An Ecology of Care: Cosmology, Literature, and Wang Anyi’s Reinvention of Embroidery in Scent of Heaven

In his newly built Scent of Heaven Garden, eager to flaunt his thriving peach grove, the male literati Shen Mingshi of the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644) generously bestows the peach branches to anyone who desires. Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the garden, Min, the concubine of Mingshi’s elder son, is embroidering water lilies on a lonely night to mitigate the anguish of lacking affection from her husband. Born into a lineage of textile producers spanning generations, Min acquired embroidery skills from her mother step by step. When the embroidery work unfolds in front of her, it is as if Min sees the water lilies in the yard of her natal family, as if she hears the sound of the shuttles and the jacquard machine from the loom room. Evoking Min’s memories about her carefree pre-married life and intimacy with nature, embroidery whispers to her the language of water lilies—“the secret of the boudoir” (Scent of Heaven 61). Decades later, whereas the peach grove, once “comparable to the heavenly banquet hosted by the Queen Mother of the West,” has withered due to men’s excessive branch pruning, the embroidery introduced by Min into the Shen family has been inherited, refined, and transformed into a celebrated brand—“Scent of Heaven Garden Embroidery” (394).