After several days of alternating between cloudy and sunny weather, the muddy streets finally dried up. Early in the morning, someone came to report that Liu Lang had indeed left for Yangzhou with his troops. With that matter settled, all attention turned to purchasing rootstocks.
She subsequently visited several influential individuals, finding similar situations everywhere. Everyone had agreed on a unified price level, and no one dared offer her anything lower. On the surface, this collective price hike seemed normal—everyone knew Fang Yuan had secured a major deal and was profiting, so why not take advantage? Ultimately, it came down to her shallow roots; a mere imperial plaque wasn’t enough to command respect. This situation was quite common. As a woman who had suddenly appeared on the scene, establishing herself in the industry within a short year was no easy feat.
The flower farmer who had once sold her the “Flower King” secretly informed her that since Jin Buyan signed a contract with Fang Yuan, word had spread that anyone who dared sell her rootstocks or scions below the set price would be barred from the flower markets in both the capital and Luoyang. So even those who desperately wanted to do business with her didn’t dare to be the first to break ranks.
The flower farmer sighed, “Miss He, have you offended someone? You’re young and might not understand some things…” In every trade and industry, there’s a hierarchy of seniors and juniors. Young people who fail to respect their elders are digging their graves. Mudan still held an official status, so people didn’t dare to be too outrageous. Instead, they found ways to make things difficult for her in these matters. In short, she could have small successes, but achieving greatness and renown would not be easy. Unless she bowed her head and admitted her mistakes, and even then, it depended on whether others would give her the chance.
Mudan felt helpless. She didn’t know who was pulling the strings behind the scenes, but she vaguely suspected it had something to do with Lü Chun, Cao Wanrong, and others. She now had only two options: either buy the rootstocks at the inflated price set by these people—which would make fair business with them even more difficult in the future—or accept Cao Wanrong’s terms and purchase from him. She didn’t want to choose either option.
If Jin Buyan hadn’t insisted on plants over two feet tall, she would have had other options. She could have used herbaceous peonies as rootstocks instead of tree peonies, which had certain advantages. Herbaceous peony roots are softer and easier to work with, have a higher success rate for most varieties, promote faster initial growth of the graft, tend to produce dwarf plants suitable for container gardening, and crucially, have increased moisture tolerance—particularly beneficial for southward transplantation of tree peonies. However, there were also disadvantages: fewer roots developed at the base of the scion, fewer suckers, and a shorter plant lifespan. Of course, regardless of the pros and cons, Jin Buyan wouldn’t accept this alternative. So this option was also off the table.
Mama Lin had originally suggested that Mudan speak with Jiang Changyang to find out who was causing trouble behind the scenes and possibly arrange for mediation. But when Mudan saw how exhausted Jiang Changyang was when he returned home, barely able to speak, she couldn’t bring herself to burden him with this. What he was doing was important; how could she distract him with such matters? Solutions come from thinking, and she refused to believe that everyone was willing to forgo profit and blindly follow orders, watching Cao Wanrong make all the money.
Shun’er had discovered a small, impoverished flower farm near Ji Temple, where the owner was barely making ends meet and spent his days drinking. Shun’er suggested Mudan give it a try: “Although the garden is small, his business has always been poor. There might be quite a few larger peonies in stock.”
Ji Temple was known for decent peonies, so Mudan immediately set out on horseback. She found a small garden carved out of the temple’s vegetable plot, with just a few dilapidated thatched sheds. The garden was indeed lush with flowers and trees. A middle-aged woman and a girl of about ten were pruning flower branches, while a man sat in front of a shed, clutching a wine gourd, drinking and cursing. He berated the woman as a harbinger of bad luck, blaming her for his lack of business and barely selling any flowers all spring. He then cursed the little girl as a money-losing burden. The woman and girl ignored him, occasionally exchanging smiles as they worked.
After watching for a while, Mudan recognized the man as Zou Laoqi, who had once tried to sell her a “Hu Hong” peony by the release pool, then raised the price when Cao Wanrong showed interest, ultimately selling it to Liu Chang at a high price. In the past, she would never have done business with such a person, but circumstances were different now. Mudan pondered for a moment before gently tapping the garden gate with her riding crop.
The family all looked up, confused by her presence. Shun’er, disliking the drunk, deliberately addressed the woman: “Who’s in charge here?”
Seeing Mudan’s group’s fine attire and the well-fed horses tied outside, the woman immediately set aside her work, wiped her hands on her apron, and hurried over with a smile. “Are you here to buy flowers, miss? Many of our flowers come from Ji Temple. Whether you want whole plants or scions, they’re no worse than Fang Yuan’s. You won’t regret buying from us.” The little girl quickly fetched a small stool from under the shed, wiped it with her sleeve, and offered it to Mudan, inviting her to sit.
Mudan was amused, partly because she didn’t realize Fang Yuan had become synonymous with quality peonies, and partly imagining how they would react if they knew she was Fang Yuan’s owner, here to buy flowers from them.
“I know you!” Zou Laoqi squinted through his drunken haze, stumbling closer. “I know you!” he repeated. A woman so beautiful would be unforgettable after just one encounter, especially given how her wealthy, imposing husband had nearly fought with her brothers that day.
“You’re drunk again!” His wife hurriedly pulled him back, smiling apologetically at Mudan. “Please don’t mind him. He’s drunk and doesn’t know what he’s saying.” She then hissed at Zou Laoqi, “Are you trying to get us killed?”
Zou Laoqi shook off her hand and leaned in closer. “I saw you at the peony festival. You’re Fang Yuan’s owner. How’s that? Not so easy to wield that ‘National Beauty, Heavenly Fragrance’ imperial plaque, is it?”
“Take one more step, and see what happens,” Shun’er warned coldly, blocking Zou Laoqi with his sword. Zou Laoqi stumbled back, stammering, “Come on…” A sly smile crept across his face. “I know why you’re here.”
“Fang Yuan’s owner?” His wife’s face filled with terror as she desperately tried to pull him back, whispering urgently in his ear.
Mudan sighed, realizing this was another fruitless effort. She gestured to Shun’er and Shu’er, “Let’s go.”
But Zou Laoqi shouted, “Bah! We’re starving, and you’re worried about some guild? They control everything, but do you see them giving me rice or money?” He pushed his wife aside and called out to Mudan, “Young miss, don’t go! Come look at the flowers in my garden. If you offer a fair price, forget rootstocks and scions—I’ll sell you the whole garden!”
His wife was terrified, desperately trying to cover his mouth. “You’re courting death! If you’d drink less, we’d have food to eat. Sure, sell to her now, but when the whole family is thrown out with nowhere to go, forget wine—you won’t even have piss to drink.”
“Damned woman, who’s in charge here, me or you?” Zou Laoqi yelled. “Young miss, don’t go… Let’s make a deal. Buy this garden and hire my family to work for you. How about that?”
Zou Laoqi continued shouting and jumping behind them as Mudan walked away, head down. She smiled bitterly at Shun’er, “It seems accepting that plaque has made me a public enemy.” Why was it so hard to simply do business?
What was a guild? Every trade and industry had its guild organization, with guild heads responsible for regulating and supervising transactions within their trade. Within their domain, they were like local emperors—their words were law, and refusing to comply meant being forced out of the business. Mudan was a special case and a woman at that. No one had introduced her to the guild or its head, and even if someone had, they likely wouldn’t have accepted her easily. It was like how Li the gardener taught Yuhe his skills but never formally took her as an apprentice. And Mudan had shot straight to the top, which made many people resentful.
Shun’er scratched his head, a mischievous smile playing on his handsome face. “Since he’s so eager to make this deal, why not agree? It would solve your immediate problem. Later, we could find some fault with this drunkard and easily get rid of him. His wife and daughter are good workers—keeping them would be profitable. Look at their situation; if you don’t help, they’ll be in dire straits soon anyway. You’d be saving his wife and daughter.”
“Let it be,” Mudan shook her head. “With this garden, they can at least scrape by. If I did what you suggest, I’d be no better than those who profit from others’ misfortune.” It seemed her initial idea had been wrong; she couldn’t take the normal route. People like Zou Laoqi only defied the guild when pushed to the brink, hoping to secure a place with Fang Yuan for their retirement. His wife and daughter were different, but taking on someone as troublesome as Zou Laoqi would be like attaching a leech—unless she could be ruthless about it.
Shun’er blushed slightly. Glancing back, he saw Shu’er making a face at him. He stuck out his tongue in response, then noticed someone standing at the temple entrance. The man wore a saffron-colored round-collared narrow-sleeved gauze robe and was craning his neck to look in their direction. His features seemed familiar. Shun’er took a few steps back and recognized Lü Fang.
Feeling frustrated after days of running around, Shun’er immediately shouted, “Oh! If it isn’t the tenth son of Guild Head Lü’s family! Are you here to supervise?”
Hearing the shout, Mudan quickly looked up and saw Lü Fang walking towards them with a wry smile. She quickly put on a pleasant expression and asked Shun’er in a low voice, “How do you know Lü Chun is the guild head?”