Chapter 5

Zhang Hongying returned home and told Li Xiaofang that she had agreed not to go back to school.

However, she wanted to learn a skill — staying idle at home just wasn’t an option.

In this area, the population was large and land was scarce. Each person only had about one mu and three fen of contracted farmland. Their family of four had just over five mu in total. They also had two to three mu of mulberry fields and two fen of private land.

The busiest time was in June, when they had to rush to harvest the rice while also preparing to plant the next crop.

At other times, though still busy, it was mostly with weeding and cutting grass to feed the sheep.

Raising silkworms also came in two seasons — once in spring and once during the osmanthus blossom season.

When Zhang Hongying was in school, she always felt exhausted. That was because after school, she had to start cooking right away, then carry a basket to cut two loads of grass.

By the time she brought the grass home, it was already getting dark. After dinner, she still had to wash the dishes. Li Xiaofang didn’t allow her to do homework with the lights on, so she had no choice but to skip it.

In the mornings, she would groggily get up to make breakfast before heading to school.

Now that she thought about it, perhaps her poor grades weren’t entirely her fault — she never had time to do her homework because of all the chores.

Raising silkworms was even harder. After finishing all the housework around 8 p.m. and finally lying down to sleep, she’d be woken up around 11 p.m. to feed the silkworms.

After groggily feeding them and falling asleep again, she’d be woken up at two or three in the morning for another feeding.

By dawn, she had to feed them again and then start cooking breakfast.

She was always sleep-deprived and underfed — how could she have had the energy to study?

But if she didn’t go to school and just stayed home doing all this, she felt it was too meaningless.

Li Xiaofang thought about it and eventually agreed.

In the spring of 1986, Zhang Hongying officially began her apprenticeship as a seamstress.

There was a tailor in the village, and to get Zhang Hongying in as an apprentice, Li Xiaofang even went out of her way to befriend the tailor’s mother.

But after months of effort, it was all for nothing. The tailor didn’t want to “teach the apprentice and starve the master.” He also didn’t want another tailor in the same village competing with him, so he only agreed to teach Zhang Hongying how to make pants.

But just learning to make pants? What good was that? Who in the village had time to make pants for fun? Zhang Hongying wasn’t too keen.

By this point, she had realized she wasn’t dreaming. Maybe it was because after her parents died, she’d been so angry and always thinking in her sleep about confronting them for justice — her rage had somehow sent her back to her childhood.

Although Zhang Hongying wasn’t very educated, she did watch a lot of short videos. She knew what the future held.

She didn’t understand high-tech stuff, but she knew people’s lives would get better and better, and the demand for beauty and aesthetics would keep growing.

Learning to make clothes — that was her goal.

She’d heard that master tailors could sell a custom qipao for over ten thousand yuan!

And some foreigners had something called “evening gowns” that could go for hundreds of thousands, even millions.

She didn’t expect to make that much — but at least if she could make quality garments, she could support herself. If each piece could sell for a few hundred or over a thousand, that would be great.

Later, it was Shen Erlin who heard that Zhang Hongying wanted to learn tailoring. He said someone from out of town had opened a tailor shop in town. The clothes were very well made, and business was booming. That tailor was looking for apprentices — ones who were nimble and hardworking.

But apprentices didn’t get paid. When they’d “graduate” was up to the master.

Now that township enterprises were on the rise, factories were constantly hiring. Nobody wanted to work as an unpaid apprentice. Even if you learned a skill, it wasn’t as fast as earning a wage in a factory.

Zhang Hongying didn’t mind. In her previous life, even when she earned a salary, she never got to keep it.

She didn’t mind, but Li Xiaofang did — she wanted real money.

Zhang Hongying painted her a rosy picture: “Mom, maybe there’s no pay at first, but once I learn how to make clothes, I’ll earn so much more in the future. I’ll make you a new outfit every season, all year round.

Once I’ve got the skills, it’ll be easy to take care of you.”

Li Xiaofang, a bit muddle-headed, agreed.

The master tailor was from Guangzhou, surnamed Wang. His shop was small, filled with fabrics, finished garments, and half-made ones. Zhang Hongying had already scouted it out a few times while running errands in town.

When she finally passed the assessment and officially joined Master Wang’s tailor shop, she was both excited and nervous. This was the first step in changing her destiny.

Master Wang took on two apprentices at the same time: Zhang Hongying and Yan Xiaoping.

The shelves were stacked high with colorful fabrics. The sewing machines clicked rhythmically, and the air was thick with the scent of incense.

Master Wang first introduced them to the various tools in the shop. He pointed to a long pair of scissors: “These are for cutting fabric. They must stay sharp — if not, they’ll tear the cloth.”

He then explained the use of needles, thread, rulers, irons, and other basics. Zhang Hongying listened carefully, afraid to miss a single detail.

Irons had once been common in homes, but with the arrival of wrinkle-resistant fabrics, they had quickly fallen out of use. Zhang Hongying had used an iron before, so she was familiar with it.

Still, that didn’t stop her from listening intently — and Yan Xiaoping was even more focused than she was.

“Fabric is a science in itself,” Master Wang said, picking up a piece of soft silk. “Silk feels delicate and is perfect for high-end clothing, but it wrinkles easily and needs special care.” He then showed them cotton, rayon, synthetics, and wool, explaining their characteristics and uses one by one.

“We’ll start with the basics.” He handed them some scrap fabric and scissors. After a few demonstrations, he let them try for themselves.

At first, Zhang Hongying’s wrist didn’t cooperate, and her fingers ached from opening and closing so much.

Master Wang patiently corrected their posture, telling them to relax their wrists and apply steady pressure.

For the first few days, Zhang Hongying did nothing but cut — straight lines, curved lines. After several days, her hands began to move with confidence.

Once he saw they had mastered the scissors, he moved on to sewing machines.

“Next, we’ll learn the sewing machine. Your family has one, so you probably know some basics already?” Master Wang asked as he adjusted the stitch length and demonstrated the machine.

Although her family had a sewing machine, it was Li Xiaofang’s prized possession, and Zhang Hongying rarely got to use it. There also wasn’t much that needed sewing.

She followed along carefully, but at first couldn’t get the rhythm right. Her stitches were uneven — sometimes too loose, sometimes too tight. Master Wang encouraged her: “You’ll get it with more practice. Don’t worry. You’ve got some foundation — way better than Yan Xiaoping.”

Yan Xiaoping didn’t have a sewing machine at home and had never used one. Every time she stepped on the pedal, the thread jammed. Master Wang would frown, tell her to step aside, then take out the tangled thread, smooth it out, and rethread the machine.

After a week of practice, Zhang Hongying could already sew straight and curved lines with confidence. Yan Xiaoping was still fumbling.

So Master Wang had her practice making buttonholes by hand — a task requiring great patience.

Sometimes, when business was overwhelming, Master Wang would ask Zhang Hongying to sew garments that were already cut.

After half a year of odd jobs at the shop, Yan Xiaoping got tired of making buttonholes and quit, frustrated at not learning anything substantial.

That was when Master Wang finally began teaching Zhang Hongying how to cut fabric.

“Cutting is one of a tailor’s core skills,” he said, pulling out some design blueprints and carefully explaining each section’s measurements and cutting points.

Zhang Hongying first drew the patterns on cardboard, cut them out, then placed the cardboard templates on fabric.

Using chalk, she traced the outlines onto the fabric, then carefully cut along the lines. During her first attempt, she was nervous, afraid of cutting too far and ruining the material — she couldn’t afford to pay for a mistake. Fortunately, now that they were more familiar, Master Wang wasn’t as strict anymore.

Zhang Hongying, having lived a full life once already, reminded herself to stay calm and take things slow.