Transmigrated Into the Stand-In of the Tragic Novel’s Heroine - Chapter 44

The environment of Gantang High School was considered comfortable for Chang Yishao, but that perception had subtly changed. The familiar path, the familiar fountain, a growing sense of impatience bloomed within her.

Another letter with a drawn heart lay on her desk. There was no signature, making it impossible to tell who had sent it. A student dropping off homework? Or a boring prank by other teachers in the office?

The office was quiet. She clasped her hands, her fingers tapping up and down unconsciously. Her brow was tightly furrowed, her expression cold and aloof, like a drawn sword.

She opened the letter, casually scanned it, and then dropped it into the shredder.

She didn’t want to bother checking the office surveillance; she just found such behavior ridiculous and boring.

Certain thoughts, like seeds, had landed, taken root, and sprouted, becoming impossible to uproot.

The Cailan (indigo dye) needed at least two days of fermentation for the beautiful blue color to fully emerge. Xie Qingtang paced around the yard, occasionally stepping forward to help take the cloth out of the dye vat, shake it vigorously, and toss it onto the tall drying rack. After half a day of this, her hands were stained blue.

Taking a break, she sent a photo to Chang Yishao. Guessing it was Chang Yishao’s class time, she didn’t wait for a reply and continued to busy herself in the yard. The cloth pieces agitated in the dye vat. Normally, the entire cloth would be dyed, but the ancient common folk had devised various methods to keep the patterns on the cloth uncolored. The first method Xie Qingtang encountered was wax resist dyeing, also known as batik.

“Xiao Xie, draw your pattern first.”

“Anything is okay?”

The aunties in the yard smiled, and Jiang Zhen brought out two thick catalogs filled with various patterns carefully collected by the museum staff. “This butterfly is relatively simple,” Jiang Zhen said.

Xie Qingtang shook her head. She quickly flipped through the catalogs until her eyes landed on a “Phoenix ” (Phoenix Pattern). Suddenly, the phrase “Xiao Shao Jiu Cheng, Phoenix Lai Yi” (When the music of Shao is played nine times, the phoenix comes in reverence) came to mind.

“This is fine too. Xiao Xie has a foundation in drawing, right?” Compared to Jiang Zhen’s surprise, the aunties’ eyes were calm, as if they had seen it all. Quite a few people come here to learn the craft, and young people mostly favor auspicious patterns like “Dragon and Phoenix.” However, dragon and phoenix patterns also evolve from simple to complex, and simple ones were manageable to start with.

Xie Qingtang nodded, a shallow smile brewing in her eyes. She said, “Yes.” Chang Yishao had given her a bamboo silk fan, and she would return the favor with a “Phoenix Pattern.”

There are templates for plate making and base drawing, but at the Folk Museum, the focus is on “handicraft” and “craftsmanship.” Every stroke must be personally drawn. After the plate making is complete, the difficult part lies ahead.

She had to apply the wax onto the cloth with a wax knife. Melting the wax required special attention; if the temperature was too high, the wax would be too thin, and if it was too low, the wax would solidify easily, making it difficult to draw lines. Xie Qingtang tested it several times on scrap cloth before mastering the wax temperature. A wax knife is different from a paintbrush; the latter is easier to control, while the former, without considerable effort, would produce lines of inconsistent thickness, resulting in an unappealing finished product.

By the time Xie Qingtang emerged from the state of “wax application,” it was nearly noon. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and remembered to check Chang Yishao’s reply.

“Are you making the dye? Is it purely plant-extracted?”

“This pigment is easy to wash out, but soaking it in the dye vat day after day will still cause a color change.”

…

Chang Yishao had sent several messages, mostly about dyeing, but one of them contained a remark that puzzled Xie Qingtang.

She doesn’t want to be a teacher anymore.

Is she planning to go back and inherit the family business?

Xie Qingtang chuckled, discarding the random thought. With Chang Yishao’s background, she wasn’t one to be chosen; she had various paths laid out before her to select from. Since that was the case, why make things difficult for herself? Xie Qingtang sat down on a small wooden stool and replied, “If you don’t want to, then don’t. No need to overthink it.”

Given the freedom to follow her own desires, there was no need to place heavy shackles on herself. She was happy and free, and she hoped Chang Yishao wouldn’t make things difficult for herself either.

Chang Yishao: “Okay.” Not long after, she asked another question, “What are you having for lunch?”

This question clearly touched a nerve for Xie Qingtang. She replied with a “face of suffering” emoji and hastily slipped her phone into her pocket. She didn’t want to hear Chang Yishao list the menu.

This person was doing it on purpose, harboring ill intentions, trying to disrupt her pleasant retirement life.

Chang Yishao smiled lightly at the four characters.

Xie Qingtang likely wouldn’t reply to her anymore. But was the food in Shencheng really that unappetizing?

“Teacher Chang—” a sudden voice interrupted Chang Yishao’s contemplation.

She turned around and saw the homeroom teacher of Class Five. Since she also taught Class Five, her interactions with this teacher were more frequent.

“Teacher Xu,” Chang Yishao nodded slightly towards her.

Teacher Xu hesitated for a moment before finally saying, “Going to the cafeteria?”

She probably had something she wanted to say.

Chang Yishao thought to herself, lowering her gaze. She didn’t ponder for long and agreed.

Teacher Xu did indeed have something to say. Having interacted with Chang Yishao frequently, she had a rough idea of her temperament—appearing gentle and easy to talk to, yet maintaining a considerable distance from everyone, like a block of ice. She knew there would be no outcome when Zhang Shang decided to make a move on her. If it were just that, it would be fine, but Zhang Shang was a despicable person whose supposed integrity had long been eroded. His family background was considered good among the school’s teachers, and he always acted like a strutting peacock, full of arrogance and looking down on the world.

He seemed oblivious to the dissatisfaction and dislike other teachers had for him.

“Teacher Chang, those rumors—” Teacher Xu stammered, looking hesitant. Her time in the office often overlapped with Chang Yishao’s, so she naturally overheard some things. After a moment, she glanced around and sighed, “Teacher Zhang is petty and a bit vengeful.”

Chang Yishao “Mhm’d.” Of course, she knew Zhang Shang was a petty person. Teacher Xu had implied meaning, and it wasn’t hard for her to guess its significance.

“Then you—” Teacher Xu blinked. Many people in the office knew about Chang Yishao’s family background, including her. When she first heard about it, she couldn’t help but feel that a young lady was experiencing the joys and sorrows of the mundane world. Gantang High School was a small temple, and Chang Yishao was a great Buddha.

“It doesn’t matter,” Chang Yishao replied unhurriedly, her expression calm, revealing a few shades of the detached composure of “unmoved by external gains or losses.”

Seeing her so composed, Teacher Xu gradually relaxed. She was worried that Chang Yishao would develop an emotional burden because of these matters. At that moment, she didn’t fully grasp Chang Yishao’s meaning until she later heard that Chang Yishao had submitted her resignation, and then she realized: she didn’t care because she never intended to stay at Gantang High School.

In May, the summer heat was intense; sweat streamed down her temples just from standing.

Xie Qingtang’s batik skills improved with constant practice. The hand holding the wax knife no longer trembled, and even the lines gradually became smoother and more delicate. The process after waxing is immersion dyeing, requiring the cloth strip to be placed into an indigo dye vat. At this stage, it wasn’t just a matter of throwing it in and being done; she had to agitate the cloth in the dye vat to ensure the dye was evenly distributed, preventing some parts from being dark and others light when taken out.

Through practicing immersion dyeing with the aunties during this time, Xie Qingtang gradually mastered the knack for it.

“Xiao Xie is improving so fast. When I started learning, I didn’t have much strength, and I couldn’t even lift the large pieces of dyed cloth after throwing them into the vat,” the elderly woman laughed, her wrinkles layering up. Her smile was brilliant, like a sunflower turning towards the light.

Xie Qingtang knew that most of the people here had ancestors who lived nearby. They took this as their livelihood, starting to learn the craft with their parents around the age of six or seven. A small child wasn’t even as tall as the dye vat and had to step on a board to work. It was because of the passing down of this tradition from generation to generation that these handicrafts could be preserved.

Compared to a retired life lying on the sofa like a lazy fish, Xie Qingtang preferred the labor here. The accumulation of history blended with the present world, outlining not a sense of stagnation, but a vigorous vitality. As long as people kept striving, these crafts would not be drowned in the dust of history but would endure forever.

Xie Qingtang felt a little fatigued. She sat at the head of the bed, a bamboo pillow behind her, but she wasn’t sleeping.

Chang Yishao gave her a video call precisely at nine o’clock, like a boss inspecting work daily.

Several times, Xie Qingtang wanted to just hang up, but looking at the face on the video that perfectly fit her aesthetic and made her heart flutter, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Perhaps it was another form of beauty created by distance.

“How is it?”

When Chang Yishao spoke, Xie Qingtang also mumbled in her heart, The opening line is the same every time; this person doesn’t even know how to slightly change it.

“One type of wax resist dyeing is exhausting enough, let alone clip resist dyeing and tie-dyeing. It’s just one word: ‘difficult.'”

“How could you master skills that took others decades to learn in just ten days or half a month?” Chang Yishao chuckled.

Xie Qingtang nodded, candidly admitting, “Naturally, that’s the case. The main thing is the spread here.”

Chang Yishao stared closely at Xie Qingtang, not missing the slightest change in her expression. She asked, “Do you have any ideas?”

Xie Qingtang didn’t hide anything from Chang Yishao. She smiled frankly and said, “Yes.” She blinked and added, “My live stream schedule is irregular, so I don’t have many viewers. I’m thinking of editing the footage I’ve filmed into a compilation to upload to the platform.”

“Do you need help?” Chang Yishao asked again.

Xie Qingtang was taken aback, recalling Chang Yishao’s “enthusiasm” in recommending various teams when they first signed the contract. Although her sincerity was genuine this time, it couldn’t help but make people—

Her hesitation did not escape Chang Yishao’s eyes.

Chang Yishao’s heart suddenly sank. Before Xie Qingtang could voice her refusal, she said, “I’ll help you myself.”

It would be her, Chang Yishao, not the various teams she could contact.

Xie Qingtang breathed a sigh of relief, though she also found her own thoughts subtly strange. If Chang Yishao hired a team, that would be a huge favor, so was it not a favor if Chang Yishao did it herself? Was it because of the contract that she felt Chang Yishao helping her personally was taken for granted?

Xie Qingtang frowned but didn’t dwell too long in the jumbled mess of thoughts. With her furrowed brow relaxing, she raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do I need to pay you a salary?” Those are her retirement funds!

“No need,” Chang Yishao smiled warmly. She added, “This is also an interest of mine.”

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