Chapter 7: The Yellow That Was Already There
The fourth morning on the cliff arrived in the same quiet, unannounced way as the days before it, without any dramatic shift in the sky or any unusual disturbance in the air, and Khun Ming found that kind of uneventful beginning far more comforting than he would have bothered to say out loud, especially after the earlier experience of the world behaving in a way that made no practical sense.
Nothing trembled beneath his feet, no distant bells rang without reason, and no strange pressure pressed against his senses in a way that demanded explanation, which allowed the entire morning to settle into a steady rhythm shaped only by the natural movement of wind through bamboo and the continuous descent of water along stone.
The sound of the waterfall had already become a constant presence over the past few days, not something that drew attention to itself but something that quietly supported everything else, maintaining a consistent flow that felt almost like breathing beneath the cliff, slow and reliable, never interrupting, never fading.
Khun Ming sat up slowly and took a measured breath, allowing the cool air of the room to settle before shifting his attention toward the clay jar near the window, which had become an object of quiet interest over the past two days.
The iron solution inside had deepened in color again overnight.
What had once been a thin, diluted mixture now leaned toward a dense gray-black tone, especially near the submerged nails, and the surface held a dull, muted sheen where the morning light touched it, revealing faint internal movement as the liquid continued its slow transformation.
A sharper metallic scent lingered in the air, slightly stronger than before, blending with the natural smell of wood and mountain air drifting through the open window.
Khun Ming leaned forward, resting one hand lightly against his knee as he examined the jar more closely, his gaze steady and attentive in the way of someone who preferred observing gradual change over forcing immediate results.
"Very good," he murmured quietly, a faint note of approval settling into his voice. "You are behaving exactly the way iron should behave when it is given enough time and left alone to do its work without unnecessary interference."
He reached out and nudged the jar gently with one fingertip, just enough to disturb the surface, watching the liquid shift and settle again as small currents moved through it.
"You see, this is precisely why patience is useful in this kind of work," he continued conversationally, as though explaining a principle to someone who might or might not be listening. "Iron does not respond well to pressure, and if someone tries to force the reaction too quickly, the entire solution becomes unstable and starts behaving like a very unpleasant guest who refuses to cooperate."
Behind him, the dog was already awake, sitting near the doorway in its usual position, watching him with the same quiet attentiveness it had shown every morning so far, as though it had accepted responsibility for observing the household without ever formally being assigned the role.
Its tail rested against the floorboards without moving.
Khun Ming glanced over his shoulder, taking a moment to study it more carefully, his expression thoughtful in a way that suggested he was still trying to understand exactly what kind of habits this animal had brought with it.
"I have noticed something about your sleeping pattern over the past few days," he said while reaching for his robe and tying the sash with slow, practiced movements. "You seem to wake up earlier than I do every morning, which suggests either a very disciplined routine or a complete refusal to sleep properly, and I am still undecided about which explanation I should be more concerned about."
The dog blinked once, offering no clarification.
Khun Ming paused for a moment, then gave a small nod, as if accepting that answer as sufficient.
"I will interpret that as disagreement," he said calmly. "However, as long as you are not planning to evaluate my schedule or offer recommendations for improvement, I think we can allow this arrangement to continue without further discussion."
He pushed open the door and stepped outside into the courtyard, where the air still carried the cool dampness of early morning, and the light had only just begun to spread across the ground in long, soft layers that shifted slowly as the sun rose behind the mountains.
Somewhere beyond the bamboo grove, birds had already begun their quiet arguments, their voices overlapping in uneven patterns that sounded less like song and more like a series of ongoing disagreements that had yet to be resolved.
Cherry petals had drifted across the stone path again overnight, gathering in small clusters near the base of the dye station posts and along the edges of the courtyard where the wind slowed just enough to let them settle.
Khun Ming walked a few steps forward and glanced upward toward the tree, his eyes following the branches as they moved slightly in the breeze.
"You would think," he said thoughtfully, tilting his head just a little as he considered the situation, "that a tree which drops petals every single day would eventually reach a point where it runs out of them, or at the very least shows some sign of slowing down."
He paused for a moment, watching as another petal drifted loose and floated downward in a slow, unhurried motion before landing on the stone.
"But it appears that this particular tree has decided to ignore what I would consider normal botanical limitations, which is either very impressive or slightly unreasonable depending on how one chooses to look at it," he continued, his tone carrying a faint trace of dry amusement.
The breeze moved again, brushing through the courtyard and lifting a few of the fallen petals just enough to shift them across the ground, while the bamboo grove beyond the wall responded with a soft, continuous whisper as the tall stalks swayed against one another.
Behind him, the dog stepped out into the courtyard and paused near the doorway, its posture relaxed but attentive as it took in the surroundings, as though confirming that everything remained in acceptable condition.
Khun Ming glanced back at it briefly, then nodded once.
"Good," he said calmly. "The house is still standing, nothing appears to have caught fire overnight, and the materials are behaving as expected, so I would consider this a successful start to the day."
He turned his attention back toward the dye station, his mind already moving toward the next stage of preparation, not with urgency, but with the steady understanding that each step, when done properly, removed the need for correction later.
And in that quiet, measured way, the fourth morning at Atelier Vimutti continued, carried forward by simple observations, small decisions, and the unspoken satisfaction of things proceeding exactly as they should without requiring any unnecessary intervention.
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Khun Ming walked slowly toward the hanging lines where the yarn and cloth swayed gently in the morning breeze, their movement unhurried and soft as the air passed through the courtyard, and as he approached, his attention settled on the pieces that had been treated with tannin the day before, observing them not just with his eyes but with the quiet expectation of someone who already knew what he was looking for.
The fabric had dried evenly overnight.
There were no irregular patches, no streaks interrupting the surface, and no signs of uneven absorption that might cause problems later, which allowed him to reach out without hesitation and lift one length of yarn between his fingers.
He rubbed the fibers slowly between his thumb and forefinger, applying just enough pressure to feel how the surface responded rather than forcing any reaction from it.
"The tannin has settled properly into the fiber," he said quietly, his tone carrying a faint note of satisfaction that did not need to be emphasized. "If you pay attention, you can feel the difference, because the surface becomes slightly firmer, almost as if the threads have learned how to hold their shape with a bit more confidence instead of collapsing into themselves."
He raised the strand slightly and turned it toward the light, watching how the fibers reflected it, noting the consistency along its length.
"That means the preparation stage has done its job correctly," he continued thoughtfully. "Preparation is usually the least interesting part of dyeing, and most people try to rush through it as quickly as possible, but it is also the stage that determines whether the final color behaves properly or quietly embarrasses you later when nothing turns out the way you expected."
The dog had followed him out into the courtyard again and now sat beneath the hanging cloth, its posture relaxed but attentive as it watched the fabric move above, as though it had assigned itself the role of silent observer without ever asking for permission.
Khun Ming glanced toward the forest edge beyond the bamboo wall, where the morning mist still lingered low between the trees, softening the outlines of trunks and branches in a way that made the distance feel slightly further than it actually was.
Then his gaze shifted toward the cliff face.
The rock there caught sunlight earlier than the rest of the courtyard, and thin veins of pale mineral traced their way through the darker surface like quiet brushstrokes that had been placed there without any intention of being noticed.
He studied it for a moment, then nodded slowly as the idea settled into place.
"Before we begin thinking about color," he said to himself in a calm, reflective tone, "we need to think about brightness, and brightness requires the correct mordant if we expect the color to behave the way it should."
The dog tilted its head slightly, as if trying to follow the logic of a conversation that had not been directed at it but had somehow included it anyway.
Khun Ming smiled faintly at the reaction.
"Yes, I am aware that you do not know what a mordant is," he said, his voice carrying a light trace of amusement. "However, since you insist on attending every stage of this process as though you were a particularly dedicated apprentice, it would feel somewhat unreasonable not to explain things properly."
He gestured toward the cliff wall.
"We are going to collect alum[1]," he added.
He had noticed it the previous afternoon while clearing a few loose stones near the edge of the cliff, a faint pale crust forming along a shallow recess in the rock, partially hidden behind thin roots that hung loosely over the surface.
Now, he walked toward it with deliberate steps, his attention already focused on confirming what he had suspected.
The shallow pocket in the rock was not particularly deep, but it provided just enough shelter to protect the mineral deposits from being washed away by rain, and as he leaned closer, the surface revealed a chalky bloom that clung to one side, faintly crystalline and slightly translucent where the light struck it at the right angle.
Khun Ming crouched and carefully scraped a small amount into his palm, watching how the powder collected there, pale and fine, almost white but not completely uniform.
He pinched a small grain between his fingers and brought it lightly to his tongue, his expression remaining calm as he considered the taste rather than reacting to it.
"Astringent[2]," he murmured after a moment, his voice thoughtful. "With a slight sour edge that lingers just enough to confirm its composition."
He nodded once, satisfied with the result.
"Yes, that is exactly what I expected," he said quietly. "Potassium aluminum sulfate, which is a very formal way of saying that this is alum and will behave exactly the way we need it to."
He glanced back at the rock face briefly.
"In simpler terms, this is useful," he added, his tone returning to something more casual.
The dog leaned closer and sniffed the surface, only to recoil slightly and sneeze.
Khun Ming let out a soft chuckle.
"That is completely normal," he said. "Mineral deposits rarely present themselves in a way that would be considered pleasant, so your reaction is entirely reasonable."
He dissolved a small pinch of the powder into a wooden cup filled with stream water, watching carefully as it dispersed.
The solution cleared quickly.
"No visible residue and no remaining grit," he observed. "That indicates a relatively clean source, which is always preferable when working with materials like this."
He took a small scrap of yarn and dipped it into the solution, leaving it submerged briefly before lifting it out and rinsing it gently in the stream, comparing the treated fibers with an untreated sample.
The difference was subtle, but present.
The fibers felt slightly tighter, more structured, as though the surface had adjusted its behavior in response to the treatment.
Khun Ming nodded again.
"This is exactly what we expect from a properly functioning mordant," he said. "It does not add color by itself, but it prepares the fiber to accept color more effectively later."
He returned to the rock face and began collecting a small amount of the deposit, working carefully to avoid removing too much from a single area.
"Another mistake people often make," he murmured while scraping gently, "is taking everything they can find in one visit, which might feel efficient at the time but guarantees that there will be nothing left when they return."
He paused briefly, then added, "Moderation is not just a philosophical idea. It is a very practical way to ensure that resources remain available in the future. Buddha gains enlightenment as he seek the truth in moderation, you know...."
Once he had gathered enough, he stood and brushed the remaining powder from his hands, letting the fine dust fall back toward the ground.
When he returned to the cottage, he weighed the collected alum roughly in his palm, turning it slightly as he considered how much would be needed for the next stage, his thoughts already shifting toward ratios and preparation rather than the act of gathering itself.
The dog followed closely, still watching with the same steady attention, as though every step in the process mattered equally, even if it did not fully understand what any of it meant.
Khun Ming glanced down at it briefly.
"You are very consistent in your supervision," he said calmly. "I am beginning to suspect that if I were to make a mistake, you would notice it before I did, even if you could not explain why."
The dog wagged its tail once, as if accepting the compliment.
Khun Ming allowed a small smile to form, then turned his attention back toward the work table, where the next stage of preparation was already beginning to take shape in his mind.
And in that steady, unhurried way, the work at Atelier Vimutti continued, not with dramatic changes or sudden breakthroughs, but with careful observation, small decisions, and the quiet confidence that came from doing each step correctly before moving on to the next.
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"For a bright yellow," he said thoughtfully, "about fifteen percent of the fiber weight will be sufficient. There is absolutely no reason to use more than that."
He filled the iron pot with clean stream water and dissolved the alum slowly.
"Alum works by binding flavonoids[3]," he explained casually to the dog. "The metal ions form coordination complexes with the dye molecules. That stabilizes the pigment on the fiber."
The dog blinked.
"Yes," Khun Ming said calmly. "I understand that you do not care about chemical bonding, but I find it fascinating."
He lowered the tannin-treated cloth into the alum bath and pressed it down gently.
"Also," he added, "we are not boiling this."
Steam rose lightly as the water warmed.
"If the bath becomes too hot, the fiber becomes stressed and the mordant behaves unpredictably. Sixty to seventy degrees is ideal."
He watched the water carefully.
"This stage requires about an hour," he murmured.
He turned the cloth occasionally to ensure even mordanting.
The yarn followed in a separate container.
When finished, he removed both and rinsed them lightly.
"Not aggressively," he reminded himself. "Just enough to remove surface residue."
He hung them briefly while preparing the dye.
The marigolds grew wild near the stream.
Bright orange and deep golden blooms swayed gently where sunlight touched the damp soil.
Khun Ming crouched beside them.
"Tagetes erecta,[4]" he said quietly. "Family: Asteraceae."
He plucked a bloom and separated the petals from the green calyx.
"The pigment compounds here are lutein[5] and quercetagetin[6]," he continued thoughtfully. "Those belong to the carotenoid and flavonoid families."
The dog watched as petals accumulated in the basket.
"These compounds are reasonably heat stable," he said. "However, they still prefer respectful treatment."
He glanced down.
"Medicinally," he added, "marigolds are used for eye health. Lutein supports retinal function. They are also mildly anti-inflammatory."
The dog sniffed a flower.
"And insects dislike them," Khun Ming added.
He harvested only the fully open blooms.
"For strong yellow," he murmured, "we use roughly equal weight between flowers and fiber."
Back inside, he filled the pot halfway with water and added the fresh petals.
The water turned faintly golden almost immediately.
"That is a promising start," he said.
He raised the temperature slowly.
"We must avoid boiling again," he reminded himself. "About seventy degrees is ideal."
Steam carried a faint floral bitterness.
He stirred gently, pressing petals lightly.
Gradually the liquid deepened from pale gold to rich amber.
"Yes," Khun Ming said quietly. "That is exactly the tone we want."
After nearly an hour of extraction, he strained the petals through woven cloth.
The dye liquor shone like liquid sunlight.
Khun Ming glanced at the dog.
"This is the moment where most mistakes happen," he said calmly. "If the bath is too hot, the pigment collapses. If it is too cool, the fiber absorbs the color weakly."
He lowered the mordanted cloth into the marigold bath.
The fabric drank the liquid eagerly.
"Very cooperative," he murmured.
The color shifted gradually.
Beige became yellow.
Warm yellow deepened into gold.
He turned the cloth gently.
"Flavonoids bind very well with alum," he explained. "And the tannin layer underneath creates depth."
The dog lay down but did not look away.
After forty-five minutes, the yellow deepened beautifully.
Khun Ming lifted a corner.
Golden.
Not harsh.
Alive.
He allowed another fifteen minutes before extinguishing the fire.
"Cooling inside the bath improves uptake," he said softly.
After the bath cooled, he carried the cloth to the stream and rinsed it gently.
The yellow remained.
He wrung it lightly and hung it on the rope.
Sunlight touched it immediately.
Against the muted greens and grays of the cliff, the color stood out quietly.
Khun Ming nodded.
"This is a good yellow," he said.
He rinsed the yarn next and hung it beside the cloth.
The yarn appeared slightly richer, threads catching light like layered strands of sunlight.
The dog walked closer.
"No biting," Khun Ming said automatically.
The dog obeyed.
Khun Ming glanced at the iron jar.
"One small test," he murmured.
He cut a tiny piece from the cloth and dipped it briefly into the iron solution.
The transformation happened quickly.
Bright yellow shifted into olive.
He rinsed the sample and held it beside the original.
"See?" he said quietly. "Iron does not add color. Iron changes the conversation."
He hung the sample beside the others.
Three tones moved gently in the breeze.
Golden yellow.Richer yarn gold.Soft olive shift.
Khun Ming crossed his arms and studied them seriously.
Inside the cottage, the Seven Jewels Sword remained silent.
Within its sealed domain, Qinglong inclined his head.
"Balance," he observed.
Phoenix's inner flame flickered warmly.
Goumang watched with quiet satisfaction.
The Nine-Tailed Fox narrowed her eyes.
"He understands layering."
Baihu exhaled softly.
Outside, the golden retriever sat at the edge of the courtyard watching the cloth move.
Khun Ming adjusted the rope slightly.
"Yellow," he said softly.
The forest answered with wind.
The waterfall continued its descent.
ATELIER VIMUTTI stood quietly on the cliff's edge.
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Chapter 7 complete.
[1] (KAl(SO₄)₂·12H₂O) Alum is a versatile, naturally occurring hydrated double sulfate salt, most commonly potassium aluminum sulfate. Sold as a white powder or crystal, it is widely used for water purification, as a styptic pencil to stop bleeding from shaving, in pickling, and as a natural deodorant (my grandma use alum as deodorant and water purifier when we are very young)
[2] An astringent is a substance that contracts or shrinks body tissues, used primarily in skincare to minimize pores, remove excess oil, and reduce inflammation, and in medicine to stop minor bleeding. Key benefits include deep cleaning, acne reduction, and creating a protective barrier, often using ingredients like witch hazel or alcohol. Side effects, however, include skin irritation, drying, and increased sensitivity.
[3] Flavonoids are a diverse group of plant-based polyphenolic compounds—often called phytochemicals or bioflavonoids—responsible for the vibrant colors in fruits, vegetables, and flowers. They are potent antioxidants and anti-inflammatory agents that help protect plants from UV radiation and infection, while offering human health benefits like improved cardiovascular health and reduced chronic disease risk
[4] Tagetes erecta, the Aztec marigold, Mexican marigold, big marigold, cempaxochitl or cempasúchil, is a species of flowering plant in the genus Tagetes native to Mexico and Central America. Despite being native to the Americas, it is often called the African marigold. (Wikipedia).... Marigold is known as temple flowers in Thailand, Cambodia and Laos. This flower is used as a common offering flower. Very easy to grow and very easy to use as natural dye.
[5] Lutein is a yellow-pigmented carotenoid antioxidant crucial for eye health, specifically in the macula and retina. It filters harmful blue light, protects eye tissues from oxidative damage, and helps prevent or slow age-related macular degeneration (AMD) and cataracts. Common sources include kale, spinach, and egg yolks. (Wiki)
[6] Quercetagetin (C15 H10 O8) is a natural yellow flavonoid pigment (specifically a flavanol) sourced from marigold plants (Tagetes) and Eriocaulon grasses. It acts as a potent antioxidant, antiviral, and anti-inflammatory agent. It is widely studied for its potential to inhibit cancer cells and reduce oxidative damage. (Wiki)