[Gold Powder GL] True Elegance Comes with Knowledge - Chapter 26

Wu Peifang and Mrs. Leng’s shop opened just like that.

With Peifang involved, attracting customers was never going to be a problem. She was now a household name across the capital—everybody was watching her. Many women, whether married ladies or young socialites, were curious about her post-divorce life. Upon hearing that she had opened a tailor shop, they flocked to it. After all, clothes are clothes—what does it matter where they’re made?

To everyone’s surprise, the garments produced there were truly unique—elegant and full of character. Before long, the curious had become regular customers.

With business booming, both owners were naturally run off their feet. But being busy, though tiring, seemed to energize them. Even Peifang, despite being pregnant, looked vibrant—much healthier than she had been before the divorce. And Mrs. Leng? She now exuded the aura of a true matriarch, decisive and assertive, no longer hesitating or overly cautious like before.

The most telling sign of their transformation came when they heard about Yan Hui’s idea of starting a clothing factory. Without hesitation, both women firmly expressed their support and had even begun drafting concrete plans.

Money, which was supposed to be the most difficult part, turned out not to be an issue at all—several parties had already pledged investment. And even if more was needed, Peifang was confident she could bring in additional backers. Yan Hui, for her part, felt it was time to get her elder brother involved. As for securing premises, equipment, raw materials, labor, and the required paperwork—those were now just formalities.

There were people they could count on for everything.

Yan Hui couldn’t help but marvel at her good fortune.

If she’d had to do this all on her own, it would have taken her years of hard work just to reach this stage. But by a twist of fate, bringing Peifang into the project had opened countless doors. Her background and network had swept away many of the obstacles.

This is how things get done in the Republic of China.

Yan Hui couldn’t fully approve of the system, but she had to admit—when you’re inside it, benefiting from it, it feels… pretty great.

She left all the logistics to Peifang, taking charge of only one thing: recruiting workers.

Yan Hui had no idea how other factories hired people, but she wasn’t starting this venture to make money. Her goal was to give those at the bottom of society, stuck in hardship, more choices. If she could help even one person, it would be worth it.

So, she went straight to the woman who had nearly been hit by a car the other day.

By the time Peifang’s divorce was finalized, the woman’s child had already recovered. She had gone back home and resumed her old grind—washing and ironing clothes day and night, trying desperately to save whatever she could.

She knew the help she’d received had been nothing more than a small gesture for the kind strangers involved. That sum of money, which had seemed astronomical to her, probably meant little to them. Still, she couldn’t let it go without trying to do something in return. Paying it back seemed impossible in the short term—and realistically, even the long term.

Life was full of unforeseen expenses, and savings never lasted long. So instead, she’d resolved to save up and give them a gift—something modest, useful, and meaningful.

She hadn’t yet figured out what to give, but she had already started saving.

Then, out of nowhere, one of those kind strangers showed up at her door—with news so good she could barely believe it.

Coincidentally, the woman’s surname was also Wu. Everyone around the neighborhood called her “Auntie Wu.” The first time Yan Hui heard the name, she couldn’t help thinking of the character from The True Story of Ah Q—those faceless individuals ground down by thousands of years of systemic rules, unaware that they had become the very foundation and fodder of the system.

And yet, they still struggled to survive with tenacity.

As humble as ants, as resilient as grass.

It was strange. “Culture” was supposed to be something refined, reserved for the literate scholars and government officials. But the essence carved into the soul of this nation came from these nameless, invisible people.

Auntie Wu rubbed her hands nervously on her apron, trying to mask her unease. Yet the hope in her eyes shone through.

“Miss, is it true? You’re really going to hire people like us to work in your factory?”

She didn’t even ask about wages. Factory work, whatever it entailed, had to be more respectable and stable than her current piecemeal jobs.

Dignity—she had never dared hope for that. But stability—that, she dreamed of.

How could such a perfect opportunity just fall from the sky? Auntie Wu wanted to doubt it. And yet, the promise was too tempting to resist.

If it’s real… if it’s real…

“It’s real,” Yan Hui said with certainty, nodding. “We’ll need quite a few people. If you know anyone reliable, with quick hands, feel free to recommend them.”

“Oh yes, I do, I do!” Auntie Wu nodded fervently.

“Then reach out to them,” Yan Hui said. “I’ll come by tomorrow to take down their names.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” Auntie Wu was so overjoyed she didn’t know what to do. She reached out, wanting to grasp Yan Hui’s hand, but thought better of it, retreating to wring her worn apron instead. Overcome with emotion, she nearly dropped to her knees. “Thank you… thank you…”

Qingqiu stood silently behind Yan Hui, deeply moved by the scene before her.

Since she began writing novels, she had found herself more attuned to real life rather than the romanticized stories in books. Yet now she saw how far her idea of “reality” had been from actual reality.

It was only now that she truly came face to face with it.

Qingqiu longed to write something, to capture this moment. But as a storm of thoughts swirled in her mind, she found no words that could do it justice.

Am I just too shallow? The realization struck her suddenly and deeply.

Seventeen-year-old Leng Qingqiu, until this year, had simply been an ordinary student—going to school, occasionally hanging out with friends, dealing with minor teenage worries. Her greatest anxiety had been about the future—a future she had once imagined centered entirely on marriage.

She had experienced too little, seen too little, thought too little.

Now, her feelings reminded her of that day she and Yan Hui walked through Peking University’s campus. Enchanted by the surroundings, she had heard Yan Hui say, “Let’s take the entrance exam here after we graduate from high school.”

In that moment, a door had opened before her, and she saw how vast the world really was. That she had options.

And now, another door opened. She could finally see the neglected corners of that vast world—corners she had never noticed before.

It wasn’t until she followed Yan Hui out of the shantytown that she finally came back to her senses.

“You want to start this factory… just to help them, don’t you?” she asked, once they’d gotten into the car and driven out of the alleyway.

By now, she understood. Yan Hui had likely been thinking about this ever since they took Auntie Wu and her child to the hospital. The collaboration with Peifang had merely given her the opportunity to make it real.

Yan Hui paused for a moment before replying, “Actually, those two goals aren’t separate. In this world, having power matters. But using that power to help others is just as important. I’m not some saint without selfish motives—I’m just an ordinary person. But I believe ordinary people can still have power.”

Qingqiu couldn’t agree with that.

How could Yan Hui possibly be ordinary? She radiated brilliance. Even in a crowd, one couldn’t help but notice her.

It had nothing to do with looks, status, or background. She was just… different. Impossible to overlook. And if you got close to her, you could feel the light she carried.

How could she be ordinary?

But that wasn’t a question worth debating right now. So Qingqiu let it go and asked instead, “Then what can I do for them?”

As she spoke, she looked out the window. The car had reached the main road, leaving behind the slums. On either side were well-decorated shops, but the people walking past were a mix of everything—some in tailored Western suits, some in traditional robes with long braids, and others barely clothed, faces etched with hardship… like a living portrait of humanity.

“Then write about them,” Yan Hui said. “Use your pen. Use your voice.”

“But I…” I’m afraid I won’t be able to capture it.

Yan Hui looked at her, eyes calm and warm. “How will you know if you don’t try?”

That was exactly what she’d said the last time, when they talked about applying to Peking University. Qingqiu couldn’t help but smile. “You know, I just realized—you really like pushing yourself.”

“No,” Yan Hui turned her gaze back to the road, smiling. “I just don’t give up on myself so easily.”