The project proceeded smoothly. Yang Xueyan got things off to a good start, and then everyone divided up the work, discussing the initial outline.
Out with the old, in with the new—a renewal of all things, the beginning of a new year where everything felt fresh.
This year marked the first Spring Festival since the founding of the new China, and the higher-ups placed great importance on it. There would be a New Year’s address at the Great Hall, followed by a New Year’s banquet, with heavyweight figures from all over the country in attendance.
The association was responsible for the banquet’s backdrop, tablecloths, and all other decorative elements that would be on display.
This project was for the very first screen partition that guests would see upon entering the banquet hall—placed in the center of the courtyard, the face among faces. Not a single mistake could be made, which was why the association had dispatched so many members to participate.
They used famous poems and verses from across the dynasties to weave together a grand, flourishing scene—a blaze of flowers and a nation at peace.
The screen fabric measured a full five meters long and three meters wide, so it had to be divided into sections, with each person responsible for their own portion. The deadline was forty-five days—overtime work was inevitable.
The silk threads were also rare varieties taken from the storeroom—usually so precious that ordinary folks would rarely even get a glimpse of them. But now, it was like a clearance sale at a market, with each person receiving a full basket.
After the meeting, everyone headed to a single-story building on the north side of the association complex. Originally used to store silk threads, it had been temporarily converted into an embroidery workshop due to limited space.
Jiang Run, as the deputy project lead, worked alongside the lead on the most crucial central section.
Everyone else had their assigned roles. Some were responsible for higher sections of the screen, and they’d have to stand for most of the day without much chance to sit. Fortunately, Lin Aiyun’s assigned area was mostly near the bottom—after all, flowers and plants naturally belonged lower down.
That meant she could either sit or crouch as needed, which was much less taxing compared to those who had to stand for hours. Her body wasn’t under as much strain, and she could manage.
However, being pregnant, she didn’t dare overexert herself. She could only speed up her stitching, working in intervals—embroidering for a while, resting for a while, and using breaks for water and bathroom trips to rub her calves and lower back.
When people got busy, time flew by quickly. Before long, it was quitting time. The team leader gave the order, and everyone packed up to leave. Lin Aiyun, however, wasn’t in a hurry—she quietly counted the threads in her bamboo basket and jotted the numbers down in her notebook.
“Miss Lin is very meticulous.”
A warm male voice came from behind. Lin Aiyun turned at the sound and saw Jiang Run standing right there, his tall frame blocking some of the dim overhead light.
There were still others in the workshop at this hour, so she wasn’t worried about being alone with a man and giving people something to gossip about. Remembering how he’d come to her defense that morning, she smiled slightly and explained, “These are valuable items. It would be a hassle if any went missing.”
“You can rest assured about that. The team leader and I do a full inventory every day.”
An experienced embroiderer could tell just by looking at a piece what threads had been used and how much.
After speaking, Jiang Run’s gaze quickly swept over Lin Aiyun’s waist and calves. He rubbed his fingertips together for a moment before continuing, “If this workload is too much, you can prepare a lumbar support and stuff some soft cotton into your shoes.”
Hearing this, Lin Aiyun blinked, then instinctively smiled and thanked him. She’d actually thought of that herself and was planning to prepare those things when she got home. It was surprising that Jiang Run had been so observant—he’d noticed and even reminded her.
Truly a qualified deputy team leader!
“If there’s nothing else, get some rest early. Tomorrow we continue.” Jiang Run’s gaze lingered on the curve of her lips for an extra two seconds before abruptly looking away. Just as he turned to leave, Lin Aiyun called out to him and spoke earnestly.
“Thank you for this morning. I look forward to working with you from now on.”
“Mm. Likewise.”
—
For a whole month, the project members were all immersed in the workshop. Everyone was an experienced embroiderer, and not a single mistake was made from start to finish. Along the way, Lin Aiyun and Jiang Run grew somewhat closer.
He often gave advice and guidance to the ordinary members who weren’t full members yet, so it wasn’t just her—others also discovered that Jiang Run wasn’t as aloof as he seemed; he was actually approachable and had a good temper.
Additionally, Yang Xueyan’s earlier mention that the president would return shortly kept getting pushed back due to various reasons. Word had it she’d gone to Hangzhou to visit the former president and wouldn’t be back in the capital for a few more days.
By then, the project would likely be nearly complete.
Thinking about how the president would announce her disciple-taking ceremony upon her return made Lin Aiyun’s little heart pound faster.
But she never expected the trouble to come so soon. Early that very morning, the moment she arrived at the association entrance, she saw a crowd of people rushing toward the temporary workshop, as if they were heading over to watch a spectacle.
“How strange.” Lin Aiyun muttered to herself. Seeing so many people, she moved to a corner for safety’s sake—being pregnant, even a slight bump or jostle would be no small matter.
But normally, the temporary workshop was treated like a “restricted area.” Unless they had business there, everyone tacitly avoided going near it. Why were they all rushing over today?
Holding onto this question, Lin Aiyun carefully navigated around the crowd as she made her way over. Along the way, she caught snippets of conversation—apparently, silk threads had been stolen, and quite a significant amount at that. The vice president was now organizing an investigation.
The moment this bombshell dropped, everyone who caught wind of it came running to witness the scene firsthand. The instinct for gossip was deeply ingrained in people’s bones.
Normally, no one stole silk threads because most of what was accessible were ordinary ones—all the valuable ones were meticulously logged. Anyone trying to swipe them would be caught red-handed.
For a major project like this, where the association had produced such a large quantity of precious threads, it was a rare occurrence. Someone had likely taken advantage of the gap after everyone clocked out, sneaking back to make off with them. If they could sell them—or embroider them into finished pieces and sell those—it would fetch no small sum.
Theft was strictly forbidden at the association. Anyone caught would be immediately expelled, with no room for leniency.
Lin Aiyun’s heart pounded with unease. She wondered who, throwing away their future, would be so brazen as to steal silk threads. At the same time, the faces of her project colleagues flashed through her mind—but no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t think of who it might be.
Everyone seemed so kind and friendly.
Little did Lin Aiyun expect that the bold thief in question would turn out to be none other than herself!
The moment she stepped near the workshop, several pairs of eyes shot toward her like sharp needles—some filled with contempt, others with sarcasm. A wave of emotions instantly engulfed her.
“Would you look at that. She always acts so earnest and diligent, but who knew she was a thief behind the scenes?”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been embroidering alongside her all this time and never caught on. And she was personally recommended into the association by the vice president too—this is going to be a huge slap in the face.”
“Stealing silk threads of all things—and right at this critical juncture. This is a project personally assigned by the higher-ups. If things go wrong, she might even end up facing a firing squad.”
Hearing this, Lin Aiyun’s brow furrowed tightly. Her fingers unconsciously gripped the bag she was carrying, which contained the chicken soup Xiao Cheng had gone out of his way to buy that morning from a famous restaurant in the capital—he’d told her to have a few sips during the morning to warm herself up.
But now it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
How was she connected to all this? She had stolen silk threads? That was the funniest joke in the world.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Lin Aiyun walked straight toward the workshop entrance. Seeing her approach, the crowd parted to make way, allowing her to pass through the encirclement and step inside.
Someone shouted, “Lin Aiyun is here,” and everyone in the workshop turned to look at her.
Yang Xueyan stood surrounded by the members, right in front of the section Lin Aiyun was responsible for—an expanse of colorful flowers paired with their dark, complicated expressions, creating an utterly eerie scene.
“Aiyun.” Yang Xueyan hesitated for a long moment before finally beckoning her over, her tone heavier than ever before.
Lin Aiyun’s heart sank. Pretending she still had no idea what was going on, she walked up to them and set her bag down on a nearby chair—it was simply too heavy to keep holding.
“Vice President, what’s going on?”
Yang Xueyan struggled, finding it hard to speak. It was Xiao Wenjuan who let out a sigh and laid out the whole story.
That morning, the team leader had come early to unlock the door and, as usual, started counting the silk threads in the bamboo baskets. But to her shock, more than half were missing!
That jolted her wide awake. She quickly called people over to help with a full inventory, and indeed—one-third of the threads were gone.
After an investigation, Yang Xueyan and the team leader uncovered a crucial detail: part of the embroidery on the screen wasn’t done with the precious silk threads—it was done with cheap, ordinary ones!
When asked, it turned out that section was Lin Aiyun’s responsibility.
Yang Xueyan’s expression had shifted immediately. Her gut told her something was off. But upon closer inspection, the stitching style was very similar to Lin Aiyun’s usual technique—just noticeably rougher and sloppier.
“Aiyun is always meticulous and responsible! There’s no way she would do this! Someone must be setting her up!”
Just then, Chen Hongxia let out a cold snort, clearly enjoying the drama. She drawled, “Then how come I always see Lin Aiyun going to get water and use the bathroom? A dozen times a day. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘meticulous and responsible’ to me.”
Yang Xueyan was about to retort when she heard several others chiming in agreement. People sitting near Lin Aiyun even corroborated it—clearly, it was an established fact. At that point, she had nothing more to say.
Everyone had been so busy lately that no one had the energy to check on others’ work. The plan was to do a unified inspection in the final days—partly out of trust in the project members’ abilities, and partly because no one would dare cut corners on something so important.
But no one expected this to happen. Now, even with Lin Aiyun standing right here, even with ten mouths, she couldn’t talk her way out of it.
Yang Xueyan couldn’t believe the findings, but she had to go along with the process. She sent people to search the locker of the “prime suspect”—Lin Aiyun’s—and they found a few strands of precious silk thread inside. Not many, just a few—easily missed if one didn’t search carefully.
Now the evidence was conclusive…
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