Chapter 81: New Clothes

After nearly half an hour, the shop assistant finally gave in.

Zhang Jinlan happily took out 2 taels and 600 wén and walked away with: a inkstone, two ink sticks, a book, a sheet of paper, a brush, and 50 extra sheets of paper the shop had gifted her.

“Grandma is amazing! We saved so much money, we could buy tons of meat buns with this,”

Jiang Fubao looked at her grandmother in awe.

If it were her, she probably would have caved the moment the shop assistant said he’d throw in five sheets for free.

“Luckily Grandma came along. If your grandfather had gone, not a single wén would’ve been discounted,”

Zhang Jinlan shot her husband a sharp glance, full of disdain.

Jiang Shoujia shrugged—he didn’t argue.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the cloth shop.

The men waited outside while Zhang Jinlan took her eldest daughter-in-law and granddaughter inside to pick out fabric.

The shop displayed bright, colorful fabrics, making their eyes spin.

However, as soon as the clerk heard they wanted coarse cloth, his attitude instantly worsened.

Jiang Fubao frowned, but Zhang Jinlan and Zhu Yingqiu didn’t care.

They had been poor all their lives and endured far worse insults.

A bad attitude was nothing—they ignored it and continued choosing fabric.

“How much for this coarse cloth per bolt?”

Zhang Jinlan held up a beige piece of fabric.

“Five hundred wén per bolt. The hemp cloth next to it is 200 wén. Prices are already at the lowest—no bargaining.”

As if anticipating more questions, the clerk even volunteered the price of the nearby hemp fabric.

“Alright, give me a bolt. Oh! Look at these tiny clothes—they’re so pretty. Clerk, do you sell ready-made clothes too?”

Not only did the cloth shop sell fabric, but they also carried ready-made clothes to boost business.

On Zhang Jinlan’s left hung two sets of girls’ clothing, and she couldn’t take her eyes off them.

“These are fine cotton, dyed, one set costs half a tael of silver. Not a wén less!”

Jiang Fubao followed Grandma’s gaze.

They were two sets of ruqun, with matching outer jackets—one crimson, one light green—embroidered with peach blossoms and willow branches.

Beautiful indeed.

But half a tael for such tiny clothes? That was expensive.

“Can she try them on?” Zhang Jinlan noticed patches on her granddaughter’s clothes. Her heart ached, she bit her lip and decided to buy them—but she wanted Fubao to try them first to see if they fit.

“Sure, there’s an empty room in the backyard,”

The clerk’s attitude, though arrogant, was not unreasonable. Business is business—even small opportunities count.

So Jiang Fubao, accompanied by Grandma and eldest uncle’s wife, went to the back room.

She tried on both sets. The room had a bronze mirror.

She twirled in front of it, showing off.

Truly expensive clothes—much prettier than coarse or hemp cloth and very comfortable, not itchy at all.

“Fubao, which one do you like?” Zhang Jinlan asked with a smile.

“I don’t know, both are beautiful. Grandma can choose,” Jiang Fubao said.

“All right, we can’t choose either—buy both. One for washing, one for wearing. Fubao should wear good clothes now,”

Zhang Jinlan helped her granddaughter remove her old clothes, tightly hugged the two new sets, and walked out.

Their family’s current comfort relied entirely on Fubao’s fortune.

Half a tael for a set? Spending a tael or so on her granddaughter was nothing.

“Have you decided? Which one?”

Back in front of the shop, the clerk still wore a sour expression. Zhang Jinlan lifted her chin.

“Both! Since there’s no discount, I won’t haggle. Plus that bolt of coarse cloth, I bought quite a bit. Give me some extra scraps too—I’ll use them for patching at home,”

She set the clothes down casually.

“Sure,”

The clerk hadn’t expected her to buy both sets. His expression softened and his attitude improved.

After Zhang Jinlan paid, he gave her more than a dozen scrap pieces, all fairly large—enough to make pants for a child if pieced together.

After leaving the cloth shop, the Jiang family went to the butcher, placed a deposit, and then headed home.

Having spent quite a bit, Zhang Jinlan didn’t rent a cart.

She carried 17 meat buns and a bag of peach blossom pastries wrapped in oiled paper home.

Even before reaching the village entrance, they heard wailing.

“My son! You died so horribly—how am I supposed to live—”

“Hmm, probably a mourning scene. Come on, Fubao, let’s get home,” Zhang Jinlan hurried away holding her granddaughter, not stopping for a second.

Fubao was too young to see such sights—under seven, she could have been frightened badly.

Meanwhile, in town, the tea house that sold the Xishi teapot was entertaining customers in the third-floor private room.

“Do you have any tea here that’s different from others?”

The customer, accustomed to high-end tea, despised ordinary ones.

The clerk named a few, but the guest dismissed them all.

“Only these… but we just got a new tea set, never used, unique in the world. Would you like a pot of Qingxue嫩绿? I can serve it in the new pot,”

Hearing about a new, never-seen set, the guest’s interest piqued.

“Okay, one pot, and some pastries too,”

“Certainly. I’ll serve it with a selection of pastries so it won’t get boring,”

The clerk breathed a sigh of relief.

The second and third floors had been empty for days.

Finally, a customer. He couldn’t let him leave.

The Qingxue嫩芽 tea alone cost three taels per pot—the shop’s most expensive.

The Xishi teapot was small, using only 30% of the tea leaves. Adding pastries, the set would sell for at least four taels.

Profitable indeed.

This tea set had been bought specifically for third-floor private rooms.

“Sir, your tea—please enjoy,”

Soon, the clerk personally delivered the tea.

“This teapot shape—I’ve never seen one like it. Smooth, round, the peach blossom design is lifelike. Do you sell this set?”

The customer, undeterred by heat, touched it several times, even rubbing his fingers against his earlobe afterward.

He hadn’t even tasted the tea—just scheming for the teapot.

“Ah… I’m sorry, can’t sell. I just got it for hundreds of taels. There’s no second set in the world. Can’t sell, sorry, sir,”

The clerk’s eyes flicked.

The teapot’s value had jumped from 85 taels to several hundred.

The customer regretted it. Several hundred taels? Over 500—beyond his budget.

A hundred or two, he could’ve taken it home for play.

Alas.

Back at the Jiang household, they had no idea the teapot’s value had multiplied tenfold.