Lin Aiyun held one end of the embroidery cloth, while Yang Xueyan held the other. Together, they slowly unfurled the piece, which stood about half a person’s height, revealing its contents to everyone present.
In a lotus pond of pink-and-white gradient hues, plump, adorable koi fish swam gracefully about. The shimmering water surface refracted sunlight into glimmering patterns, making it feel as though one had stepped right into the scene, catching the last days of summer.
The office fell into an eerie silence. For a long while, no one spoke. Lin Aiyun swallowed nervously, instinctively looking down at her embroidery and letting out an awkward laugh: “Is it… not very good?”
Otherwise, why was no one saying anything?
“No, no, no.” Xiao Wenjuan waved her hand, breaking the silence first. Her expression was somewhat dazed as she suddenly stood up, shooting a suspicious look at Yang Xueyan. “Xueyan, could it be that you…”
Although Xiao Wenjuan didn’t finish her sentence, everyone knew exactly what she was implying, and their expressions shifted accordingly.
“Pah! As vice president, I know better than anyone how disgraceful it is to take credit for someone else’s embroidery work, and how severe the consequences are! And you of all people should know what kind of person I am!” Yang Xueyan’s face and neck flushed red with indignation at the insult. She took deep, heaving breaths, trying to calm herself.
Lin Aiyun also caught on to what was happening. Her face paled slightly as she quickly stepped forward. “Seniors, I embroidered this entirely on my own—no one else had a hand in it, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with the vice president. If there’s anything wrong with it, the fault is entirely mine.”
“No need to be nervous—what fault could there possibly be?” Wan Tingzhi shot a glare at Xiao Wenjuan. How could she speak so recklessly without understanding the situation, stirring up unnecessary misunderstandings?
Catching Wan Tingzhi’s look, Xiao Wenjuan shrank her neck back, cleared her throat, and stepped forward to take Yang Xueyan’s arm—only to be shaken off forcefully. With so many people watching, a flicker of discomfort and embarrassment crossed her face.
She knew Yang Xueyan was angry—and rightfully so. It was all her own fault for being too impulsive, her mouth running faster than her brain, blurting out those words without careful thought. That was an insult to any embroiderer.
Especially since Yang Xueyan was a leading figure in the association—this was practically a challenge to her authority and principles.
Now, upon reflection, Xiao Wenjuan was filled with regret. As Yang Xueyan had said herself, as vice president, she knew all too well the consequences of such an act—both the embroiderer and the one who substituted work would be permanently expelled from the association and barred from ever picking up a needle again for life.
Not only that, but all embroidery-related industries nationwide would shut their doors to her—a lifelong brand of shame.
Unless Yang Xueyan had water in her brain or had been cursed, she would never risk such a self-destructive act for a newcomer.
Moreover, they’d all worked together in the same association for years and had some understanding of each other’s techniques and habits. There wasn’t a trace of Yang Xueyan’s style to be found in Lin Aiyun’s piece.
In fact, it could even be said that this was a unique style unlike any other currently in the association.
Judging by both of their reactions, it was now essentially certain that the piece had indeed been completed solely by Lin Aiyun.
“Xueyan, you’re not really mad at me, are you? I was just too excited—it’s been so long since our association has welcomed another gifted embroiderer.” Xiao Wenjuan forced a smile, trying to smooth things over, pointing at the embroidery cloth as she continued.
“Look at this—the meticulous handling of details, the flexible use of color, and the overall composition. If I hadn’t seen Miss Lin standing right in front of me, I would never have believed this was embroidered by a girl who just turned twenty.”
The others also snapped out of it, feeling guilty for having shared the same suspicion as Xiao Wenjuan moments ago, and they all joined in to mediate.
“Exactly—even I couldn’t compare to this talent back in my day.”
“I thought only an experienced embroiderer could have made this. This young lady is truly remarkable.”
Of course, some began to harbor other intentions.
“Xueyan, you said before that you wouldn’t take any more apprentices. So if Lin wants to find a master in the future, you can’t interfere.”
“Right, right.”
Yang Xueyan’s expression softened a little. She couldn’t possibly burn bridges over this, but she also didn’t want to give them what they wanted. A smile gradually spread across her face as she said in a joking tone, “That may not necessarily be true—people change. In the end, it all comes down to Aiyun’s own choice.”
Just as she finished speaking, a sharp clatter sounded from the doorway. Everyone exchanged glances. Xiao Wenjuan, being closest, stepped forward and opened the door—but there was no one there. She even leaned out and looked several times.
Only after confirming that there truly was no one did she close the door again, shrugging and muttering, “That’s strange—no one’s there.”
“Probably just the wind.”
By now, no one was paying much attention to that—they weren’t too concerned about whether someone had been outside or not. The little episode was quickly brushed aside.
The table, previously cluttered with teacups, was cleared and Lin Aiyun’s embroidery was laid out on it. Everyone chimed in with their opinions, one after another. Lin Aiyun listened intently, occasionally asking questions.
The atmosphere was warm and harmonious. Taking the opportunity, Yang Xueyan sidled up to Wan Tingzhi and said in a low, amused voice: “President, what do you think of Aiyun?”
Wan Tingzhi raised an eyebrow at Yang Xueyan’s slightly smug expression and couldn’t help but find it amusing. She deliberately avoided giving a direct answer, speaking evasively: “The person you recommended is certainly not bad.”
“Tsk, I mean purely in terms of her embroidery skills—don’t drag me into it.”
At that, Wan Tingzhi’s gaze flickered, her attention falling on Lin Aiyun, who stood not far away. She looked so fresh and gentle, yet her embroidery was bursting with vitality and explosive energy. Such a contrast was undeniably captivating.
After a moment of deliberation, Wan Tingzhi glanced at Yang Xueyan and answered her question with another: “What exactly are you trying to say?”
Yang Xueyan followed Wan Tingzhi’s gaze to Lin Aiyun, curled her lips, and came straight out with what had been on her mind: “President, it’s been nearly ten years since you last took on an apprentice. I think Aiyun’s style is somewhat similar to yours—this girl could learn so much more under your guidance.”
“That matter has been over for so many years now. It’s time to let it go.”
After saying this final line, Yang Xueyan sighed. “If I hadn’t seen how much you liked Aiyun’s embroidery last time, I wouldn’t have had the nerve to bring this up.”
Wan Tingzhi didn’t respond. So long passed that Yang Xueyan thought she wouldn’t answer at all—until a voice finally reached her ears.
“Let me think it over.”
“Good, no rush.” Yang Xueyan’s smile deepened, and the heavy stone in her heart was finally set down.
After consulting Lin Aiyun, the owner of the piece, the embroidery was left in the president’s office. It would be evaluated tomorrow, and the points would be credited to her account—along with the corresponding compensation.
“It’s a considerable sum of money.” Yang Xueyan winked at Lin Aiyun as they headed downstairs to another office building to register her information.
“The president also said she’d have it framed in wood and glass, then hung on the display wall for members to appreciate. You can go take a look too—there are quite a few other embroidered pieces up there.”
“Huh?” Lin Aiyun could already imagine what that scene would be like.
“Don’t be shy—your skill has already been recognized by the association’s members.” Yang Xueyan knew exactly what young people were thinking and teased her a bit.
They chatted as they handled the paperwork, and soon all the formalities were complete. Lin Aiyun also received her badge symbolizing her membership in the embroidery association.
“If you’re afraid of losing it, you can hang it around your neck with a cord. But I’ve noticed most people in the association embroider or braid their own—everyone likes things to look pretty.”
“You don’t have to come to the association every day, but tomorrow is your official first day—you should still come by. It’s a good chance to make friends and get to know everyone.”
Yang Xueyan went over all the important points with Lin Aiyun. Only then did she realize it had been quite a while since she’d seen Zhuang Dongping, and said she needed to find her so they could head back together.
But she was told that Zhuang Dongping had already left on her own.
“Xiaoping really is something—she didn’t even say goodbye before leaving.” Yang Xueyan sighed in exasperation but didn’t dwell on it. After all, Zhuang Dongping had been to this area so many times—she probably knew it better than anyone and wouldn’t run into any trouble.
The association’s driver dropped them off at their respective homes before returning.
The moment Lin Aiyun stepped through the door, she was startled by Zhang Wenhua, who had been waiting there early. She clutched her chest and let out a deep breath: “Mother, what are you standing here for?”
“Waiting for you to come back! So, how did it go—was everything smooth?” Zhang Wenhua helped pat her down while asking expectantly.
Knowing that Zhang Wenhua had probably been anxious all day, Lin Aiyun didn’t keep her in suspense. Her eyes curved as she answered truthfully: “Smooth! All the paperwork is done. I start tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful! My daughter has a job now!”
Before the words had even faded, someone interrupted: “A job? How did you know I have a job?”
The two women turned toward the voice and saw Lin Jianzhi standing at the bottom of the steps, carrying a large iron bucket with a mysterious air about him. His face was beaming with pride, as if he’d stumbled upon something great. Combined with what he’d just said, everything became clear.
Zhang Wenhua let out a scoff, clearly not believing him. “All you do day in and day out is fish—I’ve never seen you do anything else. What kind of job could you possibly have?”
“Hey, wife, what’s wrong with fishing? This job came to me because of fishing.” Lin Jianzhi lifted his chin proudly and shook the iron bucket in his hand, inside which two fish were bumping around, trying to escape.
“Oh?” Zhang Wenhua and Lin Aiyun exchanged glances, completely puzzled.
It turned out that Lin Jianzhi hadn’t been spending all his time away from home just fishing with new acquaintances and old men, as everyone had assumed. He’d actually been helping out at a fish farm on the east side of the city.
Growing up roaming the mountains and rivers, he had far more hands-on experience than office-sitting leaders in certain areas. Moreover, specialized fisheries experts were rare in this era, so when problems arose, people either waited for them to resolve themselves or sought advice from experienced individuals.
And Lin Jianzhi was exactly that experienced individual.
After arriving in Beijing with nothing to do, he spent his days hanging around the lake—chatting with people, watching chess games, and of course, fishing. For this purpose, Xiao Cheng had even given him a set of fishing gear to pass the time.
During this time, he got acquainted with a leader from the fish farm. When this leader saw how skilled Lin Jianzhi was at fishing and how well he could talk about related knowledge, he invited him to take a look at the fish farm—figuring it couldn’t hurt to try.
Sure enough, Lin Jianzhi not only identified the problem but also fixed it.
The leader waved his hand and asked if he’d be willing to stay on as a technical employee—the pay was negotiable.
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