Stand Down and Let Me Embroider

Lin Xiuniang woke up from the pain. The floor of the cultural and creative market is as hard as stone. Iron shells were scattered all over the ground, and the house was so high that even if you broke your neck, you couldn't even see the top. She was illiterate, had no money, and there was only an embroidery needle in her bag—the needle was cracked. Someone handed her a piece of paper: "Auntie, set up a stall to sell embroidery. Whatever you sell is yours." She understood that "whatever is sold is yours." On the first day of setting up the stall, it took three hours to embroider a butterfly - a peony on the front and a butterfly on the back. Onlookers overwhelmed the stall. Two thousand yuan was the first money she earned. Money turned into rice, medicine, and quilts, and appeared out of thin air on the stoves of ancient ruined temples. The moment the blind mother-in-law touched the hot rice, she cried and called "Xiu Niang". Xiao Shitou hugged the rice bag and squatted beside the stove. For the first time, he didn't fall asleep hungry. She knew she couldn't go back. But she has to live. The two people in the ruined temple were still waiting for her. Someone from the Intangible Cultural Heritage Protection Center came. The inheritance genealogy cannot be obtained and the certification cannot be obtained. If no evidence can be found within the three-month period, her mentorship will always be just "she said". If she doesn't make a fuss, she should embroider. The needle is about to break. The line is running out. But she hasn't let go yet. Three years later, Paris Fashion Week. The model walked onto the catwalk wearing her embroidered dragon robe, and the audience stood up and applauded. She was sitting in the background, holding the broken silver needle in her hand. There was applause in the distance, and there was only the sound of needles nearby - one after another, never stopping.