The Embroiderer

Liu Yang was temporarily locked in Lu Chang’an’s room.

Though Lu Chang’an hadn’t asked for the kind of delayed-effect control poison that Lu Yuesheng used, he did procure some medicine that temporarily dispersed a cultivator’s cultivation.

After all, he couldn’t keep Liu Yang’s acupoints sealed forever.

Once Liu Yang’s cultivation was temporarily dispersed, binding him with rope would be much simpler.

Until Liu Yang was fully convinced, Lu Chang’an had no intention of letting him go.

To realize his plan, Liu Yang would have to make a small sacrifice.

Mm, truly just a minor sacrifice—consider it compensation for Liu Yang’s uninvited intrusion into his room.

“That Liu Yang, he’s certainly stubborn.”

“How do you plan to convince him?”

“By directly stating the purpose of our journey?”

At a dining table on the first floor of the inn, Lu Yuesheng was quite curious about how Lu Chang’an would persuade Liu Yang.

She didn’t understand the phrase Lu Chang’an had said yesterday, but she knew exactly the kind of young swordsman he meant—new to the martial world, inexperienced and naive.

How could such youthful pride be easily swayed?

“Of course I won’t mention your matter.”

“If I revealed your identity, he probably wouldn’t help us.”

Lu Chang’an shook his head.

He didn’t intend to deceive Liu Yang, but neither would he disclose Lu Yuesheng’s identity.

“As for how to convince him, I have a direction in mind.”

“Oh?”

“I took a walk around town today and noticed something interesting.”

“This place is not far from Liantian Manor, yet very few people here mention it.”

“The few who do all have strange expressions.”

Lu Chang’an recalled the faces he’d seen when the manor was spoken of, and said with certainty, “That expression is definitely not one befitting a true righteous sect.”

Lu Yuesheng considered herself familiar with those young heroes of the martial world, so upon hearing Lu Chang’an’s words, she immediately grasped his meaning.

“You mean…”

“I’ve never believed that famous orthodox sects are necessarily good, or that evil heretics are necessarily bad.”

Lu Chang’an smiled slightly, confident.

“The Liantian Manor might not be as clean as it appears.”

“Then where do you plan to start investigating?”

“Isn’t there a ready target?”

“Although we’re relatively close to Liantian Manor, there are towns even nearer.”

“Why did the Second Manor Lord’s wife come all the way here?”

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, as if he’d already seen the outcome.

North of Hua County, in a suburban area far from the city center, stood several dyeing workshops.

These workshops all belonged to the local wealthy squire, Zhang Wanguan.

The cloth sold in the Zhang family’s fabric store was mostly dyed here.

As a worker responsible for stirring the dye vats, Xiu Niang was always utterly exhausted after each shift.

She was, after all, a woman, and the work of stirring vats was incredibly strenuous.

It was no small feat that she had endured this long.

Xiu Niang had insisted on taking this heavy labor herself.

At first, others tried to persuade her to take an easier job, but she had always refused with a gentle smile.

After all, although stirring vats was tiring, the wages were two or three times higher than other jobs.

For the sake of her and her daughter Yanyan’s livelihood, Xiu Niang had to persevere.

In the beginning, after each day’s work, Xiu Niang’s arms felt as if they weren’t her own—numb and lifeless.

At the worst times, both her arms would swell up completely.

She had to take leave and apply medicine for a while before she could work again.

Now, she’d been working here for over half a year.

Six months had finally helped her get used to the job, unlike before, when each shift felt like it drained half her life.

Finishing today’s work, Xiu Niang massaged her shoulders and neck, her face etched with fatigue, and prepared to head home.

Just as she stepped out of the workshop, she unexpectedly ran into the big boss himself, Squire Zhang Wanguan.

Zhang Wanguan was a middle-aged man with a genial face, constantly toying with a string of prayer beads in his hand.

He smiled and greeted every worker leaving the workshop, seemingly remembering each name.

But seeing such an affable Zhang Wanguan, Xiu Niang felt a pang of panic.

She didn’t want to see him; whenever she faced him, she felt inexplicably uneasy.

“Xiu Niang, hard at work as always.”

“Heading home?”

Yet she couldn’t avoid him.

Zhang Wanguan spotted her and immediately approached with a smile.

Xiu Niang bit her lower lip tightly and bowed.

“Greetings, Master Zhang.”

“No need for such formalities.”

“Xiu Niang, have you considered the matter I mentioned a while back?”

“You’re not from Hua County—you’re outsiders.”

“If Yanyan were betrothed to my nephew, it would be good for both her and you.”

Zhang Wanguan’s words were earnest, seemingly full of concern.

But Xiu Niang felt as if she were facing a monster, barely resisting the urge to step back.

Thinking of Yanyan, she steadied herself, showing no panic or retreat.

“I’m sorry, Yanyan is still young.”

“I haven’t considered such things.”

“Then think it over.”

For a moment, Zhang Wanguan’s expression seemed to cool, then returned to normal.

His voice carried an unmistakable tone of finality, forcing Xiu Niang to swallow the words of refusal.

After all, Zhang Wanguan was her employer.

She couldn’t keep rejecting him.

“…I’ll think about it after I go back.”

She murmured and then hurried away as if fleeing, rushing toward her home.

Xiu Niang’s “home” was a thatched cottage on the outskirts of Hua County.

It was built half a year ago, after she and Yanyan drifted to this place, with the help of neighboring families.

It provided shelter from the elements, though it looked terribly shabby.

Inside, Yanyan was already asleep, her head resting on the table.

She must have been waiting for her mother to return but had dozed off.

Gently draping a coat over Yanyan, Xiu Niang turned to the hearth.

On the nearby table, she saw freshly picked wild greens, and the water bucket—nearly empty that morning—was now full.

A tender look softened her gaze.

Glancing at Yanyan, as if afraid to disturb her rest, she whispered, “You worked hard.”

She gathered kindling to start a fire, preparing the evening meal.

Her thoughts drifted back to Zhang Wanguan’s words, and she understood that there was some truth to them.

Agreeing to betroth Yanyan to Zhang Wanguan’s nephew would indeed be good for both of them.

Yet, for some reason, her intuition told her something was off.

She couldn’t just agree.

“I’d better find a way to refuse Squire Zhang.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Xiu Niang made a decision that others might find inexplicable.

She stared blankly at the burning firewood and couldn’t help murmuring, “Things will get better eventually, won’t they?”

Whether she was saying this to the sleeping Yanyan or to herself, she didn’t know.