Work Text:
绣
"I don't want to embroider," Changge said, frowning. It was not a young princess's sweet pout, but a frown of frustration and anger. She was propped in her bed, a pile of cushions behind her and another holding her bandaged leg up high, an empty bowl of soup in her hands.
Leyan took the bowl away and frowned, too. She had come every day, since Changge's fall from a horse, trying to give her older cousin some respite from boredom. The girl was, while never mean, giving her maids gray hairs. "Changge, you're tired of reading. You're tired of having me read to you. You're not allowed out of bed for another five days. At least give it a try?"
Changge sighed, but relented. "All right, but don't expect much." Leyan passed her her work basket, and a fresh piece of pale blue cloth.
"What's this?" Changge asked, holding the cloth gently with both hands and brushing her thumbs across it.
"It's grass cloth, Changge," Leyan explained. "Like your bedsheets. It makes wonderful handkerchiefs, too. I think you'll like it better than embroidering with silk on silk."
Changge's fingers ran over the cloth again. It was perfectly sized for a large handkerchief, the weave fine and even, with a faint sheen. "I've only ever been allowed to work with silk."
"Many noblewomen won't stitch on grass cloth, no. But I think it's useful to have a wider set of skills than that, don't you agree, Changge?" Leyan waited, and let her cousin consider the value of minor rebellions in needlework. After a moment Changge sighed, and started digging in her work basket. Leyan moved her chair so they could sit almost side-by-side and stitch, and if she was biting her lip to keep from laughing, Changge didn't seem to notice.
Changge prepared a needle and thread, and set to making green braiding stitch lines. "Oh," she said, after a few stitches. "This is easier to stitch on than silk." Leyan hid a smile as she stitched at her own work.
After a while longer, Changge held up her work for inspection. "Look! I thought it would be like grass, but it's more like reeds." Her stitches were wobbly, yes, but it the lines of braiding stitch did look like grass or reeds like you would find at the edge of water.
"It does," Leyan assured her.
"I think I'll do water next, and then do you think you can help me stitch a duck?" Changge had never sounded this interested in her embroidery work before.
Leyan put her own work down. "I can do that. Would you like me to read aloud, while you do it?"
"Please," Changge said, and smiled her first smile of the afternoon. It made Leyan feel lighter, and she patted Changge's shoulder companionably, and smiled back. "Whoever gets tired first gets to switch off."
By the end of the afternoon, Changge had reeds and water in the corner of a handkerchief, and the outline of a duck drawn on the fabric with the help of Leyan. They had swapped off reading Changge's book of military history out loud to each other a few times.
If pressed, Leyan would have admitted that accounts of battles didn't interest her. But Changge was smiling again, which had been the point of the exercise.
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