Chapter 28: The Beauty of Thirty

Although Qiushui had the seamstresses at the fabric shop prepare sample garments, the style of the cardigan—once a massive trend on Earth—was something entirely unseen in this world.

Beyond the crocheted cardigans, An Chunfeng’s brush danced across the paper, adding and subtracting strokes. In the blink of an eye, she had drafted two more designs: long cardigans and wide-sleeved butterfly shirts. The undergarments were all based on the classic "ancient style" costumes she remembered from photo studios; while exaggerated and vibrant, they did not clash with the local long skirts. With Qiushui there to refine and control the designs to suit local aesthetics, An Chunfeng felt no hesitation in sketching out various styles. Furthermore, she took the opportunity to draw flamboyant necklaces, earrings, anklets, and bracelets—the kind of accessories favored by nightlife girls—all of which were gathered and stored in a trunk for future use.

The sketches were easy to produce, and she finished her task by the second watch of the night. However, the long night stretched ahead, and without a mobile phone or novels to pass the time, it would be grueling.

An Chunfeng took a bamboo chopstick, split it in two, then into four, and quickly fashioned a set of bamboo needles, slightly thicker than toothpicks. During the day, she had gone to the labor broker only to ensure there would be witnesses to the fact that Mother Zhuang and her cohorts had come to stir up trouble; the real measures, however, had to be taken by her own hand. If she did nothing and simply waited for an incident to occur before reporting it to the authorities or the labor broker, she would essentially be waiting for someone to collect her corpse.

She whittled twenty three-inch-long bamboo needles from the chopsticks, polished them smooth, and tucked them into the thread loops along the edges of her sleeves. With a flick of her wrist, she could draw them out instantly. The remaining bamboo, she left unsplit, merely smoothing the edges to create sleek bamboo rods.

An Chunfeng spun the rod between her fingers, the wood blurring in a rapid, rhythmic dance. Then, gripping the end, she thrust it downward with force; the ordinary chopstick pierced half an inch into the packed earth floor, standing firm. Having once made her living through pure finger strength, her twenty-plus days of persistent training had finally restored a bit of her foundation.

The days that followed passed quickly. Whether it was due to intervention from the labor broker or something else, Mother Zhuang’s gang did not return. With the help of Master Song, her contract with Qiushui successfully passed through official filing. The seamstresses hired by the fabric shop began their work, and production of the new cardigans and silk pajamas commenced. Every morning, An Chunfeng would go to the shop to instruct the seamstresses on using crochet hooks and cutting silk for the pajamas. Though she didn’t know how to sew, she knew how to supervise.

Qiushui stepped up to act as the model, trying on every piece of sleepwear to display it for An Chunfeng. It had to be said that Qiushui was a true femme fatale; her shoulders were as if carved, her waist as slender as silk. She did not strive for an ethereal, fairy-like grace, yet her extraordinary charm was evident in every gesture. At thirty-two, she was considered "withered blossoms" in the Great Liang Dynasty, well past the age of marriage—a fate Qiushui herself had long accepted. But in An Chunfeng’s eyes, she was a beautiful sight, even the faint crow’s feet around her eyes when she smiled seemed perfectly placed.

Because Qiushui was a professional, she wore the intimate silk nightgowns—originally designed to be seductive—with immense allure. When she changed into the pajamas trimmed with lace, she exuded a lazy, domestic charm. The appreciation of beauty transcends gender, and An Chunfeng was completely mesmerized.

Seeing An Chunfeng nearly drooling, Qiushui couldn't help but reach out and poke her on the forehead. "Sister An, I asked you just now—ten taels of silver for a nightgown, and ten taels for a set of pajamas for the time being. Is this price appropriate?"

After deducting costs, the remaining profit would be split fifty-fifty, meaning each of them would earn at least four taels per item. She had already said this once, but An Chunfeng had only stared blankly at her without answering, leaving her no choice but to ask again.

An Chunfeng raised a hand to rub the corner of her mouth, masking her reaction. "Appropriate, very appropriate. Whatever price you set, Shopkeeper Qi, is fine."

She was genuinely embarrassed. Back at the casino, the men around her had always been surrounded by women with bold, red-painted lips, but that allure was purely cosmetic. Furthermore, she had been so focused on the dice, thinking only of how to win big for her boss, that she never paid any attention to the beauties. Now, she was enjoying the sight with the mindset of appreciating art; naturally, the feeling was different.

Noticing An Chunfeng’s wandering mind, Qiushui raised an eyebrow and teased, "Sister An, are you fond of this wretched shell of mine, or the clothes themselves?" Though she laughed, her voice carried a trace of melancholy.

Back in the pleasure houses, she had relied on her beauty to survive the endless parade of guests. Seven years ago, when her looks began to fade and her fame vanished, she seized the opportunity of a reorganization within the Music Bureau to use her entire life savings to buy her freedom, leaving that life behind to become the owner of this fabric shop. She no longer had any desire for marriage, thinking only of earning money to support her old age. Even though she had now entered into a business partnership with An Chunfeng and had saved a small sum, her past remained a lingering knot in her heart. Especially given the way An Chunfeng was looking at her right now... it was a bit too intense. Had she not been so experienced in the ways of men and women, she might have truly misunderstood An Chunfeng’s intentions.

An Chunfeng replied candidly, "Shopkeeper Qi is truly beautiful—not just in appearance, but in temperament. This silk pajama set is meant to evoke a sense of maturity. If you act as the model, you could make women over thirty realize that they are still beautiful."

What woman doesn't like to be complimented? Qiushui smiled. She didn't understand what "model" meant, but she understood that she was being praised for her beauty, and that women over thirty could be beautiful too. In the Great Liang Dynasty, a woman of thirty was considered quite old; even when serving their own husbands, they often felt inferior, feeling they had to offer concubines to their husbands to appear magnanimous and virtuous. Could such women still be considered beautiful?

Qiushui looked at the camisole dress she was wearing. The smooth silk clung to her body, revealing a fair amount of skin, while the two straps masked the slight sagging of her chest. She still looked beautiful and moving. The first season of products for Qiushui’s fabric shop would be camisole dresses. Although this garment was different from a traditional bodice, the allure it displayed was the same, and it was easily accepted.

While An Chunfeng was busy at the shop, the Qiu woman in Pear Blossom Lane was busy as well. Every day when An Chunfeng left, she would encounter the Qiu woman out buying vegetables, who would invariably greet her with an overly fiery, familiar warmth. Under the Qiu woman’s efforts, almost all the women in the market knew of An Chunfeng, the widow living alone. Even though An Chunfeng had never spoken a serious word to her, the Qiu woman made sure everyone knew their relationship was "extraordinary," and the fact that An Chunfeng had once sent the Qiu woman a jar of chicken soup was common knowledge.

After finishing her work at the shop, An Chunfeng spent her afternoons resting. Just as she was carrying her food box to the door, she was suddenly intercepted by the Qiu woman, who darted out. "Mistress An! The Qixi Festival is in two days. I’d like to invite you over to my house to make *qiaoguo* together!"

*Qiaoguo*, a custom of the Qixi Festival in Great Liang, was a seasonal treat made of sugar, oil, flour, and honey, shaped into various delicate pastries or carved from fruits into exotic flowers and birds for display. Only now did it hit An Chunfeng that she had been in the Great Liang Dynasty for over a month, and she never expected the Qiu woman to make such an absurd request.

"Mistress Liao, you and I are merely neighbors living in the same lane. Making *qiaoguo* together is inappropriate, and I ask that you stop suggesting we are close!" An Chunfeng didn't even address her as "sister-in-law" anymore, refusing her flatly.

The Qiu woman didn't seem annoyed, as if she had already anticipated the refusal. She smiled slyly and said, "Don't be so distant, Sister An! The first time is awkward, the second time is familiar. Just come over to my house for a sit, and you’ll naturally feel closer."