On the day of the welcoming banquet, Ziyuan arrived early in the morning, bearing a newly crafted Shu brocade dress.
The Shu brocade, a gift from Yongzhou, had arrived just the day before yesterday. Qiao Wanyan had been so captivated by its vibrant color that she had implored the embroiderers to expedite its completion.
Despite the tight deadline, they had managed to finish the dress just in time.
Qiao Wanyan's father, as the Minister of Revenue, received a respectable monthly allowance, but it was barely sufficient to support their large household. Moreover, his responsibilities included entertaining guests outside the home, which meant he couldn't afford to indulge his daughter's extravagant spending habits.
However, Qiao Wanyan's mother, Jin, hailed from a wealthy merchant family with close ties to the imperial court, and money was never an issue for her.
Wanyan was overjoyed at the opportunity to wear the ancient Shu brocade. She knew that Shu brocade is known for its exceptional quality and artistic appeal, originating from Sichuan province (particularly Chengdu) and boasting a history of over 2,000 years. It was once a luxury reserved for Chinese royalty and nobility. Shu brocade is one of China's "four famous brocades," alongside Song brocade, Yun brocade, and Zhuang brocade. It is celebrated for its intricate patterns and vibrant silk threads, employing five primary colors—red, yellow, green, blue, and black—woven into complex and delicate designs. The production process is complex, involving meticulous thread preparation, dyeing, design, and weaving.
Wanyan hadn't given it much thought when her mother first mentioned it, but seeing it transformed into a dress, she realized that nothing could compare to the authentic and ancient craftsmanship of Shu brocade. This transmigration is worth it for this dress alone! Oh, how she adored this outfit!
She donned a crimson Shu brocade skirt woven with the kesi technique, giving the fabric a three-dimensional texture. The neckline featured delicate embroidery of plum blossoms, each petal meticulously stitched with silk threads dyed in five subtle shades of pink. The skirt itself was embroidered with peony outlines in shimmering gold thread, the interiors filled with a soft, ginger white achieved through a rouhua dyeing process that gave the petals a velvety appearance.
In the sunlight, the peony flowers on the dress seemed to come alive, dazzling the eye and radiating a delicate, captivating luster. The kesi weave caught the light, adding depth and dimension to the crimson silk.
Though Zi Yuan was known for her straightforward nature, her makeup skills were surprisingly meticulous. The exquisite makeup on Qiao Wanyan's face, accentuated by a delicate flower ornament crafted from kingfisher feathers on her forehead, perfectly complemented her overall look.
With a slight upturn of her lips, Zi Yuan swallowed hard, suddenly regretting her lack of masculinity.
No, ordinary men wouldn't do, she thought. Only men of high rank and power are worthy of a lady as magnificent as her young mistress.
Qiao Wanyan gazed admiringly at her reflection in the mirror, marveling at her own enchanting yet pure countenance. She rose from her seat in front of the mirror, walked to the door, and stood there, gazing up at the clear blue sky. Everything will go well today, right?
A collective intake of breath, a silent symphony of awe, rippled through Yongning Pavilion. Qiao Wanyan stood as its epicenter, her beauty an almost tangible force that held the assembled servants captive. It was a beauty so profound, so utterly otherworldly, that it defied description, rendering even the most eloquent verses about jade-like perfection or the most celebrated portraits of national beauties woefully inadequate. Her notorious temper, a storm that occasionally raged through the household, seemed a distant memory in the face of such radiant loveliness.
Bathed in the soft morning light, she was a vision in crimson Shu brocade, the intricate kesi weave catching the light and scattering it like a thousand tiny jewels across her flawless skin. Her raven hair, a cascade of liquid night, was meticulously arranged in an elaborate chignon, adorned with delicate ornaments of jade and pearls, emphasizing the graceful curve of her neck and the sharp, elegant lines of her face. Her eyes, deep pools of liquid obsidian, held a spark of keen intelligence, a hint of the strategic mind that lay hidden beneath her serene exterior.
As Qiao Yihuan departed the mansion, having been collected by the luxurious carriage of the Eastern Palace, Zi Yuan erupted in angry curses. Qiao Wanyan, however, remained remarkably unmoved.
It would serve her purposes well if those two were to marry and find their happily ever after.