Just then, the protagonist of the incident, Lin Aiyun, arrived.
After hearing the entire story, Lin Aiyun pressed her forehead and let out a bitter laugh. The person who set this up had put quite a bit of thought into it—and wasn’t stupid enough to stuff all the precious silk threads into her locker. Instead, they left just a few traces to point a finger at her.
Otherwise, people probably wouldn’t be so utterly convinced right now.
“I can say with absolute certainty that I did not take so much as a single needle or thread from the association!” Lin Aiyun’s expression remained calm. Facing everyone’s suspicion, she kept her composure. “Yesterday afternoon, I was neither the first to leave nor the last. So how could I have single-handedly taken so many silk threads away? And on top of that, I don’t even have a key to the workshop.”
Hearing this, some people began to waver. What Lin Aiyun said made sense—the threads were counted every day, and no discrepancies had been found all this time. It was only this morning that something seemed off.
So the question was—if Lin Aiyun was the thief, how could she have smuggled out so many threads without anyone noticing?
“I saw you come back after you left yesterday.” At that moment, a male voice rang out from the crowd. Everyone turned to look and saw Luo Cheng, a handyman from the logistics department.
Lin Aiyun looked over as well, finding his face somewhat familiar. After a moment’s thought, she remembered—he was the man who had nearly splashed ink all over her the first time she’d come to the association.
“I was helping move things in the kitchen yesterday and saw you show up at the water room. It was way past quitting time. Plus, with that incident before, your face stuck with me.” Luo Cheng spoke with seeming reasonableness, and a kitchen staff member also chimed in to confirm that he wasn’t lying.
“That’s because I forgot my water cup in the water room. I came back to get it—but I never set foot in the workshop.” Lin Aiyun was puzzled too. Yesterday, she was sure she’d packed her cup in her bag, but when she was about to leave, it was gone. She’d searched all over the workshop for it and couldn’t find it.
Later, after she got in the car, she remembered it might be in the water room, so she’d gone back to get it—and sure enough, it was there.
“Who knows if you went back to the workshop or not? You’re the only one saying that.” Luo Cheng said it as if it were just an offhand remark, but it immediately drew murmurs of agreement from others.
Lin Aiyun narrowed her eyes. Something about Luo Cheng felt very off—he appeared to be speaking fairly, but every word he said pointed at her. At her.
Had she ever offended him?
“There has to be a motive for stealing silk threads, right? I’m doing just fine at the association. Why would I risk it? Do I have nothing better to do?” Lin Aiyun spread her hands. Her gaze met Yang Xueyan’s, and it was clear that the latter hadn’t turned against her yet and still believed her words. Yang Xueyan nodded in agreement.
“Exactly. Aiyun has no motive to steal.”
“Who says she doesn’t? She’s from some rural backwater—a leopard can’t change its spots. Stealing silk threads to sell for money is the simplest explanation.”
Someone couldn’t stand it and shot back, “That’s ugly talk. So what if she’s from the countryside? We all draw a salary from the association. Comrade Lin has more merit points than any of us and earns more too. Why would she need to steal?”
“But those silk threads are worth a fortune! What she stole is worth several years of our wages!”
Others might not know, but Yang Xueyan did—never mind the money Lin Aiyun earned at the association herself; with how much Xiao Cheng doted on his wife, there was no way she’d ever be short of cash. So the money motive simply didn’t hold water.
But then how to explain the ordinary threads on that section of embroidery? With Lin Aiyun’s skill level, there was no way she’d mistake ordinary threads for precious ones and stitch them on, right?
Before she could finish that thought, someone interrupted.
“I understand everyone is upset right now—we’re all part of the association. But I didn’t do what I didn’t do. I didn’t steal the threads, and that embroidery isn’t mine.” Lin Aiyun walked over to the problematic section as she spoke, pointed at it, and continued calmly: “I have a habit when finishing a line—I use a unique knotting technique. Apart from me, no one should know that technique, and it’s not present here at all.”
“I’m sure everyone has their own little habits, right? They’re not easy to change. The person who framed me didn’t know my habit and overlooked this detail, which has given me a chance to prove my innocence.”
“The only question is—does this embroidery hide that person’s own habit instead?”
As her words fell, someone outside the crowd clenched their palm tightly.
At that moment, Zhang Yaoyao and Qin Shuang pushed through the crowd, holding the scarves and wallets Lin Aiyun had given them, and spoke up loudly: “Aiyun really does have that habit!”
“Since Aiyun joined the association, everyone has seen for themselves—whether it’s her embroidery skills or her character. Anyone who’s interacted with her knows. We believe she wouldn’t steal.”
Lin Aiyun’s eyes met theirs, a glimmer of gratitude flickering within.
At those words, those who had spoken with Lin Aiyun before began to waver. But some still harbored doubts.
“But you can know a person’s face without knowing their heart. Even if you say all that, the evidence is right here—we can’t just let this slide, can we? What about the missing threads? Our project isn’t finished—where are we going to find replacements?”
“Right! Even if she has that habit, it doesn’t clear her of suspicion. Habits can be changed deliberately if you try hard enough!”
“For money, no matter who you are, you’re capable of anything.”
Qin Shuang laughed in anger, only regretting that Yang Xi wasn’t here today—otherwise, she’d have torn those people a new one. Hands on her hips, she immediately started shouting, “Screw you! If you don’t know the truth, keep your mouths shut! You’ll rot your tongues sooner or later!”
“Our Aiyun isn’t just outstanding herself—her husband is one in a million! Have you heard of the Xiao family?”
“Aiyun’s husband is Mr. Xiao Cheng, the head of the Xiao family. We all know how they value neither fame nor fortune and how selfless they are—they donated thousands upon thousands. Would they even care about this piddling amount of money?”
As soon as the words fell, the scene fell into an eerie silence.
Lin Aiyun hadn’t even had time to cover Qin Shuang’s mouth—the girl had rattled it all off like a machine gun.
“Well… that is true…”
“Who knew Lin Aiyun had that kind of background? You really can’t tell.”
“If that’s the case, then she really wouldn’t stoop to stealing a few silk threads.”
The fence-sitters, quick to change direction at the slightest gust of wind, promptly shifted their stance.
“This kind of thing could only be pulled off by someone inside the association, right? Who hates Lin Aiyun that much? Going to all this trouble to frame her—such a vicious scheme. Pfft, black-hearted!”
“It’s definitely jealousy. Lin Aiyun made a name for herself at the association in no time flat and got to take part in such an important project. We need to catch the mastermind quickly—otherwise, none of us will feel at ease. Who’s to say they won’t target one of us next?”
Hearing this, everyone started to panic. If it didn’t involve them, they’d happily stay out of it. But if, as this person said, they could be the next target—what then?
It was easy to frame someone, but hard to prove your innocence!
Seeing everyone arguing back and forth, Yang Xueyan clapped her hands to call for quiet.
“Based on what Lin Aiyun has told us, combined with my judgment and that of several members, what we can confirm right now is that this section of embroidery on the screen was not done by Lin Aiyun. Everyone, look closely—there are traces of threads being cut and re-stitched around this area. It’s not obvious, but we’re all skilled embroiderers here—you can definitely see it.”
“I don’t care who deliberately set Lin Aiyun up—we will find them!”
“This is an extremely vile and shameless act. It is an insult to every embroiderer at this association, a challenge to our rules and regulations, and a failure to treat the association as one family. Just think—if something had gone wrong with this screen and the higher-ups held us accountable, who among us could bear that consequence?”
No one had thought that far ahead. Now that Yang Xueyan had spelled it out, everyone gasped.
“Now, think carefully—from last night to this morning, did any of you see anyone suspicious? Is there anyone who can vouch for each other?”
“And, as Lin Aiyun said, this embroidery likely carries the culprit’s own stitching habits. Everyone, come take a look. If you can provide any leads, the association will offer a reward.”
After finishing slowly, Yang Xueyan crouched down to examine the embroidery. But as she looked, her pupils suddenly constricted. Her fingertips trembled as they rested on the center of a flower stamen, and it was a long moment before she withdrew her hand.
Standing right beside her, Lin Aiyun caught every bit of Yang Xueyan’s unusual reaction. Frowning slightly, she asked softly, “Auntie, did you find something?”
“No, nothing.” Yang Xueyan denied it instinctively, then stood up, her gaze sweeping over the crowd as if searching for someone.
Lin Aiyun’s frown deepened, but she didn’t press further. She crouched down and looked for a long while but couldn’t make out anything specific. She’d only been at the association a short time and naturally didn’t know much about others’ habits.
Looking at the clumsy imitation, she sighed inwardly. Clearly, the person had practiced mimicking her for more than just a day or two.
But why? Why go through all this trouble to frame her? She’d never offended anyone at the association, as far as she knew. She was always polite and friendly to others—she never went out of her way to make enemies.
Just then, something occurred to her. She whipped her head around to look at where Luo Cheng had been standing earlier—but he was already gone.
“Lin Aiyun!” Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned to see Jiang Run, slightly out of breath.
“I was in my office on the third floor all morning and only just heard about this. I’m glad the misunderstanding was cleared up. Are you okay?” His brow was furrowed, his breathing still unsteady—clearly he’d run all the way over. His face was full of concern, but that worry seemed to go beyond the bounds of their relationship.
Sensing something, Lin Aiyun took a step back and smiled, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Thank goodness everyone believed me.”
“Who set you up? Once we find out, they’ll be kicked out of the association immediately.” Jiang Run’s tone was cold, with a sharp edge to it. While expulsion was indeed the association’s rule, she felt his wording carried too much personal emotion.
She chose to ignore Jiang Run and turned to take Yang Xueyan’s hand instead. “Vice President, I have a suspect in mind.”
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