The middle-aged woman before her wore a plain long dress, her hair cut in a fashionable blunt bob that gave her a sharp, imposing look. But the smile she couldn’t hide softened that severity, making her appear gentle instead.
Her features were dignified and striking, her beauty well-preserved.
“Hello, hello.”
Yang Xueyan finally had the chance to openly fix her gaze on Lin Aiyun. After giving her a thorough once-over, she withdrew her gaze at just the right moment. Her eyes then fell on the gifts they had brought, and she let out an exaggerated “Oh!” in a tone of playful reproach: “This is like your own home—you don’t need to bring anything when you come!”
“This is just a small token of our appreciation, Auntie. Please accept it. Oh, and on the 20th of this month, you must come to our wedding banquet—here’s the invitation.” Lin Aiyun showed a hint of her pearly whites, her manner warm and familiar.
Seeing this, Yang Xueyan’s eyes lit up. She took the gold-embossed invitation with a smile. “The moment I saw you, I felt a connection. Don’t worry—Old Zhang and I will definitely be there.”
With that, she drew close and took Lin Aiyun’s hand affectionately. “I heard you know embroidery? Come, let’s go to the back courtyard. Show me what you can do, and if it’s good enough, joining the embroidery association will be easy.”
Lin Aiyun instinctively glanced back at Xiao Cheng. Before he could say anything, Yang Xueyan had already burst out laughing, winking playfully: “Such a sweet couple! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to return her to this young man in one piece.”
Lin Aiyun hadn’t expected that Yang Xueyan, who had seemed so cool and aloof in her youth, could be so lively and playful inside. Caught off guard by the teasing, she felt a flush creep onto her cheeks.
“With Auntie’s guarantee, I’m at ease. I still have some things to take care of and probably won’t be back until the afternoon.” Xiao Cheng, completely unembarrassed, raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Zhang Boli, who had been mostly quiet, let out a meaningful huff. “I was hoping to play a game of chess with you, but you’re such a busy man—you really can’t stay still for a moment!”
“Next time for sure.” Xiao Cheng smiled as he placed the gifts in the corner of the hall.
Zhang Boli huffed louder, clearly unconvinced. ‘Next time’ always meant ‘next time’—hard to come by. But it was good that the younger generation was ambitious; being busy was better than lazing around at home. He was happy to see it.
Yang Xueyan, beaming, waved him off: “With your wife here to keep us company, go on now. I’ll have Aiyun try my cooking at lunch.”
Hearing Yang Xueyan’s change of address, Lin Aiyun and Xiao Cheng exchanged a glance and both smiled in agreement.
As Xiao Cheng was leaving, Yang Xueyan called after him: “When you come to pick her up this afternoon, stay for dinner too.”
“Got it. I’m not one to stand on ceremony, Auntie—just make sure you cook plenty of good food.” Without looking back, Xiao Cheng waved and quickly disappeared into the depths of the corridor.
“That boy!” Yang Xueyan shook her head with a laugh, then took Lin Aiyun’s arm and led her to the back courtyard.
The Zhang residence had a similar layout to the Xiao household. Though smaller overall, it was more exquisite—the old couple were both cultured people with ample leisure time, and they loved tinkering with their home. Every little corner held their unique touches.
Yang Xueyan’s personal embroidery studio was right next to a small fish pond.
“Seeing how well you and Xiao Cheng get along puts my mind at ease. That boy should have married long ago, but he’s always been focused on his career—no woman by his side.”
“His older brother, my eldest son, is about his age and almost has his second child. But he remained alone. We elders were worried sick.”
“Turns out, fate just hadn’t arrived yet. This time, when he went to Jiangming Province, he met you—his true match.”
In the pond, plump koi fish splashed to the surface, making faint sounds as they broke the water, scattering droplets. Lily pads clustered together—a lively and serene scene.
The studio door was locked, and Yang Xueyan was fumbling in her pocket for the key.
Hearing this, Lin Aiyun smiled radiantly. The words made her feel warm all over, and she knew Yang Xueyan was indirectly praising Xiao Cheng to her—assuring her that there had been no other women in his life before her.
The door clicked open, and Yang Xueyan pushed it in, cautioning Lin Aiyun to mind her step. Crossing the high threshold, she was met with an array of exquisite embroideries, framed in glass and wood, hanging on the walls—a stunning sight.
To either side stood two enormous cabinets, neatly filled with all kinds of threads and fabrics. In the corner was a sewing machine, and on the table beside it lay a couple of half-finished projects—Yang Xueyan clearly did some dressmaking here as well.
Lin Aiyun couldn’t help but linger over them, her face full of admiration. Yang Xueyan noticed her reaction and patted her shoulder gently. “This is where I work. Feel free to look around.”
“Really?” Lin Aiyun’s big eyes sparkled, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.
At that, Yang Xueyan laughed out loud. “Of course! Feel free to pick out some threads. When you’re ready, show me a piece—nothing too complicated, just something simple.”
“I’ve left some snacks on the table. I don’t know what you young people like, so I picked a bit of everything. If you don’t like them, there’s fruit too—all washed. The bathroom is to the right just outside the door. I’ll leave you to it and go prepare lunch.”
Such thoughtfulness and care must have taken a great deal of effort. Lin Aiyun was deeply touched and expressed her gratitude, but Yang Xueyan waved it off lightly, exchanged a few more warm words, and then left.
Now alone in the studio, Lin Aiyun hesitated for a moment before moving to the right.
She had already decided the day before what she wanted to embroider, so finding the necessary threads and needles was quick. Although Yang Xueyan was friendly and warm, that was as an elder to a younger person—not as a superior to a subordinate. She couldn’t let down Teacher Yang’s trust and affection.
The studio was fully stocked with all kinds of threads and needles. Lin Aiyun gathered what she needed in no time, then sat down, spread the fabric over the special wooden frame, took a deep breath, settled her mind, and threw herself entirely into the embroidery.
When you’re truly focused on something, time slips away, and you lose track of your surroundings.
Before she knew it, noon had arrived. Yang Xueyan had come to call Lin Aiyun to lunch, but as she reached the door, before she could make a sound, her gaze was drawn to the figure sitting intently behind the wooden frame, threading needle after needle.
A professional sees things differently from an amateur. What Yang Xueyan noticed wasn’t just Lin Aiyun’s earnest attitude, but also the skill with which she chose different needles and threads for different purposes.
She stood at the door watching for quite a while before seizing a pause to speak softly, as if afraid to disturb her: “Aiyun, would you like to continue, or take a break for lunch first?”
Startled by the sudden voice, Lin Aiyun’s hand trembled slightly. She looked up and smiled: “I’ll continue after lunch.”
Yang Xueyan had put so much effort into cooking—it would be a shame not to eat. Besides, she could pick up where she left off; there was only a little finishing work left, and it would be done soon.
With that, Lin Aiyun stood up and set her needle and thread on the side table.
“You must be tired. I’ll give you a shoulder rub later—Old Zhang always says I have magic hands.” Yang Xueyan was warm and easygoing, naturally linking arms with Lin Aiyun as she approached, without any attempt to peek at her work.
A half-finished piece wasn’t worth looking at anyway—only the final result mattered.
Lin Aiyun wouldn’t dare let Yang Xueyan give her a massage. She quickly waved her hands: “No need—I’m not that tired. Thank you, Auntie.”
Yang Xueyan didn’t press, understanding that she was still reserved on their first meeting. They chatted cheerfully as they made their way to the dining room.
Upon entering, Lin Aiyun was greeted by a table full of delicious dishes—meat and vegetables balanced, beautifully plated, all authentic Beijing cuisine. It was so dazzling she didn’t know where to start.
“It smells wonderful! Auntie, did you make all this yourself? Your cooking is amazing—it already looks delicious.” Lin Aiyun chimed in at just the right moment, her tone so sincere it didn’t sound like flattery at all.
Sure enough, Yang Xueyan’s face bloomed like a flower. She modestly deflected the praise and eagerly ushered Lin Aiyun to her seat. Just then, Zhang Boli returned from outside, beaming.
“Probably won at chess again,” Yang Xueyan remarked knowingly.
“Haha, Old Li wasn’t on his game today—I kept winning!” Zhang Boli boasted proudly before helping serve rice and soup.
Lin Aiyun quickly stood up to help.
The Zhangs had two sons. One was visiting his wife’s family with his wife and child; the other was still in school, boarding, and only came home for holidays.
“Try this beef—I bought it fresh from the market this morning. It’s tender and delicious.” Yang Xueyan piled one piece after another into Lin Aiyun’s bowl, and before long, it was heaped like a small mountain.
Good thing she hadn’t eaten much breakfast, or she wouldn’t have been able to finish.
“Teacher! Teacher! Why did you change your style? It’s amazing! Can you teach me? Can I try to copy it?”
Midway through the meal, a young girl burst in from outside, looking to be just over twenty, with the same haircut as Yang Xueyan. Her round, chubby face was endearing, and her big grape-like eyes sparkled with excitement.
Spotting an unfamiliar woman at the table, she abruptly stopped mid-sentence and stood frozen at the doorway, unsure whether to step in or back out.
“Always so rash—what kind of young lady acts like that? What’s the matter now? Which piece are you talking about?” Though her words carried a note of scolding, there was no displeasure in Yang Xueyan’s face. She even stood up and waved the girl over.
Relieved, Zhuang Dongping’s embarrassment vanished. She bounced over to Yang Xueyan’s side, so excited that she completely ignored Lin Aiyun sitting beside her teacher.
“It’s the one on the rack in your studio! I came to find you and saw it—the embroidery is gorgeous! No wonder you’re the teacher, hehe.” Zhuang Dongping gestured animatedly as she spoke.
“Huh?” Now it was Yang Xueyan’s turn to be puzzled. The rack? She hadn’t put anything on the rack.
Her gaze swept to Lin Aiyun beside her, and a lightbulb went off in her head—could it be…?
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