"Mother-in-law, is this a floral pattern with a large cloth pattern?"
As Zheng Haizhu asked, he already took the yellowed drawing in the book box in his hand and carefully studied the geometric figures with brilliant color combinations.
Grandma Tang glanced at it and nodded.
Chongming Island in this world, like Songjiang, is where the cotton textile industry in the south of the Yangtze River developed.
Chongming people called undyed rough cloth "little cloth". Because this kind of rough cloth was mostly collected by the court and sold to foreign merchants, it was also called "selling cloth".
The "big cloth" Zheng Haizhu refers to is colorful cloth woven from dyed cotton threads. Chongming people also call it "jianbu".
Grandma Tang took the drawings with tenderness in her eyes: "Miss Azhu, this is the flower book written down by my grandmother. When she came to Chongming with my grandfather, she also brought Guangxi's weaving techniques to the women here."
Zheng Haizhu praised: "Mother-in-law, Mrs. Tang's designs are so exquisite that they will not be inferior to the Lu Jin I saw in the Prince's Palace of Yanzhou."
"Lu brocade? Hey, ours is cotton, how can it compare with brocade?"
"Mother-in-law, Lu Brocade is not made of silk," Zheng Haizhu explained. "Lu Brocade is also made of cotton threads of various colors. The pattern is very similar to the grids painted by Mrs. Tang. Lu Brocade is colorful and the cotton is soft and warm. The nobles of Prince Lu's palace do not only like to use silk, they also are rare in fine jacquard cotton."
"Oh, that's it," Grandma Tang said with a smile, "the name is not a lie, it is all as bright as clouds. The satin worth one tael of silver and one foot of satin on the prince's body can be called brocade. Why should the ordinary cloth worn by ordinary people be called brocade?" Can’t you call me Jin?”
At this time, Zheng Haizhu had left the stone table and was squatting beside the open bookcase that was basking in the sun. Like a gold digger, he carefully sorted out the stack of drawings that were obviously floral patterns.
Not to mention the cloth shop in Chongming County, she had never seen such a pattern even in a silk cloth shop of the size of the Han family in Songjiang Prefecture.
The color is indeed like Lu Jin. The plant patterns, humanoid patterns, and bird and animal patterns in the rhombus squares clearly have an alternative fantasy and romance. They are obviously different from the regular and implicit style spawned by Confucian ethics, as if they are passionate in the microscopic world. carnival.
Yes, Zheng Haizhu remembered that the late Tang Yicen, Tang Gong, was originally from Guilin, Guangxi. Regardless of whether Mrs. Tang was Han or an ethnic minority, her depictions of textile patterns must have brought the aesthetic brilliance of the southwest frontier.
There is no distinction between high and low cultural treasures from different regions and different ethnic groups. Only narrow-minded Han chauvinists, only frogs with shallow eye sockets, can be arrogant and arrogant, and cannot see their compatriots learning from the outside, just like they cannot see their compatriots doing business by the sea.
Zheng Haizhu couldn't help but be excited.
She wanted to invite Han Ximeng to see these patterns.
Whether weaving or embroidering, Mr. Han and Han Ximeng have no habit of resting on their laurels. They will like these patterns.
Po Tang on the side was moved when she saw Zheng Haizhu's face written with "I found a treasure" written all over her face.
"Miss Azhu, my mother is a native of Chongming, but I haven't seen my mother use my grandmother's flower book. Maybe she doesn't like it, maybe it's too difficult. When it comes to me, well, I can't continue it. I'm not good at women. Hong, as soon as I get on the loom or pick up the shuttle, I get a headache and dizziness..."
Zheng Haizhu picked up the stack of precious information, sat back at the stone table, and said in a tone that no longer felt alienated: "Everyone has different temperaments and preferences. Who stipulates that women must be able to weave? My mother-in-law looked at the contract paper , being able to read as many words as possible is a skill we cannot learn."
Tang Po stared at the colorful patterns that became more and more beautiful in the bright sunshine, and she couldn't help but sigh: "My grandmother is really amazing. I haven't counted such complicated flowers, birds, fish, insects, and hanging harnesses, but I'm afraid there are hundreds." some."
Zheng Haizhu's eyes lit up.
A hanging harness is a device on a textile machine on which warp threads are strung.
When weaving patterned cloth, the warp threads of various colors are lifted up in a certain order, and the weft threads in the shuttle pass through the gaps between the warp threads, and the warp and weft threads are pressed from time to time, and complex patterns appear on the finished cloth.
Therefore, the hanging heddle is actually like a set of program algorithms, corresponding to different patterns. If you can see the owner's ready-made hanging harness, you will save the programming step.
Zheng Haizhu then asked Mrs. Tang: "Do you still have Mrs. Tang's hanging harness that has been handed down?"
Tang Po slapped her leg: "Yes! In my ancestral house in the county town, the hanging harnesses on the loom are still there, but they are just gathering dust in the woodshed. I feel sorry for my ancestors, old lady."
Zheng Haizhu said happily: "Mother-in-law, please take me to see it. I will kowtow to Mrs. Tang's tablet and become her disciple."
"Yes, yes!" Tang Po agreed cheerfully.
At this time, the two women, old and young, did not know that what Mrs. Tang left to the world was by no means as simple as a set of hanging harnesses.
…
Ten days later, at the Dangsha Port Pier in the southeast of Chongming Island, a ferry from Wusongkou slowly docked.
Dong Erya, a poor man who once nursed his child while stretching in the Zhenjiang Canal, is now Han Ximeng's most relied-upon maid.
Dong Erya held his four-year-old daughter in his left hand and held the young master Gu Zuoyou in his right hand, striding across the trestle. Behind him were Han Ximeng and Fan Polu, as well as two servants carrying luggage.
Zheng Haizhu, who had been waiting at the pier for a long time, went up to meet Gu Zuoyou and smiled at Han Ximeng: "Babies really grow up fast in spring. They are only a month old and they are a lot heavier."
At the moment when they were joking, when she looked at Han Ximeng, she sensitively discovered that this former employer and now close friend had swollen eyelids.
Han Ximeng's eyes flashed slightly, and soon a sense of humor appeared. He pointed at Fan Polu beside him and said to Zheng Haizhu: "Just keep some strength, you are all going to be aunts. Go back and hug your grandnephew." .”
Fan Polu immediately blushed, frowned and pursed his lips, his embarrassment mixed with a bit of sweetness.
In half a year, around the Double Ninth Festival, she will get married to Shoukuan.
Zheng Haizhu then also showed his face and said to Fan Polu: "When I come back to the island, I have new and very beautiful jacquard patterns to show you. You choose a few, and my aunt will weave them into quilt covers. In September, new ones will be used." The cotton will be used to make cores and sent to your new houses in Zhenjiang."
The women were chatting and laughing, while Hua Er, a girl from the Liao people beside the mule cart, stared at them intently.
Hua Er realized that it was not because she looked like the Bodhisattva in the temple that a woman was beautiful.
They are good-looking because their eyes have light and their voices don’t sound like mosquitoes.
Hua Er couldn't help but think of those Han women outside the Pass. Although they looked different, their expressions were the same. After being enslaved by the Jurchens for many years, they no longer even have the deep and shallow fear and timidity, leaving only a lifeless numbness, like the pebbles on the river beach in front of them that have been forever trampled under their feet.
With a lot of emotion in her heart, a girl from the Liao people jumped on the carriage and sent a car full of bright-looking women to Grandma Tang's house in Chongming County.
Three restored looms are placed quietly in the small patio.
Each loom is hung with dense heddles, and the colorful warp threads on the heddles are like countless rays of rainbow light, falling between the weft threads laid out below.
Even Han Ximeng, an embroidery master who is accustomed to using nearly a hundred colors of silk threads for an embroidery, was so surprised when he saw the scene in front of him.
After all, this is not silk thread, but cotton thread.
Even though the Han family's weaving workshop is already quite large, it still adheres to the elegant and calm pattern aesthetics customary in the Susong area. Zheng Haizhu's blend of coral-colored velvet and blue cotton was already an outlier in the use of colors.
Unexpectedly, today in this corner of Chongming Island in Yingzhou, East China Sea, I can see such a striking hanging flower book.
Fan Polu, like Han Ximeng, had his eyes glued to the hanging ropes. The girl who was about to go to Zhenjiang to take charge of Han Ximeng's clothing workshop immediately thought about it in her mind. The narrow strips of cloth formed by interweaving the warp and weft could be sewn on the horse-faced skirt. When the owner of the skirt walks around, it will feel like walking on a spring day. In the flowers.
Only Dong Erya, who was responsible for taking care of the baby, didn't come over immediately to see what was strange.
The naughty young master Gu Zuoyou took her hand and came to a corner of the courtyard, eager to study the novel big toy.
Dong Erya's daughter was already standing in front of another wooden machine there, fiddling with the wooden knots on it.
"What is this?" Gu Zuoyou asked in a sweet voice.
Dong Erya's daughter said: "It is a solid shuttle."
Dong Erya smiled and said: "Silly girl, how can the shuttle be solid? How can it be filled with cotton thread for weaving?"
After hearing their conversation, Han Ximeng and Fan Polu also came over.
Han Ximeng looked at the pieces of cotton hanging under this strange machine. He frowned and thought for a moment, then looked at Zheng Haizhu and asked, "Is this a cotton thread spinning machine?"
As soon as she finished speaking, Mrs. Tang walked in from the door.
"But Mrs. Gu has already arrived? Old lady, I will go to town to buy Chongming mince cake for you."
Han Ximeng had already learned about the legend of Grandma Tang from Zheng Haizhu's letter to Songjiang. When he saw this senior today, he was indeed not only energetic but also majestic. He hurriedly leaned over and bowed to the junior.
Grandma Tang's eyes were full of kindness, and she asked Dong Erya to share the Chongming cakes with the children. She asked Zheng Haizhu with a smile: "Have you guessed the use of this machine for the two female celebrities from Songjiang?"
Fan Polu also slapped his forehead at this time and suddenly realized: "The row of wooden knots are not shuttles, but spindles. This is not a loom, but a spinning machine. Mother, could it be that this machine can spin several lumps of cotton at a time?"
Zheng Haizhu nodded and confirmed the answer given by his prospective nephew-in-law.
Zheng Haizhu was no longer as excited as when he found this textile machine in Granny Tang's house, but he was still pleased with Han Ximeng and Fan Polu's ability to identify it.
The ancient Chinese who were proficient in textile machinery could indeed see the clues of the vertically arranged spindles at a glance.
Although, the machine in front of us first appeared in Britain more than a hundred years later in another history of time and space, and was called the "Spinning Jenny".
(End of chapter)
