She lived to the age of seventy-three and never married.
After her death, her apprentice dug something out of the paint-peeling wooden box beside her bed. It is a neatly folded green bamboo lining. Men's sizes. The stitching is dense enough to keep out the wind.
But it was never sent out.
She was nineteen years old that year and her engagement had just been broken off.
It rained in Chang'an.
Shen Qingxiu walked into Gu's house holding an umbrella. The begonias all over the courtyard were in a miserable state. Pink and white petals float in the stagnant water. It was trampled by the passing feet and turned into mud.
The idea: not "the heroine's counterattack alone", but a group portrait epic of "seven locked-in female fates and three types of male game-breakers who stick to their true intentions and jointly overthrow the prejudices of the times through embroidery."
