Nie Qinghe went to find her cousin and told her she had found work at Liu’s.
Her cousin was delighted, praising her for being so skilled and capable. Getting a job there was a rare opportunity.
Nie Qinghe didn’t say much more. She simply took her younger siblings and headed home.
On the way, Nie Honghua tried to probe her sister about how much she was earning, then clung to her, begging for snacks.
The candied plums she’d eaten yesterday had left her craving more all day. The plums had been cured in sugar and honey for over two months, losing their raw tartness as the flavors melded into a sweet and sour treat that was impossible to stop eating.
Now that her sister had earned money, she wanted to buy five wen’s worth.
Afraid Nie Qinghe would refuse, she showered her sister with flattery, praising her so extravagantly that Xiaoli accused her of sucking up.
For the sake of food, this younger sister was willing to swallow her pride.
Nie Qinghe felt she needed to earn more money so her siblings could experience the wider world. Otherwise, they might be easily lured away in the future by anyone who offered them a few coins or a small gift.
Nie Qinghe readily bought snacks for her younger siblings to eat. As they walked, she debated whether to stop by the Great Compassion Pavilion to buy some meat or fish.
Mother will be thrilled I earned money on my first day, she thought. But if I bring back meat, she’ll just feel the pinch in her wallet.
To keep the joy of her mother’s reaction untainted, she decided against it. She would wait until she had her mother’s permission to buy meat; that way, there would be no conflict.
Whether it was the thought of meat or the sweet-and-sour plums in her mouth, Nie Qinghe’s mouth watered. She craved meat so badly. In her own past life, she would have felt miserable missing a single meal of it, yet she had gone ten whole days without it since transmigrating here.
As they walked, Nie Honghua asked between bites of a plum, “Second Sister, do you think elder sister is still acting as Grandma’s ears?”
“Honghua, don’t you dare say that in front of elder sister,” Nie Qinghe cautioned in a low voice.
The original owner of this body had always thought well of her older cousin.
Father Nie had raised her as his own daughter, and Mother Nie treated her no differently on the surface. The cousin was diligent, taking the initiative with chores and helping to care for the younger siblings. She also showed great respect to Father Nie and Mother Nie.
Nie Honghua stuffed her cheeks full of food. “Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. I still want to eat elder sister’s snacks.”
She swallowed and added, “elder sister asked Teacher Xie to write a letter to Grandma today. I heard her mention you being sick, but she didn’t say anything about Xiaoli going to school.”
Nie Qinghe smiled. “Actually, elder sister stopped being Grandma’s spy a long time ago. She lives with us every day—how could she not know who her true family is?”
She knew the words she’d spoken to her cousin the previous night had taken root.
Old Madam Nie had always demanded that her granddaughter send monthly reports on the second branch of the family.
When the cousin had first arrived as a child, she might have been easily manipulated into playing the part of an informant. But by the time she was two years older, she had developed a mind of her own. Her uncle and aunt treated her well, and her life here was far better than it ever had been back home. She knew where her loyalties lay.
Every letter she wrote had detailed how hard the family worked and how meager their meals were. Eventually, Old Madam Nie had grown tired of the complaints and ordered her to write only when there was significant news—like how much money they had earned or what new things they had bought.
“Heaven bless us,” Nie Honghua sighed, “I hope Grandma never comes back here to cause a scene again.”
Nie Xiaoli was only six years old. He had been too young to remember the Old Madam Nie’s tantrums when she used to come screaming and throwing fits. He clenched his little fists. “If that flea dares come to our house to make trouble, I’ll feed her pebbles!”
“Flea?” Nie Qinghe looked at them both, suspicious.
Nie Honghua immediately coughed, trying to change the subject. She had given their grandmother the nickname “Flea,” and she’d even called their Fourth Uncle a “Blood-Sucking Worm.” Fearing her younger brother would let it slip, she quickly stuffed two sour plums into his mouth.
The tartness made Nie Xiaoli drool instantly, and he scrambled to catch it with his small hand.
Nie Qinghe used a handkerchief to wipe her brother’s mouth, deciding not to press the issue. However, she still offered a gentle warning. “Honghua, from now on, whether in public or private, you are not allowed to give them such nicknames. If outsiders hear it, they won’t blame you—they’ll blame our parents for not teaching their children to respect their elders and for inciting a child to insult the elderly. They won’t care what she’s done; they’ll only accuse our parents of being filial and us of being uneducated.”
She paused. “We only need to distance ourselves from them and live our own good lives. There’s no need to keep our hatred on our lips.”
Though Nie Honghua felt a surge of resentment, she didn’t argue. “I know, Sister.”
Nie Xiaoli’s eyes narrowed with envy. “Sister, if Grandma comes to cause trouble again, let’s stick sour candy to her teeth. Then she’ll be too busy with a toothache to bother us!”
Nie Qinghe chuckled. She hadn’t expected her six-year-old brother to be such a little schemer.
By the time they returned home, the women who came to work had already left. Mother Nie was busy preparing silk threads for the next batch of embroidery.
Nie Qinghe handed her mother fifty coins, explaining that she had earned fifty-six in total.
Mother Nie stared in shock. Fifty-six coins in a single day? What kind of work paid that much? She toiled at home until her head spun and her back ached, yet she never made that much.
“That’s the difference between working for a boss and being your own boss,” Nie Qinghe explained with a smile. “When you weave shoes for others, you might get fifty wen per pair at most—and that’s if you’re lucky. But the shop turns around and sells those same shoes for three to five taels of silver.”
Mother Nie realized the truth. The Embroidered Apparel Pavilion took the lion’s share of the profits, leaving her with only a meager wage. By styling the women’s hair herself, Nie Qinghe had acted as her own boss, and Liu’s Jewelry hadn’t taken a single cut.
If she had worked under someone else’s terms, she might have been lucky to earn a single coin from the five-coin fee.
Mother Nie exclaimed, “Good heavens! To think we’ve been working ourselves to the bone for nothing. We’ve been completely cheated!”
Still, she knew it was no use complaining. If she had tried to do this work herself, she would have had no one to sell to.
Her worry shifted quickly.
“Do you think Shopkeeper Liu will find someone else to replace you?” she asked.
“There are plenty of women who can style hair—even the city has professional hair-stylists.”
“It’s possible,” Nie Qinghe admitted. Seeing her mother’s growing anxiety, she smiled. “That’s why I need to make sure they can’t live without me.”
Her plan was to keep innovating—designing new hairstyles, creating new jewelry, and launching new products. By setting the trends, she would make herself indispensable to both her customers and Liu’s Jewelry. When the time came, they wouldn’t dare let her go.
Nie Qinghe wasn’t worried about competition. In fact, she welcomed more skilled women entering the trade. If they built a whole industry around this, everyone would prosper. Besides, she never intended to spend her entire life styling hair.
Nie Honghua’s mouth hung open the entire time. She knew her sister earned well, but she’d never imagined this much. If she’d known, she would have bought the cloud-shaped candy and sesame candy—they were far tastier than the sugared plums.
Sigh, she thought. I guess I’m just not greedy or bold enough.
Mother Nie beamed with pride. Her daughter was far more capable than she and her husband could ever hope to be.
She handed the coin purse back to Nie Qinghe. “I let your eldest sister keep the money she earned. She insisted on giving it to me, but I only took half for groceries and told her to save the rest for her dowry. You should do the same.”
Nie Qinghe was stunned. She never expected parents from an ordinary family in such a feudal society to be so progressive.
She pushed the purse back toward her mother. “You keep it, Mother. I’ll ask you if I need anything.”
The bond between mother and daughter was strong, free from the hesitations Nie Qinghe felt with her niece. Mother Nie accepted the purse and then pulled out a few coins for her daughter’s pocket money.
“I don’t need it,” Nie Qinghe refused. “I’m paid daily, and I’ll earn more tomorrow anyway.”
Nie Honghua chimed in urgently. “Mother, if Second Sister doesn’t want it, give it to me! I need pocket money too!”
Mother Nie chuckled. “When you turn ten, we’ll see.”
Nie Honghua began counting on her fingers, calculating how many days remained until her tenth birthday. As she counted, her face paled. The prospect felt utterly hopeless; counting the days one by one made it seem as if she would never reach ten in this lifetime.
Her expression turned miserable. “Mother, Er Ya has pocket money! Why won’t you give me any?”
“You’re comparing yourself to Er Ya?” Mother Nie snapped. “Her mother already sold her to a matchmaker. Who knows where she’s being kept as a servant now.”
Nie Honghua stared, stunned.
Nie Xiaoli just laughed, waving his small, fair hand. “Third Sister, you have to believe me! Time flies like a white horse passing a gap. In the blink of an eye—whoosh—it’s all gone.”
Nie Honghua promptly pinned her brother to the bench and flicked his forehead. Whoosh. One flick. Whoosh. Another. Xiaoli shrieked in protest.
That evening, the family unanimously decided that Nie Qinghe would cook. Although she used a bit more oil, her food was simply more delicious.
Because oil was scarce, Nie Qinghe didn’t make any stir-fried dishes.
The price of cooking oil had risen lately. It used to be fifty wen, but when Mother Nie went to ask the last few days, it had jumped to fifty-four. They needed oil for both cooking and lamps, so they had to be extremely frugal.
The flour they used was coarse, filled with bran. It scratched the throat and tasted slightly bitter—the kind of flour wealthy families would never touch. For ordinary folk, being able to eat this and feel full was considered a blessing; many families couldn’t even afford this much.
To mask the bitterness, Nie Qinghe sent her younger brother to pull some wild scallions and garlic from the base of the trees outside. She used these for seasoning, adding half a small spoonful of cooking oil and a spoonful of farmhouse soy sauce.
Finally, she stirred in the cheap bok choy Mother Nie had bought from the Daci market.
The aroma of the noodles wafted through the air, making Nie Honghua complain loudly about her hunger.
While waiting for Father Nie and their cousin to return, Nie Qinghe suggested to her mother, “When you go to the market, buy some green onions to plant along the wall. It’ll add more flavor to our cooking.”
Mother Nie readily agreed.
When the cousin finally returned, Father Nie was still missing.
“Second Uncle sent word that he has more work to do,” she explained, washing her hands. “He’ll be back late. He just asked us to save a meal for him.”
Mother Nie knew exactly what this meant. He was fulfilling a government quota on behalf of the Liu family.
Merchants were often required to supply the government with specific goods, but they could pay a fee to avoid the labor themselves. The government would then hire others to do the work. Father Nie was taking on this task for the Lius, earning extra money in the process.
He’s doing all this to pay for his youngest son’s schooling, Mother Nie thought, her frustration melting into sympathy for his hard work.
At dinner, Nie Qinghe decided to tell her family about her new job. She wanted to prepare them for any gossip.
“I’ll be styling hair and arranging jewelry for customers who come to buy accessories,” she explained. “It’s not the kind of ‘publicly exposing oneself’ that people might mock. If anyone tries to use this to shame us, just snap back at them. Don’t be polite.”
Could politeness put food on the table?
Nie Qinghe felt it was essential to prepare her family for the inevitable gossip. Her employment at Liu’s Jewelry would spread through the neighborhood in days.
Her mother spent her days embroidering at home, but the neighborhood was teeming with busybodies. Once they learned she was working at the shop, they would surely start gossiping. Some would simply be unable to stomach a woman working outside the home, while others would be jealous of the money she earned.
Her cousin, who worked at the Embroidered Apparel Pavilion, faced the same constant chatter. By warning her family now, Nie Qinghe ensured they would know how to fight back when the sour comments started.
Her cousin glanced at her, amazed by her growing boldness. To work in a shop alongside men…
She had been about to object, but after hearing Nie Qinghe’s explanation and seeing that her second aunt didn’t mind, she decided to keep her peace.
Mother Nie, however, was worried about the price. “Five copper coins? That’s too expensive. People won’t pay it.”
“A pound of white flour is eight coins, and a pound of meat is twenty,” she continued. “We can’t even bring ourselves to buy those things. Who would spend five coins just to get their hair done? Not to mention, I wouldn’t even spend one coin on it. We have hands to comb our own hair, don’t we? We’re not some pampered ladies with a staff of maids.”
Nie Qinghe tried to reassure them.
“The city is full of people with money,” she explained. “Take Liu’s Jewelry, for example. A single gold hairpin there can cost thirty taels of silver. Who from an ordinary family would ever buy something like that? Thirty taels! Why not just buy a house to live in?”
She smiled. “Madam Wen’s Boudoir Pavilion in the west end of the city charges twenty wen just for an apprentice to style a woman’s hair. The more skilled stylists charge fifty wen, and Madam Wen herself charges at least three hundred wen for a single session. Many noble ladies and brides go to her. But for women like Madam Fang and Madam Zhao, whom I met today—they can’t afford Madam Wen, but they can certainly spare five wen for my daughter.”
“There are plenty of wealthy women in this city,” she continued. “Those who are bored with their own maids’ work might want to try a new style for a change of pace. Or perhaps they usually keep a simple appearance at home, but when they need to visit relatives, they’ll spend a few coins to look their best.”
Her cousin thought to herself that if she were going to a matchmaking meeting or getting married, she would also be willing to spend twenty wen on her hair.
After they finished their meal, the family divided the chores: cleaning the house and twisting hemp rope. As they worked, the evening drums echoed through the city, signaling the approach of nightfall and the closing of the city gates.
Nie Honghua complained of an itchy scalp, so Mother Nie boiled a large pot of water. She instructed the whole family to wash their hair and wipe down their bodies, reusing the leftover water to wash their feet so nothing went to waste.
Their family couldn’t afford soap bars—those cheaply made lumps of soap scraps and fillers. Though inexpensive, a ten-cent bar would vanish after only a few uses. Instead, they washed their clothes and hair with plant ash, rinsing thoroughly afterward.
Nie Qinghe found the idea of washing her hair with ash repulsive.
She had never known such poverty. Even in her past life, no matter how hard things got for her and her mother, they never lacked soap or laundry detergent. But looking at her family’s current finances, she knew they couldn’t afford to make their own soap yet. However, shampoo and similar products should be added to the shop’s new arrivals list. This could be a way to make money.
Father Nie returned home after dark, looking exhausted but in good spirits. He had earned an extra thirty wen today, bringing them closer to paying for their son’s tuition.
Mother Nie hurried to serve him rice. Inside, the room was thick with the acrid smoke of burning mugwort used to repel mosquitoes, so he crouched outside the doorway, eating from his bowl.
Father Nie hurriedly shoved a few mouthfuls of steamed noodles into his mouth.
“The noodles are delicious,” he said. “They must be our daughter’s handiwork.”
Mother Nie placed a piece of fermented bean curd on his bowl and asked in a low voice, “What did you find out?”
Father Nie swallowed the noodles and took a sip of cold soup. “There’s a Xiucai on our main street. I heard his tuition is two taels of silver for half a year, but we wouldn’t need to buy the paper, ink, and brushes ourselves.”
“Good heavens,” Mother Nie exclaimed. “He’s got some nerve! Does reading books make you a god or something? That’s outrageous!”
Truly, you don’t know how poor you are until you try to get an education, she thought.
“There’s also a Tongsheng named Zhang,” Father Nie added. “His fee is one tael for half a year, and he’ll give us an inkstone, two brushes, and a stack of paper.”
Mother Nie still found the price too high.
“It’s cheaper in the countryside,” Father Nie said. “When Xiaoli’s Fourth Uncle started his studies, it only cost five hundred coins for the whole year—and that was paying extra. The usual rate was four hundred.”
Mother Nie curled her lip in disdain. “That old scholar was a fraud. Besides, how many years ago was that? Nowadays, starting school in the countryside must cost seven or eight hundred coins at the very least.”
And it would probably end up being a tael of silver anyway, she thought.
Even so, it was still cheaper than the options here. But they couldn’t possibly send Xiaoli to the countryside.
Education meant more than just tuition. He would have to buy brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones—not to mention the books. And he couldn’t send the boy to school looking like a pauper; he’d need new shoes, a hat, and proper clothes. The thought of it all was another small fortune.
Mother Nie decided to tell him about Qinghe’s earnings.
Father Nie glanced back into the room, terrified his daughter might overhear.
“You talk to her,” he whispered.
A woman working in a shop, showing her face in public—it was improper. The neighbors would gossip, and the Song family would surely object. Even if Qinghe didn’t end up marrying into the Songs, other families would still judge her.
The thought of his beautiful, sensible daughter being scrutinized and criticized because he, her father, had been too useless to provide for her, made his stomach churn.
Mother Nie countered with her daughter’s own argument. “Women go into jewelry shops to buy things, so why can’t my daughter go into one to sell them? If selling jewelry is considered ‘showing her face in public,’ then what about the young ladies and madams who attend flower festivals? Is that not the same thing?”
Father Nie, never one for words, struggled to reply. After a long silence, he managed, “But… they don’t mingle with men.”
“Our daughter is in the shop,” Mother Nie countered. “Aside from the women buying jewelry, the other shopkeepers and clerks are all men.”
She paused, challenging him. “If you disagree, go tell her yourself.”
Father Nie shrunk back, his resolve crumbling. He kept his head down, focusing on his noodles, though his mind was already calculating how much more money they needed to earn.