Wang Decai desperately clutched Spring’s hand, making choking “huo huo” sounds before finally collapsing into a pool of blood.
Spring watched him fall with a strange smile on her face.
This scene left everyone stunned.
No one had expected Spring to be carrying scissors, and truthfully, even Spring herself hadn’t expected to use them. Earlier, she had been doing needlework in her room with the scissors in hand when the yamen runners came to summon her. In her panic, she had tucked the scissors away and left. After entering the yamen, worried about the scissors being discovered, she had hidden them in her sleeve.
Wang Decai’s betrayal had pushed the already unstable Spring to her limit, and in that moment of desperation, she had committed this shocking act.
Chaos immediately erupted in the hall. The yamen runners quickly seized Spring, who offered no resistance. She simply dropped the scissors and allowed herself to be taken to the prison.
As for Wang Decai, he lay on the ground, seemingly drawing his last breaths.
“Quick, call for a physician!” The Prefecture Magistrate immediately ordered someone to summon a doctor. Soon, the medical hall’s physician arrived, startled by the scene in the courtroom. After examining Wang Decai and providing emergency treatment, he could only say they had done what they could and must now wait on heaven’s will. The doctor said it all depended on whether Wang Decai could survive the night—if he did, there might be hope, but if not, the family should prepare for his funeral.
At this point, everyone began to disperse. The Li family returned home and held a ceremonial drinking ritual for Li Jingfu to ward off evil spirits and calm his nerves.
Zhenniang’s suspended heart finally settled—Wang Decai had not succeeded after all. The Li family had truly overcome this crisis.
That night, Zhenniang slept especially soundly.
The next day, the Li family received news that Wang Decai hadn’t survived the night, dying in the Yamen prison. His body was simply wrapped in a mat and thrown in the wasteland for unclaimed corpses. Fortunately, Su Shi still held some conjugal feelings and buried him in a thin coffin.
Wang Decai’s fate proved the saying true: debts must always be repaid. It’s not that there’s no retribution—it’s just that the time hasn’t come. When the time comes, retribution is immediate.
After all the chaos, the Tian family property case was finally settled, with Tian Benchang inheriting the family estate.
This case of Spring’s attempt to seize the family property, which had stemmed from the Li family’s case of collaborating with the Tartars, became Huizhou’s hottest topic of discussion.
A few days later, Spring’s sentence was announced: execution after autumn. When this verdict was announced, the gossip-loving crowd couldn’t help but sigh, while Tian Benchang went to burn incense at Madam Tian’s grave.
Subsequently, all eyes in Huizhou’s ink industry turned to the Tian family’s ink workshop.
The Tian family had fallen on hard times, and even though Tian Benchang was capable, reviving the Tian brand wouldn’t happen overnight. Additionally, with the holes left by the second young master, consolidating and reorganizing the family business was inevitable.
The Tian family’s ancestral businesses were timber and farmland—these were hereditary enterprises that Tian Benchang couldn’t sell. That left only Tian Mo, which was more accurately managed by Tian Benchang than created by Old Master Tian. Therefore, if Tian Benchang wanted to develop the family business, selling Tian Mo was inevitable.
“Why isn’t Wenqian making his move now? Hasn’t he always wanted to reclaim Tian Mo?” Li Jingfu asked Zhenniang during breakfast.
“Brother Luo has been negotiating with Tian Benchang all this time. Such major matters can’t be settled quickly,” Zhenniang nodded in response.
“That’s true,” Li Jingfu agreed.
“By the way, I heard Zhengyan’s wife saying yesterday that there are rumors in the ink workshop that when Young Master Luo buys back Tian Mo, he won’t have time to manage it and will eventually merge it with Li Mo?” Du Shi said while feeding Huiguan.
Zhengyan was the second cousin from the ninth branch, who had married last year. His wife often chatted with Du Shi.
“Nonsense! Tian Mo was originally Luo family property—why would Wenqian work so hard to buy it back just to merge it with Li Mo? Don’t mention this again,” Zhao Shi snapped before Zhenniang could respond.
“Exactly, don’t spread such talk. If it reaches the Luo family’s ears, they might think our Li family is eyeing their ink workshop,” Li Jingfu added, then said: “Give Zhengyan’s wife a hint about this too.”
“I understand,” Du Shi nodded.
With her parents having made things clear, Zhenniang didn’t need to say more. After finishing breakfast, she collected the bowls and said to her parents, “Father, Mother, I’m heading to the ink workshop. We’ve started making this year’s tribute ink, and I need to supervise.”
“Go ahead, watch carefully—we can’t be careless with this,” Li Jingfu quickly said, remembering his past troubles with tribute ink.
“Don’t worry, Father,” Zhenniang reassured him, then got up to change clothes. Just as she was about to leave, her mother called her back: “Zhenniang, when you have time, sound out Wenqian’s thoughts. If he has such intentions, let him think it through carefully, so you won’t be troubled in the future.”
Zhao Shi looked serious. For her daughter’s sake, she had to consider many things. Although Li Mo was flourishing now, the Li family’s future wasn’t entirely bright.
Zhenniang was, after all, a woman. As a Li family daughter with Old Lady Li’s support, managing Li Mo wasn’t a problem now. However, once she married into the Luo family, it would be inappropriate for her to continue managing Li Mo’s affairs.
And Li Mo faced the inevitable problem of having no successor, which would lead to various disputes. If Luo Wenqian got involved then, it would put Zhenniang in a difficult position. As a mother, Zhao Shi was somewhat selfish—she didn’t want her daughter caught in the middle.
“Mother, don’t worry. Brother Luo has his plans,” Zhenniang smiled at her mother, then linked arms with her and said: “Do you know why Brother Luo hasn’t acquired Tian Mo yet? He’s been negotiating with several master craftsmen from Tian Mo. His idea is to acquire Tian Mo jointly with these masters, which would make it a partnership, so he won’t need to spend too much time at the workshop.”
“That’s good then.” Zhao Shi nodded. Wenqian was indeed capable.
Only then did Zhenniang leave. She understood her mother’s concerns perfectly. No one knew Li Mo’s situation better than she did—it wasn’t suitable for further expansion. The current scale was already at the limit of what the Li family could handle. Any further expansion would be biting off more than they could chew.
Many businesses in later generations would fail due to blind expansion.
Lost in these thoughts, Zhenniang entered the workshop. After inspecting various departments and finding no issues, she headed to the ink shop on Sibao Street. She planned to look around the street and then go shopping for some items—the second day of the second month was Aunt Jinhua’s wedding day with Cheng Changgen, and she still hadn’t prepared all the gifts.
However, just as she entered Sibao Street, she saw a crowd three layers deep gathered around the entrance of the Cheng family ink shop.
At that moment, Luo Wenqian poked his head out from the crowd and, seeing Zhenniang, waved her over. She quickly squeezed through the crowd. Inside, she saw a long table set up at the entrance of the Cheng family ink shop, with Cheng Dayue and Fang Dahu sitting at opposite ends. The only difference was that Fang Dahu had a package strapped to his back.
Fang Dahu was a craftsman at Cheng Mo, and also the helmsman of Fang Mo during the Wanli period.
At this time, many ink sticks were arranged on the table, and both men wore serious expressions. Old Master Cheng sat to the side.
“Brother Luo, what are they doing?” Zhenniang whispered in Luo Wenqian’s ear.
“An ink duel,” Luo Wenqian replied softly, then explained the situation in her ear. It turned out that Fang Dahu had created the Jiuxuan Sanji ink, and because he and Cheng Mo often had different views on ink-making concepts, Fang Dahu wanted to leave and start his own business. Reportedly, he had received support from Wang Daokunxu.
However, Cheng Dayue believed that since the ink used Cheng Mo’s formula and techniques, and all materials came from Cheng Mo, Fang Dahu could leave to start his own business, but he couldn’t take the Jiuxuan Sanji ink with him.
But Fang Dahu insisted that Jiuxuan Sanji ink was his creation and demanded to take it with him.
Unable to resolve their dispute, they had resorted to an ink duel.
“Begin,” Old Master Cheng announced.
Immediately, both Cheng Dayue and Fang Dahu picked up black cloths from beside the table and blindfolded themselves.
Then they each began selecting ink sticks.
“Three-year-old Xuanyuan Lingqi ink,” Cheng Dayue spoke first.
“Five-year-old Miaoping ink,” Fang Dahu followed quickly.
“Eight-year-old Hundred Sons Pomegranate Ink.”
“Seven-year-old Green Jade Case ink.”
“Twenty-year-old Donghuang Taiyi ink.”
“Fifteen-year-old Lady of Xiang ink.”
…
They continued back and forth, each naming inks, and soon completed the identification round. Neither had lost to the other—it was a tie.
“Then let’s compete in ink-making skills,” Cheng Dayue said, unwilling to concede.
“Fine,” Fang Dahu responded defiantly.
“We’ll start with smoke collection. Whoever loses at any stage loses the contest,” Old Master Cheng said, then waved for someone to prepare the smoke collection equipment.
Soon, the oil lamp for smoke collection and tung oil were brought over. Both Cheng Dayue and Fang Dahu were experts, their techniques in controlling the fire and collecting smoke too quickly for the eye to follow.
Just as they had collected the smoke and were about to compare results, suddenly a bird fell from the sky, landing right in Cheng Dayue’s soot. This unexpected situation stunned everyone.
How could they compare under these circumstances?
“Let’s start over,” Fang Dahu said.
“No need. The winner is decided—Dahu has won. You may take the Jiuxuan Sanji ink with you,” Old Master Cheng suddenly announced.
The spectators all looked at Old Master Cheng—this didn’t seem quite fair.
“Grandfather,” Cheng Dayue protested, unwilling to accept.
“Luck is also a kind of skill,” Old Master Cheng said calmly.
Hearing Old Master Cheng’s words, though unwilling, Cheng Dayue had no choice. He could only glare at Fang Dahu before turning and entering the Cheng family ink shop.
Fang Dahu bowed deeply to Old Master Cheng, then turned and strode away.
Watching his departing figure, Zhenniang suddenly had the feeling of history’s curtain slowly rising. The rivalry between the Fang and Cheng ink workshops during the Wanli period seemed to be gradually unfolding.