung her arms around.
The tightened cuffs trapped heat perfectly, and the sleeves weren’t bulky or cumbersome at all. Moving around felt incredibly easy.
“It’s beautiful! Really beautiful!”
Eldest Sister Chen Yinuo rushed over and touched the plum blossom embroidery, her eyes filled with amazement.
“Second Sister, how does your brain work? How can a bunch of scraps sewn together look even prettier than the ready-made clothes hanging in the fabric shop in town?”
Li Shi was equally stunned.
This patchwork method not only saved more than half the new fabric—allowing everyone in the family to have thick winter clothes—but the style itself carried an unexpected elegance.
“If someone wore this outside, wouldn’t all the young wives in the village be green with envy?” Li Shi murmured, stroking the jacket.
Standing before a cracked mirror, Chen Zui looked at her transformed reflection.
In the modern world, patchwork fashion was trendy.
In ancient times, it was practically a miracle of turning trash into treasure.
She turned around and looked at her second sister’s hands—covered in tiny needle pricks, yet shining brightly at this moment.
“Second Sister.”
Chen Zui walked over and took her hand.
“In the future, half of our family’s good fortune will come from Eldest Sister’s cooking spoon, and the other half will come from your needle.”
Chen Erxiu froze.
Her face instantly turned crimson.
“I… I was just fooling around…”
“That’s not fooling around. That’s skill.”
Chen Zui’s tone was firm.
“When spring comes, we’ll go negotiate business with the fabric shops in town. They can’t make clothes like this.”
Chen Erxiu looked into her little sister’s trusting eyes, then at her parents and eldest sister, whose faces were full of approval.
For the first time, a crack appeared in the shell of inferiority that had surrounded her heart.
So she could do more than cook meals and tend the fire.
She could do this, too.
At least now, the family’s winter clothing was taken care of.
Over the next two days, the thatched cottage buzzed with activity.
Eldest Sister rendered lard and cooked.
Second Sister stitched tirelessly.
Chen Laosan and Li Shi helped wherever they could.
As for Chen Zui, she was responsible for “overall coordination”—which mostly meant secretly cramming ancient business knowledge inside her mysterious space.
When all five family members finally put on their brand-new patchwork cotton jackets, Chen Zui looked at her transformed family and began making plans.
They had enough to eat.
They had warm clothes to wear.
But in the village, money alone wasn’t enough.
You also needed influence.
The people at the old family home had been frightened off for now, but they were like dogs that never let go once they smelled blood. Once they recovered from the shock, they would certainly come up with more schemes.
Relying solely on her own strength and intimidation was not a long-term solution.
They needed someone with authority—someone who could openly support the third branch of the family and act as their protector.
Chen Zui’s gaze drifted toward the eastern side of the village.
That was where Village Head Chen Fuhai lived.
Back when the family had divided, the village head had sided with Chen Laosan’s household out of sympathy.
Now that their lives were improving, sympathy alone would no longer sustain the relationship.
It had to be replaced with tangible benefits.
Only then could the connection endure.
“Father. Eldest Sister.”
Chen Zui pointed to the basket of crispy lard cakes still sitting on the table, then to the two pairs of thickened knee pads that Chen Erxiu had just finished sewing.
“I think it’s time we paid someone a visit.”