In the study of the Xie residence, the air was thick with the heavy scent of wine and an oppressive silence.
Xie Wenyuan sat in disheveled scholar’s robes, drowning his sorrows in drink. A dignified jinshi laureate, the magistrate of a county, yet he had been publicly “escorted out” by nothing more than a merchant’s steward.
“Wretched brat! Wretched brat!”
He downed the remaining wine in his cup in one gulp and hurled it violently to the ground. His prospects for political achievement were gone, his reputation in ruins, he had offended Censor Wang, and been humiliated before everyone… his life was finished.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, his hatred growing stronger. He resented that merchant for failing to appreciate his status, and even more, he hated that unfilial daughter who had ruined everything for him.
Just as his agitation drove him to smash something else—
“M-Master…”
Chun Cao, like a frightened rabbit, dropped to her knees at the study doorway with a thud, holding up a letter high above her head.
“M-Miss… asked this servant to deliver it to you.”
“She?”
The moment Xie Wenyuan heard the words “Miss,” his fury flared again.
“Get out!” He grabbed a brush washer and flung it at her. “That unfilial daughter! Hasn’t she harmed me enough already? She still dares—”
With a loud crash, the brush washer shattered in front of Chun Cao, shards of porcelain nearly slicing her forehead.
She trembled in fear but did not retreat. Instead, she shuffled forward on her knees and raised the letter even higher.
“Master! Miss said… this letter concerns Lingyue Restaurant! It concerns… your ‘political achievements’!”
“…What?”
Xie Wenyuan froze mid-motion.
He stared at the letter, momentarily speechless.
“…Bring it here.”
His hand trembled as he snatched the letter from Chun Cao.
He had intended to scold her, to tear it apart on the spot, but the four words “Lingyue Restaurant” seemed like a spell, forcing him to restrain himself and open the envelope.
There was no salutation, no greeting.
Only a few lines of neat, delicate script, yet carrying a cold, razor-sharp edge.
First: Different treasures in the same box. Package items of varying value in identical, exquisite, opaque containers such as brocade boxes or lacquered cases, and sell them at a uniform price.
Second: Rare goods invite anticipation. The essence of marketing lies not in the goods themselves, but in fortune. Use themes like “chance,” “surprise,” and “collectible series” as selling points, emphasizing the high value of rare items to stimulate curiosity and the thrill of chance.
Third: One in a hundred. Publicly state the probabilities of each type of item, for example, “common items” at ninety percent, “rare items” at one in a hundred. Probability itself serves as both fairness and allure.
Though this method may seem absurd, it strikes directly at human nature. Those who seek novelty, those who enjoy gambling, those who love collecting will inevitably flock to it.
Xie Wenyuan finished reading.
The hand holding the letter began to tremble.
Not from anger.
From shock. From overwhelming exhilaration.
He was deeply stirred.
He was no merchant, but he was no fool. In an instant, he grasped the terrifying brilliance of this scheme.
“…Straight to the human heart… straight to the human heart…” he muttered.
This was nothing short of a divine move.
The problem posed by that Zhou merchant caravan, the so-called “scam” that had left him and every merchant in the county helpless, had been unraveled by his daughter in just four sentences, and with such clarity.
Was this truly the same daughter who had only ever rebelled and defied him?
This time… she might truly help him break the deadlock.
But after the surge of joy came silence.
Xie Wenyuan began to calculate.
If this plan worked, not only could he connect with the caravan and secure immense political merit, he might even gain recognition before that mysterious Master Zhou.
But… this idea came from that unfilial daughter. As her father, as a magistrate, was he really to seek help from a daughter he had confined?
His flushed face, reddened by alcohol, turned pale and green in turns.
He was caught in an internal struggle, but in the end, his pride and dignity yielded to his ambition.
“To the ancestral hall,” he said hoarsely, abruptly rising.
In the ancestral hall, Xie Qingyan knelt on a cushion, her eyes closed in quiet composure.
She knew that once this plan was sent out, he would come.
The door creaked open.
A heavy scent of wine poured in, mixed with Xie Wenyuan’s suppressed, heavy footsteps and breathing.
“…Ahem.”
He stepped inside without glancing at the ancestral tablets, his gaze fixed solely on his daughter’s back.
He still tried to maintain the authority of a father.
“Qingyan…” he began, his voice dry. “These past days in the ancestral hall… do you understand your mistake?”
Xie Qingyan slowly opened her eyes and turned around.
She did not answer such a foolish question. Instead, she looked at him calmly, her clear eyes seeming to see through everything.
“Father,” she said, “you’ve read the letter, haven’t you?”
“….”
All of Xie Wenyuan’s feigned concern was cut off by that single sentence.
Once again, he was rendered speechless by his daughter.
“Insolence!” he snapped in embarrassment and anger. “Such absurd ideas! Where did you learn them? You, a sheltered young lady, daring to understand such… such strange and devious methods!”
He tried to regain the upper hand.
Xie Qingyan smiled.
“Father,” she said, rising to her feet and meeting his gaze, “you didn’t come here to question where I learned this.”
“You came to confirm whether I can provide more.”
“You—”
“You’re afraid,” she continued before he could speak, “that if you take my letter to Lingyue Restaurant, Master Zhou will ask deeper questions… questions you cannot answer.”
“So,” she stepped forward, her invisible pressure forcing Xie Wenyuan to instinctively retreat half a step, “you came to ask me?”
“You—!” Xie Wenyuan trembled with anger. “Unfilial daughter! Don’t forget, you are nothing more than a woman confined to the ancestral hall! This concerns the survival of our family! You—”
“I know.”
She cut him off.
“So let’s make a deal.”
“A deal?”
“I am willing to ease Father’s worries,” Xie Qingyan said, her tone calm to the point of coldness, “but I have conditions.”
Xie Wenyuan glared at her. A county magistrate, forced to the negotiating table by his sixteen-year-old daughter.
“…Speak,” he forced out through clenched teeth.
“First, lift my confinement,” she said. “I need a quiet, comfortable courtyard to handle the follow-up matters with Master Zhou.”
“Second, grant me freedom of movement. I will no longer tolerate restrictions on my personal freedom. I will go wherever I please.”
“Impossible!” Xie Wenyuan rejected instinctively. “Lift your confinement? So you can go out and cause more trouble?”
“Father,” Xie Qingyan looked at him steadily, “do you think that Master Zhou is a fool?”
“The fact that he could set up this situation proves that his intellect surpasses both of ours.”
“You have already gone once. If you take my solution to him, he will immediately see that it was not your idea.”
“If you do not let me out,” she smiled, “then you will have to face him on your own.”
“I wonder how many rounds you could survive?”
“….”
That single sentence struck directly at his weakness.
He was afraid. Truly afraid. Afraid to face that cold steward again, and that mysterious Master Zhou, afraid of being humiliated once more.
“…Fine.”
Xie Wenyuan yielded.
“…I can lift your confinement in the ancestral hall. You may return to your Qingzhi Courtyard.”
“But!” he tried to salvage a shred of dignity, “your movements will be restricted to the inner residence of the Xie family! If you dare step outside the gates—”
“Deal,” Xie Qingyan cut him off, not even listening to his “but.”