The man was tall and lanky, roughly over 1.85 meters, with an ordinary face. His glasses gave him a scholarly look, but the thick lenses couldn’t hide the heavy dark circles under his eyes—as if he hadn’t slept well in quite some time.
Now, with Qin Shuang—who was a head shorter—grabbing him by the collar, he stammered out a meek explanation. The ink bottle in his hand slipped and crashed to the ground with a loud bang, shattering into pieces.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t push forward.”
“Luo Cheng, you just lost your balance, didn’t you? Why are you blaming us?”
“Exactly. None of us pushed forward.”
The few people who had been standing behind Luo Cheng all stepped forward one by one, denying that they’d pushed him. For the moment, no one knew whom to believe, and everyone remained stuck in place.
But Lin Aiyun noticed that after hearing their denials, Luo Cheng glanced nervously toward Zhuang Dongping. Their eyes met for a few seconds—then Zhuang Dongping spoke up of her own accord: “Forget it, let’s just consider ourselves unlucky this time. Be more careful next time.”
“See, that’s Zhuang Dongping being generous. Otherwise, with that dress she’s wearing, Luo Cheng, even if you threw in everything you own, you couldn’t afford to pay for it.”
This remark drew laughter from those nearby—clearly, everyone knew about Luo Cheng’s financial situation.
The man in question stood to the side with his head down, neither denying nor refuting the accusation. Only when the person spoke again did he lift his head, clenching his fists as if about to say something.
“And besides, that was a birthday gift from Vice President Yang to her only apprentice—the sentiment behind it can’t be bought with money.” The speaker wore a haughty expression, deliberately stressing the word “only,” and spoke her teasing remarks loudly—clearly unafraid of Yang Xueyan and Zhuang Dongping.
But while she wasn’t afraid, others certainly were. For a long while, no one responded.
“Ding Ping, say a little less. We’re all part of the association—don’t spoil the harmony, unless you want the president to call you in for a private chat!” Qin Shuang pointed at the woman who’d made the sarcastic remark and warned her.
“Hah, just a couple of errand-runners. Since when does every Tom, Dick, and Harry count as part of the embroidery association? I think you’ve got donkey shit in your head, Qin Shuang.” Ding Ping let out a cold snort, her face full of contempt. But perhaps mindful of something, she didn’t continue that line of conversation. Instead, she turned to look at Lin Aiyun.
“Miss Lin, you’re a truly talented person. I liked that peony piece very much. If there’s anything you don’t understand at the association in the future, you can come to me.” Ding Ping pressed her lips into a smile, lifted her chin, and shot a sidelong glance at Zhuang Dongping, her lips curling meaningfully.
“Oh, and one more thing—be careful who you befriend in the future. Not everyone is as simple as they appear on the surface.”
With that, she turned and walked away without waiting for Lin Aiyun’s reply.
At those words, Lin Aiyun looked thoughtfully at the large splash of black ink on her skirt and couldn’t help frowning. Today’s incident was far too sudden and suspicious—almost as if someone had deliberately orchestrated it.
But she was new here and didn’t know anyone well, let alone have any enemies. The man called Luo Cheng—she’d never even seen him before.
So was it really just an accident?
Still, Zhuang Dongping’s unusual behavior today, combined with Ding Ping’s words…
But if Zhuang Dongping had orchestrated this, what was her goal? And if she’d known about it beforehand, she could have simply stood by and watched—why would she throw herself in the way at the critical moment, taking the ink and ruining her most precious qipao?
Her mind was a jumble. Lin Aiyun’s heart beat faster and faster. She looked up at Zhuang Dongping, who stood not far away, looking utterly disheveled—the lower half of her qipao was practically soaked in dark ink, and splatters marked her face and neck as well.
Seeing Lin Aiyun looking at her, Zhuang Dongping curved her lips in a small smile, as if to reassure her not to worry about it.
Lin Aiyun took a deep breath. Zhuang Dongping was Yang Xueyan’s apprentice, and because of that connection, she naturally felt goodwill toward her. Even if she’d sensed a hint of envy—or even jealousy—on the way there, she’d chalked it up to normal human emotions and hadn’t taken it to heart, even offering a few reassuring words.
Now, although doubts had arisen, she still didn’t want to think the worst of Zhuang Dongping—much less tie her to this incident.
Without evidence, no one could be judged, and she didn’t want to suspect anyone lightly.
“Vice President, Miss Lin, Dongping—don’t let it get to you. Ding Ping’s just got a loose tongue. Let’s not stoop to her level.” Qin Shuang played peacemaker and even filled Lin Aiyun in on why Ding Ping was so brazen.
“Her parents are both prominent figures, and she’s related to the president. In short, she’s a spoiled young lady. We can’t afford to mess with her, but we can steer clear—just give her a wide berth whenever you see her around the association.”
After saying that, Qin Shuang waved everyone off and led Zhuang Dongping to go change clothes, while Yang Xueyan took Lin Aiyun to the president’s office. They would meet the president and the association members first, then complete the membership formalities.
As soon as they entered the building, there were even more people than at the entrance. They stood along both sides of the corridor, silently watching the two ascend the stairs. Only after they’d gone far enough did they start discussing with one another.
“You’re one of the few people recommended for membership in recent years, so naturally everyone’s curious. Don’t take it to heart,” Yang Xueyan said, turning back to explain in a low voice.
Lin Aiyun shook her head and laughed wryly. “I feel like a monkey in a circus performance, hahaha.”
Hearing this, Yang Xueyan also couldn’t help covering her mouth with a chuckle, giving her a playful reproachful glance. “Who says that about themselves?”
“Everyone’s just too enthusiastic—I can hardly handle it.” Lin Aiyun shrugged and made a cute funny face.
“Jiang Run? When did you get back?”
Before Lin Aiyun could school her expression, she found herself meeting a pair of deep, profound eyes that held a restrained hint of amusement—clearly, he’d caught her expression just now.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Lin Aiyun lowered her head and averted her gaze.
“Last night. Auntie Yang, are you here to see my mother?” Jiang Run looked at Lin Aiyun with a faint, knowing smile, then turned his gaze to Yang Xueyan and gave a polite nod in greeting.
Yang Xueyan acknowledged him with a sound, and then heard Jiang Run ask, “And this is?”
“A new member of the association. I’m bringing her to meet everyone, then we’ll go complete the formalities.” Yang Xueyan replied. Then, thinking of her earlier intentions, she felt that building a good relationship with Jiang Run could only be beneficial. She rolled her eyes thoughtfully, took Lin Aiyun’s hand, stepped forward, and introduced her with a smile: “Her name is Lin Aiyun—she’s the one I recommended.”
“Jiang Run, you’re a few years older than her, so you’re like an older brother. Please look after her for me at the association.”
Caught off guard by the tug, Lin Aiyun stumbled a step before steadying herself—and then heard Yang Xueyan’s words. Piecing together their earlier exchange, she vaguely guessed the man’s identity and immediately understood Yang Xueyan’s thoughtful intentions.
She promptly curved her lips and took the initiative to greet him: “Hello.”
Jiang Run stood on the steps, a head taller than both of them. He wore a dark gray Zhongshan suit, his hair cropped short in a crew cut, which, paired with his single-lidded phoenix eyes, gave him a rather rigid and sharp appearance. But the faint, ever-present smile at the corners of his mouth softened that otherwise unapproachable air.
He had a tall, straight figure and handsome features, exuding a cool, crisp aura. His hands were folded in front of him, revealing a cloth ring on his thumb—black with what appeared to be pale yellow winter jasmine embroidered on it.
“Hello there, Aiyun meimei.” Jiang Run smiled, his eyes narrowing into slits, the small mole at the corner of his eye lifting slightly with the movement, lending him an air of approachability.
But Lin Aiyun felt it was merely an illusion. He gave her the feeling of a fox that had cultivated into a spirit—the smile never reached his eyes. He seemed easy to get close to, but in truth, he was covered in thorns that would leave anyone who drew near wounded all over.
So she simply smiled and didn’t respond further. Fortunately, Yang Xueyan was eager to take her to see the president, so they didn’t linger. After a brief word, she led Lin Aiyun onward and upward.
At the third-floor landing, Lin Aiyun inexplicably glanced back—the spot where Jiang Run had been standing was now empty.
“Jiang Run is the president’s youngest son. Half a month ago, he represented the association on a visit to senior masters in the Northeast. Looks like he just got back yesterday. Don’t let the fact that he’s a man fool you—his embroidery skills were passed down directly from the president, and his talent is second to none. He’s already a full member at a young age—in fact, he’s the first to become a member before thirty. Tsk, his future is boundless.”
Hearing this, Lin Aiyun’s eyes widened in surprise. Truly, you couldn’t judge a book by its cover—he was actually an embroiderer, and a full member at that!
“Come to think of it, his embroidery style is somewhat similar to yours—you both favor bold, vibrant colors. You can discuss and learn from him in the future; it will greatly benefit your growth as an embroiderer.”
“His personal studio is right here.”
At that, Lin Aiyun turned to look at the closed wooden door on her left. The nameplate on it was engraved with the characters “Jiang Run.”
“Only full members are entitled to their own personal studios. This entire floor is occupied by members’ studios, along with my office and the president’s. The rest are storage rooms for embroidery pieces. Of course, the more precious pieces aren’t kept here, but elsewhere, under dedicated supervision.”
“Ordinary members’ studios are on the first and second floors, typically shared by four to five people. We’ll find out which studio is yours after we finish the paperwork.”
Yang Xueyan continued introducing things as they walked forward. Lin Aiyun committed her words to memory, all while taking deep breaths to steady her nerves, which grew more tense the closer they got to the president’s office.
The two walked through the long corridor to the very end. Soundproofing wasn’t great in this era, so the moment they stopped at the door, they could hear laughter and chatter from inside. Yang Xueyan raised her hand and knocked.
“It must be Xueyan and the others.”
“Come in.”
They pushed the door open and entered. Before them was a small reception area, with three rows of fabric sofas arranged in a circle and a rectangular wooden coffee table in the center.
The people seated on the sofas all stood up in unison the moment the door opened, their gazes locking precisely on Lin Aiyun behind Yang Xueyan, friendly smiles on their faces.
“Greetings, seniors.” Lin Aiyun gave a slight bow and greeted them with a sweet smile.
“Hello there, young lady—you’re so pretty and fresh-looking.”
“Come, come, sit down. Let’s have a good chat.”
The woman seated in the main position beckoned to Lin Aiyun. She appeared to be in her mid-fifties, wearing a plain long dress with her hair pinned up by a single hairpin. Her eyes curved into crescent moons; she had single eyelids and phoenix eyes, and her overall features bore a four- or five-part resemblance to Jiang Run, whom they’d encountered on the stairway.
So this must be Wan Tingzhi, the president of the association.
“Go on.” Yang Xueyan gave her back a gentle push, urging her forward. Lin Aiyun didn’t hesitate and sat down gracefully in an empty spot on the sofa, with Yang Xueyan following suit and sitting beside her.
“Have some tea to moisten your throat.” Wan Tingzhi seemed approachable and without airs, pouring tea for each of them, and refilling the cups of the others as well.
Yang Xueyan didn’t stand on ceremony, downing her tea in one gulp before laughing and teasing, “The president is so thoughtful—you know my mouth never stops running.”
“Come, come, let me introduce everyone—this is Lin Aiyun.”
“We met a few days ago—I wonder if you remember,” said the middle-aged woman sitting beside Wan Tingzhi, beaming as she spoke.
“Oh, it’s you, Auntie! We meet again.” Lin Aiyun exclaimed in pleasant surprise, as if greeting an old acquaintance.
Everyone else looked confused—until Xiao Wenjuan got up and sat down next to Lin Aiyun, patting her hand warmly as she explained, “This is Xiao Cheng’s new wife! I went to their wedding a few days ago and chatted with her a bit at the banquet. I didn’t expect Aiyun to still remember me.”
Her eyes sparkled brightly as she spoke, looking at Lin Aiyun the way an elder looks at a younger family member—with added closeness.
The embroidery association drew people from all over the country, and she’d finally found someone who could be considered a distant relative—there was no way she’d let that go. Besides, building a good relationship with the mistress of the Xiao family could only bring benefits, never harm.
Lin Aiyun smiled along with her, her expression calm, though inwardly she was panicking. There had been so many elders and countless guests coming and going at the wedding—there was no way she could remember everyone. She’d been taking a gamble just now, and fortunately, the other woman hadn’t pressed for details about their previous conversation. Otherwise, if she’d slipped up, it would have been terribly awkward.
“The Xiao family is a household of great righteousness,” Wan Tingzhi said with a nod, and the warmth in her gaze toward Lin Aiyun grew a little stronger.
These words reminded everyone of that donation event that had shaken the entire city, and they all chimed in with a few words of praise. Lin Aiyun, naturally, waved her hands repeatedly, saying she didn’t deserve it.
“By the way, Aiyun, you just finished embroidering a piece recently, didn’t you? With so many seniors here, why don’t you take it out and let them give you some free guidance? Miss this chance and you won’t get another!” Yang Xueyan, sensing Lin Aiyun’s restraint, quickly steered the conversation back.
She’d already seen the piece in the car earlier. Thinking of it now, an unconscious hint of pride and boasting crept onto her face. After all, Lin Aiyun was her recommendation to the association—put bluntly, any future “achievements” Lin Aiyun made would reflect on her as well. At the very least, when others mentioned Lin Aiyun, they’d remember that connection.
Everyone present was a full member of the association, fully deserving of the word “guidance” Yang Xueyan had used. Plus, being on good terms with her, they could naturally pick up on the underlying meaning in her words, and curiosity began to stir.
Yang Xueyan’s standards were usually quite high. For her to be this impressed meant Lin Aiyun’s piece must have some real skill behind it—the only question was just how much.
With that in mind, everyone set down their teacups and urged Lin Aiyun to bring out her embroidery.
Lin Aiyun nodded and slowly opened the bag she carried, carefully taking out the neatly folded embroidery cloth inside.
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