The next morning arrived with a clear sky. In the center walkway of our bamboo house, Chu Ning’er sat with her legs crossed. She had a mountain of bright gold coins spread out on a blanket in front of her, her small fingers moving the shiny pieces into neat piles of ten.
"Ten... twenty... thirty..." Ning’er muttered, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Her cheeks were bright pink, completely free of any blue tint.
She picked up a particularly shiny coin, but it slipped from her fingers and rolled across the wood, bouncing straight into the wheel of Mo Ran’s empty chair. Ning’er scrambled after it on her hands and knees, bumping her head lightly against the wooden seat.
"Ouch," she giggled, rubbing her forehead. She looked up at Mo Ran, who was standing nearby, balancing perfectly on her own feet. "Sister Mo, these coins are too slippery! My fingers are getting tired from counting all this wealth!"
Mo Ran let out a soft laugh, leaning down to scoop up the rogue coin and tossing it back into the pile. "That’s because you’re greedy, Ning’er. Leave forty pieces out for the autumn tax, and tuck the rest away into Lu Chen’s ring."
Ye Xinyang and Gu Qinghan walked out of the kitchen, carrying two fresh wooden bowls of warm millet porridge. Qinghan’s eyes were completely bright now, tracking the movement of the coins on the floor with ease. She walked straight to my side, her shoulder brushing against mine as she set her bowl down.
"The main administration hall is opening its gates now, husband," Qinghan whispered, her voice sweet and carrying that gentle romance that always made my neck feel warm. She gave my hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before stepping back.
I counted forty gold pieces into a small cloth pouch and tied it to my belt.
"Xinyang, Mo Ran, come with me to the outer hall," I said, giving them a warm nod. "Qinghan, stay here with Ning’er and keep the doors locked until we get back."
"Be careful," Xinyang said softly, her eyes full of absolute trust and pride as she stood close to my left side, her fingers lightly brushing against my sleeve.
After few hours....
The main square of the outer administration hall was packed with servants and low-tier disciples. At the front of the square, behind a long wooden desk, sat Deacon Wu, checking his thick leather ledger with a smug grin. Standing right beside him were Elder Ironwood and Governor Zhao, who had come up from the valley town personally to watch my arrest.
Zhou Kang stood behind his grandfather, his wrapped wrist tucked into his belt, looking at the crowd with an arrogant sneer.
"Next!" Deacon Wu barked, tapping his quill against the page.
I stepped out of the crowd, walking straight up to the desk. Ye Xinyang and Mo Ran walked right beside me, their new dresses fitting them beautifully, drawing stunned whispers from the surrounding servants. Nobody could believe that these three proud, elegant people were the same broken outcasts from the garbage shack.
"Ah, Lu Chen," Governor Zhao let out a greasy, underhanded chuckle, his fat fingers tapping his gold rings against the wood. "The deadline is here. Where are the two hundred bags of millet? My town inspectors logged a serious grain disease on your plot. Surely you didn’t bring infected crops to the sect’s granary?"
Elder Ironwood stepped forward, his beard twitching with malice. "According to the decree, if you cannot deliver the harvest, you must pay the equivalent value in currency to cover the household tax. That is exactly forty gold pieces. If your pockets are empty, slave, the discipline guards are already waiting behind the gate."
Zhou Kang stepped out, pointing his good hand at my face. "Kneel down and beg my grandfather for mercy, trash! You couldn’t sell a single grain in the town market! You’re going straight to the mines!"
The surrounding outer disciples started laughing, mocking my position. I didn’t answer them. I didn’t get angry, and I didn’t offer a single word of defense.
I reached down to my belt, untied the small cloth pouch, and tipped it over right on top of Deacon Wu’s open ledger.
Forty thick, bright gold coins tumbled out, rolling across the white paper and scattering across the desk. The pure gold caught the morning sunlight, flashing brightly in front of everyone’s eyes.
The laughter in the square died instantly.
Deacon Wu’s jaw went completely slack, his quill slipping from his fingers and staining the ledger with black ink. Governor Zhao’s greasy smile froze on his face, his eyes staring at the gold as if he had just seen a ghost. Elder Ironwood took a sharp step backward, his hand shaking against his wooden staff.
"This... this is..." Deacon Wu stammered, his voice squeaking as he picked up a coin, biting it with his teeth to check if it was real. "It’s pure capital-grade gold! Where did an outer servant get this kind of currency?"
"The Lin Trading Firm from the regional capital bought my entire harvest yesterday," I said, my voice calm, smooth, and completely flat. "They paid two gold pieces per bag. The tax is paid in full, Deacon. Log it in your book."
Zhou Kang’s face turned completely white with pure terror, his knees shaking as he realized their market block had completely failed. "The capital firm? How... how do you have connections with the capital?"
I didn’t bother answering him. I turned my back on the stunned, humiliated elders and looked at my two beautiful wifes.
Ye Xinyang was looking at Elder Ironwood’s defeated face, a brilliant, proud smile lighting up her beautiful features. Mo Ran let out a soft, mischievous giggle, bumping her shoulder against my arm in a comfortable, loving way as we started walking back toward the path.
"Let’s go home," I told them softly. "Now We have a house to decorate, and this small pond is getting far too crowded for us."