Hua Zhi knew her grandmother was still worried, so she described in detail how the wound had been treated, what medicines had been applied, and what care she had taken with her diet — all in her usual obedient manner. But the old madam had managed the household for many years. Whatever else one might say of her, her eye for reading people was second to none. Out of Hua Zhi’s sight, she gave the steward a silent look.

The steward understood. He slipped out briefly, then returned and announced: “Old madam, the manager from the outer shop has come to report a matter. Your instructions, please?”

“Have him wait in the main reception hall. I’ll be there directly.”

“Yes.”

The old madam rose. “The two of you catch up for now. Hua Zhi — do you have time to stay for supper this evening?”

Hua Zhi rose along with her. “I’m afraid not this time. Please forgive me, grandmother. I’ll come and keep you company another day.”

“What is there to forgive — you’re busy, and that’s all there is to it. I could hardly resent you for it.” She adjusted Hua Zhi’s clothing and let out a quiet sigh. “Go on, then. Keep your grandfather company.”

Watching her grandmother leave, Hua Zhi turned to her grandfather and gave a gentle bow. “This matter is of great consequence. I wonder if you might find somewhere we won’t be interrupted.”

Zhu Haocheng’s heart sank. He led her toward the study.

At the corner of the corridor, the old madam — who should have been on her way — paused and watched the two of them walk out of sight before turning and heading in another direction. As she went, she gave quiet instructions: “Zhi Niang, have someone look into whether anything has happened in the capital recently. Go by the Hua household and try to draw something out of the old mistress there. And ask Lin Shuang as well.”

The old attendant known as Zhi Niang acknowledged this and gently guided her forward, offering soft reassurance as they walked: “It can’t be anything too serious — if it were, it would already be the talk of all the city. Don’t worry yourself, madam. Even if something has gone wrong with the young miss’s business dealings, with you here, would she really come out the worse?”

The old madam shook her head and said nothing more. Hua Zhi was steady and composed — those words were almost insufficient to describe her — yet today she had come with a visible undercurrent of anger. And her attendants were all capable women; for Hua Zhi to simply stumble without cause made no sense. The old madam even suspected the injury was not from a fall at all. But this was ultimately a matter belonging to the Hua household, and Hua Zhi had plainly not wanted her to know. All she could do was remove herself and ask the old master later — the old master, at least, would not hide it from her.

Inside the study, Hua Zhi held nothing back. She told him everything.

Even Zhu Haocheng — a man who considered himself to have weathered more than his share of rises and falls in officialdom — could not remain seated. He paced in circles to work through his astonishment before speaking. “Does anyone else know of this?”

“The head of the Seven Lodges Bureau. Shao Yao. You. And me.”

Zhu Haocheng knew Shao Yao — the female physician. But the head of the Seven Lodges Bureau…

He looked at his granddaughter. “The man with the scar on his face?”

“Yes.”

In that moment, Zhu Haocheng was glad that Hua Zhi had hidden nothing from him — and yet troubled at the same time. The matter was immense. That Hua Zhi and the head of the Seven Lodges Bureau had made a private commitment to each other was itself a significant matter. That such a monumental burden had been placed on Hua Zhi’s shoulders was a far greater one still.

“What is his position in this?”

“He stands with me.”

“You’re certain?”

Hua Zhi did not answer at once. She turned it over in her mind several times before nodding. “Yes. I trust him.”

“Very well. Then I give you my word as well. If the Emperor issues the command, I will lead the Ministry of Finance to support you with everything we have. And even if the Emperor fails to keep his word, your grandfather will do everything within his power to help you.”

Hua Zhi’s eyes reddened at the corners. She prostrated herself before him with full sincerity.

Zhu Haocheng helped her to her feet and asked: “Do you regret anything you have done this past year?”

“Not at all.” Hua Zhi did not need even a moment to consider it. Even knowing that it had invited the Emperor’s scheming, she had no regrets. “If time were given back to me, I would still step forward to uphold the Hua household — only I would be more cautious.”

Zhu Haocheng felt a deep contentment settle over him. He had been worrying needlessly. A woman who could be broken so easily would not be the eldest daughter of the Hua family. And yet…

He let out a quiet, inward sigh. A subject must not speak ill of his ruler. Even when the ruler is truly in the wrong, a subject can only grit his teeth and bear it. Better to focus on solving the problem at hand.

“Have you thought through where to begin?”

“I have a rough idea, and I’ve already presented it to the Emperor. But if he wants me to fill the treasury, he must first give me the means to do so — what I have on hand now is nowhere near enough.” Hua Zhi looked at her grandfather. “Once the funds are in place, I intend to move on several fronts at once. The Ministry of Finance will be needed frequently — you should prepare yourself.”

“Tell me. Let me have some sense of it beforehand.”

Hua Zhi organized her thoughts, then began with tea. “First, we need to acquire tea gardens. It’s already the ninth month — if we move quickly, we can still bring in one harvest of winter tea in the tenth month. Winter tea cannot rival autumn or spring tea in quality, but if properly processed, it will sell without difficulty.”

“Using your method?”

“Yes.”

Zhu Haocheng settled back in his chair and tapped the armrest with a bent finger. “Once this tea of yours appears on the market it will certainly cause a sensation. Have you thought about how to manage the interests of all the parties that will be affected?”

“No business should ever be made an absolute monopoly. If someone wishes to enter this trade, we can negotiate — they share their profits with me.”

Zhu Haocheng nodded. Over the past few years, his granddaughter had been sending him tea as a show of filial respect, and from the very first time he received it he had hinted, both openly and indirectly, that here was a venture that could bring in serious money — only to be mocked by that old man Hua Yizheng for being consumed by thoughts of profit. This past year he had watched Hua Zhi busy herself with her food and beverage businesses and assumed she simply hadn’t gotten to the tea venture yet. Looking back now, he realized this particular trade touched the interests of too many parties — at the time, the Hua family had not been in a position to touch it.

But now things were different. With the Emperor standing behind her, what business was beyond her reach?

“If she can secure a foothold in this market, the profits would be enormous.”

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t a major venture. That is the first matter.” Hua Zhi paused. “Then there is grain. I want to use my own name to lease several plots of land in the south and attempt two-season rice cultivation. I know that the late Emperor tried and failed. But hear me out. The Seven Lodges Bureau will find a way to bring in people from the Yan Kingdom — they grow three seasons there. They have far more experience with timing than our farmers here, and the climate in the south is also favorable. It may not be impossible.”

Zhu Haocheng still harbored little hope. If the Yan Kingdom could grow three seasons, who in the Great Qing had not looked on with envy — and yet every trial cultivation had ended in failure. He opened his mouth to counsel against it, but seeing the certainty in his granddaughter’s expression, he swallowed the words back. He truly could not bring himself to discourage her. And setting aside the Great Qing, if one combed through the historical records back to the very beginning — had any dynasty ever seen a woman bear a burden of this magnitude? The Emperor was truly…

He forcibly pressed down the irreverence rising within him and gave a nod. “If this succeeds, the histories will record your name.”

“What use is that empty name to me? Even if it does succeed, the credit should go to you, grandfather.”

Zhu Haocheng laughed. “Am I to steal your credit? If Hua Yizheng ever came back and heard of it, he’d tear this old face of mine clean off.”

“If you won’t take it, it’ll fall to the Emperor’s account. That I refuse.”

Hua Zhi’s tone was flat, yet Zhu Haocheng heard the undercurrent of anger in it all the same. It was understandable, he supposed — the Emperor had used her vulnerabilities to compel her into accepting this assignment, and to then expect her to gladly let him claim every achievement as his own was simply asking too much.

And yet: “Rein in your emotions. If the wrong person sees it, that alone could become a serious offense.”

Hua Zhi pressed her lips together and murmured her assent. She knew her grandfather meant well. The Emperor had use for her at the moment and would not move against her directly if he sensed her disrespect — but he would not hesitate to turn his blade toward those around her, and he might even be waiting for her to make a mistake to give himself grounds to act.

Two days’ worth of anger that had refused to cool was, at that very moment — as that thought struck her — doused as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head. Only now did Hua Zhi truly realize what a grave error she had made. Had her grandfather not reminded her, had she gone on thinking herself safe and acted without restraint or deference…

She could not even finish imagining the possible consequences without a cold shiver running through her.

How could she have forgotten — this was a society of imperial power, where a single word from the ruler could cause rivers of blood.