Anyang City. The city walls.

General Meng Kedi stood with both hands resting on the battlements, looking out beyond the walls. He turned to ask Li Chi: “Young Master Li—what do you make of this Nanping River?”

Li Chi answered: “Magnificent. And vital.”

Li Chi had originally planned to call on the General’s residence upon arriving—but Meng Kedi had set their meeting on Anyang City’s city walls.

There was naturally something behind this choice—either there was something he wanted Li Chi to see, or someone he wanted to see Li Chi.

“Magnificent. Vital…”

Meng Kedi repeated Li Chi’s four characters, then couldn’t help but smile. “A river of this size, and Young Master Li’s assessment is only four words?”

Li Chi inclined his head slightly. “With respect, General—I am only a merchant. I said ‘magnificent’ because this is my first sight of the Nanping River, and in the moment, that was the only word that came.”

“As for ‘vital’—again, only because I am a merchant. The canal traffic on this river concerns not merely the commerce of Yuzhou and Jizhou, but the financial lifeblood of the entire central plains.”

“Ha ha ha ha…”

Meng Kedi laughed heartily at that and nodded. “You truly are a worthy merchant.”

Though approving, he still felt a faint twinge of disappointment.

This Li Chi—he really did only have a merchant’s mind. All he saw when he looked at the Nanping River was money; perhaps in his eyes the river wasn’t running water at all, but flowing silver.

Yet precisely because of that merchant’s mind, his thinking was limited.

The Nanping River was a lifeline—a dividing line between north and south, an uncrossable barrier.

He turned to Li Chi and asked: “Then let me ask you something. A merchant pursues profit—what does pursuing profit mean, and how does one pursue it?”

Li Chi answered: “This question—I asked it of myself early on when I first went into business, even before my father asked it of me.”

Meng Kedi smiled. “And what was your answer?”

“A merchant’s pursuit: the small profit is silver and gold; the great profit is status.”

Li Chi said this much, then smiled. “Though I should say—that answer was what I gave my father. It’s not the same as what I told myself.”

Meng Kedi grew more interested. “Tell me how the answer you gave your father differs from the one you gave yourself.”

Li Chi smiled, a little embarrassed. “Because the answer I gave myself is not fit for polite company. It’s rather crude.”

Meng Kedi looked at Li Chi and waited.

Li Chi smiled his usual smile—the expression that always made him look utterly harmless.

“If I hadn’t said that,” he answered, “how would my father have handed the business over to me?”

Meng Kedi was taken aback—and then couldn’t help laughing.

“You still haven’t said: why do you actually do business?”

“To show off,” Li Chi answered.

Seeing Meng Kedi’s look of genuine bewilderment, he elaborated with perfect seriousness.

“If a person is remarkable but no one knows it—that’s a waste of being remarkable.”

“Like wearing fine clothes on a dark road,” Li Chi said. “No joy in it at all.”

He looked at Meng Kedi. “I won’t hide it from you, General—no shame in admitting it. When I first set out to make the business successful, my purpose was simply to live better than other people, and to make sure those other people could see that I was living better. If they couldn’t see it, I’d go right up in front of them and show off.”

Meng Kedi looked at Li Chi for a moment, then nodded. “Simple thinking. But genuine.”

Though he approved, he couldn’t help feeling a faint inward disappointment.

This was not quite what he expected.

He glanced at Ding Shengji and Xue Chunbao standing nearby. The former was smiling. The latter wore open disdain.

Ding Shengji had praised Li Duidui to the skies—but Li Chi’s answers here amounted to nothing more than a newly wealthy man’s self-display.

Put more plainly: money is for showing off. What’s the point of having money if you can’t?

Among the Anyang Army soldiers standing nearby, one of them turned his head to the side.

He turned his head to hide the fact that he couldn’t hold back a grin.

This was Young Lord Cao Lie—who, hearing that Meng Kedi planned to receive Li Chi on the city walls, had been seized by a playful impulse.

He had borrowed an Anyang Army soldier’s uniform and inserted himself into the rear rank—second row from the back.

Hearing Li Chi’s words, he was indeed struggling.

Li Chi seemed completely unaware of Meng Kedi’s mild scorn, or of Xue Chunbao’s more pronounced contempt.

He went right on: “I worked hard to make money just so other people could see how well I was doing. Otherwise, why bother being hardworking?”

He let out a faint sigh. “It’s not like I need the money to survive.”

Meng Kedi nodded and steered away from that line of conversation.

Young Lord Cao Lie finally suppressed his grin, thinking to himself: this Li Duidui—you’ve stirred something in me, just a little.

Cao Lie was someone who found his own life entirely without purpose.

He’d been born with everything already in place—no goal to strive toward, no desire to strive.

Yet what Li Chi had just said sparked a faint curiosity in him. Maybe he ought to go back and ask his father to let him take charge of some of the business?

They spoke on the walls for a while, and gradually Meng Kedi steered the conversation toward Jizhou.

He didn’t even notice it happening to himself—but because of what Li Chi had said, his guard had quietly dropped.

Not just his. Because of those same words, every one of the generals on the wall now looked at Li Chi with a touch of contempt.

In their eyes at this moment, Li Chi was nothing more than a wealthy young man trying to prove himself.

Meng Kedi asked: “Is business easy in Jizhou?”

“Other trades are difficult,” Li Chi answered. “But the medicine trade has had no particular trouble.”

Which was not what Meng Kedi wanted to hear. He wanted to know about the Jizhou army.

“With your medical hall operating so broadly across Jizhou—your relationship with the Jizhou garrison must be quite close.”

Unwilling to continue testing, Meng Kedi threw out a fairly pointed question.

Li Chi seemed to pause, and his expression shifted slightly.

The performance was flawless.

He answered, visibly uncomfortable: “General, I am only a businessman.”

“I’m not making things difficult for you,” Meng Kedi said with a smile. “I’m simply curious.”

He fixed his gaze on Li Chi’s eyes. “Your business covers all of Jizhou, and Jizhou is now under Luo Jing’s control—the garrison there being a group of Yanshan rebels…”

He looked at Li Chi. “So I would guess that the garrison’s essential medicines are all supplied by your Shen Medical Hall.”

Li Chi grew even more awkward.

After a moment, he nodded. “You’re correct, General. Shen Medical Hall supplies all the essential medicines to Jizhou’s armies.”

“Good business…”

Meng Kedi’s tone shifted sharply. “Young Master Li—since your Shen Medical Hall supplies medicines to the Jizhou garrison, why have you brought medicines to Anyang?”

Li Chi hesitated.

Meng Kedi’s voice turned colder. “Could it be, Young Master Li, that you came here with some undisclosed purpose?”

Li Chi instinctively shook his head—then flinched under Meng Kedi’s gaze.

“I… I didn’t have to come here. General Ding extended a warm invitation…”

Li Chi stumbled over the words.

“Your speech is evasive,” Meng Kedi said, pressing forward, his tone going icy. “There’s something on your conscience. I’ve seen through your ties to the Jizhou army, and you’re frightened like this.”

He stepped forward and looked directly into Li Chi’s eyes. “Could it be that you are here on behalf of Luo Jing’s people, spying on my Anyang Army?”

Li Chi’s eyes went wide—carrying an expression of remarkable complexity.

But in that complexity, Meng Kedi managed to read the one thing Li Chi most wanted to convey.

The question flickering in Li Chi’s eyes was: …you’re just looking for an excuse to seize my goods, aren’t you?

After a moment, Li Chi drew a long breath. He looked at Meng Kedi and said with full conviction: “General, you’re looking for a pretext to confiscate my cargo.”

Meng Kedi thought: …well damn.

He looked Li Chi in the eye. “You genuinely think I want to use this as a pretext to confiscate your cargo?”

Nearby in the ranks, Young Lord Cao Lie turned his head away again—he couldn’t hold back and laughed out loud, nearly making a sound.

This Li Duidui—outrageously entertaining.

Even if that’s what you’re thinking, you don’t say it out loud.

“When I was in Shengfang County,” Li Chi said, “I already told General Ding—all these medicines, I’m willing to give them to General Meng outright. General Ding told me at the time: your medicines will be bought at the going rate…”

“I am not talking about confiscating your cargo,” Meng Kedi said. “I’m telling you I suspect you may be working for the Jizhou army.”

Li Chi looked at Meng Kedi with absolute earnestness and said, character by character:

“I don’t believe you.”

A snort—Cao Lie couldn’t hold it anymore. Crouching in the second rank, he laughed out loud, waving a hand toward Meng Kedi. “Sorry, sorry—I genuinely couldn’t hold it. Ha ha ha—he said he doesn’t believe you.”

Meng Kedi’s face darkened.

And Li Chi just stood there looking thoroughly convinced of himself.

Meng Kedi made a sharp sound and waved his hand. “Take him down and put him under watch. Search his caravan—if anything or anyone with ties to the Jizhou army is found, everyone goes to the prison.”

He shot Li Chi a hard look. “If you’re not working for the Jizhou army, I won’t wrong you. If you are, don’t expect any mercy from me.”

Li Chi said with an air of resolution: “The General needn’t go to all this trouble. I’ll give you the medicines outright. Let us leave Anyang City today.”

Behind Meng Kedi, Xue Chunbao’s anger flared. “Are you looking to die?”

Li Chi turned and glanced at him—just one glance—before his gaze returned to Meng Kedi.

Just that one glance was enough to enrage Xue Chunbao. The man was blunt and rough, but he’d read Li Chi’s expression clearly: I’m not wasting time on you. You don’t rank as high as the one surnamed Meng.

“General!”

Xue Chunbao said loudly: “Hand this man over to me!”

Meng Kedi spun around and shot him a glare. Xue Chunbao was ferocious and brutal—but not to the point of defying Meng Kedi. He lowered his head immediately.

Meng Kedi ordered: “Ding Shengji, take your men and put Li Duidui’s entire caravan under watch. Every person is to be inspected.”

Ding Shengji bowed. “Your subordinate obeys.”

He gave Li Chi a shove. “Not leaving yet?”

Li Chi looked back and glared at him. That glare made even Ding Shengji angry.

Because Li Chi’s meaning was once again perfectly obvious: you’re a bad person.

Once Ding Shengji had brought Li Chi and his people down from the walls, he fell in beside Li Chi and sighed: “You really are surprisingly foolish—did you genuinely not see what the General was doing?”

“If I hadn’t seen through it,” Li Chi said, “why would he lose face and have you arrest me? You’re all bad people—you just want to take my goods. Fine, keep the goods. But let my people go. If you need someone to answer for it, keep me and let my people walk.”

Ding Shengji sighed. “What a fool…”

He looked at Li Chi. “The General was just giving you a bit of a rough time on purpose—how else is he supposed to give the Cao family an accounting?”

He explained: “The General puts you through a little difficulty, and the Cao family sees it’s been done. After that, if they still want to give you trouble, that’s them disrespecting the General’s face.”

Li Chi’s eyes narrowed.

Ding Shengji could see it in his expression—same meaning as before. He doesn’t believe it.

He gave Li Chi another shove. “Believe it or don’t, just move.”

Li Chi was smiling inwardly, though. If I hadn’t played along, he thought, the General’s little performance of giving me trouble would never have gone so smoothly.

It all worked out so well precisely because I cooperated.