Embroidered Phoenix Chronicle

Seeing that the situation had completely turned around, Old Man Huo secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He politely invited everyone to his home, but no one would be so ungrateful, especially since they had such explosive news to spread; they all politely declined and left. Old Man Huo invited Lü Miliang and his son into his home, leaving only Widow Yang standing outside, dumbfounded!

The turmoil quickly subsided. The Liu and Lü families asked Doctor Huo to act as matchmaker and arrange a posthumous marriage, burying the two children together. Da Niu was also buried. Widow Yang went around spewing venomous rumors about Liu Ye'er, but everyone treated her with increasing indifference, and no one even responded to her. Widow Yang went mad. Everyone knew perfectly well: Liu Changsheng refused to marry her, so she vented her anger on Liu Ye'er, biting like a mad dog.

It turned out that when Old Man Huo heard that one of the three dead children was Widow Yang's son, his scalp tingled with fear; he knew she would come to cause trouble. Fortunately, the clinic was always well-informed, and after racking their brains, they connected the two children to a couple who had committed suicide a few years ago. This left only Da Niu. Luckily, Lü Mi Liang was still alive; otherwise, things would have been very difficult to resolve.

Liu Ye'er was dumbfounded, and couldn't help but admire the ancients' unique way of thinking. She gained a profound understanding of the saying, "Trouble can strike from the sky while one is at home." The old man gave a strict order: Liu Ye'er was strictly forbidden from going out alone. She could only go out once, accompanied by at least Aunt Liu or Aunt Jiang, plus a servant.

"You can never be too careful!" the old man concluded his lecture. Liulian felt like dying. Aunt Jiang was mainly busy taking care of the children and had no free time at all; Aunt Liu did have some free time after finishing her chores, but she was deeply influenced by feudal ideology and strongly opposed young women and wives going out for leisure. Liulian was confined to the front door and couldn't even step outside the second door, feeling like she was living a life worse than death. She was so frustrated she wanted to scream, and kept banging her head against the wall.

The Liang Kingdom—Liulian now knows this is the Liang Kingdom—wasn't particularly harsh on women—though it couldn't compare to modern times. Liu Ye'er was still studying at the academy before the incident, which was unexpected—Liulian had always thought that commoners in ancient times wouldn't allow girls to study. Shiqiao Town, named after the two large stone bridges and a wharf, was one of the most prosperous places in the county, with residents mostly engaged in loading, unloading, and transportation work, typical of those who made their living from the water. After the incident, she couldn't continue her studies—girls usually only studied until eleven or twelve years old, and Liu Ye'er was exactly thirteen. Girls studying at the academy only learned to recognize some common characters, do arithmetic, and mainly learn needlework, etiquette, and how to interact with others. Girls who graduated from the girls' school were poised and elegant, literate and good at math, making them quite sought-after in the marriage market. Practically speaking, whether it was a wealthy landowner in the countryside or a small shopkeeper in town, they preferred a wife who could manage the household, keep accounts, and not be timid in public. Therefore, anyone with a little spare money was willing to let their daughters study for a few days. Liu Ye'er also studied at the girls' school in the town's Wutong Academy for two years, learning only math and not yet needlework. Fortunately, the old lady and Aunt Jiang were both skilled at needlework, so her long, arduous days seemed to have no end.

Liulian had never known that making a garment involved so many intricacies: color matching, cutting and trimming, hemming, sewing—and you think it's done once it's sewn? Not at all! There's ironing, starching, smoothing—no matter how overwhelming it seems, it all has to be done step by step. Liulian finally understood why those young ladies had so many maids; fewer simply wouldn't be enough!

This is just the clothing; we haven't even talked about the shoes yet. Shoes are even more labor-intensive than clothes: first, you have to apply a paste, which involves taking apart some clothes that you don't wear anymore, pasting them together with thin paste, and then cutting them off one by one after they dry. You then use strips of cloth to trim the edges and stack them together in four or five layers—this is when your scissor skills are put to the test. The soles that Aunt Jiang cut out were quite pretty, but as for her own, well, let's not talk about it. Then, she stitched the soles out stitch by stitch, her poor hands getting red and swollen from the stitching, and the soles were still loose and flimsy. After the soles, there were still no uppers yet, as the uppers were even more labor-intensive. Liu Lian finally understood why shoes were given as gifts in "Dream of the Red Chamber"—these things were indeed precious! No wonder women bound their feet; bound-foot shoes saved at least a third of the labor.

The days dragged on endlessly, not only failing to provide the leisurely, idle life I had imagined—a life of eating my fill, doing nothing, and engaging in petty squabbles—but also leaving no time for forced sentimentality or even composing poems out of sheer boredom. From morning till night, my days were more fulfilling than a lifeless, scorching fire.

Finally, the fourth day of the fourth lunar month arrived, the birthday of some Bodhisattva. Having lived for thirty years, for the first time, Liu Lian felt a heartfelt gratitude towards the Bodhisattva—if it weren't for the Bodhisattva, how could she have found an excuse to go for a stroll? Early in the morning, the third brother prepared the carriage, not the sedan chairs often seen on television, but the large carts used for transporting grain. Old Man Huo kept urging the women to hurry, not even bothering to prepare breakfast, each eating a piece of fried dough. When the hired carriage arrived, everyone went out, leaving only the oldest servant to watch the house.

Along the way, the wealthy rode horses, the poor rode donkeys, the townspeople drove horse-drawn carts, the villagers drove oxcarts, and those who couldn't manage walked. Like ants carrying food, there were people everywhere, men, women, old and young, all dressed up. Sixth Sister complained that they had set off too late, and no one paid any attention to her. Everyone was looking around, their eyes darting about, not enough to see everything.

Suddenly, Liu Ma shielded Liu Lian. Liu Lian looked in the direction Liu Ma indicated and saw Widow Yang standing alone under a weeping willow tree, glaring venomously at the Huo family's carriage. In the early summer sun, Liu Lian shivered. The legendary Widow Yang was indeed worthy of her reputation.

After a bumpy hour's journey, they finally arrived at the gate of Puji Temple. The third brother, wanting to mend his relationship with Liu Ma, had the hired drivers guard the two carriages while the group, young and old, made their way up the mountain. They were quickly separated by the crowd. Jiang Ma and Liu Ma, having received orders beforehand, followed closely behind, with the third brother drooling beside them. Qian Xuewen and Sixth Sister carried their eldest son, while the Huo family elders walked together, holding Xiao Hu's hand. Only the youngest apprentice accompanied them; the rest had disappeared.

For some reason, I felt uneasy all over, a sense of unease creeping over me, a persistent ominous premonition. According to the book, someone would probably frame me for having an affair, or orchestrate a chance encounter with my crush, blackmailing him into an engagement—it all depends on whether I'm the protagonist or a supporting character. The thought was almost laughable. The temple was packed with people, a sea of ​​heads as far as the eye could see; there was hardly any scenery to behold. Modern tourists are crammed together during peak season, but people in ancient times were even more crowded. And because long journeys were inconvenient and daily life was often dull, they found amusement in the jostling, probably because they had no other form of entertainment.