Ten days later.

The former Heavenly King’s Palace, now the Two Rivers Governor-General’s Office, had been renovated to perfection. All officials in Jiangning City came to offer congratulations. In front of all the civil and military officials throughout the city, Zeng Guofan personally wrote out the “Eight Precepts for Officials” by Sun Jiagan, the famous minister from Emperor Yongzheng’s reign, and had them carved in large golden characters on the screen wall of the main hall.

“Serve the sovereign with devotion but without ostentation, share with others without arrogance, avoid contention over power, hide achievements in anonymity, stop when able to withdraw, delete useless words, maintain solitude to avoid others, and take with honesty while spending with frugality.”

These Eight Precepts contained only forty-two characters, but Zeng Guofan read them with measured cadence, pausing for quite a while after completing each sentence. All the officials stood with hands at their sides, listening quietly.

When he finally finished reading, Zeng Guofan seemed as if he had more to say: “Gentlemen, these Eight Precepts for Officials truly capture the essence of being an official. If one can truly achieve all of these, one would not fail to be a famous minister of the age. This governor takes these to encourage all of you, my brothers.”

All the officials replied in unison: “Sir, please rest assured. We will certainly serve the court with all our hearts, avoiding nothing in our duties, and dedicating ourselves wholly to the public good.”

“Excellent.” Zeng Guofan nodded with a kindly expression.

Gu Pingyuan had also been invited today, and was ushered into the main hall to pay respects alongside everyone else. Looking around, he saw that everyone surrounding him wore at least a plain gold knob on their caps. As a “first-class commoner,” standing among this group of officials, he appeared quite out of place.

Just as he was thinking this, he suddenly heard someone from the hall calling: “Master Gu, please take a seat of honor.”

“Calling me?” Gu Pingyuan wondered in his heart, looking up to meet Zeng Guofan’s meaningful gaze. He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward.

All the civil and military officials of the city looked at each other with envy mixed with amazement, opening a path for Gu Pingyuan to walk through. They watched as this young man in plain cloth robes was called up to the hall by Master Zeng, who personally indicated a seat for him alongside the Jiangning General, Provincial Governor, Provincial Judge, Educational Commissioner, and other high officials.

Everyone was puzzled and confused. Zeng Guofan saw this in their eyes, stroked his beard, and began speaking about something completely unrelated.

“Gentlemen, relying on the imperial grace and blessings, the recovery of Jiangning has been nearly a full year. You have probably heard quite a few rumors about what the Hunan Army is like and what the court is like—nothing more than small-minded people catching at shadows, some even with malicious intent. Take this Governor-General’s Office, for instance. It was formerly the pseudo-king’s palace of the Hong rebels, so some people point at the office entrance and say this governor has disloyal intentions—why else would he make this place his residence and office?”

This rumor had circulated in the Two Rivers official circles for a long time. Privately, countless people had discussed it, but it was also an enormous taboo. Usually when discussing it behind closed doors, people would look left and right, lowering their voices, fearing that if careless, they might be overheard by unrelated parties who could pass it to the ears of the Zeng brothers, which would bring disaster upon themselves.

Now hearing Zeng Guofan bring it up himself, everyone was astonished, but also became more vigilant, worried that this governor had heard someone’s accusations and was about to explode on the spot. At this moment, whoever spoke up would be unlucky. The hall above and below suddenly fell into complete silence—not even a cough could be heard.

“This talk isn’t entirely wrong. This governor’s use of this place as the Two Rivers Governor-General’s Office does indeed have a purpose. But my heart is clear as the sun and moon, not at all what others claim about having treasonous and rebellious intentions.” Zeng Guofan spoke slowly. “Heaven has no second sun, the nation has no second ruler.” Hong Xiuquan had once proclaimed himself emperor in Tianjing, so that the Yangtze River’s north and south simultaneously had two emperors—something absolutely intolerable from the unified Confucian perspective. Using the pseudo-king’s palace as the Two Rivers Governor-General’s Office was meant to proclaim to the world that Hong Xiuquan’s palace was at most fit only to serve as a court for ministers of the Qing Dynasty.

After Zeng Guofan finished speaking, everyone suddenly understood and breathed a sigh of relief, smiles appearing on their faces. Just now no one had spoken; now they all worried about speaking too slowly and letting others take all the good flattering words, so everyone rushed to speak.

“Fortunately, His Majesty is wise and the Empress Dowager is in court, understanding that my heart has no ulterior motives. Yesterday a imperial envoy was sent to deliver an imperially bestowed plaque, which happened to arrive just as the office renovation was completed, perfect for hanging in the main hall to express gratitude for the court’s favor.” When the crowd quieted somewhat, Zeng Guofan waved his hand.

Craftsmen who had been prepared behind brought forward a large plaque covered in red silk with colorful decorations. They set up a tall ladder and, under the watchful eyes of all the civil and military officials of the city, hoisted the plaque high.

—Meritorious Service Supporting the State!

“Master Zeng has endured ten years of hardship, winning a hundred battles against enemies, stemming the tide when it was about to collapse, supporting the nation when it was about to fall. Looking across the court’s nobles and important ministers, aside from Prince Gong, only Master Zeng could deserve these four characters.” The Jiangning General had the highest official rank among those seated, so he spoke first, and the entire hall followed with sounds of praise.

“Gentlemen, you flatter me. Like all of you, I am merely a minister of the Qing Dynasty.” Zeng Guofan’s face maintained that expression of being unruffled by favor or disgrace. He again pointed to the screen wall, “As these ‘Eight Precepts for Officials’ say, ‘Serve the sovereign with devotion but without ostentation.’ Loyalty to the sovereign is an eternal matter, fame and merit are external things. I hope to encourage all of you gentlemen together.”

In terms of merit, in today’s Qing Dynasty, no one could compare to Zeng Guofan’s hard work and great achievements. When he spoke of fame and merit as external things, everyone present was completely convinced.

“The return of Jiangnan to imperial territory and the people’s renewed acceptance of Confucian and Mencian teachings are both causes for joy and celebration. However, while the Hunan Army can destroy cities and capture strongholds, it cannot govern people’s livelihoods. Jiangnan is now devastated everywhere. If we want to see the prosperity of a golden age again, we must rely on you magistrates to love the people like your own children, govern them with benevolence, and work more for local recovery and rest, and cultivate talent for the court.”

At this point, Zeng Guofan had already assumed the authority of the Two Rivers Governor-General, directing the conversation toward civil administration. Only then did the officials understand the deeper meaning of his words.

“The talent I speak of is not just scholars and examination candidates who can only read books and write eight-legged essays. The people’s livelihood in Jiangnan is depressed, urgently needing people who understand economics and practical affairs. You gentlemen must be good at listening to and employing such people. Sometimes ten scholars might not be able to feed one household, but one merchant can fill the bellies of people throughout a province. Master Gu, wouldn’t you agree?” Zeng Guofan turned his head with a smile, asking Gu Pingyuan.

Gu Pingyuan had been sitting properly beside them, listening to Zeng Guofan’s speech with considerable emotion. People said Zeng Guofan was a famous minister of Neo-Confucianism and a great sage of the Confucian school. Seeing him today, the people of the Two Rivers were truly fortunate to have such a worthy minister as governor-general. Just from that one sentence “ten scholars might not be able to feed one household,” one could tell that Zeng’s Neo-Confucianism was not the pedantic and unreasonable kind. With him overseeing Jiangnan, it seemed merchants and common people would have many good days ahead.

He was thinking this when Zeng Guofan’s question caught him off guard. Gu Pingyuan knew that in this situation, no matter what, modesty was best: “Sir, you are too kind. This commoner profits from the Two Rivers, so serving the people in return is only proper.”

“Don’t be too modest.” Zeng Guofan loved people who didn’t boast of their achievements. He immediately pointed at him and said, “Gentlemen all know that Jiangnan lacks grain. I asked this Master Gu to help buy 300,000 dan of grain for the hungry people. I originally thought it would require traveling to various provinces, but who knew that in less than a month, the grain had already arrived—not 300,000 dan, but 400,000 dan. At market prices, this grain would cost at least six to seven million taels of silver, but Master Gu spent only 1.7 million taels.”

Everyone knew that the Two Rivers Office’s granaries had received large quantities of relief grain, but no one had imagined that the hero behind this was this smiling, composed young man.

“With the money saved, the Two Rivers Office can build schools, repair bridges, open wasteland, and provide relief. The people of Jiangnan can live in peace. Even if there were another Hong-Yang rebellion, the people wouldn’t swarm to follow them.” Zeng Guofan looked at Gu Pingyuan. This reasoning had originally been eloquently expounded by Gu Pingyuan that day. Zeng Guofan never concealed others’ strengths—though he was a merchant, his words made sense, so he quoted them freely.

To Gu Pingyuan’s ears, this was different. This was a current first-rank Grand Secretary, the renowned Two Rivers Governor-General and Hunan Army commander, who could genuinely appreciate a commoner’s insights about rise and fall, and proclaim them publicly. This magnanimity in accepting people moved Gu Pingyuan. For a moment his heart surged with emotion, and his throat felt somewhat choked with emotion.

At this time, outside the Two Rivers Governor-General’s Office, a master and servant stood at a street corner, looking from afar at the official sedan chairs lined up at the office entrance.

“Miss, will Zeng Guoquan really listen to you? Yesterday scared me to death—literally scared my soul away.” Sixi said with lingering fear.

Su Zixuan glanced at her: “You didn’t die, and your soul is still here.”

“I don’t dare joke anymore.” Sixi said with a bitter face. “When Zeng Guoquan glared yesterday, I remembered how he looked when he killed Li Xiucheng—like a fierce demon. When he slammed the table, my legs shook uncontrollably.”

“If he really wanted to kill us, he wouldn’t have been huffing and puffing with anger.” Su Zixuan said dismissively.

That day when Bai Yimei returned from the Grand Canal Governor’s Office, she immediately found Su Zixuan: “The canal gang matter is fine—accounts have been settled with the Grand Canal Governor’s Office. I came only to tell you that your scheme has been broken by Gu Pingyuan.” Her pretty face showed no expression.

After hearing the whole story, Su Zixuan could only smile bitterly: “This Gu Pingyuan has simply become the bane of my existence. Fortunately he wasn’t there when I designed the plan to kill Sengge Rinchen, or who knows what would have happened.”

Su Zixuan thought it over—she couldn’t let Gu Pingyuan distribute this grain to starving people everywhere. Since ancient times, hunger and cold led people to desperate measures. It was warm spring in April; if the common people filled their bellies again and had the strength to work in the fields, they would settle into farming. How could Jiangnan be thrown into chaos?

“I don’t want stability, only chaos—the more chaotic the better,” she told Sixi. “Chaos breeds change, change breeds rebellion, so this grain must be intercepted and must not reach the people.”

After hearing this, Sixi bit her lower lip and looked elsewhere.

Su Zixuan keenly noticed her reaction and tilted her head slightly: “What’s wrong?”

“Miss, have I ever told you that my parents starved to death in a famine? Mother stuffed the last piece of flatbread into my hands and told me to go to Baoding Prefecture to find relatives. But their family had no grain either, so they sent me to the human market to be sold.” Sixi’s eyes were somewhat red.

“You’ve told me three times,” Su Zixuan said as if chatting casually. “Once when you first entered the palace and came to serve me; once when we fled to the capital and stayed in the Li family residence; the last time was a few days ago when entering the city, when you saw some beggars nearly dead from hunger, took pity on them, and gave away the string of coins you had with you, then came back to tell me about your parents again.”

Sixi nodded stiffly: “Miss has an excellent memory.”

“Do you remember what I told you in Xi’an: There are no pitiable people in this world, only people to be pitied.”

Sixi took a deep breath: “Miss, you haven’t seen people who starved to death. They weren’t killed by hunger—they ate dirt and tree bark, each with a belly swollen like a drum. They knew eating it would kill them, but they still had to swallow it. You are learned and well-read—you’ve heard of ‘exchanging children to eat,’ but have you seen it with your own eyes? When I was small, my playmate next door was Ling’er. Her father, whom I called Uncle Li, was such a kind man. In good years, whenever I went to his house, he would bring out a bowl of fragrant noodle fish for me. Half a year into the famine, he came to my house with Ling’er. I was so happy to play with Ling’er in the courtyard. After a while, I heard Mother crying loudly, rushing out from the inner room and holding me while wailing. Father and Uncle Li also came out. Father sighed and shook his head at Uncle Li, who then led Ling’er away.”

Sixi’s usually smiling face showed a wooden expression: “The next day, someone from a neighboring village came to Uncle Li’s house and took Ling’er away, leaving behind a little boy. After another half day, the smell of meat suddenly wafted from Uncle Li’s house. It made me so hungry that tears came to my eyes, and I wanted to go beg for a bite, but Father and Mother held onto me tightly and wouldn’t let me leave the house.” She looked up at Su Zixuan. “Miss is so clever, you must have guessed what happened.”

Su Zixuan nodded but didn’t look at Sixi again. Instead, she opened the window and gazed at distant Zhong Mountain.

Sixi stared blankly at Su Zixuan’s beautiful profile. Since following this young lady, she had never spoken half a word of contradiction. She herself didn’t know what would happen next.

After a full quarter-hour, Su Zixuan suddenly said: “Go prepare the carriage. I need to visit the Jiangsu Provincial Governor’s Office.”

Sixi nodded silently. As she passed by Su Zixuan’s side, Su Zixuan suddenly spoke again: “Sixi!”

“Miss, do you have orders?”

Su Zixuan’s voice was like cold wind blowing through a doorway in the depths of winter: “I swore an oath, abandoned my former name, and resolved not to be a woman anymore, precisely so I wouldn’t be soft-hearted like a woman. What I want is revenge, and only revenge. As long as my great revenge is achieved, I can be crushed to pieces, so I will never pity anyone.” She gripped Sixi’s pointed chin and stared at her coldly. “What you just said, you can say a second time, a third time, or even keep saying it forever. But I only listened this last time, and what I just said, I also only say this last time. Do you understand?”

Sixi looked at her mistress’s merciless eyes, feeling as if ice had formed in her heart. She could only indicate with her eyes, nodding slightly.

Sixi accompanied Su Zixuan to the Jiangsu Provincial Governor’s Office to request an audience with Zeng Guoquan. As soon as they met, Su Zixuan openly admitted she was Sushun’s daughter and produced clan genealogy records that should have been kept in the Imperial Clan Court. Zeng Guoquan never expected that Sushun, who had already been beheaded and his property confiscated, still had such a daughter living in exile. But Su Zixuan could recite from beginning to end the letters the Zeng brothers had once written to Sushun, leaving him no choice but to believe.

When Sushun was in power, he particularly valued Han ministers like Zeng Guofan, while looking down on Manchu bannermen. This was precisely the main reason why when he was executed in the capital, no Manchu nobles were willing to plead for him. Conversely, the Zeng brothers felt grateful for his recognition and appreciation, often sighing when they spoke of Sushun. Now that the deceased’s daughter appeared before him, Zeng Guoquan was quite generous, ordering his accounting secretary to bring a banknote for three thousand taels and place it before Su Zixuan.

“Your father’s matter is no longer mentioned by anyone now. You seem to no longer need to hide and suffer such hardship.” Zeng Guoquan looked at Su Zixuan dressed in men’s clothing. “However, I heard that the Empress Dowager still harbors resentment toward your father. Take this money and choose some remote city to live in.”

Su Zixuan was stunned for a moment, then suddenly burst into loud laughter, pointing at Zeng Guoquan until she laughed to tears.

Zeng Guoquan was naturally hot-tempered, but patiently asked: “What is so amusing about this?”

“Of course I must laugh.” Su Zixuan said, “You think I came to beg for a living? Quite the contrary—I came remembering that your Zeng family once had good relations with my father, specifically to warn you and give you and your muddled elder brother a way to survive.”

Zeng Guoquan was the ninth son, thirteen full years younger than Zeng Guofan. From childhood he had been strictly controlled by his elder brother. Later when Zeng Guofan passed the imperial examination and became a Hanlin academician, fellow townspeople revered him like a god, not to mention that now Zeng Guofan was a governor-general second only to the emperor. This was the first time in his life he heard someone call his elder brother “muddled.” Finding it novel, he wasn’t offended but instead asked: “What nonsense are you spouting? What is this about?”

“Exactly what I said—giving your Zeng family a way to survive.”

Seeing Zeng Guoquan laugh in anger, Su Zixuan said calmly: “You probably think the Zeng family has just performed unprecedented service for the court and can steadily pass down titles and wealth for generations. This is completely wrong. Zeng Guofan’s disaster is right before his eyes, and the Zeng family will be uprooted entirely. Such tremendous catastrophe, and you can still laugh.”

“Nonsense!” Zeng Guoquan’s anger was finally provoked, and he slammed the desk heavily.

But Su Zixuan didn’t give him a chance to continue his outburst, speaking rapidly: “After pacifying the Three Feudatories, to prevent Han people from becoming too powerful, Emperor Kangxi issued a special edict that ‘non-imperial relatives cannot be made kings.’ But Emperor Xianfeng specifically promised ‘those who defeat the Long-haired rebels will be granted royal titles.’

The court is now in a dilemma—granting kingship violates ancestral law, but not granting it violates the late emperor’s will. The imperial edict is delayed because the court fears the Hunan Army. If they intended to grant kingship, they would have issued the edict decisively long ago—wouldn’t that be glorious? Having such great merit but no reward shows they worry that after killing one Hong Heavenly King, a Zeng Heavenly King might immediately appear, leaving the court truly helpless. Simply put, the emperor now fears your elder brother Zeng Guofan and doesn’t dare add to his power and influence. Since ancient times, people feared by emperors either seize the throne and ascend to power, or lose their heads with their entire families destroyed. There has never been a third path.”

Su Zixuan glanced meaningfully and saw that Zeng Guoquan’s forehead was already sweating.

“Such things are recorded throughout history. It’s laughable that Zeng Guofan claims to have ‘read ten thousand volumes,’ yet cannot see such an obvious truth. That’s why I call him muddled. When the steel blade reaches his neck and his entire family faces execution, regret will be too late.”

“The court wouldn’t do such things that would chill the hearts of officials and scholars, otherwise who would be willing to serve the court in the future.” Zeng Guoquan argued reluctantly, sounding unconvinced, as if trying to encourage himself.

Su Zixuan stood up and slowly walked to within a foot of Zeng Guoquan, her lips curled in a disdainful cold smile: “Save that talk for others. My father served the court with complete dedication—he was Emperor Xianfeng’s most capable minister and chief among the eight regent ministers. But didn’t the court still kill him without hesitation? Why? Because Empress Cixi and Prince Gong feared my father.”

She stared intently into Zeng Guoquan’s eyes, lightly uttering the words that would break the camel’s back:

“The court now fears Zeng Guofan even more than they once feared Sushun.”

Behind them came the sound of carriage wheels, startling Sixi from her memories. She turned to look and whispered to Su Zixuan: “It’s the Li father and son.”

Su Zixuan hadn’t seen Li Wantang for quite some time. As for Li Qin, to get a batch of convict salt workers for the Lianghuai Salt Fields, he had specifically gone to Shandong to find Sengge Rinchen. Su Zixuan had different purposes but both wanted to kill Chen Yucheng, so she had helped fan the flames, which could be considered cooperation.

Li Wantang had just returned from the capital. Banner camp riots had delayed him for two days, so he first sent Li An riding swiftly back to deliver news. Today when he just arrived at the dock, Li An was already waiting there, saying that Zeng Guofan had asked Li to come to the Governor-General’s Office for a meeting as soon as he returned.

Li Wantang inquired and learned that officials from throughout the province were at the Governor-General’s Office offering congratulations. This opportunity couldn’t be missed, so without even going home, he brought Li Qin and hurried over.

The broad street in front of the Governor-General’s Office could accommodate sedan chairs, but carriages weren’t permitted to enter—they could only stop at the street corner. As soon as Li Wantang got out of the carriage, the first thing he saw was Su Zixuan nodding slightly in acknowledgment.

Li Wantang was momentarily stunned, then showed a barely perceptible smile but didn’t stop, walking straight ahead. Li Qin wanted to chat a few words with Su Zixuan, but Li Wantang walked quickly, so he could only smile apologetically at the master and servant pair before hurrying to catch up.

“Oh, what perfect timing.” Hearing the doorkeeper’s report, Zeng Guofan was very pleased and ordered: “Open the middle gate and invite Circuit Intendant Li to enter.”

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire assembly was again shocked. Even the Jiangning General became somewhat restless, and everyone looked toward the office entrance with complex expressions.

When a subordinate visits a superior, they traditionally enter and exit through side gates. Sometimes when the subordinate is elderly and meritorious, the superior shows respect by opening the middle gate when seeing them off, called “soft entry, hard exit.” Entering and exiting both through the middle gate has only two possibilities: either the visitor has a higher official rank than the master of this office, or at least equal rank; or it’s an imperial envoy sent by the court to announce an edict. But this Li Wantang was merely a merchant with exclusive rights to operate the Lianghuai Salt Fields, and his fourth-rank circuit intendant title was purchased through donations. Compared to those officials who studied for ten years in cold poverty to enter the golden halls through proper channels, he was far inferior. Yet Governor-General Zeng wanted to treat him with such courtesy—this was truly rare in official circles.

Li Wantang regularly visited the residences of princes and great ministers, so he naturally knew this protocol and was quite surprised. But regardless, Zeng Guofan’s intention to value him was obvious, so he clearly displayed gratitude and humble fear on his face.

“Sir, the matter you entrusted to me has been completed. I just returned from the capital today and came to report immediately after disembarking.” Li Wantang bowed deeply.

“Well done!” When Zeng Guofan praised people, the shorter his words, the more appreciation he showed. The shortest time was when his ninth brother reported victory in capturing the Tianjing rebel stronghold, earning him a single “Good!”

“Since Hunan Army generals are all present, you might as well publicly explain what business you handled in the capital.”

Li Wantang looked around and made a comprehensive bow to all sides: “Gentlemen, Master Zeng sent me to the capital to handle the matter of reimbursement for military expenses used over these ten years.”

This matter was closely related to everyone present. The commanding generals knew the score—these years they had falsified accounts and drawn empty pay, pocketing considerable money. Now that “final accounting” time had come, they worried about account discrepancies, having to go to the capital for questioning, or even paying out of their own pockets to balance accounts. Local officials also knew this reimbursement involved countless millions of taels. If examined seriously, local garrisons would scrape the earth to repay debts, certainly causing popular discontent. Officials caught in the middle would not only suffer but might face civil unrest if they handled things poorly, possibly losing their positions and facing punishment. So hearing that Li Wantang had handled this matter, everyone’s attention focused on him.

“I found several friends in the capital and fortunately didn’t disappoint Master Zeng’s trust, managing to handle the matter smoothly and successfully.”

Bao Chao was also in the crowd. He was Zeng Guofan’s beloved general, and everyone knew he was illiterate, so no one blamed him for breaches of etiquette. While others didn’t dare speak in this setting, he immediately said in his rough voice: “Circuit Intendant Li, what do you mean by ‘handled’? How much bribe money did the big and small officials in the six boards demand? Let me be clear—if you’re in cahoots with them and let those bastards set their prices, I don’t have money to pay.”

Li Wantang smiled: “General Bao, please rest assured. As for money, you gentlemen don’t need to pay a single copper coin. The court has agreed to waive this reimbursement entirely. In other words, this matter is completely written off, and the account books you’ve kept for ten years can all be burned.”

The news came too suddenly and unexpectedly. Almost no one could believe Li Wantang’s words, and Gu Pingyuan also showed astonishment.

Zeng Guofan stroked his beard and smiled: “Now you know why I opened the middle gate to welcome Circuit Intendant Li.”

Just now everyone was unconvinced, but now they were not only completely convinced but looked at Li Wantang with admiring and grateful eyes, as if he were a hero who had just rescued them from enemy siege. This was truly a great achievement! For the Hunan Army, what Li Wantang had accomplished was no less than capturing famous cities and beheading rebel leaders—perhaps even greater. Everyone present knew that Ministry of Revenue and War officials were slippery as oil. Going to the capital for reimbursement was truly like being skinned alive. For a major reimbursement like this one, without grinding away for three to five years, without losing twenty or thirty official positions, without spending tens of millions of taels of silver, and without grinding several people to death, it absolutely couldn’t be completed.

Yet such a tremendous trouble, Li Wantang had casually “found a few friends” and managed to bypass the six ministry officials, gain the court’s approval, and completely resolve the matter.

This man was miraculous!

Li Wantang’s purpose was completely achieved. He had demonstrated his outstanding capabilities, won popularity in Jiangning official circles, and made everyone present indebted to him. In the spotlight of admiring gazes, he sat with Li Qin in the side seats of the main hall, directly facing Gu Pingyuan.

Li Qin had been busy managing salt shop business throughout Jiangning recently. Things weren’t going smoothly—first, illegal salt was rampant, as common people who could buy cheap illegal salt would never buy official salt; second, establishing salt shops in all the major water and land transportation hubs and important cities throughout Jiangnan provinces required an unimaginable amount of money.

Li Qin had privately cursed Wang Tiangui countless times for this. That old fox had long known that building salt shops required huge expenses, while salt fields were ready-made, so when choosing between the two, he had picked the salt fields early.

After months of bustling about, Li Qin had only managed to build two shops in Jiangning, one each in Suzhou and Wuxi, and had rented or leased storefronts in Taizhou, Yangzhou, and Jiaxing to save money. Even so, calculating carefully, he had spent nearly two months’ income from the Li family’s Lianghuai salt business, making Li Qin’s heart ache terribly.

For this reason, he was quite dissatisfied with his father. The Li family never lost money in business, but now the tens of thousands of salt workers were found by themselves, yet Wang Tiangui took them over without a word. The salt fields were also obtained by the Li family from the court, but Wang Tiangui was operating them. Looking at it from all angles, his family only got the empty title of managing salt shops, and they had to pay for building these shops themselves. Wasn’t this like “a maid making wedding clothes—doing the work but not getting to wear them”?

The more Li Qin thought about it, the less profitable it seemed. The more he worked, the more annoyed he became. Seeing his father go to the capital on business, he also decided to slack off, going to Wuxi to find the “Jiangshan boats” that burned through thousands of gold in one night, staying for over ten days. The Wuxi boat girls not only made excellent boat cuisine, but their other skills also served Li Qin so well he forgot to return home. Li Wantang disembarked today, while Li Qin had only left the “Jiangshan boat” at the dock last night, embracing two beautiful boat girls.

Seeing the Li family so highly regarded in Jiangning official circles, Li Qin naturally felt proud. Just as he was feeling pleased, he glanced across and his eyes widened in shock.

Directly across from him was his greatest rival—Gu Pingyuan!

Li Qin was momentarily stunned, then looked at Gu Pingyuan with a contemptuous smile. He glanced at the officials below in the hall, then turned back to look at Gu Pingyuan, his gaze full of provocation.

Gu Pingyuan understood his meaning—nothing more than wanting him to see that the Li family, whether in the capital or in the Two Rivers, was the cream of the merchant class, a formidable force that the official circles couldn’t do without.

Gu Pingyuan was indeed quite shocked in his heart. If their positions were reversed, he believed Li Wantang could also have found a way to procure this batch of grain, and while he himself could minimize the departmental fees demanded by the six boards, to write it all off completely was truly inconceivable. At this moment, if asked who was the businessman in the Qing Dynasty most skilled at dealing with officials, Gu Pingyuan would unhesitatingly point to Li Wantang. But while he privately acknowledged this, his expression was another matter entirely. Gu Pingyuan deliberately acted completely indifferent, not even looking at Li Qin, picking up his teacup to take a sip and half-closing his eyes to savor the tea.

Li Qin hated this expression on Gu Pingyuan’s face most of all. Ever since they’d met outside the Pass, Li Qin had constantly wanted to surpass this man, to make him understand from the bottom of his heart that a single hair of the capital merchant’s young master was more precious than the life of a stinking convict. But unfortunately, “wanting to compete but failing to,” he had repeatedly made a fool of himself before Gu Pingyuan, losing to him time and again, while this Gu Pingyuan always maintained that “matter-of-course” expression, making Li Qin grit his teeth in hatred.

Because this resentment was hard to swallow, Li Qin disregarded that this was the Two Rivers Governor-General’s Office and suddenly spoke up: “Master Gu, how is that paramour of yours, the English King’s consort? Now that Prince Seng has been defeated in battle, she probably didn’t follow him to a fragrant death, did she?” He chuckled a couple of times as he spoke.

Official circles had their rules—in this setting, everyone had to watch Zeng Guofan’s expression and direct their words to him. Li Qin, ignoring everything, suddenly threw out this comment directed at Gu Pingyuan. Li Wantang was startled and immediately furious, but this wasn’t the place to discipline his son, so he could only bow from his seat: “My unruly son doesn’t understand propriety and speaks recklessly. I beg your pardon, sir.”

Prince Seng had taken Chen Yucheng’s wife as a concubine—Zeng Guofan had heard of this matter and strongly disapproved, considering it a stain on official conduct and corrupting to national law. Hearing Li Qin’s words, he asked in surprise: “Master Gu, do you know that pseudo-consort?”

Of course Gu Pingyuan knew Li Qin was trying to anger him and smear his reputation. In front of so many officials, it would be best if he could immediately distance himself, but he couldn’t do it: “Sir, she is also the daughter of a good family, only because she was captured by the Long-haired rebels, she had no choice but to submit to serving the rebels. It’s truly pitiable.”

Li Qin pretended not to see his father’s restraining glare and said loudly: “Master Gu, don’t forget that you’re a convict who privately escaped through the Pass. What right do you have to call others rebels?” As soon as these words left his mouth, both above and below in the hall immediately buzzed with discussion, and even Zeng Guofan frowned in confusion.

Seeing this situation, Gu Pingyuan knew that hesitation would only make things worse, so he decided to tell everything. He recounted how he had privately escaped through the Pass, was later captured in the capital, how the court had ordered him to redeem his crimes by inducing Chen Yucheng to surrender, and how he had later helped the official army procure grain and provisions, persuaded Cheng Xueqi to surrender, and lifted the siege of Hefei, performing great service and thus recovering his status as a commoner.

Relating these events one by one truly stunned everyone present. Zeng Guofan nodded: “Young as you are, you’ve certainly had rich experiences. Since the court has pardoned your crimes, you’re no different from an ordinary citizen. So you’re saying that Chen Yucheng’s execution in Shouzhou was also due to your counsel to Prince Seng?”

Gu Pingyuan’s heart felt as if it had been stabbed by a needle. Before he could respond, he heard Li Qin say with some pride: “Reporting to the Commander, that rebel chief Chen Yucheng’s execution was because I saw that the Long-haired rebels’ decline was evident, so I rushed through the night to Shandong to seek audience with the Prince. I detailed the bandit suppression situation in Huizhou, and only then did the Prince bring his troops, first pacifying Miao Peilin, then pretending to accept surrender and luring Chen Yucheng into Shouzhou to capture and kill him in one stroke.” He glanced across at his opponent. “As for this Gu Pingyuan, he was probably thinking of that surnamed Bai pseudo-consort and hesitated to act, throwing all court orders to the back of his mind.”

He thought that saying all this would both elevate his own status and make everyone look at him with new eyes, while also giving Gu Pingyuan a severe blow before Zeng Guofan. Little did he know he was completely wrong. When Zeng Guofan had initially received reports that Prince Seng had first accepted surrender then massacred in Shouzhou, he was very displeased. He believed that Prince Seng had used the court’s name to accept Chen Yucheng’s surrender, then betrayed his word—this disregarded the court’s dignity. Moreover, this would mean that in the future, territories that the Hunan Army could recover through persuasion would all have to end in bloody battles, and the implications of this were enormous. Zeng Guofan had told Xue Fucheng that if anyone other than Prince Seng had done this, he would certainly memorialize to impeach them severely.

Today Li Qin’s self-proclaimed “merit” only made Zeng Guofan frown slightly, while Gu Pingyuan’s compromise for the sake of childhood friendship earned his considerable appreciation. Only as Two Rivers Governor-General, Zeng Guofan could not possibly show an attitude of supporting Gu Pingyuan and opposing Li Qin at this banquet.

He was still pondering silently when he heard Gu Pingyuan say slowly: “Since ancient times, killing those who surrender brings misfortune. Miao Peilin died at Prince Seng’s hands, Prince Seng perished in the campaign against the Nian rebels. As for the instigator, I fear divine retribution is not far off.”

Though he spoke slowly, his words carried great weight. Rather than speaking for the official army, it sounded more like he was defending Chen Yucheng. Everyone who heard was startled, and looking at Gu Pingyuan’s expression, they were even more surprised.

They saw Gu Pingyuan’s face was ashen, his eyes glaring fiercely at Li Qin as if flames were shooting from them.

Gu Pingyuan had never understood why Prince Seng, who was supposed to be suppressing the Nian rebels in Shandong, had suddenly appeared in Huizhou. If Prince Seng hadn’t come, Miao Peilin wouldn’t have dared to move against Chen Yucheng even with ten times the courage. So everything had been ruined by Li Qin’s interference—if not for his meddling, Bai Yimei wouldn’t have fallen into such a miserable state. Thinking of this, Gu Pingyuan flew into a rage, really wanting to smash the teacup in his hand right into Li Qin’s face and fight him to the death.

Xue Fucheng, Secretary Xue, was accompanying the guests on the side. Seeing Gu and Li glaring at each other like fighting cocks, if they actually came to blows in the main hall of the Two Rivers Governor’s Office, that would be a huge joke. Xue Fucheng was a clever man whose mind worked like clockwork—his eyes turned and he immediately diverted the topic.

“Sir, there’s a satisfying matter that I haven’t had time to report to you yet. That Chen fellow who hoarded grain and held back sales, manipulating prices—all his 100,000 dan of grain has been sold.”

“Oh, selling 100,000 dan all at once—who bought it?” Zeng Guofan asked with considerable interest.

“Sir, don’t ask who the buyer was first. Do you know how much per dan that grain was sold for?”

“Hmph, I heard that Chen fellow claimed he wouldn’t sell for less than twenty taels per dan.”

“Well, he slapped his own face—this batch of grain was sold for two taels per dan.”

“Two taels of silver?” Even Zeng Guofan was surprised, and the other officials showed even more incredulous expressions. Two taels of silver per dan of grain—that was the grain price when Jiangnan had a bumper harvest. Right now every household lacked grain, and Chen’s grain had been transported from other provinces—how could it be sold so cheaply?

“This shows Master Gu’s formidable capabilities.” Xue Fucheng was a secretary who knew people from all walks of life and could hear street gossip. He had long known the whole story of this matter and greatly admired Gu Pingyuan. He now related the entire affair from beginning to end.

Ever since taking that batch of 300,000 dan of grain from the Grand Canal Governor’s Office, Peng Haiwan and others had advised Gu Pingyuan to quickly transport the grain boats to Jiangning to avoid complications. This was a prudent and seasoned view that Gu Pingyuan readily accepted, but his method was completely different from Peng Haiwan’s suggestion. He transported this batch of grain boats to the naval camp dock, found that old sailor called “Oar Master,” had him act as intermediary, and gave the naval commander a benefit of 3,000 taels of silver in exchange for temporarily guarding this grain.

This was a foolproof arrangement—whether Yangtze River pirates or Taihu Lake bandits, no one dared touch anything belonging to the naval camp. With no worries about the rear, Gu Pingyuan could perform his great transformation. He took 100,000 taels of silver from Peng Haiwan, found Chen, and claimed to be a major grain merchant from Qingzhou grain market in Anhui, planning to purchase a batch of grain from him.

Chen initially didn’t think much of Gu Pingyuan, saying business of just a few boats wasn’t worth his attention. But when Gu Pingyuan produced the 100,000 tael banknote, calling it a deposit, Chen’s attitude immediately changed. Gu Pingyuan asked for 100,000 dan of grain right off. Chen expected haggling, but Gu Pingyuan was extremely straightforward, saying they’d calculate at the highest market price when the grain ships arrived. Chen calculated that Jiangnan was experiencing grain disaster—the longer he waited, the higher the price would rise. Rather than fix the price now, waiting until the grain ships arrived would only mean higher prices, so he also agreed readily.

Chen’s grain had long been prepared and stored in Guangdong granaries. He hired ships from the Sand Boat Gang, loaded and set sail, transporting from the Yangtze River estuary to the river surface not far from Xiaguan dock, waiting for Gu Pingyuan to inspect the goods and pay.

But he waited and waited—first no one came, then still no one came. After waiting a full five days, instead of Gu Pingyuan, a group of naval camp soldiers arrived in military ships patrolling the river, saying they were preventing Long-haired remnants from hiding in ships, requiring all vessels to dock and wait, with violators to be charged with secretly communicating with the Long-haired rebels.

In the past when encountering such situations, Chen would treat the commanding officer to a fancy dinner, at most spending 100 taels of silver to settle matters. But this time nothing worked—they insisted on handling everything officially. Chen had no choice but to order his boat workers to weigh anchor and move the ships to shore.

This docking was trouble indeed. That very night, starving people from over a dozen nearby villages rushed over demanding food. When refused, they wouldn’t leave, and they built fires and set up cooking areas beside the boats. Those fire pits were less than ten feet from the grain ships—if wind blew sparks and even the tiniest bit fell on the ships, both ships and grain would burn completely. Moreover, these starving people wouldn’t leave day or night. If they got desperate enough to riot and rob grain, though officials could be notified afterward, the immediate loss was certain.

Seeing the bad situation, Chen immediately wanted the boat workers to raise anchor again and move the ships back to mid-river. Who would have thought that overnight, these boat workers had all disappeared without a trace, leaving only Chen’s assistants to watch the grain ships.

Without boat workers, the ships couldn’t sail. Chen was frantic with worry. After inquiring, he learned that the local Canal Gang had issued word: anyone in the river business who dared work Chen’s boats would be going against the Canal Gang. Throughout the canal system, on both sides of the Yangtze, anyone in the water transport business didn’t dare offend the Canal Gang. So once this word got out, even if Chen offered 100 taels of silver per day, no one dared come row or pole his boats.

Just when Chen was at his wit’s end, Gu Pingyuan appeared leisurely. Chen was like seeing a lifesaving straw—he quickly invited him to Tongqing Tower, Jiangning’s largest restaurant, ordering the finest bird’s nest banquet just for Gu Pingyuan.

At this point, Chen had lost all his arrogance and was willing to reduce prices as long as he could sell this batch of grain smoothly. Even so, when Gu Pingyuan made his offer, Chen nearly fainted. Five taels per dan? Chen thought that if he agreed to this, the business would be too humiliating—when he returned to Guangdong, he’d have no face to see his colleagues again, so he didn’t even consider this quote. Gu Pingyuan wasn’t in a hurry either, just telling him that if he waited another two days, the price of this grain would drop further—he shouldn’t regret it then.

Chen wasn’t stupid either. He could see that behind the naval patrol, the Canal Gang driving people away, and even the starving people surrounding the ships, Gu Pingyuan was probably manipulating everything from the shadows. He guessed correctly—the one leading the naval patrol was indeed “Oar Master.” The story of Gu Pingyuan not betraying his friend’s trust had spread throughout the naval camp. Everyone who heard about it wanted to see that yellow jacket, and they praised Gu Pingyuan’s character endlessly. So when Gu Pingyuan asked them to help deal with the black-hearted Chen, these soldiers who usually demanded money immediately agreed without a word. When Gu Pingyuan wanted to pay them for their help, they firmly refused.

As for the Canal Gang, Jiang Tai owed Gu Pingyuan a great favor, and the grain selling incident had been almost like breaking a promise, leaving him feeling guilty. When Gu Pingyuan came asking him to help drive away the boat workers from Chen’s grain ships, this was an easy matter for the Canal Gang, so he naturally agreed without hesitation.

As for inciting the starving people to surround the ships, Gu Pingyuan didn’t appear at all—he sent tea shop assistants to go village by village announcing that Chen’s grain ships had docked. Before half a day had passed, villagers had all gathered at the riverside.

After Chen figured out all these schemes, he was furious. He was also someone who had been running businesses for years, so he steeled his heart—he’d rather sell this batch of grain to other grain merchants than to Gu Pingyuan. Moreover, he figured that by gathering grain merchants together and having them bid on the spot, surely each bid would be higher than the last, with the highest bidder winning—probably not much less than twenty taels.

His calculation couldn’t be called unclever, but Gu Pingyuan’s strategy against him was a series of interconnected schemes, with countermeasures for Chen’s every move. The 100,000 dan of grain indeed had great appeal—over ten major grain merchants gathered at Xiaguan dock. Chen displayed grain samples on the spot, just preparing to have the grain merchants bid, when suddenly the river surface was filled with thousands of competing sails and countless ships arriving. Grain boats docked one after another at the pier. The originally quiet dock seemed to magically produce a large crowd of laborers and grain carts. People flowed up and down ships continuously, and grain cart after grain cart was filled instantly. Prefecture office clerks weighed and called out numbers, stamped with granary seals, and the grain went directly from dock to granary.

All present were grain merchants who could estimate with their eyes how much grain these boats had brought. By the time Chen recovered from his stupefaction, the grain merchants had long since disappeared without a trace. Only Gu Pingyuan sat calmly across from him.

“Master, Master Gu, where did this grain come from?” Chen’s forehead was streaming with sweat as he stammered.

“Naturally it comes from where it comes and goes where it goes.” Gu Pingyuan held a handful of grain in his hand. At this moment he wasn’t in a hurry to discuss business. “Heaven has the virtue of preserving life, so it bestows five grains upon the human world. Who knew there would be black-hearted merchants who, greedy for excessive profits and disregarding human life, would use this life-saving grain to exchange for blood-stained silver.”

Chen stared at Gu Pingyuan like a wooden chicken. With this batch of grain arriving, his own grain had become worthless. If he could transport it back to Guangdong that would be good, but given the current situation, he feared losing everything.

“Master Gu, please do a good deed and save me.” Chen’s entire fortune was invested in this grain. The more he thought, the more frightened he became. Not caring about face anymore, he fell to his knees with a thud. “Save you? When you tied those children to the ship’s mast and pushed them into the water, who came to save them?” Gu Pingyuan raised his eyebrows with some anger.

“Yes, yes, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have been greedy and forgotten righteousness! Master Gu, spare me this once—I’ll kowtow to you!”

Gu Pingyuan snorted: “I came here today planning to give you a way out. Otherwise, when the government opens its granaries tomorrow to distribute grain, your grain prices will fall even further. But times have changed—the five taels per dan price from a few days ago can’t be mentioned anymore. Look at the grain from these boats—they’ve already filled the prefecture granary. ‘Things are precious when rare,’ but your batch of grain can no longer be called ‘rare’ for Jiangnan, let alone ‘precious.'”

“Then… four taels?” Chen asked tentatively.

“Two taels!” Gu Pingyuan decisively placed a 100,000 tael banknote on the table. “Together with the deposit, exactly 200,000 taels for your 100,000 dan of grain.”

“Haha!” When Xue Fucheng recounted to this point, the entire hall burst into laughter. The Two Rivers Provincial Governor had wanted to deal with this Chen fellow for a long time, but though he was black-hearted, he hadn’t violated Qing law. Moreover, during Jiangnan’s grain shortage, rashly punishing grain merchants from other provinces raised concerns about unintended consequences. Gu Pingyuan’s handling of this profiteer naturally earned widespread approval. Even Zeng Guofan felt extremely satisfied and frequently nodded at his interconnected schemes.

“Good, good! Luring with profit, trapping with schemes, conquering with power—truly merchant warfare tactics.”

With such praise from Zeng Guofan, Gu Pingyuan couldn’t help but be tactful. Moreover, arguing with Li Qin at this time wouldn’t yield any results. He set this matter aside and respectfully rose to bow: “Sir, you flatter me. That Chen fellow brought this result upon himself. A gentleman should ‘maintain fullness while guarding against excess.’ He didn’t have this measuring stick in his heart—his greed was boundless. Even if he hadn’t failed this time, sooner or later he would have lost everything. I was still soft-hearted, leaving him with capital. Having learned this lesson, returning to Guangdong to do honest business might not be ‘the old man lost his horse—how do we know it’s not a blessing?'”

After hearing this, the smile on Zeng Guofan’s face gradually faded. He looked at Gu Pingyuan carefully once more, then faced the hall: “This Master Gu speaks well! Though he speaks of commercial principles, how is this not also official righteousness? ‘Maintain fullness while guarding against excess’—let us all encourage each other with this.”

The officials naturally agreed in unison. Zeng Guofan was in good spirits and smiled: “The reconstruction of Jiangnan is a heavy and long-term responsibility, but with the foundation laid by Master Li and Master Gu, long-term peace and stability can be expected. You have truly worked hard and achieved great merit. This governor must reward you. Tell me yourselves—what rewards do you want?”

Li Wantang had been planning this for a long time. He carried a pre-prepared list in his chest, which he now took out and presented.

“This official operates salt fields in Lianghuai. Initially I was at a complete loss—no salt workers and no salt shops. As for production and sales, without salt workers there could be no ‘production,’ and without salt shops there could be no ‘sales.’ Despite owning hundreds of li of salt fields, I was completely helpless. Now the salt worker issue has been resolved, but salt shops remain problematic. Site selection and construction cannot be accomplished overnight. With just the few salt shops we have now, handling large-scale sales is truly difficult. If salt cannot be sold, salt taxes naturally cannot be paid. Salt taxes account for more than half of national revenue, and rebuilding Jiangnan depends entirely on tax silver, therefore…” Li Wantang glanced at Zeng Guofan, seeing him listening while carefully examining the list, then continued, “This official sent people to conduct field investigations at various water and land terminals and major commercial cities. We discovered that some residences and shops, due to the Long-haired rebellion, have been abandoned. Upon closer examination, we selected properties where the owners’ entire families had perished with no heirs within the five degrees of kinship, choosing one or two from each location and compiling this list. I hope your excellency will graciously approve converting these shops into salt stores, temporarily managed by capital merchants. As for the property values, this official plans to gradually repay from salt field profits.”

By this point Zeng Guofan understood, and looking at the list, it detailed addresses of properties in prefectures, counties, and local docks in Suzhou Prefecture, Changzhou Prefecture, Zhenjiang Prefecture, Songjiang Prefecture, Yangzhou Prefecture, Huai’an Prefecture, Jiujiang Prefecture, Jian Prefecture, and other locations. Counting them, there were over 200 properties, all with documents from local government offices certifying that the owners were dead and original relatives couldn’t be found, all stamped with the seals of the relevant offices.

Since these properties on the list had no identifiable owners, they should reasonably be sold by the government. From the documents, these were all in prime commercial locations. All the land and property deeds together would be worth at least a million taels of silver, and these were ready-made shops requiring no reconstruction—just minor repairs before opening for business. Li Wantang’s appetite was truly enormous, wanting to swallow them all in one gulp.

If Li Wantang hadn’t rendered such great service to the Hunan Army, even making such a request, Zeng Guofan would never have agreed. Moreover, this list couldn’t have been prepared overnight. Never mind other things—just getting the connections with local governments and obtaining those official seals required considerable effort and cultivation. It appeared Li Wantang had prepared to have the court completely dismiss the “reimbursement case” even before going to the capital. This man truly deserved the four words “deeply scheming and calculating.”

For capital merchants to take away so many houses and shops all at once without paying a single tael of silver—in the Two Rivers, only Zeng Guofan could make such a decision. Considering Li Wantang’s merit and the letter that had just arrived by express horse the day before, personally written by Grand Secretary Baojun, subtly speaking for Prince Gong and highly praising Li Wantang, Zeng Guofan pondered for a moment. After weighing the pros and cons, he handed the list to Xue Fucheng.

“Secretary Xue, I’m entrusting this matter to you. As long as they are truly ownerless empty houses as Circuit Intendant Li claims, then temporarily hand them over to capital merchants for management. As for how to determine property values and pay official silver in the future, you and Circuit Intendant Li should draft detailed regulations, making sure the official treasury suffers no loss.”

This established a general principle—as long as capital merchants could pay according to property values without giving censors and officials grounds for criticism, they could use these houses freely. Anyway, Jiangnan’s people’s livelihood was currently depressed—even if these properties were put up for sale, buyers might not be found for a year and a half. Rather than leaving them idle, it was better to let capital merchants operate salt shops. This way there would be salt taxes, this large batch of houses would be effectively sold, and silver would eventually enter the official treasury—why not?

Xue Fucheng took the list and glanced at the densely packed property addresses, privately admiring Li Wantang’s scheming. He had designed a win-win situation and correctly judged that Zeng Guofan was both willing to take responsibility and far-sighted. Other governors-general would never risk being impeached by censors for public matters.

“Thank you, sir.” Li Wantang was also greatly pleased. These locations had been personally selected by his capable chief managers—all at prominent dock locations or on busy commercial streets in prefectural and county seats. Building from scratch would be time-consuming and laborious, not to mention that Li family’s silver was now almost entirely invested in salt fields, making it very difficult to come up with such a large sum.

Now with Zeng Guofan’s nod, everything was resolved. How much trouble this saved, how much silver this saved! The Li family had always relied on official connections for business. Li Qin had never approved of this, but seeing the facts before him, he finally understood why his father had him build salt shops—because in the places he had built, there were no suitable ownerless empty houses available for capital merchants to use. But this wasn’t Li Wantang’s main purpose—otherwise he could have sent a chief manager to build shops. He wanted Li Qin to personally experience how supposedly extremely difficult matters could be accomplished overnight and made easy simply by getting through to government officials.

Li Wantang’s teaching his son through practical experience in the Two Rivers Governor’s Office was more effective than ten thousand words. Seeing Li Qin looking thoughtful, he nodded with satisfaction.

“Courtesy demands reciprocity. Since your excellency shows such consideration for capital merchants, capital merchants cannot fail to contribute to the locality.” Li Wantang stood up and said sincerely, “Jiangnan has experienced years of warfare, and coastal sea walls have fallen into disrepair. Now with tidal season approaching, if we suffer another tidal disaster with farmland flooded, crops for the next several years would be hard to guarantee, making things even worse for the starving people. The Li family is willing to provide silver to completely repair all sea walls. I hope your excellency will approve.”

This was a virtuous and righteous deed. The officials above and below in the hall naturally knew the condition of their provinces’ and prefectures’ sea walls—almost everywhere was dilapidated, barely maintained through makeshift repairs. For hundreds of li of coastline with over thirty sea wall sections, it would require several hundred thousand taels of silver. This Li family was truly wealthy and powerful, actually volunteering to undertake the construction.

Everyone else was praising, but only Zeng Guofan saw through Li Wantang’s thinking. Rather than saying repairing sea walls was to protect farmland, it would be more accurate to say it was to protect salt fields. If seawater flooded the salt fields, that would truly be complete crop failure. However, like the previous “salt shop transaction,” this was also a win-win situation for government and capital merchants—he might as well hear what Li Wantang would request next.

Sure enough, Li Wantang pledged to complete the sea walls within three months, then changed the subject, hoping the government would provide convenience for transporting materials by cart and boat, neither taxing nor creating difficulties. Zeng Guofan readily agreed to this condition. But regarding another matter Li Wantang mentioned, he had to consider carefully.

“Conscripting laborers…” Historically, excessive taxation and forced conscription of civilian workers were sources of chaos—the lessons of the Qin Dynasty couldn’t be ignored.

“How could we force conscription!” Li Wantang’s face showed the expression of someone willing to risk direct remonstration. “The people are all suffering. If capital merchants forced conscription at this time, wouldn’t that make us bandits preying on the people? Naturally we must pay wages. Never mind other things—three meals a day must be filling to give strength for work, plus wages must be paid to support families.”

If this could truly be done, it would be another virtuous deed. Three months of work could save countless lives. The court had edicts forbidding forced conscription of civilian workers, but using work for relief was not forbidden. In such matters, regional officials had discretionary authority, and Zeng Guofan also nodded in agreement.

The Two Rivers Governor was so accommodating, not rejecting a single proposal, with both matters settled. Li Wantang was naturally completely satisfied. Though travel-weary, he was in high spirits. Li Qin beside him also felt very excited, sitting up straight in his seat with a proud expression, constantly glancing at Gu Pingyuan across from him.

“Master Gu, your grain purchasing this time was also no small achievement. This governor must also reward you. Do you have any requests? Feel free to speak them publicly.”

Zeng Guofan thought that Gu Pingyuan’s business wasn’t as large as the capital merchants’, and his scope wasn’t as broad, so even if he had requests, they wouldn’t be more difficult than what Li Wantang had proposed. He thought this way, and others thought similarly, all expecting that whatever Gu Pingyuan requested would be nothing more than opening a few more tea shops or monopolizing the government’s tea business.

“This commoner has no other requests, only hoping to follow the example of the capital Li family in doing good deeds for the locality. I request your excellency to give me half of the sea wall construction that the Li family has undertaken—that would fully satisfy this gracious sentiment.”

As soon as these words left his mouth, the hundreds of people above and below in the Governor’s Office all thought they had misheard. Even people like Li Wantang who understood human nature and Xue Fucheng who was well-versed in human sentiment stared at Gu Pingyuan in stunned silence.

Li Wantang’s willingness to spend money and effort to repair the sea walls was to use the conveniences and civilian workers provided by the government to prevent seawater from eroding and flooding the salt fields. But repairing sea walls could also protect farmland and defend against tidal disasters, saving the government this expense—it was a win-win situation for officials and merchants that any perceptive person could see at a glance.

However, Gu Pingyuan was in the tea business. Not to mention that tea mountains were at high elevations and not afraid of flooding, even the tea processing facilities on ground level were all far from the coast, with absolutely no risk of being damaged by tides. Yet Gu Pingyuan wanted to eagerly spend several hundred thousand taels of silver to help Li Wantang repair sea walls—wasn’t this like saving money for the capital merchants? Moreover, everyone had just seen that this Master Gu and the capital merchants’ young master Li were mutual enemies—why would he want to help the capital merchants?

This was an absolutely impossible thing to do, yet Gu Pingyuan had done it in full view of everyone. No one could guess what medicine Gu Pingyuan was selling in his gourd. Only one person present showed a barely perceptible smile.

“Master Gu has a deep understanding of righteousness. This way the construction period can naturally be shortened considerably, which is also good for the coastal people. Since this is the case, the matters of recruiting civilian workers and allowing free passage of materials that I promised the capital merchants—you can handle these in the same manner.” Zeng Guofan’s smile became increasingly inscrutable. Xue Fucheng had known him for over ten years and could tell at a glance that this commander must have seen through something.

“Sir, I really don’t understand.” An hour later, after the guests had departed, Xue Fucheng walked with Zeng Guofan along the long corridor from the main hall to the rear garden. In all his years in the Zeng administration, Xue Fucheng had seen many types: great villains who spoke against their hearts, modest gentlemen who followed propriety, profit-seeking merchants who coveted money and goods, loyal ministers and righteous officials who served the country wholeheartedly. He could see through most people at a glance, but Gu Pingyuan was completely unfathomable to him. “Gu Pingyuan’s move is aimed at the Lianghuai Salt Fields. The enmity between him and the Li family runs very deep—he wants to seize this forbidden preserve of the capital merchants.”

Xue Fucheng shook his head in confusion. Repairing sea walls was clearly helping the capital merchants, yet Zeng Guofan said Gu Pingyuan planned to seize the Li family’s salt fields—this was truly incomprehensible.

“To take first, one must first give.” Zeng Guofan said softly.

Xue Fucheng was someone who handled affairs through schemes. With Zeng Guofan’s hint, he thought for a moment and suddenly understood, exclaiming: “This young man surnamed Gu has very deep scheming. But Li Wantang is no easy opponent either—trying to snatch food from his mouth will be difficult!”

“The salt fields can’t run away. No matter who operates them, they must pay taxes to the court. The Li family’s influence in the capital’s official circles is too great—perhaps having someone else would be better for the Two Rivers.” Zeng Guofan glanced at Xue Fucheng.

“I understand.” Only then did Xue Fucheng fully grasp Zeng Guofan’s intentions, smiling: “When merchants compete, the government can only remain impartial and observe the changes.”

“By the way, Ninth Master has arrived and is waiting for you in the rear garden.” Xue Fucheng suddenly remembered that when Zeng Guoquan had arrived at the residence earlier, seeing many people in the hall, the servants hadn’t dared disturb Zeng Guofan and had quietly informed him instead.

“Ninth Brother, if you’ve come to request more grain for Jiangsu, you needn’t worry. We originally agreed the three provinces of the Two Rivers would divide 300,000 dan, but unexpectedly received an extra 100,000 dan—there’s plenty to go around.” Zeng Guofan knew this brother had a domineering temperament and feared he might demand half the grain as soon as he opened his mouth, so as he stepped onto the porch, he preemptively spoke first.

Zeng Guoquan sat behind the table in a commanding posture, his face gloomy. He first glanced at Xue Fucheng: “Secretary Xue…”

Xue Fucheng immediately stopped, watched Zeng Guofan enter the room, closed the door behind him, and deliberately made his footsteps heavy so Zeng Guoquan could hear him leaving the garden.

“What’s happened?”

“Elder Brother, these past days in Suzhou I couldn’t eat or sleep well, thinking about one matter day and night.”

Zeng Guofan smiled: “Being a provincial governor means managing military affairs when mounted and civilian affairs when dismounted—too many responsibilities, isn’t it? No matter, I’ll assign a few capable secretaries from my staff to help you with criminal law and finances, then your burden will be lighter.”

“These are all minor matters.” Zeng Guoquan touched a scar on his forehead—this was from when a shell fragment grazed him during the siege of Anqing, missing his skull by just half an inch.

“Our Zeng family has sacrificed and bled to eliminate the Long-haired rebels—I won’t mention that. We don’t have many brothers total. Guohua died at Sanhe Town without even a complete corpse remaining. As for Guobao, he died of illness in camp the year before last. Before dying, he gripped my hand and said he missed our Hunan hometown and just wanted to go back and see it. He died before finishing his words.”

Zeng Guofan frowned: “They both died loyally serving the country—their deaths were worthy. The court has already provided generous pensions, and our Zeng family has received imperial praise. Guohua and Guobao’s spirits in heaven should be comforted.”

“Spirits in heaven eating incense and receiving sacrifices surely isn’t as enjoyable as living people drinking wine and eating meat to their hearts’ content.”

“Ninth Brother, what kind of talk is this?” Zeng Guofan’s face darkened.

“This is what’s in my heart. I’ve wanted to say this since the day we took Jiangning. The Zeng family owes nothing to the court—rather, it’s the court that seems ready to kill the hounds after catching the hares, to put away the bow after shooting down all the birds.”

“Old Ninth!” Zeng Guofan shouted sharply, turning to open the door and checking that no one was in the garden before breathing a sigh of relief. “How dare you speak such rebellious words? Is this what a minister should say?”

Zeng Guoquan smiled dismissively: “Elder Brother, you should really go out and walk around, listen to what people are saying in the streets and alleys.”

“What are they saying?”

“They’re calling you the King of Jiangnan! They say that since Nian Gengyao’s campaign in Qinghai, no Han Chinese has ever held such great military power. That Nian Gengyao was Han Army Banner, a bondservant, but Elder Brother, you’re a Hanlin scholar with both literary courage and military strategy—a hundred times better than Nian Gengyao. I fear the court’s future treatment of our Zeng family will be a hundred times ‘better’ than Emperor Yongzheng’s treatment of the Nian family.”

During Nian Gengyao’s lifetime, Emperor Yongzheng cultivated him extensively, so he became arrogant and overbearing. Wherever his army went, if he disliked a provincial governor he could dismiss them immediately. He recommended dozens of high officials who had to be appointed immediately without the Ministry of Personnel’s examination—he almost acted like half an emperor himself. This finally brought disaster—in one day he was demoted eighteen ranks, from general to gatekeeper in Hangzhou, then granted death. His son Nian Fu was executed, and all sons over fifteen were exiled to harsh frontier lands. From the height of favor to family destruction took only a dozen days.

Now with street gossip comparing him to Nian Gengyao, Zeng Guofan couldn’t agree: “Though our military authority may be similar, how can I be compared to the Nian family? Take one example—he called eating ‘serving the imperial meal’ in camp, which was great presumption, offending Heaven itself and deserving death. Ninth Brother, tell me, how am I like Nian Gengyao?”

“Elder Brother is cautious and careful, deeply afraid of arousing the court’s suspicion—I know all this. But unfortunately, ‘an innocent man becomes guilty when he possesses a jade disc.’ The Eight Banner weak troops were utterly defeated by the Long-haired rebels, while we brothers recruited Hunan volunteers who could win battle after battle, achieving unprecedented merit. This army is Elder Brother’s ‘jade disc,’ and the great achievements are Elder Brother’s ‘jade disc.’ As long as the Hunan Army exists for one day, the court will have sleepless nights, viewing you as a thorn in their eyes and flesh.”

Zeng Guofan nodded: “It’s rare that you’ve also seen this point, so I’m having Xue Fucheng write a memorial to petition the court to immediately disband the troops.”

“That would bring death even sooner.” Zeng Guoquan said coldly.

“Hmm?”

“Only by maintaining troops can one maintain importance! The court doesn’t dare do anything to the Zeng family precisely because we have troops. If we provoked 200,000 Hunan Army soldiers to rebellion, who could clean up that mess? If Elder Brother voluntarily removes his protective barriers, it would be like delivering sharp knives and blades to those Manchu nobles who have long envied and resented our Zeng family and the Hunan Army—wouldn’t that be seeking death?”

Zeng Guofan shook his head repeatedly: “Old Ninth, you’re being too alarmist. Though His Majesty is young, the Two Empress Dowagers have never constrained the Hunan Army, and Prince Gong holds supreme power in the Grand Council—he has always trusted me. Never mind other things—we brothers both serve as governors-general in the same Two Rivers region, which has been unprecedented since the founding. Yet the court doesn’t mind and has been generous with rewards—if this isn’t trust, what is?”

“The one who truly trusted us wholeheartedly was Sushun. If he were still in court, I could feel more at ease. The late emperor originally promised to ennoble whoever destroyed the Long-haired rebels as king—this was Sushun’s suggestion. This royal title should rightfully be Elder Brother’s, but the court delays issuing the edict. This clearly shows they fear your high position and great power, that your achievements overshadow the ruler!”

“These are all your speculations. If achieving great merit meant one’s life was in danger, what about the Han Dynasty’s Wei Qing and the Tang Dynasty’s Guo Ziyi?”

Seeing that he couldn’t convince his elder brother no matter what, Zeng Guoquan stood up in desperation and said loudly: “I’ll ask just one thing. The Hunan Army was recruited to fight the Long-haired rebels. When Jiangning fell and our great achievement was complete, the Grand Council should have transmitted an edict ordering the Hunan Army to disband, but why hasn’t this edict appeared to this day?”

As soon as these words were spoken, Zeng Guofan, who usually showed no emotion on his face, suddenly trembled, slowly raised his head to look at his brother, and his eyes actually showed a trace of fear.

This statement was what Su Zixuan had said—Zeng Guoquan was merely copying it, but it truly expressed his elder brother’s hidden worry.

These days Zeng Guofan had been hoping day and night for the court to order him to disband his troops. When the edict arrived, it would mean the court acknowledged that Zeng Guofan had fulfilled his merit completely, that the Hunan Army had a beginning and end, and this game of chess would truly be concluded. But the edict stubbornly refused to come. Zeng Guofan had been pacing his room for days, silently analyzing the meaning behind the Two Empress Dowagers and Grand Council not issuing this edict—clearly they feared that once the edict arrived, he would defy imperial orders and instead provoke the Hunan Army to rebellion. Such suspicion from the court made the danger truly unfathomable.

But Zeng Guofan couldn’t speak this judgment in his heart to anyone, including his ninth brother before him. He suddenly remembered something—this brother was good at fighting but had no success in studies, and usually showed no such penetrating analysis of situations. Could it be that…

“Old Ninth, who taught you to say this?” If it were just one brother, Zeng Guofan still had full confidence in suppressing him, but if there were others involved, Zeng Guofan worried that if the matter became public and reached the court’s ears, an edict demanding “clear explanation” would be disastrous.

Su Zixuan had specifically instructed that the timing wasn’t right and it was best not to mention herself. Zeng Guoquan said in a deep voice: “I need no one to teach me this—the current situation is clear as day. I know the court has waived the military expense reimbursement case. On the surface this seems like showing favor to us, but thinking in reverse, isn’t it also to stabilize the Hunan Army? Elder Brother, if you still think the court will never wrong our Zeng family, then you can sit steadily in this Two Rivers Governor-General’s Office. But I cannot watch with my eyes open as knives are held to the necks of hundreds of Zeng family members in Heyetang.”

“What do you intend to do?” Zeng Guofan heard something wrong in the tone—this brother had always been bold and reckless. Could he be planning armed rebellion?

“Just preparing for rainy days.” Zeng Guoquan softened his expression. “I came today to inform Elder Brother that I’ve already sent troops to take over the prefectural granaries, and the people the Governor’s Office sent to various villages and counties to post public notices about opening granaries tomorrow for grain distribution have been intercepted halfway back by my soldiers.”

The granaries currently held those 400,000 dan of grain, and tomorrow they planned to distribute half to disaster victims in Jiangnan. Zeng Guoquan had actually sent troops to seal the granaries—what about the grain?

“The grain can’t all be distributed like this. My grain supervision officer is guarding the granary, distributing daily rations to give these disaster victims one meal per day—just enough to keep them from starving to death.” Zeng Guoquan’s voice carried indelible killing intent. “I’m keeping the rest of the grain. If there’s really warfare, 200,000 Hunan Army soldiers and horses would need food for half a year.”

Zeng Guoquan had expected his elder brother would certainly scold and forbid this, but unexpectedly Zeng Guofan stood up, walked with hands behind his back to the garden, faced the tall, thin, perforated Taihu rocks in the flower bed, and remained silent for a long while.

Zeng Guoquan usually respected this elder brother most. Today, driven by Su Zixuan’s “shocking words that would die if not surprising,” he had charged into the Two Rivers Office regardless of consequences, prepared to endure a scolding but determined to keep this batch of grain as capital for future “emergencies.” This silence from Zeng Guofan instead made Zeng Guoquan’s heart flutter with anxiety.

“The grain matter—I truly didn’t think it through carefully.” After a long time, as the sun moved west and cast the Taihu rocks’ shadows over Zeng Guofan, his voice seemed to come from far away.

“The grain all belongs to the people—the government merely keeps it temporarily. But distributing all the grain at once would indeed be disadvantageous to civil administration.” Zeng Guofan slowly corrected his brother’s words. “Weather is unpredictable—if this year brings another disaster, this grain will still be needed for relief. So we must prepare for rainy days and think more about the Two Rivers people. Go tell Secretary Xue that the public notices must still be issued, but this reasoning should be included.”

“Yes!” For a moment Zeng Guoquan couldn’t taste the flavor—he didn’t know whether his elder brother had listened to his words or had genuinely suddenly changed his mind.

Watching his ninth brother’s departing figure, Zeng Guofan shook his head slightly, his expression alternating between light and shadow, completely hidden in darkness.

“Ah, Master! You, you’ve lost your mind!” Peng Haiwan slapped his thigh thunderously, his face showing both urgency and pain. “Why should we repair sea walls? If we were like the capital merchant Master Li, taking over a hundred shops in one breath, now that business would be hugely profitable!” Liu Heita beside him also nodded repeatedly with deep agreement.

“Li Wantang plans to monopolize salt trading, controlling all salt shops in the Two Rivers region. He operates the Lianghuai Salt Fields, so other salt merchants can’t compete with him—he can naturally do whatever he wants. But the tea business is different. We finally broke the capital merchants’ schemes and turned other tea merchants from enemies to friends. If we started monopolizing, wouldn’t we become everyone’s target and return to the situation of a year ago? Fighting many with few—even Hui merchants couldn’t bear that.” Gu Pingyuan patiently explained.

“But our silver isn’t so abundant that we have nowhere to spend it. Why help the Li family repair sea walls? This isn’t hundreds or thousands of taels—I calculated that with each family doing half, including materials and labor, it would cost over 300,000 taels of silver.” Peng Haiwan still felt the pain acutely.

“Don’t worry yet—there’s a reason for this.” Gu Pingyuan said. “I’ve thought carefully. Right now Master Zeng certainly won’t pursue the matter of Shunde Tea House doing business with the Long-haired rebels. But who knows if a future governor-general might settle old scores? Though we burned the account books, you’ve been in and out of Long-haired territory all these years—human witnesses can always be found. If we encounter a ruthless official who grasps this weakness, it could bring us tremendous legal trouble.”

By spending money to repair sea walls, when the walls were completed, if the next Two Rivers Governor-General investigated doing business with the Long-haired rebels, they could say this money had all been used for sea wall construction under Zeng Guofan’s direction. With the money accounted for and the former governor-general implicated, no one would investigate further—this was the strategy for permanent peace.

“Oh.” Peng Haiwan’s expression changed, showing both emotion and regret. “Master Gu, if there were really a lawsuit, my family would be destroyed—you’re doing this for my sake, forced into this strategy. I feel truly bad about it.”

“We’re all in the same boat—why speak of being strangers?” Gu Pingyuan was kindhearted and deliberately changed the subject. “Manager Peng, I have a favor to ask.”

Peng Haiwan said urgently: “Repairing sea walls is hard work—I’ll go!”

“No, what I want to ask you is another matter. You know people throughout the Two Rivers and have acquaintances among managers everywhere. I heard Li Wantang say today that after all these years of warfare, many shops stand empty with owners dead or fled. This means many managers and clerks must be without livelihoods. I want you to take time to visit various places, seek out those unemployed managers and senior clerks, and in Shunde Tea House’s name, send rice, flour, oil, and grain. If their family circumstances are truly poor, you might also send ten or so taels of silver.”

“Oh, you want to cultivate relationships with them.” Peng Haiwan asked hesitantly.

“Correct. When you go, just say you admire fellow traders and have come especially to visit—don’t say anything else. Make a circuit of the Two Rivers and find a hundred or eighty capable managers and senior clerks—that would be a great achievement.”

“Master, I’m truly confused. Are you hiring people? But you don’t need this many people.”

“Haha!” Liu Heita, who had been listening, suddenly slapped Peng Haiwan’s back. “You caused big trouble for the tea house—how do you know Brother Gu isn’t selecting people to replace you?”

Caught off guard, Peng Haiwan nearly spit out his tea. Looking at Gu and Liu, his face was full of embarrassment.

“Brother Heita, I’m discussing serious business—don’t joke.” Gu Pingyuan said seriously, then turned: “Record in detail where these people live, what business they formerly did, how they make their living now, and their family circumstances. Li Wantang wants buildings—I want the people in the buildings. These people will be very useful to me in the future.”

Seeing him speak so solemnly, though Peng Haiwan still didn’t understand, he nodded seriously in agreement.

“Brother Gu, there’s something I don’t understand. If you want to spend money doing good deeds, Jiangnan is full of disaster victims—there are plenty of places to do charity work. Why compete specifically with those capital merchant bastards to repair sea walls?” The Chang family had previously been in salt business, and Liu Heita had helped Fourth Master Chang manage salt pools, chatting daily with passing salt carriers. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the southern sea salt business and knew that repairing sea walls would benefit Li Wantang’s salt fields without any harm. He believed Gu Pingyuan certainly understood this too, so he couldn’t figure it out.

Ever since returning from the Governor-General’s Office today, Gu Pingyuan had maintained a stern expression without a trace of smile, and now his face darkened further.

“There’s something I’ve never told anyone, but today I finally understand it completely.” This stone had been weighing heavily on Gu Pingyuan’s heart for nearly a year—today he could finally speak freely. He told them everything about how he had originally forged letters to deceive Chen Yucheng, hoping he could bring Bai Yimei to surrender to the official army. Unexpectedly, Chen Yucheng insisted on surrendering to Miao Peilin, falling right into the trap. The result was Chen Yucheng and his twenty-eight generals being massacred, and Bai Yimei being taken as a concubine by Sengge Rinchen—and the instigator of all this was Li Qin.

Liu and Peng listened in stunned amazement. Peng Haiwan hadn’t expected this master’s relationship with the Long-haired rebels to be even deeper than his own, while Liu Heita was even more surprised: “So the night of your mother’s birthday, you had just returned from Shouzhou.” Liu Heita thought of the hellish scene in Shouzhou city then, and despite his courage, his heart went cold.

“Sengge Rinchen is dead—how did that Bai Yimei end up with the Canal Gang?”

“I don’t know, and it seems she doesn’t want me to know either.” Gu Pingyuan said honestly. “Though I don’t know the details, I can’t inquire blindly, and certainly can’t speak of this matter.”

“I understand, I understand.” Having a relationship with the Long-haired rebels’ English King’s consort would mean they couldn’t open shop anymore. Peng Haiwan, having just suffered a loss, understood the stakes. He glanced at Liu Heita: “Master Liu, you can’t speak of this outside either, or you’ll harm your brother-in-law. This involves exterminating nine generations of kin—even your sister would suffer.”

Peng Haiwan, worthy of his daily interactions with people, had sharp eyes and knew exactly what Liu Heita worried about most. He successfully frightened him—Liu Heita unconsciously swallowed and tightly shut his mouth.

“So Master’s action is aimed at the capital merchants’ young master Li.”

A flash of hatred crossed Gu Pingyuan’s eyes: “Today I finally understand that I truly did harm Bai Yimei. Li Qin conceived this vicious plan after I exposed his schemes and seized fifty percent of the tea market from the foreigners. Knowing I wanted to protect Bai Yimei, he found Sengge Rinchen out of revenge against me, pushing Bai Yimei to her doom.” His fists unconsciously clenched.

Before he finished speaking, he saw Liu Heita staring blankly behind him. Turning around, he saw the door had opened a crack with someone stopped at the doorway—a yellow wood tray showed half a wine pot, and the wind from the door carried the faint scent of food.

“Yu’er…” Gu Pingyuan was also stunned—she must have heard his words just now.

Chang Yu’er didn’t answer at first, but soon walked in with a calm expression.

“You’re discussing business matters that I can’t help with. I made some dishes to go with wine—eat while you talk.”

Glutton though Liu Heita was, he now felt completely uncomfortable and didn’t dare touch his chopsticks.

“Don’t let the dishes get cold—eat quickly.” Chang Yu’er turned to leave. From beginning to end, she never met Gu Pingyuan’s eyes.

“Sigh!” Liu Heita looked at those fragrant good dishes and a pot of warmed old wine, sighing. “How is it that whenever we talk about that woman, she hears it? This is truly cursed. You want to avenge that woman—no wonder my sister is angry. Should I go talk to her?”

Gu Pingyuan silently shook his head: “Tomorrow I’m going to Nantong to survey the sea walls. The sea wind is fierce—Yu’er should stay here, and you should keep her company.”

Gu Pingyuan returned to the inner courtyard. The bedroom lamp was already extinguished. He hesitated for a moment, then entered the study.

The next morning when Gu Pingyuan arose, the courtyard was already bustling. He came to the courtyard in light clothing and saw Chang Yu’er directing the Peng family servants to load travel necessities into the cart, including many women’s items.

“Yu’er, what’s this?” Gu Pingyuan saw one of her clothing chests loaded in the cart and asked in surprise.

“I heard elder brother say you didn’t want me to go?” Chang Yu’er blinked at her husband with a slight smile, showing no sign of displeasure. “How could that work? If I’m not at Jinshan Temple serving mother-in-law, I should be at your side taking care of you, or people would laugh at me as the Gu family’s eldest daughter-in-law behind my back. Building sea walls sounds extremely difficult—you’re a man who gets busy and forgets about food and clothing. How can I not be at your side?”

“Since you’re both going, I have to go too.” Liu Heita had no patience for staying at the shop—being able to visit the seaside was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not going to trouble the capital merchants solely because of Bai Yimei.” The cart had been arranged very comfortably for the Gu couple to sit in, with Liu Heita on horseback and another cart for luggage. Just as they left Jiangning city, Gu Pingyuan broke the silence.

“Old Master Hu asked me to deal with the capital merchants, but I initially disagreed. In my view, the character ‘merchant’ originally means the circulation of goods. If we view other merchant groups as enemy nations, not allowing others to touch our territory, then conversely, we naturally couldn’t set foot in others’ territories either. Over time, this becomes self-imprisonment, losing the original meaning of commerce. So I actually thought it wasn’t bad for capital merchants to come to the Two Rivers, but yesterday at the Governor-General’s Office, my view changed. This Li Wantang remains unchanged in nature—taking over a hundred shops in one breath, he clearly intends to monopolize Jiangnan’s salt business. People cannot live without salt. Sooner or later, the Li family will manipulate salt prices, making the Two Rivers people suffer. As a merchant, I cannot sit by and watch.”

Chang Yu’er sat quietly listening, occasionally nodding to show she was listening, but seemed somewhat absent-minded.

“The capital merchants obtained operating rights to the Lianghuai Salt Fields from the Grand Council—this is their greatest source of profit, and they absolutely won’t allow others to take a share. With such an airtight formation, no one could hope to interfere. I can only find another way, starting with sea wall construction that not only brings no profit but actually costs money. This is righteous charity work—even if Li Wantang sees through my intentions, he can’t stop me. Since repairing sea walls is to protect salt fields, my next step can use this as an entry point to gradually penetrate the capital merchants’ sphere of influence.” Gu Pingyuan spread his hands. “This is snatching food from a tiger’s mouth—right now I can only take one step at a time.”

“When father was alive, he managed salt pools. Though it was small-scale business, the principle is the same. Salt profits are the thickest—often across just a river the price can rise twenty to thirty percent, and across a province it can differ by over ten times. If salt business goes smoothly, one can earn ten thousand times the investment, but if something goes wrong, even a million in family wealth can scatter overnight.” Chang Yu’er looked across at him. “Brother Gu, I don’t understand business matters, but father nearly jumped into the sea because of salt business. The capital merchants are wealthy and powerful, and the Li family is especially difficult to provoke—you must be extremely careful.”

“If he had no weaknesses at all, there would truly be no way to proceed. I’ve thought of this point too, so I’m not rushing to confront him directly. I’ll first establish a solid foundation and see things clearly before acting.”

Having discussed business matters to this point, Gu Pingyuan wanted to explain further to his wife about Bai Yimei, but after thinking repeatedly, he didn’t know how to begin. Suddenly he heard Chang Yu’er ask softly: “She’s alone again now. If she came back looking for you, would you marry her?”

Liu Heita, riding beside the cart, suddenly heard this question and his heart contracted. He urged his horse closer and held his breath to listen attentively.

Gu Pingyuan very much wanted to say “She wishes she could see me dead before her eyes now,” but he knew these words absolutely couldn’t be spoken. The best answer to his wife should be simply “No.”

Chang Yu’er made no sound after hearing this.

After a difficult silence, Gu Pingyuan could only add: “I told you in Huizhou that the connection between her and me has ended.”

“Good connections may have ended, but bad connections may just be beginning.”

Chang Yu’er’s gentle words left both men inside and outside the cart pondering from Jiangning all the way to Nantong.