Xie Lanting looked at her in surprise: “What do you mean, Miss?”

“The sir has spent many years in the imperial court—how could you not understand His Majesty’s true intent?” Chen Baoxiang put on an air of profundity, nodding with great gravity.

The one who had died in that blaze was His Majesty’s only daughter—one he had cherished dearly. The first thing His Majesty had done after ascending the throne was to posthumously honor her as Princess Shou’an. Now that the cause of the Princess’s death was in question, His Majesty could hardly have simply wanted to track down whoever had started the rumors.

Xie Lanting’s brow relaxed, and he suddenly turned to Jiuquan with a laugh: “You see—and you were worried about her. She’s sharp as a tack. A few words and she’s already redirected me entirely. Even I can’t get anything out of her—no one else will fare any better.”

Jiuquan also clasped his hands with a smile.

Chen Baoxiang accepted the praise with great satisfaction, then added: “If the sir has no leads, I might be able to offer a few clues.”

“Please, Miss.”

“Cheng Huaili is also from Yuexian County—we’re half-fellow-countrymen, in a manner of speaking. But his village was flooded years ago and nearly no one is left. Commander Lu of the patrol garrison was the one who came out from the same place as him—he likely knows something of the internal affairs.”

“Oh?” Xie Lanting asked. “And what about you? Do you know anything of the internal affairs?”

Chen Baoxiang spread her hands innocently: “What could a delicate, fragile woman like me know of internal affairs? I’ve only heard a few stray whispers here and there. No evidence whatsoever—it doesn’t count for anything.”

Xie Lanting’s gaze settled on her face and didn’t move for quite some time.

Zhang Zhixu was the first to grow impatient under the scrutiny: “Is there crucial evidence on my face?”

“No.” Xie Lanting broke into a laugh. “I was just wondering—Fengqing is someone whose standards are sky-high, so why exactly did he choose you, Miss? Now I see it. Your temperament and character do have a few points in common with his.”

Is he praising me or insulting me?

Of course it’s praise—Zhang Zhixu has an excellent temperament and character.

Oh.

Chen Baoxiang was inexplicably pleased. She hugged her zither and said to Xie Lanting: “Since you’re already here, shall I play a piece for you, sir?”

“By all means.” Xie Lanting thought to himself—if Zhang Zhixu had taken a liking to her, her zither skills surely couldn’t be lacking.

And so he straightened his robes and sat attentively, ready to listen.

Zhang Zhixu wanted to shout at him to run—but it was already too late.

Chen Baoxiang stuffed her own ears with plugs, and with impassioned fervor launched into Guangling San. The force she applied was tremendous—the sound like mountains collapsing and the earth splitting, the notes like a horde of demons in wild dance. At the height of her playing, a string snapped and flew off, sending a shower of dust and debris raining down.

“Did you enjoy it?” She still had the audacity to ask.

Xie Lanting trembled as he pressed a hand to his chest, swallowed back the blood that had surged to his throat, and opened his mouth to reveal red-stained teeth: “Not bad.”

“Then shall I play Phoenix Seeks His Mate next?”

“The phoenix has given up the search.” Xie Lanting staggered to his feet. “I still have a case to attend to—terribly urgent, I must be going. Farewell, farewell.”

“Hey——”

Chen Baoxiang watched his fleeing figure with a deeply wounded expression and asked Jiuquan: “Is it really that awful?”

Jiuquan hesitated for a moment and redirected the topic: “You mentioned earlier, Miss, that you wanted to establish a residence near Xuanwumen. I’ve already had someone look into it. There’s a suitable small courtyard—the land deed is asking seven thousand taels, the property deed is asking nine hundred taels, and with miscellaneous fees, the total comes to roughly nine thousand two hundred taels.”

“How much?!” Chen Baoxiang was thunderstruck.

Jiuquan assumed she was asking about the equivalent in copper cash, and helpfully calculated it for her: “A little over twenty-two million copper coins.”

“No.” Her breathing had gone irregular. She pressed a hand over her heart in distress. “Are you sure you found a regular small courtyard for me?”

“Quite ordinary—only eight rooms in total, and the main hall isn’t large either.” Jiuquan paused to think. “There’s a nicer one next to it. Three-entry, three-exit courtyard. About thirty-three thousand taels.”

Heaven-forsaken wealthy people—how could they bear to spend money that could feed a person for several lifetimes on a pile of broken bricks?

Chen Baoxiang was practically chewing through her handkerchief. She desperately wanted to say whoever wanted it could have it—she’d rather take the silver straight into her coffin.

Zhang Zhixu pointedly reminded her: Weren’t you still set on marrying into a prominent household?

Matchmakers’ visits and betrothal ceremonies required coming to one’s door. Without a respectable residence, how could she hold up her own worth.

Thinking of Pei Ruheng, Chen Baoxiang’s expression became conflicted: “Let me go take a look at it first?”

Zhang Zhixu had a habit of buying properties on a whim, so Jiuquan’s eye for real estate was exceptionally well-trained. Though the courtyard’s layout was simple, the grounds were quite spacious, with a large garden both in the front and back, and the buildings were elegant and tasteful.

Chen Baoxiang had been resistant at first, but the more she looked, the more she liked it.

“Great Immortal, this place is wonderful—right next to the drainage channel, perfect for setting up a pigpen.”

“And there’s a pond here for raising fish. We could raise a few big ones and sell the extras.”

“And this open patch of land—the soil is so rich, vegetables would grow fast here for sure!”

Zhang Zhixu’s brow twitched increasingly with each remark: “Do you want me to get you a gold hoe to go with it?”

“Yes please, but a gold one does seem a bit extravagant.”

Zhang Zhixu: ……

Young Master Zhang had previously believed there wasn’t much difference between the poor and the wealthy—they lived under the same sky, walked on the same earth, and even if their clothing and food differed, their fundamental way of thinking as people should be more or less the same.

But ever since he had come to know Chen Baoxiang, he realized money had a profound influence on people—it changed how one regarded things.

For instance, someone with no shortage of money who bought a property looked only at craftsmanship and decorative carvings, considered the landscape and feng shui and how the servants’ passages affected the main hall—while someone buying a property through gritted teeth thought only about how to squeeze maximum utility from it and how to make some of the money back.

Curious.

Drawing on his experience, he warned her: “Just maintaining these landscaped areas alone costs twenty taels of silver a month—what you’d make from all those little schemes isn’t even worth a few taels.”

“What? There’s upkeep on top of everything?”

“It’s not just the landscape. There are also servants to consider. A residence like this needs at least six people—a gatekeeper, a coachman, two kitchen staff, two general helpers. Monthly wages would run another fifteen taels.”

“Your carriage doesn’t need to be extravagant or rare—a thousand taels would suffice, but feeding the horse comes to five taels a month in fodder.”

“Then there’s the kitchen provisioning and general household expenses——”

Chen Baoxiang had gone completely pale, her lips trembling: “Great Immortal, please stop—my legs are giving out.”

Zhang Zhixu was baffled: “Every household runs on these expenses. What are you afraid of?”

What was she afraid of—of running out of money, naturally.

She ran a mental calculation in her head and let out a prolonged wail of anguish: “Even if I can afford this place at first, I can’t sustain it over the long term.”

No wonder so many common folk, even after coming into money, still went on living in their modest homes in the less prominent neighborhoods.

“Great Immortal, if a small courtyard like this already costs this much to run, what about Xun Yuan?”

“It varies month to month—at most it’s been ten thousand taels, at the low end just a few hundred.”

*A few hundred—just like that?

Chen Baoxiang turned and walked straight back toward Xun Yuan: “I’m not buying, I’m not buying. Staying and mooching off someone else’s house is perfectly fine—no need to worry about rice and firewood, and I don’t have to pay the maids and servants either.”

“But that’s no permanent solution.” Zhang Zhixu said. “What if Pei Ruheng finds out you’re living in the Zhang estate? He’d most certainly misunderstand.”

“Hmph, I’m staying quietly enough—where would he even hear about it?” Chen Baoxiang waved a dismissive hand without a care. “I’ll rent a courtyard temporarily when the betrothal is actually happening. Spend a little, accomplish a lot—that’s the way to survive in Shangjing.”