Lin Fang didn’t want to provoke Lin Wu into a tantrum, so she quickly changed the subject. Although the boy was usually playful, once angered, he could become stubborn and unyielding—neither soft nor hard tactics worked. Even tempting him with his favorite treats would be useless.
Aunt Liu gave a meaningful glance, and a young maid hurried to Li Cuimei’s room, fetching a tangled mess of threads from the sewing basket. Instantly, Lin Wu perked up, sitting attentively on his chair and meticulously untangling the knots without a hint of impatience. It was hard to believe this was the same restless child.
Lin Fang couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed—this tangled mess wasn’t the first failed attempt.
The shop’s inventory was running low, and despite their reluctance, Lin Dalang and Gui Cheng had no choice but to venture out for supplies. This trip was farther than usual, aimed at reconnecting with old clients—or, in other words, competing with their former employers for resources. It would take at least ten days to half a month to see any results, and even if successful, transporting the goods back would require additional time.
The remaining stock consisted of lower-quality fabrics, but Li Cuimei wasn’t worried. She had sewn a few simple yet finely crafted garments to display in the shop. Currently, she was working on a more intricate piece with elaborate embroidery, testing whether it could command a higher price and by how much. Gradually, she planned to introduce more designs to diversify the shop’s straightforward sales model.
Seeing her mother surrounded by colorful balls of thread, Lin Fang was reminded of the sweaters from her past life and wanted to join in. She rummaged through her mother’s sewing basket, finding a thick cord likely used for shoe soles, along with two metal needles for threading. With these, she attempted to knit a sweater.
Alas, without any practical experience or even theoretical knowledge—let alone having seen anyone knit before—her efforts repeatedly resulted in tangled knots that ended up in Lin Wu’s hands for untangling. Compounding the issue was her unsteady hands, as she was just a toddler who had barely learned to walk.
Li Cuimei assumed her daughter simply enjoyed playing with thread and even specially braided a colorful ball for her, letting her do as she pleased.
Little Lin Wu’s dexterity amazed the entire household. No matter how tangled Lin Fang’s threads became—even when Aunt Liu suggested throwing them away—Lin Wu refused to give up. In fact, he relished the challenge of untying knots. What initially took him considerable time gradually became effortless, and now he was practically racing against himself.
Watching Lin Wu’s nimble fingers swiftly unravel the unrecognizable mess, Lin Fang couldn’t help but feel disheartened. “Fifth Brother, must you show off like this? Do you have to untie it faster than I can tangle it?”
“Done, little sister! See how amazing I am?” Lin Wu’s smug grin made Lin Fang itch to pinch his cheeks. Unfortunately, she was too short. Sullenly taking back the now-detangled thread, she wobbled out of his room on unsteady legs, determined to ask her mother for the needles again. “I refuse to believe I can’t make something decent!”
The threading needles were too sharp for a child, so Li Cuimei always tried to swap them for safer alternatives, like the handmade dolls she crafted for her daughter—far superior to those sold in shops. Yet Lin Fang always returned to the needles within moments. Since Li Cuimei needed them herself, hiding them wasn’t an option. Eventually, she had Erlang make two blunt-tipped needles for Lin Fang, reducing the risk. Still, Li Cuimei insisted her daughter only play with them under supervision.
“Aunt Liu, the thread’s dirty. Wash it, please.” After days of Lin Fang’s handling and Lin Wu’s fiddling, the colorful thread had lost its luster. Though any maid could handle such a trivial task, Lin Fang knew Aunt Liu would personally attend to anything concerning her, so she skipped the middleman.
Aunt Liu scooped Lin Fang into her arms. “Miss Six, this thread is frayed and broken. Let me braid you a new one. We’ll set this aside for now, alright?”
“Mm.” Lin Fang didn’t argue. The thread was indeed frayed, which would only hinder her knitting efforts.
Carrying Lin Fang to her own small room next to Lin Wu’s, Aunt Liu retrieved her colorful threads. Selecting vibrant hues, she anchored one end to a hook on her dressing table and deftly twisted and braided the strands, transforming thin threads into sturdy cords. Soon, a ball slightly larger than Lin Fang’s fist took shape.
Lin Fang was stunned. Wasn’t this chain braiding? She vaguely remembered her parents teaching her as a game in her past life, but her impatience led to repeated failures—either creating knots or unraveling what she’d managed. Frustrated, she’d given up. Given her heart condition, her parents never pushed her, and she never tried again.
Chain braiding, with its interlocking loops, seemed complex but was easily undone by pulling the right thread—much like knitting. Inspired, Lin Fang pestered Aunt Liu to teach her, hoping to adapt the technique for knitting.
Truthfully, Lin Fang’s hands were far from nimble. Despite Aunt Liu’s patient, step-by-step guidance, days passed without her completing even a short chain. She sighed inwardly. In her past life, her motor skills had been poor—so uncoordinated that she’d trip on flat ground. Doctors had diagnosed her with delayed cerebellar development.
Though reborn, her old issues persisted, albeit milder. In her previous life, she hadn’t walked until two and a half and still wobbled at four. Now, at just one and a half, she was already walking—albeit unsteadily.
“Miss Six, take a break. If your hands tire, you won’t hold your spoon at mealtime.”
“Aunt Liu, it hurts.” Only then did Lin Fang notice the soreness in her tiny hands, her brow furrowing. Aunt Liu gently massaged them, blowing softly to soothe the pain. She marveled at how determined the little girl was—insisting on feeding herself despite struggling, refusing help even when most of her food missed her mouth. Unbeknownst to Aunt Liu, Lin Fang was determined to overcome her clumsiness this time around.
Li Cuimei’s garments sold well. Plain designs cost less than one tael of silver, while those with simple embroidery ranged from two to five taels. More intricate pieces fetched over ten taels, with the most elaborate custom orders priced at twenty taels—limited to one per month due to the time-consuming embroidery.
As Lin Fang put it, Li Cuimei was “testing the waters.” If sales took off, they could hire skilled workers and train new ones for mass production, freeing Li Cuimei from hand-sewing every piece.
While Lin Dalang was out poaching clients, he never imagined someone would come to his home to poach him instead—before he even returned.
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