"The original owner of that manor has reportedly vanished, and the servants there were disbanded too. The surrounding farmers all say the estate has basically been abandoned, with no one tending it." He paused, then added, "I suspect the authorities watched it for several months and figured there was an easy profit to be made. They thought they'd take it over and flip it for free money. Who would have guessed people would actually come from Beijia?"
He Lingchuan chuckled. "They tried to pick an heirless estate clean, but couldn't swallow it. Looks like this isn't the first time the officials have pulled that trick. Were you able to find out who the manor's original owner actually was?"
"Apparently a National Preceptor? But none of the locals could give a specific name."
He Lingchuan's mind stirred. *Could it be National Preceptor Qingyang?*
Over the past several months, the only National Preceptor in Beijia to fall from grace was Qingyang, and he himself was deeply entangled in that affair.
Moreover, she had held great power and status for over a century; it wouldn't be surprising for her to own property anywhere.
Ahem—who would have thought that after drifting thousands of li away, he would still hear news of National Preceptor Qingyang? Fate truly worked in mysterious ways.
"What the officials did was sheer opportunism—unscrupulous and risky." Whatever the case, that was the property of a Beijia national; could they just confiscate it on a whim?
Of course, He Lingchuan had heard of such things in his original world as well.
Grabbing advantages so crudely made it all too easy to stub one's toe against an iron plate.
"How was the matter resolved in the end?"
"I'm not sure what negotiations took place, but the authorities returned the estate, and the original owner has entrusted someone to sell it." Ding Zuodong cleared his throat. "The price looks rather reasonable to me, and someone seems to have their eye on it already. Does Master want to take it?"
He quoted the price. When He Lingchuan heard it, it truly was quite cheap.
It seemed National Preceptor Qingyang was determined to liquidate all her foreign assets.
Demoted to a commoner, she was now an old woman nearly two hundred years old, with no children to her name. What use was there in keeping so many untouchable assets abroad? Far better to cash them out to keep by her side.
From this detail alone, He Lingchuan could guess her general plight.
"Let's wait a bit." He Lingchuan had just under three hundred thousand taels on hand—wealth that ordinary people couldn't earn in several lifetimes, but when it came to launching major ventures, he still felt pinched. Right now, every copper coin counted, so he couldn't invest carelessly. "If we do buy it, put it under your name."
Ding Zuodong acknowledged the order and withdrew immediately.
The following evening, Lü Qiuwei, one of He Lingchuan's men from Mount Rong, also came to report:
"The Lu clan used to have a steward surnamed Feng who was dismissed six months ago. Because no one else would hire him, he's spent the last few months drowning his sorrows at the Yellowfish Tavern in the harbor. Whenever he gets drunk, he curses his former master up and down."
He Lingchuan had been to Yellowfish Tavern before. The alcohol there was rather low-grade, but the noodle soup was surprisingly good.
Due to the cheap prices, the regulars were mostly peddlers, runners, and laborers hauling cargo on the docks.
"Was he Lu Zhensheng's steward?"
Lü Qiuwei shook his head. "No, no. He was originally the second steward at the household of Lu Zhensheng's cousin. People at the tavern told me he had sticky fingers on the job, which got him fired, so he went around loudly badmouthing the Lu clan. His former master was displeased, accused him of slander, and treated him to half a month of prison food. After getting out, Steward Feng didn't dare stay in Qucheng any longer, so he fled to Blade Harbor."
Indeed, the Lu clan ruled the roost in Bailie; throwing Steward Feng into prison was child's play for them. Blade Harbor was different; one could curse anyone freely here. He Lingchuan chuckled. "Then he truly has nothing holding him back when he curses the Lu clan."
"I bought him a drink twice, and he was already calling me brother and even got into an argument with someone on my behalf." Drunks rarely kept their guard up against strangers. "A large merchant fleet is arriving at the port tonight, requiring cargo to be unloaded in the middle of the night. Most people from the tavern will head over to work, so the place will be quiet. I want to take the opportunity to pry into some of the Lu clan's inside affairs."
"Is it safe?"
"The barkeep says Steward Feng pours out his grievances to anyone who'll listen, and he's done it dozens of times already—the barkeep's ears are practically calloused from hearing it. No one should pay any mind to me chatting with him."
He Lingchuan stood up at once. "I'll go with you."
The Yellowfish Tavern had a fairly broad storefront, planted right near the harbor docks so regulars could easily drop in for a drink right after finishing work. The faded signboard looked somewhat aged, but He Lingchuan knew business here had always been booming.
It was cheap, but it moved high volume.
Moreover, the interior wasn't cramped at all, comfortably fitting over twenty square tables. The only drawback was that the windows were small and let in little light.
That was deliberate, though; when people drank heavily, they grew sensitive to light.
Today, the tavern was quiet indeed. Most of the clientele had gone to work on the docks, so the pervasive stench of sweat was considerably lighter. Lü Qiuwei gestured with his chin toward a small table in the far corner. "That's him."
He Lingchuan looked over. The man sat with his back to the door, propping up his head, with a pot of wine on the table before him.
Lü Qiuwei walked over and sat down beside Steward Feng's table, while He Lingchuan took a seat by the window, two tables away.
The corners of the table had been rubbed to a deep patina, slick and shiny.
Seeing a customer, the waiter served a small dish of fermented green soybeans. He Lingchuan casually asked for a cup of shaojiu and ordered a bowl of fish soup noodles.
He could drink fine wine as well as poor spirits. The shaojiu at this dockside tavern was sharp and burned the throat; first-timers often choked on it, and if one drank too much, they would wake the next morning with a splitting headache.
Glancing at Steward Feng again, his clothes were made of decent fabric, but they were wrinkled and bore two patches.
He was drinking cheap hooch that cost a single copper coin per pot, with only a small dish of tossed dried baby shrimp to accompany it.
Yet when he saw Lü Qiuwei, his eyes lit up. Lü Qiuwei patted him on the shoulder. "Why are you drinking alone in gloom again?"
Steward Feng gave a self-deprecating scoff. "Heh, isn't it like this every day?"
Lü Qiuwei called the waiter over and ordered a cup of red rice wine, along with several meat dishes including braised pig's head and dried salted fish. Then he said, "Old Feng, in a couple of days, I'll be heading north."
"Oh? Where to?"
"Qucheng. Our master wants to open a shop there and do some business to test the waters."
"Test the waters? Your master is going all the way to Qucheng to test the waters?" Steward Feng took a gulp of liquor. "Has your master lost his mind?"
Lü Qiuwei feigned surprise. "Why do you say that?"
He subtly glanced back and saw the "master who lost his mind" pouring and drinking at his leisure, utterly unbothered.
"Not just Qucheng—who owns the entirety of Bailie?"
"The Lu clan?"
Steward Feng sneered. "More than ten years ago, that might have been fine. But over the last few years, Bailie's exorbitant taxes and levies have grown as thick as ox hair. Go ask the folks in this tavern—they've operated here for over twenty years and still had to ask for favors and pull strings just to pay a little less in taxes. Even Blade Harbor is like this, not to mention Qucheng! Outsiders like you who don't know the ropes dare go do business in Qucheng? They'll fine you until you drop dead!"
Lü Qiuwei frowned in confusion. "I heard Bailie has been at peace for decades without any major wars. Why are they still wracking their brains to wring money out of everyone's pockets?"
Bailie enjoyed an advantageous geographic location: its western neighbor, the Mou Kingdom, was a major power on good terms with Bailie, while the surrounding areas were all small states or tribal territories like Bailie itself. Of course, the most volatile factor to the east was the rapidly rising Ya Kingdom.
If Panlong City had been situated in a spot like this, Zhong Shengguang would have smiled in his sleep every night.
"'Wring money'—well put!" Steward Feng slammed his hand against the table with a smack. "They could just rob you outright, yet they still bother to slap the name of a fine on it."
He asked his newly made buddy, "You know the origins of Bailie, don't you?"
"A bit. I heard the people here are the remnants of the Bailie Kingdom. After their old territory was seized by Beijia, they migrated here."
"This territory of Bailie—" Steward Feng jabbed his middle finger repeatedly onto the tabletop. "—was actually three times its current size at the very beginning."
"Oh? That wasn't small at all." Lü Qiuwei seemed surprised. "What happened?"
"Six hundred years, after all! A piece ceded in the east, a plot 'borrowed' in the west, and stepping back whenever there was a dispute—it gradually shrank to what it is now." Steward Feng shook his head. "Bailie has only stiffened its spine a bit in recent years; for decades before that, they were totally spineless! Whenever trouble arose, they'd swallow their pride and endure it, spouting nonsense about 'turn inward... turn inward...'"
"'Turn inward and examine oneself'?" Lü Qiuwei asked. How could a perfectly good virtue be used like this?
"Exactly! At any rate, they didn't dare stir up trouble with anyone outside."
"Oh? But didn't they say the clan head's son climbed onto high branches in the Mou Kingdom, and that Bailie's revival is in sight?"
"Revival?" Steward Feng scoffed derisively. "They'd be lucky not to go bankrupt!"
"Bankrupt?" Lü Qiuwei wore a look of disbelief. "Sitting on such a vast swath of land, how could they go bankrupt? I heard Bailie has fertile soil, flourishing trade, and thriving industries across the board."
Looking at Bailie's geographic position—north of the bay and flanked by various states—it served as a central hub connecting numerous countries.
Even just handling a chunk of fatty meat would leave one's hands coated in grease.
Just then, the fish soup noodles He Lingchuan ordered arrived. The broth was milky white and fragrantly appetizing, sprinkled with chopped scallions, presenting a very appealing sight.
It looked like plain noodles—indeed without any extra toppings—but the broth was actually simmered and boiled from a large quantity of mixed small fish. The one thing the docks never lacked was catch from the sea; the shopkeeper specifically gathered the leftover small fry from the bottom of baskets to brew the soup, making it practically free.
Thus, such a large bowl of noodles cost only three coppers—an honest price that even poor laborers could afford, making it one of Yellowfish Tavern's signature dishes.
He Lingchuan slurped a mouthful; the broth was rich and delicious, and the noodles pleasantly chewy.
Hearing the slurp, Steward Feng glanced back at him, then continued speaking to Lü Qiuwei: "More than a decade ago, although the Lu clan was squeezed between various states, behind closed doors they lived quite comfortably. Now, they seem to stand tall before the outside world, but in truth, their internal accounts are a complete mess—only they know the real state of it!"
Lü Qiuwei marveled. "The way you put it, could it be they spent all their money just to keep up appearances?"
Lu San was Lu Zhensheng's cousin, ranking third in the clan.
"Isn't that just it!" Steward Feng scoffed. "I served as a steward in Lu San's household for over a decade. From the outside, his home looks like an illustrious family's manor, grand and imposing. In reality, more than half of the courtyards inside have been closed off for years, neither repaired nor cleaned. Two years ago, a wing in the west creaked non-stop whenever night fell. Everyone thought it was haunted, but in the end, it turned out a family of weasels had moved in. They kept darting across the well, and whenever they brushed against the rope, it rattled the wooden bucket."
"Could that just be because they have few people?" The Lu clan had apparently never had a booming population.
"Their numbers are indeed small, but the wages they pay stewards and servants like us are stingy to the bone—not even matching what merchants in Qucheng offer. When I mentioned this in the past, no one would believe me."
Chapter 871