Chapter 15: Even Thread Can Entangle the Wind

A chill ran up the spine of Shopkeeper Qian and struck his forehead. He slammed the purple clay teapot onto the table, splashing tea everywhere.

If he couldn’t smash this teapot, that woman’s livelihood was doomed!

His eyes turned cold and ruthless as he called over his trusted aide. “Go, tell every fabric shop in town, especially the three that sell coarse hemp — whoever dares to sell even an inch of cloth or a single thread to Shen Guilan again is done for in Qingshi Town!”

The aide trembled with fear, hurriedly nodding and running off.

A cold smile curled on Shopkeeper Qian’s lips.

He would ensure she had exquisite embroidery skills but couldn’t even get a scrap of cloth to work on, trapping her helplessly on that desolate mountain!

Three days later, Shen Guilan carried an empty basket along the mountain path back to her village.

She had searched every fabric store in town, but not a single scrap of cloth could be bought, not even remnants.

Some shopkeepers avoided her, others stammered excuses — their evasive behavior was transparent: Shopkeeper Qian was sabotaging her behind the scenes.

They intended to cut off her means of survival!

The setting sun stretched her shadow long and lonely.

Xiuwei clutched her mother’s garment silently, eyes filled with quiet despair.

A gust of wind blew by, lifting a paper butterfly from a child’s hand, fluttering it upward into the sky.

Shen Guilan suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.

A paper… butterfly?

She stared fixedly at the fluttering paper, her mind struck by a thunderclap of realization.

One thought surged powerfully—if paper could be rolled into thread, why couldn’t it be used as fabric?

Fabric was sturdy because of the warp and weft.

But what about paper?

One sheet is fragile, but ten?

A hundred?

Soaked in water, layered with rice paste, pressed tight, and dried—could it be weaker than coarse hemp?

In an instant, her heart brightened.

She knelt, cupped Xiuwei’s small face, eyes shining: “Xiuwei, let’s go home! Mother has a plan!”

Once inside, she ignored thirst and feverishly rummaged through boxes for materials.

Old ledgers, scrap paper, ruined children’s drawings — all torn up and soaked, then pounded into pulp with a stone pestle.

She boiled rice paste, mixed it with the paper pulp, spread it on wooden boards, then pressed another board firmly on top.

She worked through the night, repeating the process over and over.

At dawn, several palm-sized “paper boards” were drying by the window.

They were yellowed, firm, smooth to the touch, and faintly scented with rice.

She gently pricked one with an embroidery needle—

The needle slid in smoothly, and when pulled out, the paper did not tear.

It worked!

Her heartbeat quickened as she pulled out colored strips from a New Year painting, twisted them into thread, imagining butterflies fluttering in the mountains, and stitched swiftly.

This time she embroidered not birds, but a “Butterfly-Chasing” scene.

The colorful paper threads were vivid against the yellow paper, creating a three-dimensional, lively image.

More importantly, it was light and sturdy, costing less than a third of traditional fabric embroidery!

Three days later, instead of going to the fabric stores clustered on South Street, Shen Guilan took Xiuwei to the academy’s entrance.

She didn’t call out to sell but quietly handed out ten “paper embroidery bookmarks” from her basket to the children playing nearby.

“Here, these are for you to play with.”

The bookmarks were about two fingers wide, embroidered with small pictures in colorful thread, inscribed with the opening lines of the Three Character Classic: “At the beginning of man’s nature, goodness is innate; characters are similar, habits differ…”

The images and words were clear and bright, seemingly freshly painted.

A boy holding the “At the beginning of man’s nature” bookmark read aloud, attracting other children who gathered around, touching the raised threads and chattering excitedly.

Women who came to retrieve their children also gathered around, curious.

“What is this embroidery? It can be used as a bookmark?”

“Will the colors fade if washed?”

A well-dressed woman examined one closely and exclaimed in surprise, “This base isn’t cloth—it’s paper! You can embroider on paper?”

Shen Guilan smiled, bending a bookmark gently; the paperboard made a faint crackling sound but did not break.

She said loudly, “Ladies, cloth can be worn, paper can be read. This is called ‘paper embroidery’—an embroidery you can read. Embroidery that teaches reading is true living embroidery!”

“Embroidery you can read is true living embroidery.” Those words rippled through the crowd like a stone dropped into water.

How hard is it to learn literacy? Who wouldn’t want their children to learn while playing?

That day, she sold nothing but received twenty orders for custom full sets of the Three Character Classic “literacy embroidery sheets.”

In a corner, Zhao San, sent by Shopkeeper Qian, watched dumbfounded before rushing back to report.

Shopkeeper Qian was stunned at first, then sneered coldly, “A village woman’s trick, pretending paper is cloth. It won’t hold up. Does she think this will turn things around? Dream on!”

Though dismissive in words, unease grew in his heart.

His eyes flickered, and he devised another plan.

Whispering to Zhao San, “Go buy up all the colored paper at every paper shop in the city! Pay any price! I want to see what she will embroider without colored paper!”

Shen Guilan soon realized something was amiss—the price of colored paper in town tripled overnight, and it was out of stock.

She understood: Shopkeeper Qian had struck again.

Yet her face remained calm.

Taking Xiuwei’s hand and slinging the basket on her back, she said quietly, “Xiuwei, come, mother will take you to the mountain.”

You can buy up all the paper in town, but can you buy the whole Great Green Mountain?

In the following days, she led Xiuwei deeper into the mountains.

Peeling mulberry bark, cutting kudzu vines, soaking them in spring water, pounding in a stone mortar, filtering out fibers to make pulp.

This time she added wild flower petals.

When the paper dried, everyone was amazed—

The paper was yellow and coarse but extremely tough, folding without leaving creases.

More remarkable, the petals scattered across it like stars fallen on the wilderness, wild and beautiful.

That night, Gu Changshan came again.

He didn’t enter but hung a heavy leather pouch on the door hook and left.

Shen Guilan opened it to find three pounds of dried moss and a small packet of rock salt.

She understood: moss could be sold for money, and salt prevented rot—both crucial for papermaking.

She poured out the moss to inspect it and suddenly found a maple leaf—on its veins was a fine line like an arrowhead, identical to the pattern on the wood piece she had seen before!

Her heart jolted.

Gu Changshan wasn’t just delivering goods; he was teaching her!

Teaching her to recognize valuable resources in the mountains!

That night, by lamplight, she spread out her handmade “durable paper” and embroidered a “Mountain Journey” scene with the brightest paper threads.

The painting depicted rolling hills and towering ancient trees; at a bend in a small path, she cleverly embroidered the arrowhead pattern as a twisting vine.

She rolled up the embroidery, placed it in a bamboo tube, and attached a note:

“Paper carries the Way, and mountains have paths. Next time, I want to trade for a full map.”

Three days later, Shen Guilan brought her new “literacy embroidery sheets” and the “Mountain Journey” piece into town.

She set up her stall again outside the academy.

Coincidentally, Liu Jiaoyu, the county school’s instructor, was on patrol.

Seeing a group of children each holding an embroidered bookmark, playing and reciting, he was intrigued.

He picked one up, felt the paper texture, tested its toughness, and admired the fine embroidery, nodding repeatedly.

His eyes then fixed on the “Mountain Journey” piece, unable to look away.

The composition was grand, the mood profound; the paper rustic and natural, even more evocative than official paper.

“Excellent! Truly an embroidery you can read! What a wonderful ‘Mountain Journey’!” Liu Jiaoyu decided on the spot, “I will order fifty sets of your ‘literacy embroidery albums’ as rewards for the outstanding students at the county school!”

Fifty sets!

This was a major opportunity!

Suppressing her excitement, Shen Guilan bowed and smiled in agreement.

Carrying the good news, she set off for home.

But when she reached the familiar mountain path, she suddenly stopped.

Besides her own and Gu Changshan’s footprints, there was another set—

Smaller than Gu Changshan’s, stepping lightly, following her route through the mulberry picking and vine peeling.

Someone was trailing her.

A chill rose from her feet. Holding Xiuwei close, she quickened her pace.

Silently, she thought, “Someone has set their sights on this mountain.”

And they must have found a new accomplice.