Three days later, Li Yunxiu, Qianqian, and Zhao Yingjie stared blankly at the thirty bottles before them—ten of orchid perfume, ten of peony, and ten of peach blossom.
"This is... perfume?" Qianqian asked softly.
"Such a rich, delicate orchid scent—how did you manage it?" Li Yunxiu unstoppered a small bottle, took a gentle sniff, and asked in disbelief.
Zhao Yingjie blinked his beady eyes. "Brother Yu, you're amazing!"
"Coming from you, that sounds wrong!"
Wang Yu shoved Zhao Yingjie's chubby face away, saying smugly, "It wasn't easy to make. Starting completely from scratch, I first had the estate's craftsmen build distillation equipment to extract the floral essential oils, and in the process, I purified the shaojiu once more. Only then did I manage to produce a few trial samples."
Although "distillation equipment" was a novel term, its literal meaning was clear enough. Still...
"Flowers contain oil?" Li Yunxiu asked.
"Very little, but yes, they do." Wang Yu pointed at Zhao Yingjie. "You can ask him how many flowers it took to make these thirty bottles."
Zhao Yingjie chimed in at once. "For each flower, I hauled an entire cartload—at least a hundred jin."
"And that included the stems and branches. If we're talking purely petals, different flowers yield different results, but typically a hundred jin of petals produces only one jin of essential oil. Blending one jin of oil with three jin of alcohol yields the richest fragrance, and it lasts for nearly six hours," Wang Yu said.
Qianqian was sharp with figures and well-acquainted with market rates. "Then each bottle costs less than one tael of silver to make."
Li Yunxiu remarked, "Transported thousands of miles from the west and only marked up tenfold—they were practically being generous."
The two women exchanged a glance, instantly grasping the staggering profit margin if the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor could produce perfume themselves. After all, just a few days ago, the Wang family had bought out the Western merchant's entire stock of perfume—a hundred bottles for a thousand taels of silver.
Zhao Yingjie was even more devious. "What if we pose as a Western caravan..."
Li Yunxiu shook her head, rejecting the idea. "While that might fetch a high price, we wouldn't be able to sell in volume without eventually exposing ourselves."
"Then we do it under our own name," Wang Yu nodded. "I'll leave it to you two to set up a perfume workshop. As long as the core distillation equipment remains confidential, no one else will be able to replicate an oil that holds its fragrance for so long."
Li Yunxiu's eyes gleamed. "Beyond selling across the Central Plains, we can even export it back to the Western Regions. From that alone, we could bring in at least a hundred thousand taels of silver for the manor each year!"
Wang Yu advised, "The ratio of essential oil to alcohol alters both the intensity and longevity of the scent. You can create different concentrations. For the lowest tier, you can even dilute it with a bit of water, then tier the pricing—cheaper for entry-level, steeper for the premium lines. Make sure the packaging reflects the distinction as well. For the top tier, you could even produce only a hundred bottles a year and auction them off annually to the highest bidder. This sort of thing is a status symbol."
The three of them stared at Wang Yu with a mix of shock and bemusement, as if looking at an unscrupulous merchant.
Wang Yu asked nonchalantly, "So, are we doing it or not?"
Li Yunxiu nodded decisively. "We are!"
Wang Yu waved a hand and turned to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"To rest. Is there anything else?"
Li Yunxiu and Qianqian had nothing, but Zhao Yingjie actually did. "Two days from now is the wedding of the Qianliu Manor lord's son. The Ding family of Qianliu Manor is a prominent local lineage in Longshan Prefecture, and their Willow Leaf Saber Technique is fairly reputable. Manor Lord Ding sent an invitation a month ago, originally meant just for me. But I thought, since you've just returned, Brother Yu, would you like to join the fun?"
The Northwest Three Prefectures were by no means home to the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor alone; smaller sects, minor factions, and local clans were scattered throughout the region, and Qianliu Manor was one of them.
Naturally, they could not compare to the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor, but they sent gifts and tribute every year and maintained commercial dealings in estates and shops with the Prince's Manor, allowing them to maintain friendly contact.
The wedding of the manor lord's son was a grand occasion, and invitations had been sent far and wide. Naturally, they lacked the standing to invite the Prince of Zhenxi himself; securing the attendance of a steward from the Prince's Manor was already a mark of great prestige.
As the son of Zhao Rong, the manor's head steward, Zhao Yingjie was himself a steward in the Prince's Manor handling guest receptions and formalities. Acquainted with the Ding family, he was the natural recipient of the invitation.
"A wedding banquet? Sure!" Wang Yu agreed.
These past few days, Wang Yu had done little else besides practicing martial arts and concocting perfume. Without smartphones or the internet, staying occupied was fine, but the moment he was free, boredom set in—entertainment was simply in too short supply.
No wonder taverns and teahouses were packed to the brim, and theaters and gambling dens hummed with clamor; life was utterly devoid of amusements.
Qianqian raised a brow, took Wang Yu's hand, and cast a swift yet unmistakable glance at Li Yunxiu. "I'll accompany Brother Yu!"
Li Yunxiu offered a faint smile. "Two days from now happens to be my rest day, so I'll be free as well. I shall accompany my husband and take the chance to unwind."
Qianqian smiled sweetly while Li Yunxiu's lips curved faintly. Wang Yu remained utterly unbothered, but Zhao Yingjie shuddered, suddenly wondering whether inviting Wang Yu had been a terrible mistake.
***
The eighteenth of the second month was an auspicious day for marriage.
The setting sun cast its dying rays across a sky draped in golden clouds.
The daytime spring breeze took on a gentle chill, rustling the willow branches across the manor.
Qianliu Manor—Manor of a Thousand Willows—lived up to its name, planted inside and out with willows. In mid-spring, the green fronds danced in the breeze without bothersome willow catkins obstructing the view, glowing with a golden sheen under the sunset glow at their most breathtaking hour.
At this moment, red silk ribbons stretched for three li, fresh flowers carpeted the ground, carriages and horses bustled, and melodious music drifted through the air. Guests filled the halls amid the clamor of gongs and drums.
"What? The Prince of Zhenxi has arrived in person?"
Ding Jianshen, the manor lord of Qianliu Manor, was caught entirely off guard while greeting guests. Hastily apologizing to his friends, he hurried to the rear hall and demanded of his butler, "What is going on?"
The butler replied, "Steward Zhao of the Prince's Manor just arrived with a light carriage and simple entourage. He brought one man and two women—none other than the new Prince of Zhenxi and his two prospective consorts!"
Ding Jianshen nodded hurriedly. "I will go pay my respects to the Prince at once. Rearrange the seating and set three more places at the head table. And remember to remind Xian'er to offer a toast."
Issuing his orders, Ding Jianshen rushed to the front courtyard and saw Zhao Yingjie strolling through the grounds alongside three young people.
The young man possessed a commanding presence, while the two women were poised, graceful, and radiantly charming—clearly extraordinary. Ding Jianshen hurried forward to bow, murmuring polite words about what an immense honor it was before deferentially escorting them into the main hall to be seated at the head table.
For the wedding of the manor lord's son, at least a hundred guests had gathered, but space in the main hall was limited. Only three banquet tables—one head table and two secondary tables—had been set inside; the rest were arranged out in the courtyard.
"Who are they? Four youngsters invited to sit at the head table—could they be rising stars from some prominent martial sect?"
"The young man sitting in the center puts on quite the air. If he weren't without a sword at his side, I would have thought the Taihua Sect's Little Sword Immortal had arrived."
"Mind your words! Do you see that fat fellow? He is the son of Zhao Rong, the head steward of the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor, and is now a steward himself, having thoroughly mastered the Fire Cloud Saber Technique. Qianliu Manor makes its living in Longshan Prefecture, so naturally they have ties with the Prince's Manor."
"Yet he seems rather fawning toward that young man. Could it be..."
*Hiss—*
The guests seated in the courtyard caught on, and the martial artists sharing the hall were certainly no fools. Many of them already knew Zhao Yingjie, and they promptly rose to offer their respects.
Wang Yu and the two women responded with courteous smiles, impeccably composed, while getting acquainted with several local martial figures of repute or modest influence.
Before long, the wedding ceremony commenced.
To the festive sound of drums and music, the groom and bride walked in from outside. The groom had sharp, starry brows and eyes, while the bride wore a red veil, walking slowly with the support of a maidservant.
As they advanced, the courtyard erupted into cheers and applause.
"A harmonious union for a hundred years!"
"May you soon be blessed with a noble son!"
When the pair stepped into the main hall, Manor Lord Ding Jianshen and his wife were already seated in the places of honor, beaming with smiles.
Candles were lit; incense was burned.
The master of ceremonies chanted at their side, "Incense curls aloft, lamps and candles blaze; bride and groom step into the hall of flowers—first bow to Heaven and Earth!"
Just as the bride and groom prepared to bow to Heaven and Earth, a woman's voice rang out: "Ding Xian, do you still remember me?"
Drama!
Every eye turned toward the woman who had spoken from the courtyard. She was clad in a green dress and veiled, sounding quite young, though no one knew what history lay between her and the groom.
Yet at the sound of her voice, the groom, Ding Xian, visibly jumped. Staring at her in utter disbelief, he blurted out, "Yuan Feifei, you're still alive?"
Ding Xian's shock aside, Wang Yu and his companions were equally surprised, for this young woman was none other than the girl who had accompanied Mister Gutong that day.
Noticing their altered expressions, Li Yunxiu asked, "Do you know her?"
Wang Yu nodded. "She is the one you didn't know."
Li Yunxiu understood at once and glanced around. "It seems their purpose in coming to Longshan Prefecture was the Ding family. Since she has shown herself, Mister Gutong and Madam Ziyu must be close by."
"Of course I'm still alive!" Yuan Feifei's laugh was laced with anguish. "With your honeyed words, you ruined my family, destroyed my home, and in the end drove me to leap off a cliff! By the grace of Heaven, I survived—only to deliver your retribution!"
With that, Yuan Feifei tore off her veil, revealing three or four crisscrossing scars across her face. Though not deep, they were strikingly prominent.
"You... you're talking nonsense!" Flustered and realizing he had already admitted to knowing her in his slip of the tongue, Ding Xian could only bluster defensively, "The Yuan family was wiped out by the Taiheng Thirty-Six Strongholds! I know nothing about you leaping off a cliff! All I know is that your family was destroyed and your fate was unknown..."
Ding Xian was in disarray, but Ding Jianshen was a seasoned veteran of the jianghu. Rather than waste breath debating with her, he barked to his men, "Seize her!"
Two estate guards lunged forward, one displaying calloused hands and the other adopting a tiger-claw stance, both clearly trained in martial arts.
Yet before either guard could get close, both cried out in agony and collapsed to the ground.
By the glow of the courtyard lanterns, the onlookers saw only their trembling hands drenched in blood, yet not a soul had caught sight of how they were injured.
Ding Jianshen's heart skipped a beat. He knew an expert backed this woman, and judging from those invisible, traceless projectiles alone, he was no match.
Slapping the table, Ding Jianshen leapt to his feet and roared, "What scoundrel dares launch a sneak attack from the shadows! If you have the guts, show yourself! Lord Zhao, the Prince of Zhenxi, is present—how dare you behave so insolently!"
Wang Yu: ???
Chapter 22