That afternoon, Nie Qinghe went to the back of the house to find her father and older brother, telling them she had found work at a shop.
Nie Dali was thrilled. He praised his sister’s skill, noting that not just anyone could get a job at a proper shop.
Father Nie shared in the pride—his daughter was indeed capable. However, his expression soured when he learned she would be selling jewelry.
“My eldest daughter,” he said, his voice tinged with worry, “you could just stay home and embroider with your mother. There’s no need to work outside where it’s so tiring.”
“Father, I’m not afraid of hard work,” Nie Qinghe replied. “I’ll earn enough for Xiaoli’s schooling in no time.”
But Father Nie remained adamant, insisting she stay home.
Nie Dali, having heard enough of the men’s talk in town, understood his father’s unspoken concerns. He chimed in, urging Qinghe to heed their advice and stay home.
Nie Qinghe immediately caught their drift. She smiled. “Father, Brother, are you worried I’ll bring shame upon you by showing my face in public? I’ll be styling the hair of the ladies and young misses who buy jewelry, not the gentlemen.”
Nie Dali waved his hands frantically. “That’s not it! I’m just worried you’ll be exhausted.”
Father Nie lowered his voice. “My dear, I’m just worried about the Song family…”
Before he could finish, Nie Qinghe interrupted him. “Father, do you really think the Song family has the right to control me? Besides, I have no intention of marrying Song Qingyuan.”
With that, she made an excuse about having work to attend to and turned to leave.
Father Nie grew anxious. “Dali, what’s your sister getting at? Why doesn’t she want him anymore? Did they have a fight?”
Nie Dali wasn’t sure either. He knew the Song family had always been dissatisfied with his sister, and both he and his mother harbored their own resentment toward them. If Qinghe truly no longer wanted Song Qingyuan, it would be a good thing. He stopped his father from going to question her and explained the situation.
After listening, Father Nie still found it hard to believe. “Are you sure? Auntie Song has always adored our Qinghe.”
Nie Dali scoffed. “Father, how long has it been since you last saw her? That’s ancient history.”
Father Nie considered this. His sworn brother had been away for years, meaning he and Mother Song rarely saw each other. But his daughter and Song Qingyuan met all the time. His usually sharp mind struggled to untangle these complicated matters of the heart, so he gave up for now, deciding to discuss it with Mother Nie later.
He still had the matter of finding a tutor for his younger son on his mind. He turned to Nie Dali. “Dali, your little brother seems bright, a natural student. I was thinking…” He trailed off, worried his eldest son might object to the boy’s education, especially with Fourth Uncle’s failure as a cautionary tale.
To his surprise, Nie Dali didn’t object in the slightest. “You’re right. Xiaoli is sharp. He’d definitely succeed in his studies. Once I finish my apprenticeship, our family will have another way to earn a living.”
Father Nie was deeply moved. He nodded. “You go on, I’ll find someone to ask about the market price.”
He made a firm decision: if his youngest son had a talent for studying, the family would support him. If not, they would stop there. He would never let it drag down the other children, much less kick his eldest son out of the house to fend for himself. As long as he lived, he would do everything in his power to ensure his children fared well and were spared the hardships of the world.
That afternoon, Nie Qinghe styled the hair of two women in her shop. One was a city matchmaker preparing to arrange a marriage; the other was a street-savvy broker who dealt in human trafficking.
These kinds of women—the gossips and go-betweens—were the most active in the city, controlling almost all its underground information.
Both wore their own hair ornaments and bought nothing from the shop. Yet they were thoroughly impressed with Nie Qinghe’s skill and grew intensely curious about her, prying with a barrage of questions.
Such women were honey-tongued shears, always looking for a gap to slip through and coax respectable women into misdeeds. Nie Qinghe naturally paid them no mind.
This situation highlighted the advantage of having the Liu family as her backers.
These old women loved to incite decent women to do bad things. If Nie Qinghe had been an independent hair stylist, she would have been relentlessly courted and harassed by them.
She even recommended a pair of affordable copper hairpins and four carved wooden ones to two women who had only come in out of curiosity, wondering what such a high-end jewelry store sold. The women ended up spending nearly a hundred coppers, but they decided to save their purchases and wait until they reached a full hundred to collect them.
Just like that, Nie Qinghe earned a total of fifty-six wen!
She was thrilled.
Her older brother was an apprentice with no wages. Her cousin earned only three hundred coppers a month doing embroidery. Even the porters, who worked themselves to death, only made seventy wen a day.
The working class can never get ahead, she thought.
Second Shopkeeper Lin had been watching her secretly, amazed that the young girl could actually make sales. He was even more impressed by her composure; she continued working diligently in the shop without slipping away to celebrate. He remembered his own first day, when he had earned forty coppers and spent half the afternoon hiding in a corner, both laughing and crying with joy.
Though Nie Qinghe was happy, she knew there was no reason to be arrogant. Fifty-six coppers wasn’t much—only enough to buy three pounds of pork.
After getting permission from Head Shopkeeper Liu, she began rearranging the jewelry. She knew that displaying high-end pieces to look more luxurious and arranging the “fresh and elegant” styles to seem more ethereal was an art form. It required a careful balance of color, lighting, and space.
She also had the shop assistants prepare several more copper mirrors, polishing them to a brilliant shine and placing them on the counters so customers could see themselves at any time.
Unfortunately, the mirrors were yellowed and lacked clarity.
Building on this, she rearranged the shop’s interior decor. She removed the gaudy, space-consuming ornaments that had nothing to do with jewelry, replacing them with paintings of court ladies on the walls and screens. She specifically chose artworks that highlighted the ladies’ hairstyles, headpieces, and jewelry—the more diverse and colorful, the better—to stimulate the customers’ desire to buy.
Shopkeeper Liu led the two dissenting managers on a thorough inspection. He walked with his hands behind his back, nodding repeatedly. “Qinghe is truly a girl of vision.”
Second Shopkeeper Lin chimed in with agreement, but Second Shopkeeper Qian looked reluctant.
Recognizing Nie Qinghe’s potential, Shopkeeper Liu immediately assigned Laishun and the others to carve out the easternmost section of the five-bay shop, including the small side room behind it, as her personal workspace.
A screen of huanghuali wood inlaid with embroidery of Chang’e flying to the moon separated the workspace from the public area. Inside, she arranged elegant pots of orchids, crabapple blossoms, and jasmine, along with a table, chairs, and an embroidered stool. A curio shelf held her hair-combing tools, rouges, and powders.
He also instructed Shopkeeper Lin to set aside a beautiful new tea set for Nie Qinghe, one designed specifically for a lady’s use and decorated with the Four Great Beauties. A platter of delicate pastries was included as well.
This was treatment befitting a master artisan.
Second Shopkeeper Lin took it in stride, but Second Shopkeeper Qian was openly jealous.
All this for fifty-six wen? he thought bitterly. Is it really necessary?
Shopkeeper Liu, however, knew better. He understood that a young woman from another shop would never dare show her face in public, let alone speak up, much less conduct business.
Even the sharpest apprentice would need three years of one-on-one training to reach this level. Nie Qinghe, on the other hand, had the Flower Immortal herself as her patron. That was true skill.
Of course, he would never admit this to anyone. What if someone tried to steal her away?
He envisioned Nie Qinghe building her reputation and drawing the noble ladies of the Boudoir Pavilion to their shop. If that happened, Liu’s Jewelry would undoubtedly become the premier establishment in Jintai City. Huang’s and the rest would be no match for them—even the shops in the Capital would have to tread carefully.
While Head Shopkeeper Liu was still present, Nie Qinghe took the opportunity to discuss some new ideas with him. She hoped to acquire a few practical tools, such as hairnets, bobby pins, and U-shaped wavy clips.
The hairnets didn’t need gold or silver wire—strong, coarse silk thread would suffice.
The hairpins and U-shaped clips of the time were still quite long and unsuitable for certain styles. She needed a batch of smaller, more convenient ones.
Handy tools would allow her to create even more beautiful hairstyles. She had studied many vintage looks in her past life and hoped to set new trends, filling her purse in the process.
Shopkeeper Liu was an expert in craftsmanship. He grasped Nie Qinghe’s ideas immediately.
“If you have a design, just try it out,” he said with a smile. “I’ll assign two people to help you make a prototype. Once we’ve finalized it, I’ll have others produce more.”
He was more eager than anyone to see Nie Qinghe introduce more of the Flower Immortal’s teachings.
Nie Dali and Chen Zijian were assigned to assist her. Nie Dali had a natural talent for handiwork, while Chen Zijian was known for his good temperament. After hearing Nie Qinghe’s design, both agreed it was feasible.
They brought over their toolbox and a variety of materials—gold, silver, and copper wire—to discuss the details with her in person.
Following Nie Qinghe’s specifications, they determined the thickness of the small clips and then added a wavy pattern to them. This would increase the friction against the hair, making the grip more secure. However, they had to abandon the idea of making flat bobby pins. The current materials were too brittle and would snap after repeated use, unlike the cheap, durable ones from her past life.
Instead, Nie Qinghe taught them other clever techniques. She showed them how to create spirals from flexible, resilient metal wire—creating springs. Placing these at key points would make the jewelry appear more lively and dynamic. She also explained the mechanics of spring-loaded clips, pin-style hair clips, and claw clips. Although the necessary materials weren’t yet available, introducing these concepts would prompt them to research and continuously improve their tools.
“Take these huadian hair ornaments, for example,” Nie Qinghe explained. “Right now, they either have a single short pin to secure them directly into a bun, or they leave a gap for a hairpin to hold them onto a floral crown. But if we soldered a flat spring clip or a pin-style clamp to the back, they could be fixed directly to the hair. You wouldn’t need a whole set of pins to keep them in place, and they wouldn’t fall off so easily.”
She gestured to the other accessories. “The same goes for these beautiful velvet and gauze flowers. Using these small clips would make them far more secure than fixing them to a hairpin.”
Nie Dali and Chen Zijian were visibly inspired. They immediately began sketching out their own versions of her ideas, eager to experiment.
Shopkeeper Liu listened, feeling as refreshed as if he’d just eaten a bowl of mung bean ice on a sweltering June day.
I knew it, he thought. The Flower Immortal must have taught Nie Qinghe all of this.
How could a young girl know of such techniques when he had never even heard their names?
He was also astonished by her generosity. So many artisans guarded their secrets fiercely, refusing to pass them on to anyone—especially women. Even in trades like gold and silver plating or filigree work, masters often held back their best techniques until the very end, fearing that a skilled apprentice would put them out of business. Yet here she was, sharing everything so freely.
Shopkeeper Liu was stunned. Nie Qinghe had taught the shop her craft without hesitation, and he felt it was only right to be generous in return.
“I’m willing to offer you a higher commission,” he declared. “For any new product you design for the shop, I’ll give you thirty percent of the profit.”
It was a lavish offer. Even for small items, a high sales volume would generate a substantial income.
Nie Qinghe shook her head immediately.
“Are you not satisfied?” Shopkeeper Liu asked, assuming she wanted more. “Forty percent is possible, but the shop has to provide the capital and labor, and—”
Nie Qinghe smiled. “Head Shopkeeper, you misunderstand. I don’t want thirty percent. Let’s stick to our original agreement: for items with low profit margins like these, I’ll take two copper coins for every hundred sold. If we develop more profitable products later, you can consider increasing my share then.”
Shopkeeper Liu stared at her in astonishment. Today, she had brought him one surprise after another. To possess such composure and resist such temptation at her young age was truly remarkable.
Nie Qinghe had her own reasons. She had countless ideas and new products in mind; making money was not the issue. What mattered was timing and strength. She had to proceed step by step, or she would inevitably attract trouble.
A child with no power to protect themselves, walking the streets with a pocket full of gold and silver, was not a person of wealth—they were mere prey waiting to be slaughtered.
Shopkeeper Liu’s offer to give her thirty percent of the profits after costs was generous, but it offered her no real security. This was not a society with a sound legal system; a contract was just a piece of paper. Everything relied on character and reputation.
Yet human nature was fickle, and the most fragile thing of all when tested by profit.
If her share of the profits grew too large, it would inevitably draw envious glares. Not just from the managers, but from the head of the Liu family himself.
She would start with small sums. The Liu family wouldn’t care about minor amounts, and she could build her foundation one steady step at a time.
She would begin with inconspicuous products, slowly introducing better ones as she grew stronger. By then, neither the Liu family nor anyone else would be able to touch her.
Head Shopkeeper Liu’s opinion of Nie Qinghe rose even higher. He instructed Second Shopkeeper Lin to treat her with courtesy and settle her accounts daily.
For those from humble backgrounds, every penny counted. They needed their money immediately to buy meat and rice; they couldn’t afford to wait for a monthly settlement.
Second Shopkeeper Qian’s jealousy flared again.
Nie Qinghe worked all afternoon. When the sound of drums and bells echoed through the city, she glanced at the sky; it was the end of the Shen hour.
Ordinary families in Jintai City lacked timekeeping devices, relying instead on the bell and drum tower combined with the position of the sun. The morning bell and evening drum marked the start and end of the day, but the tower also signaled time throughout the daylight hours. For instance, the Shen hour spanned from three to five in the afternoon. A bell and drum would sound at the beginning of the hour, again at its midpoint, and once more at its end, which also marked the beginning of the You hour. By listening to these signals, the townspeople could tell the time.
She informed Second Shopkeeper Lin that she was leaving to pick up her younger brother and sister.
Her older cousin wouldn’t be finished with her part-time work for some time, and Nie Qinghe wanted to get home early to help Mother Nie prepare the meal.
As she arrived at the Embroidered Apparel Pavilion, she saw Scholar Xie once again holding Xiaoli and the other children captive with his storytelling. This time, he was recounting the Biographies of Assassins. He described the tale of Zhuan Zhu’s sword at Bolang Mountain with such vividness and passion that he gestured wildly, leaving the children spellbound. Nie Xiaoli, in particular, was mimicking his movements, panting and gesturing excitedly.
Nie Qinghe listened for a while, conceding that Scholar Xie was indeed a man of vast learning. Yet she couldn’t shake her prejudice; there was something about his disheveled appearance and eccentric mannerisms that made her want to keep her distance.
Of all the stories in the world, why tell children about assassins? she wondered. Is murder so entertaining? Is it truly worth glorifying the act of throwing one’s life away just to repay a benefactor’s kindness?
Isn’t living better? Is braised pork belly not fragrant enough? Is the fresh air not sweet enough?
She offered Teacher Xie a polite but distant thank you, then took her brother’s hand and led him away.
Teacher Xie remained perched on a large rock, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. He watched the siblings’ retreating figures with genuine interest.
The older sister, a mere girl, showed no fear in the presence of a scholar and no shame before a strange man.
The younger brother, a small cub, recited his lessons as smoothly as flowing water. For such a young child, he was remarkably clever, seizing every opportunity to coax another story from the old man.
Well, well, Teacher Xie thought. How very interesting.