Chapter 259: The Threshold of Embroidery

Chapter 259: Chapter 259: The Threshold of Embroidery

Emperor Wandai, in a self-proclaimed act of compassion, rescheduled the prefectural examination to the day after the Mid-Autumn Festival. He completely failed to consider that with only a single day separating the two, no one would have the heart to celebrate.

In the various counties of the Northern Pass, all the students eligible for the examination had arrived in Yeyang several days early. Prices in the city’s teahouses, restaurants, inns, and hotels soared overnight.

Song Jing, afraid that Village Chief Meng and the clan elders would actually send him off with a clamor of gongs and drums, bid farewell to Mrs. Meng before dawn.

Although he also wanted to say goodbye to Ji Huan, and had even reached her front door, he ultimately decided not to knock.

’She must be fast asleep, lost in sweet dreams. Why should I disturb her and make her worry?’

After standing there silently for a moment, he turned and stepped into the boundless night.

Even though he traveled alone under the stars, the thought of the one sound asleep made every step he took resolute, and he found himself looking forward to the road ahead with growing anticipation.

"Oh, for goodness’ sake, Sister Wan! How can you be so clumsy! This stitch is supposed to go in from the back, not the front!"

"Not like that! Like this... Look at what you’ve embroidered! It’s all turned into a tangled knot!"

"No, no, that won’t do. Take it out and start over..."

Over the course of the morning, Hu Ximei had shouted herself hoarse.

She had a gentle and timid nature and rarely raised her voice. Her anxiety and irritability today were all thanks to Ji Huan driving her to frustration.

The day before yesterday, after Ji Huan returned from Nanshan, she had suddenly asked Hu Ximei to teach her how to embroider a pouch—and sworn her to secrecy.

Although Hu Ximei was puzzled as to why Sister Wan had suddenly taken an interest in needlework, she didn’t overthink it. After all, she came over every day to practice her calligraphy anyway, so it was no trouble at all.

Besides, it was just embroidering a pouch. How hard could that be? With Sister Wan’s cleverness, she’d surely master it in less than half a day.

Hu Ximei had always idolized Ji Huan with a kind of near-blind adoration, believing there was nothing in the world that could possibly stump her.

Reality, however, dealt her a cruel blow.

Ji Huan was at her wit’s end, too!

She had never liked needlework, but when she watched others do it, it never seemed that difficult. ’Isn’t it just a bit of this, a little of that, and then some of this again?’

Besides, she had mended things before. Her stitches weren’t exactly beautiful, but at least she had some basic skills.

But what she never, ever expected was that sewing the pouch wasn’t the hard part—the embroidery was.

When it came to embroidery, she was a complete and utter novice. She was putting in every last ounce of her strength, but she just couldn’t seem to get her foot in the door.

’It feels like I’ve grown a pair of fake hands...’

"Forget it, I surrender!"

Ji Huan threw down the embroidery hoop, rubbed her face vigorously, and tried to salvage some dignity. "It’s not that I’m clumsy," she said. "It’s just that God closed this particular window for me."

Hu Ximei had no idea what embroidery had to do with closed windows, but she suspected Ji Huan was just making excuses.

"And you say I lack perseverance with my calligraphy! Look at you, you’ve only been at this for a few days. When I first started, my fingers were covered in needle pricks, but I never said I was going to quit."

She shook her head and sighed at Ji Huan, the very picture of disappointment in someone who wouldn’t try harder.

Ji Huan couldn’t have been more embarrassed.

"Well, I’m getting old. I can’t compare to someone who started as a child! At your age, your mind is at its sharpest. Whether it’s learning embroidery or calligraphy, you can pick things up quickly and do them well."

Hu Ximei, who had been in the middle of criticizing Ji Huan, was caught off guard by the sudden praise and felt a little embarrassed.

"Well... you’re not *that* old," she mumbled.

Ji Huan nearly coughed up a lung.

’Is she trying to tell me not to give up so soon? That my skills can still be salvaged?’

"No, no, no, I’m old. Truly ancient. I’m not embroidering anymore. We’ll just leave it as is. Look, doesn’t it look perfectly fine without any embroidery?"

Ji Huan picked up the plain pouch she had sewn earlier—the one she was relatively satisfied with—and turned it over and over in her hands. The more she looked at it, the more she liked it.

Hu Ximei was skeptical. "What’s so good about it?"

It was just the rough shape of a pouch, the stitches were all crooked, and now that there was no embroidery, the whole thing just looked bare.

Hu Ximei didn’t have the heart to crush her spirit, but even the very first pouch she had ever made was better than this one.

Ji Huan clicked her tongue. "Don’t be so picky. If you look closely, you can find some good points. Like... like the stitching."

This was the one she’d managed to produce after ruining four others. She felt the stitches were much more even and tight this time. Even without any ornate embroidery, it was presentable enough.

’Besides, Song Jing’s a grown man. It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to carry something with flowers and plants embroidered all over it. Plain and simple is better. It’s refined!’

Hu Ximei stared at it for a long time, until her eyes practically went crossed, but aside from "ugly," she couldn’t see anything else.

She muttered under her breath, "Your stitching isn’t that great, either..."

Ji Huan chose to be selectively deaf. She swept the scissors and hoop into a wicker basket and stood up to leave.

She had one foot out the courtyard gate when she remembered something. Leaning back, she pointed toward the east room and said to Hu Ximei, "Keep practicing your calligraphy. If you have any trouble, ask Dabao first. I’m going to the earthen hut for a bit; I’ll be right back."

With that said, and fearing Hu Ximei would bring up the embroidery again, she made a quick getaway.

Hu Ximei’s cheeks puffed out in frustration. She’d never realized Sister Wan could be such a rascal!

As soon as Ji Huan entered the wicker-fenced yard, she saw the tramp leaning on his crutch, moving slowly around the space.

Hu Dacheng, who had been sitting at the entrance of the main room counting ants, shot up and, quick as a flash, ran over to support the tramp.

"I told you, take it slow! Slow down! If you hurt yourself again, Sister Wan will yell at me."

As he spoke, he snuck a glance in Ji Huan’s direction.

With that shifty look, he was just asking for a smack.

Ji Huan raised a hand at him. ’I’ll deal with you later,’ she mouthed, telling him to go stand aside.

Hu Dacheng’s face fell.

He’d only been slacking off for a moment. Besides, the tramp wasn’t nearly as weak as Sister Wan thought; he didn’t need anyone’s help at all.

As he was sulking, his eyes lit up at the sight of Ding, who had followed Ji Huan over, and he moved to scoop the puppy up.

Ding had come out with Ji Huan. Just outside the gate, he had picked up a stick—perhaps its shape was particularly unique—and had been carrying it the whole way like a treasured prize, unwilling to let it go.

Thinking Hu Dacheng was about to snatch it, his fur stood on end. He let out a few whimpers that were both fierce and adorable, then scurried around the boy and ran toward Ji Huan.

He dropped the stick at Ji Huan’s feet, tongue lolling, and gave his fluffy little tail a wag.

Seeing that Ji Huan was only paying attention to the tramp, Ding tilted his head, then suddenly turned and pounced on the man.

It wasn’t that he intended to bite him.

He had been accompanying Ji Huan on her daily "visits" to the patient and had grown quite familiar with him. After Ji Huan, it seemed the tramp was Ding’s favorite person.

His way of showing affection was to steal your shoes and hide them, or to nip at the hem of your skirt or the cuff of your pants.

Right now, he was just trying to get attention, hoping to get Ji Huan and the tramp to play with him.

The tramp, however, was in no condition to withstand a pounce.

Ji Huan shouted for Ding, but she was too late to grab him. She could only rush over to steady the tramp and keep him from being knocked over by the puppy.

The tramp’s gaze shifted downward, first landing on the hand that had slipped under his arm, then dropping to the puppy clamped firmly onto his pant leg.

Ji Huan was also staring at Ding, her eyes spitting fire.

Ding blinked his small, round eyes and reluctantly released his grip.

Hu Dacheng, standing off to the side, slapped his thigh and howled with laughter at the puppy’s misfortune.

"Serves you right!"