Chapter 9

Li Hongxia had picked out cotton crepe fabric—very soft and form-fitting. Her figure was quite standard, so Zhang Hongying could use ready-made patterns to cut it, which meant the labor cost wouldn’t be high.

Master Wang chuckled, “Lucky you—this one’s simple. The profit’s yours.”

If the client had a complicated body shape, Master Wang would have had to step in, and then the price would’ve been higher. Of course, that also meant Zhang Hongying was taking on the risk.

Zhang Hongying checked all the markings on the paper pattern—everything was clear, including fold lines, seam lines, and notches.

“Master, can I start now?”

Master Wang nodded. “Go ahead. Be bold.”

Zhang Hongying shook open the soft fabric with a swish and spread it across the worktable. Then she used her hands to smooth out every inch, gently tugging any spots with wrinkles.

Master Wang put down his work and walked over. He watched her movements and nodded in approval. “Nice job laying out the fabric—make sure every inch is flat and wrinkle-free. If it’s too wrinkled, you can give it a quick press.”

Once the fabric was laid out smoothly, Zhang Hongying brought over the prepared paper pattern. She gently placed it on the fabric, aligning it like puzzle pieces, making sure the grain of the fabric matched the direction of the pattern exactly, with no deviation. She also double-checked that the front and back pieces, as well as the left and right sides, were perfectly symmetrical.

Master Wang reminded her from the side, “Always check symmetry for the front and back pieces, and the left and right sides—if that’s off, the finished dress will look terrible.”

Zhang Hongying nodded, took out a box of pins, and began securing the paper pattern to the fabric, one by one, to prevent any shifting during cutting. Only after this did she confidently pick up the sharp fabric scissors and begin cutting along the edge of the pattern.

“When cutting, stay totally focused. Keep your eyes on the scissors’ path,” Master Wang continued coaching. “If you hit a tricky spot, like the neckline or armhole, snip a small notch first with smaller scissors, then carefully follow the pattern. Don’t let the big scissors slip and ruin it.”

Throughout the cutting process, Zhang Hongying stayed laser-focused, watching the movement of the scissors, ensuring smooth and clean lines. When she got to tricky spots like the neckline or armhole, she paused, switched to a smaller pair of scissors, and carefully made a notch before cutting along the curve—working with meticulous precision.

Master Wang muttered, “You’re way too slow—like you’re doing embroidery. I’m getting anxious just watching.”

Zhang Hongying: …

She bit her tongue. Don’t say “Then you do it.” I’ve got to make the most of this opportunity.

At last, the cutting was complete. Master Wang, who had been observing, finally let out a breath of relief. Even though he’d told her to go ahead boldly, if she’d messed up, it would still damage their reputation.

Zhang Hongying didn’t rush into the next step. Instead, she set down her tools and began inspecting each cut piece one by one. Any minor issue she found, she fixed immediately.

“You’re being very thorough,” Master Wang praised. “This step is crucial. Make sure there are no flaws in any of the pieces.”

Finally, Zhang Hongying picked up a piece of white tailor’s chalk and carefully marked key points on the fabric—seam lines, notches, and other important areas—leaving temporary markings. Skilled workers might skip this step, but for Zhang Hongying, it was still essential.

This helped ensure she didn’t sew anything incorrectly.

Even though she had been a seamstress for decades in her past life, Master Wang didn’t know that. If she just dove in without marking anything, he’d probably be alarmed.

“Make sure your chalk lines are clear,” Master Wang approved. “That’s how you ensure accuracy during sewing.”

After the final check, Zhang Hongying gently placed the cut fabric pieces back on the table and began matching them according to the pattern’s markings. “This part’s no joke,” Master Wang chuckled. “You’ve got to make sure every piece fits exactly where it belongs—no room for error. And your stitching has to be neat and even.”

To prevent mistakes, Zhang Hongying used pins to fasten the pieces together at the seams.

“Not bad, not bad—you could open your own shop,” Master Wang praised again. “You’ve got nimble fingers, girl.

Hongying, you know… I’ve got a son…”

Zhang Hongying rolled her eyes. “Master, I’m not even fourteen yet. My birthday hasn’t come—technically still thirteen.”

When it came time to sew, Zhang Hongying didn’t rush. She began with the main body of the dress—joining the front and back panels and attaching the sleeves, the core structural parts.

“Once the main body’s secure, it’s unlikely to go too wrong,” Master Wang advised from the side. “Then you can focus on the finer details—like shaping the neckline, hemming the sleeves, and sculpting the skirt’s curve.”

It was her first time doing everything herself, so Master Wang kept a close eye on her.

Under his careful guidance, Zhang Hongying completed the entire process—from cutting to sewing.

When the finished dress was placed on the mannequin, it immediately stood out.

The collar, sleeves, and hemline were full of flair and charm.

Zhang Hongying even added a few little butterfly bows as decorations at the chest.

Master Wang looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “Hongying… I have a younger son…”

Zhang Hongying couldn’t help but laugh. “Master, you’re only looking at my craftsmanship. A man like your son—he’ll want a pretty girl.

Why don’t you ask him: there’s this girl, very skillful, but a bit dark, a bit skinny, her hair’s kinda yellow, not much education… if I tried to matchmake her with you, would you want her?”

Master Wang shivered at the description. Then he playfully swatted her. “You’re not that bad!”

Zhang Hongying smiled bitterly. “But which part of what I said wasn’t true?”

Most girls in the village started their periods around sixteen or seventeen. In her past life, Zhang Hongying hadn’t started until she was eighteen—too undernourished and thin.

Later, when people tried to set her up, it was with another skinny, dark-skinned guy. But his family was well off—duck farmers who’d already become early millionaires.

The man didn’t care much for her; he wanted someone fair-skinned. But the future mother-in-law had “fallen in love at first sight”—Zhang Hongying had a reputation for being hard-working, and raising ducks needed just such a person.

Those delicate, fair girls would never go running through fields and water with mud all over them.

The man didn’t like her, and she didn’t like him either. But he kept sending gifts, and Li Xiaofang was eager to match the two families.

Thinking of all this, Zhang Hongying said to Master Wang, “Master, I don’t want to make money off this order. Just give me those leftover scraps of fabric—I’ll make a dress for my mom to shut her up.”