Chapter 111: Weaving Garments

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Within the Celestial Gift Pavilion, beyond the frame of the lacquered green door, rose beams carved in vermilion stretched overhead. To the left, a corridor lined the quarters where Xiaochun and the others resided.

At this moment, inside the room, an incense burner emitted wisps of sandalwood smoke, filling the air with a gentle fragrance. Originally a maid’s chamber, the arrangement here differed entirely from the servant’s quarters; it resembled more the quarters of a mistress. In fact, many of the items, including the new incense burner and bronze mirror, were gifts bestowed by the princess herself.

A loom stood within, rhythmically weaving fine fabric from the finest celestial silkworm threads.

Long ago, Xiaochun had tailored a jade-green blouse and skirt for the princess using purchased cloth, but the princess’s expression when wearing it seemed less than pleased.

Though red fabric had originally been purchased, Xiaochun found its hue lacked vibrancy, and no cloth in the shop caught her eye with the brilliance she sought. Moreover, in casual conversation, she learned the princess mentioned that wearing Han clothing might be more comfortable. Thus, from the very weaving of the silk threads, Xiaochun set about preparing a new set of red Han-style garments.

Nearby, a young maid was tending to her long hair by the bronze mirror, smoothing it before coiling it up. The subtle aroma of sandalwood prompted her to ask the busy Xiaochun, “Do you really think the princess dislikes the jade green?”

“Yes,” Xiaochun replied, her feet working the treadle without pause, “not only jade green; she avoids the usual embroidered shawls and veils worn when going out. She also dislikes applying rouge or lipstick. Our princess is nothing like those young ladies always dreaming of marriage!”

Xiaochun’s nimble hands continued their work as she spoke, the shuttle clicking steadily in the loom.

“Indeed,” the maid agreed, inserting a hairpin into her neatly arranged bun and adjusting a strand. Her reflection in the mirror showed a face carrying a mature charm. “The princess is more like a man, able to drink wine and compose poetry, with many talents. I have always felt she is destined for greatness.”

“Our princess treats us so well,” Xiaochun said with a half-teasing tone, “unlike the inner palace, where aside from scoldings by the elder maids, there are also the eunuchs’ harassment. I heard eunuchs, lacking certain parts, vent their frustrations on us new, less favored maids. Here, the princess calls us sisters and treats us like treasures.”

The maid paused her combing, her eyes gleaming faintly with an unspoken understanding. “Yes, in the inner palace, aside from the sovereign’s favor, there is little hope. But in the princess’s residence, there is a future.”

They exchanged smiles, each seeing satisfaction reflected in the other’s eyes.

The loom’s shuttle clicked and clattered over several days until a piece of exquisite silk fabric was completed. Xiaochun began mixing dyes, heating them gently before immersing the silk to absorb the rich color.

Meanwhile, Du Fu had arrived at the mansion several weeks prior. Aside from idling around, the princess had assigned him no tasks, not even a title. When he saw Brother Gao leading over a thousand men in martial training in the back courtyard, he marveled not only at their discipline but also glimpsed a different side of Brother Gao’s gaze.

The princess’s mansion was unlike anywhere else — that was the conclusion he reached after several days. Everyone had their own duties and need not grovel. This perplexed him greatly, for he had always believed servants remained servants, their status immutable.

Here, in the princess’s dwelling, servants lived freely, unlike slaves struggling for survival in noble or royal households.

After asking a eunuch-clad man for the princess’s whereabouts, Du Fu set off toward the grand garden, determined to find her. He grew weary of idleness, observing others busily engaged while he was sidelined.

Upon reaching the garden, he noticed several fields filled with pointed red and green fruits. He recognized them as a kind of vegetable but thought “red vegetable” would suit just as well, since green would eventually ripen to red.

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In the distance stood a small stone arch bridge. According to the eunuch, the princess was feeding a large white beast beneath it. Du Fu swallowed nervously—if it really was a large beast, the princess was truly extraordinary, almost divine.

Approaching the bridge, a sudden gust of harsh wind stirred the air. Sensing something amiss, Du Fu’s heart skipped a beat. Could the beast have devoured the princess? Why would such a creature be kept in the mansion? He could not fathom the princess’s strange conduct.

A sudden “Moo~” startled him.

“Ah!” Du Fu broke out in a cold sweat and glanced toward the sound’s source. It was a large cow exhaling deeply, which frightened him even more.

The big cow chewed on grass, regarding the frail scholar with cow-like eyes twinkling with a hint of schadenfreude.

Just as Du Fu pressed a hand to his chest, another gust of fierce wind struck his face.

With a ferocious roar, a white tiger leapt onto the bridge. Its black-and-white stripes flowed gracefully across a muscular frame, powerful limbs propelling it forward. Its long tail resembled an iron rod, its tiger eyes full of menace, and sharp fangs gleamed.

Seeing this, Du Fu’s legs buckled. It was truly a white tiger! He was doomed. Cold sweat poured down like a waterfall and showed no sign of stopping.

The great white tiger pounced, its shadow engulfing Du Fu’s form as it knocked him to the ground. It opened its blood-red maw and gently licked his pale face, emitting a low growl of delight.

Wu Yueling then approached, noticing Du Fu’s eyes nearly rolling back and his legs twitching. She clapped her hands, signaling the white tiger to return obediently to her side. Then she knelt before Du Fu and pinched the philtrum between his nose and upper lip, rousing him.

“P-Princess...” Du Fu stammered, still pale as death.

Seeing his ghastly complexion, Wu Yueling smiled and shook her head gently, soothing him. “No need to panic. This white tiger is one I raised from a cub. It’s very obedient. It only wanted to play with you just now, and it seems it doesn’t dislike you.”

Du Fu breathed deeply for a long moment, finally regaining composure. Yet seeing the white tiger still watching him closely, he felt uneasy. All the idioms about living with a tiger, raising a tiger to become a menace, or the fox borrowing the tiger’s might flooded his mind.

“P-Princess! I am timid and have never seen a white tiger so close before. Please forgive my fright!” Du Fu stood and apologized, still weak and drenched in sweat.

Afraid and unsettled, he hadn’t expected to be so terrified of the tiger. After all, no one wishes death; he was no different. Fear of death was human nature.

“It is I who should apologize,” Wu Yueling said sincerely. “I failed to restrain the white tiger in time and frightened you.” She patted the tiger’s head, then gestured for it to go play with the big cow.

The big cow quickly knelt in submission as the white tiger galloped toward it—no longer the moment for schadenfreude.

Leading Du Fu toward a pavilion in the garden, they heard a rustling above the eaves. Looking up, a small lynx was lazily peering down, but perhaps the roof was slippery, for the lynx suddenly slid and tumbled down, landing squarely on Du Fu’s head.

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Wu Yueling watched in surprise as the cat claws scrambled chaotically, knocking off Du Fu’s cap and hairpin, turning his head into a tangled mess resembling a cat’s nest.

The chubby-faced lynx looked at its owner innocently and meowed, begging to be picked up.

Inside the pavilion, Wu Yueling held the round, ten-kilogram ball of fur and wondered if the lynx and white tiger bore some grudge against Du Fu from a past life, for they took turns tormenting him!

“Princess, Du Fu has a request!” Du Fu tidied his hair, replaced his cap, composed himself, and cupped his hands respectfully.

“What is it?”

“Du Fu has been indebted to the princess’s mansion, but merely eating without contributing, unlike Brother Gao, who is skilled in martial arts, I feel ashamed.”

The lynx, sensing its owner’s hand stroking it, paused.

“What do you think you can do in the princess’s mansion?” she asked.

Du Fu hesitated, pondering deeply. Indeed, what could he do?

“Actually, I have dreamed of being a local governor...” he began, then stopped, feeling it was too much.

“To be an official, you must first learn commerce!”

Du Fu’s eyes flickered with surprise. Commerce? Such a humble pursuit...

“Do you think commerce is lowly and unworthy? Have you ever sought the patronage of wealthy merchants?”

Facing the princess’s probing questions, Du Fu broke into a slight sweat but answered truthfully, “Yes.”

“Then first go to the Western Journey Tavern as an apprentice manager! You need not truly manage it; I want you to learn well from Ding You and the Ding family. Commerce and governance are closely linked. Don’t think being an official is simple—it requires skillfully managing resources and manpower to benefit the people.”

“Yes! Du Fu begins to understand!”