The scent of woven brocade drifted through the West Market at the third quarter of the *shen* hour, and the sound of wooden shuttles in Buji Lane wove threads into damask. Standing under the wooden frame in front of the embroiderers' workshop, Moli watched the four bold characters—"The Merchant Way Knows No Morality"—fluttering wildly on a plain silk banner as the wind tugged at them. Her wolf-hair brush was saturated with ink, its tip aimed directly at Zhang Yifan, who was in the midst of measuring fabric: "The merchant way is like a loom, where both warp and weft are lines of profit. Where is there even a shred of righteousness?"
"Miss Xiao, look at this weave—" Zhang Yifan's abacus beads bounced across the loom as he pointed to the "Grain-Protecting Ghost-Face Damask" freshly woven by an embroiderer. The ghost-face's abacus-bead eyes were fixed directly on the wheat-ear pattern. "The embroiderers of Cyan Ox Village use indigo fertilized with medicinal dregs from the clinic. The fabric they dye carries its own insect-repelling fragrance, and the proceeds from selling it bought three hundred doses of wind-deflecting medicine—enough to keep the elderly in the north of the city warm through the winter."
Huwa suddenly poked his head out from behind the loom, holding a carving knife and half a bolt of blue-printed cotton cloth. In the corner of the fabric was embroidered a ghost-face holding a wooden shuttle. "Look quickly, Sister Xiao! Brother Fan asked us to carve ghost-face…
Chapter 75