The proprietor of the Wangdongtíng Teahouse, Xiāo Wéi’ān, nearly went cross-eyed when he saw two customers walk in.

Business had been dismal lately, and he operated with the mindset that every customer who walked through the door had to be caught. So he plastered on a smile and went to greet them — though that professionally hollow grin drew looks of mild disdain from both Gù Cóngcháo and Wáng Jìntíng.

Whatever else could be said, these two men worked under the Vice Minister of Personnel, which in ordinary folk’s eyes made them wealthy people. Yet to them, Xiāo Wéi’ān — who considered himself well-off by common standards — was just another nobody.

“Are you the proprietor?”

Wáng Jìntíng asked.

Xiāo Wéi’ān quickly answered with a bow: “Yes, yes, I’m the proprietor of this teahouse. Are the two gentlemen here to purchase tea, or to rest a while?”

“Tell us about this teahouse of yours.”

Gù Cóngcháo glanced around. “The location looks decent. Are you selling or not?”

Xiāo Wéi’ān looked around as well. “The location… is decent?”

Gù Cóngcháo nodded. “Just tell me — selling or not?”

Xiāo Wéi’ān hastily replied, “Good sir, I may be a merchant, but I can’t just sell carelessly. This teahouse was built with every saving I had over a lifetime — it’s the work of my heart and soul…”

Before he could finish, Gù Cóngcháo pulled a thick stack of banknotes from his chest pocket. “These are Dàníng exchange notes, five hundred taels each. Whatever you think this teahouse is worth, you take it yourself. Take enough, and the teahouse is ours.”

He laid the banknotes on the table and gestured for Xiāo Wéi’ān to help himself.

The sheer casual wealth of it gave Xiāo Wéi’ān quite a jolt.

He walked over and examined them carefully. They were indeed official Dàníng government exchange notes — redeemable at any government-run bank anywhere within Dàníng’s borders.

Satisfied the notes were genuine, he looked back at Gù Cóngcháo, who gave a nod as if to say: go on, take what you need.

By current prices in Dàníng’s capital, the teahouse was modest in scale and the business hardly thriving. The dynasty had only just been founded, and property in the capital wasn’t outrageously priced yet — though this spot was near the West Market, which was among the most bustling areas in Cháng’ān.

When he’d first bought the land — about two mǔ — he’d paid roughly two hundred taels. The timber construction had cost another two hundred. The furnishings, fixtures, and other valuables came to perhaps another hundred.

Counting only the teahouse itself, without its goods or furniture, four hundred taels was already generous.

Xiāo Wéi’ān reached out his hand — then stopped. He turned to Gù Cóngcháo: “Do you want the stock as well? I carry fine teas here. Even Minister of Personnel Lù Dàren comes here to buy — no, no, Minister Lù only comes here to buy his tea.”

Gù Cóngcháo said impatiently, “Of course we want it all. Just take it!”

So Xiāo Wéi’ān picked up one banknote. “This covers the land, construction, and furnishings.”

Gù Cóngcháo nearly smiled. This fellow’s a merchant, but he’s not greedy — fair valuation. He was just about to say, take another one for the tea, when he saw Xiāo Wéi’ān already reach for a second note.

“This is for the tea.”

Gù Cóngcháo nodded in satisfaction.

Then Xiāo Wéi’ān took a third. “This is for the tea.”

A fourth. “This is for the tea.”

A fifth. “This is for the tea.”

When he reached for the sixth, Gù Cóngcháo lunged forward and slammed his hand down over the remaining notes.

He stared at Xiāo Wéi’ān. “You’ve got some nerve.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān said plaintively, “My teas really are valuable. They were shipped up from Jiāngnán — just the freight costs alone… Besides, it’s not like you’re doing me any favors. I know exactly what I’m worth.”

Gù Cóngcháo: “I’m asking you — have you taken enough?!”

Xiāo Wéi’ān: “One more would do.”

Gù Cóngcháo snatched the remaining notes and stuffed them back in his coat. “Don’t push it. What you’ve taken is enough to buy five of this dump.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān sighed. “All right, fine…”

He turned to go: “I’ll fetch the deed for you gentlemen. We’ll also need to register the transfer at the Cháng’ān office…”

“Never mind all that for now,” Gù Cóngcháo said. “Just bring the deed. And — you’re staying. I’m hiring you as manager. Are there any staff? They stay too.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān’s face lit up. “I get to stay? Then… what about wages?”

“What do you want?”

“Given my knowledge of tea, my clientele, and my personal character — at minimum three taels a month…”

“Five taels a month.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān bowed with effusive gratitude. “And the staff wages?”

“Same as before — whatever you were paying them.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān said, “I was paying the staff two taels a month.”

Gù Cóngcháo scoffed. “Nonsense. This place doesn’t get a single customer. You’re paying staff two taels a month?”

“My staff is like family to me. I treated him very well, and yes, I really did pay him two taels.”

Gù Cóngcháo untied his money pouch and counted the coins on the table — perhaps twenty-odd taels total.

He looked at Xiāo Wéi’ān. “I’ll advance you three months. Fifteen for you, five for the staff over three months. Take it or leave it.”

“Deal, deal, deal!”

Xiāo Wéi’ān scooped up the twenty taels and clasped his hands in a bow. “From now on I answer to you two gentlemen — no, no, to you two masters. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

“Where’s your staff?” Gù Cóngcháo asked. “Bring him out, I have a few words.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān pointed to himself. “That’s me. I do both jobs. I guarantee you won’t be short-changed.”

Gù Cóngcháo: “…”

Wáng Jìntíng standing beside him could barely contain himself, thinking: if it weren’t for the Vice Minister’s orders, I’d drag you out and give you a beating right now.

Half-cripple you. Wouldn’t have to pay out nearly so much either.

But neither man wanted to waste more breath. The place was only meant to be used temporarily — three months would be more than enough.

Gù Cóngcháo said to Xiāo Wéi’ān, “We are not your masters. The master of this house will come early tomorrow morning, and we’ll be here too. In the meantime — clear out the best room upstairs for the master to live in. You’re moving out of the upper floor; find yourself a corner downstairs.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll go tidy it up right away.”

Xiāo Wéi’ān politely saw the two men to the door, and despite having handed over the deed, he was in exceptionally high spirits.

A lifetime of savings had gone into opening this teahouse in Cháng’ān, and after only a few months the losses were so bad he’d been skimping on meals.

Now, heaven had opened a path. Selling the land, he reflected, turns a far better profit than selling tea. If he ever had the means again, he’d do well to stockpile some land — sell it in one go and earn more than he’d made in the first half of his life.

He didn’t much care who this master was. The buyer had paid good gold and silver and didn’t even seem bothered at being cheated. Why should he worry about who he’d cheated?

He cleared out the largest upstairs room — the one he’d been living in — and carried his bedroll down to a small room on the ground floor.

He thought for a moment of how this teahouse was no longer his, and felt a twinge of melancholy.

But then he thought: working here as manager, seven taels a month in hand — more than he’d ever made selling tea. His biggest customer, Minister Lù, had only once bought two taels’ worth of tea in a single visit, and that was clearly a struggle for him.

That evening, just as Xiāo Wéi’ān was about to close up, Gù Cóngcháo and Wáng Jìntíng returned, this time with a considerable retinue — perhaps a dozen or more people.

Two horse-drawn carriages stood at the door. A great deal of luggage was unloaded — all clearly a woman’s things. The colors and embroidery of the bedding alone were not something a man could carry off. Xiāo Wéi’ān concluded that this master must be a woman.

He couldn’t help thinking: could it be that someone has taken a fancy to me? Why else take a loss like this…?

Ordinary in every way, yet utterly self-assured — that, perhaps, summed up Xiāo Wéi’ān’s state of mind just then.

Imagining a future in which he’d be kept in comfort, free from toil, with large sums rolling in — Xiāo Wéi’ān felt that tonight’s sunlight was blazing gloriously.

Never mind that there was no sunlight tonight. Glorious it was anyway.

And if this woman who’d taken a fancy to him turned out to be a rare beauty… Xiāo Wéi’ān’s eyes narrowed with the savored taste of life at its absolute peak.

Gù Cóngcháo came over, stern-faced: “The master is moving in tonight. Keep your mouth shut, behave yourself, and don’t go hovering in front of the master when there’s nothing for you to do. Ordinarily, if the master doesn’t come downstairs, don’t go disturbing her upstairs. Is that understood?”

“Yes, yes…”

Xiāo Wéi’ān readily agreed, thinking: oh, the woman who’s taken a fancy to me — why are you still playing coy?

He tried to help carry some things in, but the attendants wouldn’t let him touch anything, as though his hands were beneath their notice.

You don’t know what you’re missing, Xiāo Wéi’ān thought smugly. One day, you’ll see whose arms those prettily-colored quilts end up in.

These people were swift and efficient, working with a crisp, almost military precision. Before long the upstairs room had been entirely re-arranged.

Then Gù Cóngcháo and Wáng Jìntíng went to the door. The two men leaned toward one of the carriages and exchanged a few murmured words. A handmaid opened the carriage door and helped Zhāo Shīshī step out.

Xiāo Wéi’ān squinted at her from a distance. Her face was veiled, but from her figure alone he knew she was an extraordinary beauty.

In an instant, Xiāo Wéi’ān began to doubt himself…

Perhaps, he thought, he didn’t quite measure up.

He sighed inwardly. Such a woman — perfect figure, surely a perfect face, and so wealthy — how could she be blind?

And so it was: a person who appeared so utterly perfect on the outside must have some hidden flaw — either her eyes had gone and she’d fallen for this place, or perhaps for him.

Or else she was deeply lacking in good judgment.

—