The Sea of Weaving Loses Its Color

Rain fell over Suzhou, and the light in the brocade workshop dimmed along with the ban on overseas trade. The kesi embroidery beneath Liu Yan’s fingertips had once dazzled the whole city. The rouge-red phoenix tail and sappanwood-blue peacock feathers in her “Hundred Birds” tapestry had all been brought to life by dyes from the Southern Seas. But now, imports from overseas had been cut off, and the finest silk could no longer take on vivid colors. When Master Zhao remarked, “What kind of magpie is that? It looks like a crow,” he not only ruined the workshop’s reputation but also wounded Liu Yan’s pride as a master weaver.

She refused to accept defeat and resolved to weave “Hundred Birds” again using local dyes. Even though the workshop owner, Uncle Zhang, lamented that “we won’t last much longer,” she was determined to preserve the soul of her craft. Just as she struggled to make the shuttle fly, a dark-skinned stranger with sharp eyes appeared, asking specifically for the red and blue threads in “Hundred Birds.” He even pinpointed the secret of its technique: “warp threads passing through, weft threads cut away.”

Was he seeking a kesi tapestry, or had he come for dyes in a time of restricted trade? Liu Yan didn’t know. She only knew that this sudden request was like a rising tide, drawing the near-sunken brocade workshop and her uncompromising craft into an unknown storm spanning mountains and seas. Without exotic colors from abroad, could she use her needle as a boat and “weave” a way out of this predicament?