“Beauty Lanterns” officially launched on the thirteenth day of the first lunar month, quickly winning the hearts of Jing County’s young women. With the New Year festivities still ongoing and household rules not yet tightened, over twenty girls and young wives came daily to make lanterns. It was a sweep of every well-off household willing to indulge their daughters’ whims.

Not much silver was earned, but Xianjin met many influential women—like the daughter of the prefect’s clan, the county registrar’s sister, the newlywed wife of a county clerk, and one especially memorable girl from a wealthy family: Miss Yuanyuan.

Yuanyuan left a deep impression on Xianjin. She was plump and radiant, paid 300 wen upfront, and reserved ten lanterns to make at her leisure. Xianjin immediately asked Nanny Zhang to assist this VIP, sent Suo’er to buy pastries, and personally brought over a brass hand warmer while lavishing praise:

“Wow! You picked the perfect bamboo strip!”

“That corner fold—so neat!”

“This paste—so thick and glossy!”

Nanny Zhang gave her a look. Xianjin read her lips: oh… the paste was pre-mixed by Nanny Zhang and complimentary.

Though her flattery missed the mark, Xianjin, ever the top-tier saleswoman, pivoted to praising Yuanyuan’s “craftsmanship.” But despite following every step correctly, Yuanyuan’s final products were all failures.

Out of ten kits, only one lantern turned out usable. The rest were ruined—some torn by ink stains, some misassembled into square shapes, some glued shut during folding. The paper was too thick, blocking light.

Seeing Yuanyuan flustered and embarrassed, Xianjin quickly served tea and smiled: “Lotus is elegant, plum blossoms fragrant, bamboo serene—but who says nameless flowers aren’t beautiful? Your lantern may not look conventional, but it’s uniquely charming!”

She lifted the dark, opaque, postmodern “lantern” that looked more like a crumpled paper ball and said sincerely: “Take this one—it’s called a lantern, but it doesn’t shine. From a philosophical standpoint, it’s fascinating. On Lantern Night, when every house glows, you walk alone in the dark. All the lanterns are bright—except yours. Now tell me, where will people look?”

Where else but the one unlit lantern?

Yuanyuan was just twelve or thirteen, with chubby cheeks and sparkling eyes tucked in soft flesh—like a carefree, well-fed koi fish. She sniffled and said in a syrupy voice, “You speak so interestingly—philosophy, dialectics… just like my dad always says!”

Xianjin laughed, “Then your father must be a wise man.”

Yuanyuan was about to respond, then realized what Xianjin meant. She burst into laughter, dimples showing: “You talk like my dad! He’s a wise man, so you’re calling yourself wise too!”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her pudgy hands. “You’re so funny!”

Ah! Her giggling reminded Xianjin of a certain neckless, nationwide viral celebrity—Little Bear Huahua.

Xianjin clutched her chest, overwhelmed by cuteness. Girls really are adorable!

She carefully packed Yuanyuan’s ‘uniquely’ artistic lantern, added a sheet of coral-gold paper, drew several cute fish with curly tails, and crafted a double-layered lantern for her: “…Wishing you a joyful and peaceful New Year!”

Yuanyuan’s eyes curved like crescent moons.

On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, Chen Zuoniang brought her younger sister Youniang to support the shop. Seeing the crowd, with all four or five square tables at the entrance occupied and several familiar-looking gentry daughters waiting while eating wontons, Zuoniang settled her sister and came to help Xianjin.

Zuoniang was quick and efficient. When Suo’er couldn’t keep up with distributing bamboo strips, she rolled up her sleeves, sorted six strips per lantern, tied them with a string, and stacked them neatly—ready to hand out as needed. Then she used wide bamboo strips as containers for paste, grouped six strips, two lumps of paste, and two sheets of paper into individual kits, organizing the raw materials into tidy units.

By the end, Xianjin handled sales and payments, Zuoniang distributed kits, and Nanny Zhang taught and guided the lantern-making process.

And what was little Wang Sansuo doing? She took the ten wen Xianjin gave her, bought a bowl of wontons, and stood beside the waiting girls, eating with full concentration.

The fifteenth was the busiest day. They worked from morning until sunset. On Shuixi Street, ropes were strung across alleys, shops closed, colorful paper strips and lanterns were hung, and candles were placed in trees for the “Hundred Branch Lanterns.”

The old estate sent food, but it arrived late and was ice-cold.

Zuoniang was about to settle for it, but Xianjin refused. “Too much work, too little food, and cold meals—that’s not the path to longevity.”

Seeing Nanny Zhang, who had pounded rice cakes for half a month without faltering, now sitting on the doorstep massaging her arms, Xianjin declared: “We sold over 400 lanterns today—everyone gets half a string of cash! No more Beauty Lanterns tonight! I’m treating everyone to the lantern festival!”

Shops were closed, and eateries likely shut too. After a long day, sending people home hungry felt heartless. The lantern fair would surely have hot food stalls.

“…That seafood wonton place on the corner is delicious. The shrimp’s ground fine, with dried seaweed and scallions, doused in hot broth—mmm, that flavor!”

“The white rice cakes from the back alley are great too! I saw them grind the rice paste and add just a touch of yellow sugar—actually flavored with pear juice!”

“The pancakes by Jianliu Bridge are wrapped in pork cracklings and scallions—crispy and fragrant.”

The only one who’d eaten, little Wang Sansuo, led the way while chattering nonstop about food. Behind her, four starving souls followed, eyes glowing green, mouths watering more with every word.

Xianjin gritted her teeth. “Wang Sansuo, your bonus is halved!”

Wang Sansuo sulked for a while, but was soon coaxed with a sticky piece of malt candy from Xianjin, who had filled up on rice cakes. Nanny Zhang then led him into the street performances, where actors played out various folk dances.

Xianjin and the Chen sisters wandered aimlessly through the festive crowd.

Jing County wasn’t large—about the size of a small modern town—but the Lantern Festival was beautifully arranged. Three grand lantern towers were erected, fireworks and firecrackers lit the sky, and paper confetti fell like snow. Lanterns hung in layers from tall poles: pearl-drop lotuses, twelve-link lanterns, eighteen scholars, spring couplets, spinning windmills.

Xianjin was dazzled and truly stunned by ancient aesthetics. There was a refined sense of elegance and wealth—not many ancient folks shared the boisterous, stamp-loving taste of that “Perfect Old Man” from the Qianlong era.

Beyond the elegance, Xianjin noticed something else—these people weren’t poor. In truly impoverished places, families wouldn’t go out en masse during festivals, nor would they radiate such genuine joy.

Everyone who brushed past Xianjin, no matter how plainly dressed, wore a look of contentment. Of course, some were poor, but even if their clothes were patched, they were clean and neat.

Xianjin sighed, “Jing County’s magistrate must be a good official.”

Chen Youniang giggled. Chen Zuoniang blushed and turned to look at the eternal lantern under Wuxi Bridge.

Xianjin was puzzled.

Youniang leaned in and whispered, “…Since the last magistrate was killed by bandits in the mountains, Jing County hasn’t had a proper magistrate. Only a scholar-ranked eighth-grade county assistant is running things…”

She chuckled softly. “He’s my sister’s fiancé.”

Oh. So Xianjin had just praised someone’s future husband right in front of his bride-to-be. Good thing she hadn’t cursed the shop’s leaky bricks or accused the local office of corruption.

Xianjin smiled and lowered her voice. “Your sister has good taste!”

Youniang beamed. “It’s not her taste—it’s Great-Grandfather’s!”

Right—this was ancient times. Marriages were arranged by elders. Young people’s opinions didn’t count. Actually, they didn’t even qualify as opinions. Their great-grandfather was the Chen clan patriarch—Seventh Great-Uncle mentioned by Old Madam Qu.

A county’s top scholar matched with the eldest daughter of a powerful clan elder—even today, that’s a power couple.

Xianjin nodded. “A county assistant paired with our Chen family’s eldest daughter—very fitting. Once he completes three years of excellent service, he’ll rise. He’s still young—governor or prefect is within reach!”

Chen Zuoniang finally turned around, shushed her sister, and bumped Xianjin’s shoulder. “Rogue! Don’t talk nonsense! Governor, prefect—he’s just eighth-grade, not even a proper official!”

Her voice lowered. “It wasn’t Great-Grandfather who arranged it. It was set when our eldest uncle was at his peak, serving as chief officer in Chengdu…” Her tone dimmed.

Xianjin instantly understood the subtext. If the match was made during her uncle’s tenure, and he’s now gone, does the engagement still stand? Was it made because the Chen family had a sixth-grade prefect?

She saw Zuoniang’s visible disappointment.

Such a capable, efficient girl.

Xianjin wrapped an arm around her and smiled. “Who cares about ranks! Even the Grand Academician of Wenchang Pavilion is just a title! Our family earns more in a month than he does in ten years! Just remember—if you marry, guard your dowry. Every copper coin should be spent on yourself!”

Total nonsense, of course. Even if you earned more than an official’s lifetime salary, a merchant still had to bow and scrape before even the lowest clerk.

Zuoniang knew Xianjin was just trying to comfort her. She smiled faintly.

Just as Xianjin finished speaking, a soft voice called out from the lantern-lit crowd: “Sister! Beauty Lantern Sister!”

So many lanterns—who knew where the voice came from?

Xianjin stood on tiptoe to look. In the sea of lights, a single dark spot appeared. It darted forward like a salmon swimming upstream, pushing through the crowd until it reached her.

Oh—it was Miss Koi Huahua. She clutched a wooden pole. At the end of it was that postmodern “It’s a lantern but it doesn’t light” creation.

Yes, in a sea of brightness, the dark spot stood out instantly.

Xianjin smiled and greeted her. “…Coming from Shuidong Street? Are the lantern towers there nice?”

Seeing no one with her, Xianjin asked, “Did you come alone?”

Even with good local officials, a young girl wandering alone wasn’t safe. Look at poor Yinglian in Dream of the Red Chamber—kidnapped and renamed Xiangling.

Xianjin pulled her close, about to ask more, when Huahua turned and waved excitedly: “Brother! Brother! This is the lady who said ‘In a sea of lanterns, I walk alone’—the Beauty Lantern shopkeeper!”

Xianjin turned to look—and her smile froze. Huahua’s brother, following behind, also froze when he saw Xianjin’s face.

Damn! He should’ve known! Only one person in Jing County could come up with such shameless, clever schemes to sell things.

His chubby sister had left home clutching that pitch-black lantern, tearfully quoting: “In a sea of lanterns, I walk alone!”

“Bamboo is serene, plum blossoms fragrant—even nameless flowers are beautiful!”

“Just because others are willowy and delicate, does that mean a round little piglet like me isn’t beautiful?”

What were they even talking about? Lanterns? How did this turn into a debate about body types?

He’d assumed the first two lines were borrowed—but the last one was definitely his sister’s own addition. And once she cried, their father always gave in. So he’d had to watch her parade that unlit lantern through town, collecting shocked stares and side-eyes.

He should’ve known!

Only the Chen family’s wintergreen tree—He Xianjin—could come up with a stunt like this.