Chapter 2

Chunfeng was my stepmother—though not quite officially.

There had been no registration with the authorities, only a single wedding meal, and she had paid for that herself.

Jiang Rui had taken her hands, his eyes brimming with tenderness and his expression utterly sincere.

“Chunniang, I leave the household in your care. When I pass the examination, I promise I’ll come back and give you the magnificent wedding you deserve.”

Then he took most of the silver she had saved and sailed off to the capital to sit the examination.

Six years passed. I turned nine while Chunfeng ran the household and looked after both me and that old hag.

We waited and waited, only to receive news of the faithless man’s wedding—with an eviction by his snobbish mother thrown in for good measure.

Fortunately, autumn was mild. After being cast out, Chunfeng and I slept beneath the covered walkway of Zhenguo Temple at night. By day, she took me to mend fishing nets beside the Grand Canal.

The docks were lively, and news traveled fast there.

I heard that Jiang Rui, anxious to keep up appearances, had sent two hundred taels home and instructed his mother to refurbish the house.

I ran straight to Chunfeng. “Mother! Mother! We’ve found the money for the shop!”

On the night Jiang Rui returned, we took over a storefront opposite Huaihai Academy.

Chunfeng had been watching it for some time. It was a smithy whose owner wanted out.

There was a shop at the front and a courtyard behind it. Two bedrooms and a kitchen stood to the left; to the right were the forge, an anvil, and tools of every description.

I sat in the courtyard eating noodles with wontons while Chunfeng sorted the smithing equipment.

Carefully, I picked the wontons out and placed them in a small bowl. I slurped down the springy noodles drenched in peppery broth in a few quick bites.

Then I carried the wontons to Chunfeng. “Mother, have these.”

She wiped away her sweat. “I bought them especially for you. Why didn’t you eat them?”

“Too much filling. They’re not as good as the little clear-soup dumplings you make.” I grumbled and thrust the bowl and chopsticks into her hands.

She ruffled my hair. “All right. I’ll make you some when I have time.”

I tried the great hammer beside her. It took all my strength to shift it a few inches. Giving up with a sigh, I said, “Mother, why couldn’t we open a steamed-dumpling shop? Or a wonton shop? Even a clear-soup stall would do.”

“Food in Yangzhou is too refined. Your mother simply isn’t capable of that kind of cooking.” She wiped her mouth, then seemed to remember something.

“Do you recall the first meal I made you? Both your lips swelled up like pea pods from the spice. You cried that you were going to find your father because your stepmother was trying to poison you.”

I scratched my head in embarrassment. “Well… I was little. How was I supposed to know you were from Jiangxi?”

“I used only a tenth of what I normally would.” She pinched her thumb and little finger together, looking oddly proud of herself.

I glanced around the shop and thought of how little silver we had left. If the old hag went back to the capital with Jiang Rui and his new wife, we would never get another chance to “extort” her. Suddenly worried, I asked, “Mother, do you really know how to forge iron?”

She wiped the beads of sweat from her brow, as carefree as ever.

“Of course. When your father met me in Qingjiang County, people called me the Blacksmith Beauty.”

Chunfeng had not been joking. She truly knew the craft.

Once we had put the shop in order, she went to the docks to collect the iron sand she had ordered.

Smelting, forging, tempering, quenching—every movement flowed seamlessly into the next.

I stared in amazement at the tray of knives in assorted shapes and sizes. “Mother, you’re incredible!”

Gaoyou enjoyed four distinct seasons. The Grand Canal opened the city to commerce, while the broad lake supplied endless produce and beautiful views.

Nearly a hundred academies and schools, large and small, filled the city. It was truly a prosperous place blessed with abundance and talent.

Thanks to its fortunate location and flourishing culture, every trade thrived. A man with strength and skill never lacked a livelihood.

Women earned their own way too: cooks, embroiderers, firewood sellers, flower sellers, and wine makers blossomed everywhere in all their variety.

Yet every smithy in the city was owned by a man.

Those independent women could come bearing silver and still struggle to find tools that suited them.

Chunfeng’s smithy catered specifically to women.

The set of knives she had just forged, for example—a cleaver, a boning knife, a slicer, a Chinese chef’s knife, and two pairs of scissors—had all been tailored to a woman’s build, strength, and way of working.

Chunfeng and I put our heads together.

“The idea is good, Mother, but how do we get the women of Gaoyou to come to our shop?”

She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

“The Blacksmith Beauty has a plan!”