Chapter 31: Outsmarting the Guild

 

The first day of the new month, and the merchants were already sharpening their tongues.

They'd gathered early at the association hall, rehearsed their lines, and arranged their faces into expressions of polite menace. Madam Cui of the Yushao Porcelain Workshop had been blocking their supply route. Today, they intended to make her see reason.

Madam Cui did not come.

Master He sent a servant to the shop. She wasn't there. He sent him to the North Street residence. The door cracked open just enough to reveal a dark-faced old woman, who delivered her message without blinking: the mistress found it improper to meet with gentlemen, she was unwell today, and she would not be coming to make a fool of herself.

The hall erupted. The men cursed her husband for tolerating such insolence. They cursed her nerve. Then they fell silent, because the problem hadn't moved an inch.

The canal construction had swallowed every available boat. The Water Authority had quietly requisitioned the rest. Their kilns were running dry, the imperial commission hung over their heads, and the only clay within reach sat on land controlled by a woman who had just refused to leave her bedroom. He Zhen, watching her father's jaw tighten, understood exactly what was happening. Madam Cui wasn't sick. She was settling a score.

Which meant someone would have to go apologize.

That someone was He Zhen.

She arrived the next morning with ginseng, bird's nest, honeyed fruits, and her warmest smile. Mama Li opened the gate. He Zhen floated to the bedside, took Liu Mian Tang's hand like a concerned sister, and asked how she could have fallen so ill in just a few days.

Mian Tang, hair loosely pinned, a cloth wrapped around her forehead, sighed beautifully.

There was an old affliction, she explained. Terrible headaches. They had spent a fortune on doctors in the capital, nearly broken her husband's family paying for treatments. Fortunately, a skilled physician had found a cure, but the herbs required very specific conditions. Clean air. No cart dust. No noise. She had only just managed to secure the right piece of land. Those herbs were her only hope of survival. She was so grateful, truly, that Third Miss He had taken the time to visit.

He Zhen kept her smile fixed. In three sentences, Mian Tang had just declared the Shuangling shortcut off-limits on medical grounds. Anyone pushing carts through it was, by implication, trying to kill her.

He Zhen pressed forward anyway. The canal work had taken every boat. The workshops were running short on clay. She'd heard that Yushao had ample supply. If they could spare any, the He family would be most grateful.

Mian Tang's brow creased with apparent regret. She wished she could help. But Yushao had just taken on a large order, and every measure of clay was spoken for. To give it away now would mean missing their deadline, and their reputation had taken years to build.

He Zhen offered to pay above market rate.

Mian Tang shook her head gently. Her husband was an educated man. How could they profit from a neighbor's misfortune? Besides, Yushao sold porcelain, not clay.

He Zhen spent the better part of an hour circling the problem before Mian Tang finally let the real answer surface: if Yushao could secure larger orders, perhaps even imperial commissions, they might find ways to be more flexible. Their current work simply didn't generate enough to make alternatives possible.

The cards were on the table.

He Zhen told her it was a significant matter that required her father's approval. Mian Tang, suddenly strong enough to walk, escorted her warmly to the door and reminded her not to wait too long. Once the herbs in Shuangling took deeper root, it would be a shame to disturb them.

Master He put his fist through a table when he heard. Imperial commissions were serious work, not something an upstart shop with no track record could handle.

He Zhen talked him down. If Mian Tang wanted to earn imperial silver, let her earn it under the He family's name. Yushao's coloring techniques were genuinely exceptional. Use them. Any porcelain they produced would still carry the He family brand. Once the emperor's wedding commission was complete, they could deal with Yushao at their leisure.

Master He recognized the logic. He disliked it. He agreed.

Two days later, the merchants' association held a second meeting. Mian Tang arrived an hour late, apologizing prettily — a woman required more preparation before leaving the house, she hoped they would understand. The assembled gentlemen told her it showed admirable respect for the occasion.

The coloring work, the most profitable portion of the imperial commission, went to Yushao. That piece had always belonged to the He family. Master He's face cycled through several shades. Under the table, He Zhen's foot found his repeatedly. The other merchants, relieved she hadn't reached for their shares, cheerfully encouraged him to be gracious.

He conceded. Mian Tang softened immediately. She spoke movingly about her illness, about the sacrifice of uprooting her healing herbs, about her loyalty to the emperor and her care for the town's merchants. She looked pale and fragile and rather lovely, and the old men around the table nodded with great sympathy.

Master He, privately, had already sent someone to check. The field in Shuangling was cabbage and leeks.

Mian Tang left the meeting with an advance payment of 800 taels on a silver note, with more to follow on completion. She had not previously understood why every merchant in town treated the He family with such elaborate deference. Now she did.

---

In the military camp, Cui Xingzhou heard the latest report from the Water Department and dismissed the official with a nod. The man lingered. He asked, carefully, whether the boats requisitioned across a hundred li might now be released, given that the construction work was nearly done.

Cui Jiu had ordered that requisition himself, on a passing impulse. He'd been thinking of the empty space under the bed at the North Street house, and the young woman quietly trying to earn her way out. It had been a small thing, barely a thought. He hadn't returned to it.

He told the official to release some of the boats.

That evening over a quiet meal on North Street, Mian Tang mentioned she'd successfully extracted the money. Then she mentioned the He family arrangement. Cui Xingzhou's expression shifted slightly.

He had bought the shop only to settle her nerves. He hadn't expected this.

"Aren't you concerned the He family will sabotage you?" he asked. "Use the commission as a lever against your shop?"

Mian Tang smiled. The shop was working under the He family's name, she said. Any damage to Yushao's output would reflect on them. They were too careful for that. And this was only the beginning. Their shop's name was on the small pieces for now, but one day it would be stamped on imperial porcelain and no one else's.

Cui Xingzhou watched her. "Do it for yourself," he said. "Not for me. Manage it well. Build something that's yours."

The shop and the house would be hers when this was over. He didn't say that part aloud.

Mian Tang looked at him with eyes that gave too much away. He picked up a piece of fish with his chopsticks and set it in her bowl. "Eat. Didn't you say you needed to check the new porcelain delivery?"

She laughed, looked down, and ate.

---

They left at the same time. His carriage was heading past the shop. Cui Xingzhou paused, decided it would be odd not to offer, and invited her in.

It was the first time she'd ridden anywhere with him. She sat properly, aware of the faint scent of bamboo that seemed to follow him everywhere. The stone road was quiet, the midday rest keeping people indoors.

They turned into a narrower street.

Men dropped from both walls at once. Two seized the driver by the throat. Others blocked the alley entrance. The curtain was ripped away.

A sword pressed to Mian Tang's throat. The man behind it didn't spare Cui Xingzhou a glance. He'd been told Miss Liu's husband was a useless merchant, the kind who lived soft and valued his skin. He could wait.

"Miss Liu," the man said. "You left. But you took what didn't belong to you. Our young master wants it back. Return the money and we forget this happened."

Mian Tang stared at him. "I don't know your young master. I haven't taken anything. You have the wrong person."

The man laughed without humor and reached for her arm.

The useless merchant spoke from beside her, tone perfectly even. "How much did she take? I'll repay it."

Three million taels, the man told him, sneering. Get out of the way.

He swung his blade at the dandy's face. Two fingers caught it by the flat. One smooth pull, and the large man was yanked forward into the carriage.

Mian Tang had already reached for the bronze bells Mama Li kept nearby, the ones the physician Zhao Quan had given her for wrist exercises. She raised them and brought them down twice, precisely, on the man's skull. She knew her pressure points. Her hands were still weak. It was enough. He went limp.

Cui Xingzhou watched her with mild interest. Soft strikes. Accurate placement.

Then the alley filled with the sound of his hidden guards finishing the rest.

When it was over, he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and knocked her out cleanly.

She slumped. He caught her.

"Your Highness, we have them all," a guard reported from the ground.

He ordered the prisoners taken for questioning and had the carriage turned back toward North Street. Three million taels. So when she'd fled her previous life, she hadn't only taken jewelry and silver. She'd helped herself to a young master's carefully accumulated funds on the way out.

Cui Xingzhou found he was almost impressed.

---

Zhao Quan, the Marquis of Nan, was loitering outside the North Street gate when the carriage returned. He saw Cui Jiu step down carrying Mian Tang unconscious in his arms and immediately assumed the old illness had returned.

When he learned Cui Jiu had knocked her out himself, he went rigid with outrage.

"Your Highness commands soldiers," he said. "That does not mean you raise your hand against a woman this delicate."

Cui Xingzhou had expected her to wake on the road. She hadn't. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, as though the darkness had caught her in something. He told Zhao Quan to check her pulse. He'd only used a light touch. Something was wrong.

He carried her inside, rolled back her sleeve, and held out her wrist.

When Zhao Quan's fingers reached for it, Cui Xingzhou pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and laid it across her wrist.

Zhao Quan stared at him.

Cui Xingzhou's expression didn't change. Zhao Quan, reading something in the slight narrowing of his eyes, opted not to argue and read the pulse through the cloth.

The blood stasis from her earlier condition hadn't fully cleared. She would need a stronger course of treatment. Zhao Quan wrote a new prescription, handed it to Mama Li, and told Cui Xingzhou plainly that today's behavior must not be repeated. Women were not soldiers.

In the past, the Prince of Huaiyang would have smiled thinly and ignored him.

This time, he listened. Then he nodded.

Zhao Quan walked back out into the street feeling faintly unsettled, turning the visit over in his mind. Something was different. He couldn't name it.

---

Mian Tang drifted through a dream thick as river mud. Someone set an open ledger in front of her.

"Miss Liu," the voice said. "What do you think we should do?"