When Lu Xiao arrived at the study, he immediately spotted Jiang Yuanlin and Wen Qiantan standing under the gallery. Wen Qiantan had likely just arrived; he was covered in the dust of travel and hadn’t even changed his clothes.
“Qiantan is here?” Lu Xiao smiled—a rarity for him. Since his rebirth, his state of mind toward Jiang Yuanlin and Wen Qiantan had become increasingly different. Both were men who had followed him to the death, and in his past life, they had met tragic ends… but in this life, he would never let that happen again.
“Your Highness.” Wen Qiantan’s gaze swept over Lu Xiao. After a composed bow, he smiled. “Seeing Your Highness this time, I feel there is something different about you.” He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Lu Xiao had always suppressed the hatred for his father and brother deep in his heart, leaving him as fierce and aggressive as an icy spear. Yet, upon meeting him now, he felt Lu Xiao’s presence was even more overwhelming, while at the same time, he possessed an unexpected, calculating composure—as if he had gained some deep, hidden insight—granting his bearing a sense of unrestrained, rebellious ease. He was becoming increasingly unfathomable.
“I have managed to resolve some issues,” Lu Xiao curled his lips. “You old fox, you’re quite astute come inside and speak.”
“I heard that Shen Shangling has become rather strange?” Wen Qiantan asked directly as he followed him into the room. While waiting for Lu Xiao, Jiang Yuanlin had already told him everything about Shen Shangling: taming bees, telling the story of Journey to the West, and inventing some sort of “Hibiscus Soap.” These matters were truly inconceivable.
“Strange or not, it matters little,” Lu Xiao signaled for them to sit. “He is already in my grasp—since you happen to be here today, let’s take a look at the situation with this Hibiscus Soap.” He ordered for Zhao Ce to be called in.
Once Zhao Ce entered, he hurriedly offered his respects. Since they were all Lu Xiao’s confidants, they skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point.
“Your Highness,” Zhao Ce said, his voice trembling with excitement, his swarthy face flushed. “This Hibiscus Soap is truly a treasure—please look, Your Highness.” He laid a piece of paper on the table and continued anxiously, “I have had people take this Hibiscus Soap to test-sell among several wealthy families in the capital, and almost all of them responded immediately. These are the prices they have offered—”
Lu Xiao picked up the paper, and Wen Qiantan leaned in as well. After seeing the prices offered, Lu Xiao showed no obvious expression, but the hand holding the paper tightened slightly: These prices… they exceed my expectations by far. Wen Qiantan, however, was stunned, and then a brilliant light flashed in his fox-like eyes.
“Can this item be mass-produced?” He turned his gaze to Zhao Ce immediately. “What are the raw materials required? How long is the production cycle? How many craftsmen are needed?”
“Whoa!” Jiang Yuanlin also leaned in to look out of curiosity, blurting out, “Do these powerful clans have so much money that they don’t know where to spend it?” The prices were simply astronomical! A single bar of Hibiscus Soap could rival a bolt of silver-patterned Tang brocade. Wen Qiantan had just arrived and didn’t know what raw materials were used, but he knew at least a little bit… and knowing the materials only made him more shocked at the price. Huge profits!
“Master Wen,” Zhao Ce said hurriedly, “I was only tasked with the test-sale; I have not been involved in the production of the Hibiscus Soap.”
“If the raw materials are sufficient, mass production is no problem,” Lu Xiao finally spoke, “but rarity increases value. If we produce it in massive quantities, I fear the price will not remain this high.”
“That is of no concern,” Wen Qiantan said, his eyes burning. “As long as the method remains under your control, Your Highness, even if the price is lower, it remains an invaluable source of wealth.”
“Absolutely,” Jiang Yuanlin laughed. “Which of those noble clans doesn’t have a foundation to rely on? The Song family in Jiangzuo relies on papermaking, the Liu family in Yundu on weaving, the He family in Shangqing on incense… all rely on these secret, exclusive methods to sit back and collect wealth. Isn’t that exactly what we are lacking?”
The Dingbei Prince’s manor had always been the “poorest” of the royal houses. Generations had spent their lives galloping across the battlefield and guarding the frontiers. Despite their great achievements, aside from the fief and granted estates, the manor had never engaged in much commerce. The methods to “grow rich” were all concentrated within the palace or the hands of the old Emperor’s cronies. Seeing the Prince struggling to “cook a meal without rice,” the emergence of this way to generate wealth left Wen Qiantan—who managed the manor’s finances—inevitably excited.
“Your Highness,” Wen Qiantan squinted. “If we are to mass-produce it, we will need to build a workshop. Doing so under the shadow of the Emperor might be unwise.” Whether it was the large-scale procurement of raw materials, the recruitment and management of craftsmen, or the transport of the finished goods… everything was inconvenient in the capital.
“Fuzhou, build it in Fuzhou,” Jiang Yuanlin said quickly. “That is the Prince’s foundation; outsiders cannot intervene there.”
“That is what I have in mind as well,” Lu Xiao nodded. “The ‘Snow Demon’ has already trained a batch of craftsmen; they were carefully selected from among the domestic slaves. I will have them sent to Fuzhou.”
Hearing Lu Xiao call him “Snow Demon” so naturally, Wen Qiantan raised an eyebrow imperceptibly.
After finalizing the matters regarding the construction of the workshop, Zhao Ce took his leave. Wen Qiantan then reported his trip to the south to secure funds to Lu Xiao. In short… it had gone extremely poorly. Lu Xiao was not surprised. Reborn, he knew exactly which branches of the Dingbei Prince’s manor were withered and which were thriving pillars of support. Seeing the dark circles under Wen Qiantan’s eyes and the exhaustion etched into his features, he didn’t say anything further on the matter and waved him off to rest.
“Tsk,” Jiang Yuanlin chuckled as he followed Wen Qiantan out of the study. “Master Third-Place-Scholar, go look in a mirror when you return to your room; your handsome face is so haggard. You old fox, you look like someone has been draining your essence—”
“Get lost,” Wen Qiantan snapped. “How disrespectful!” He was truly exhausted. After his journey, and these days of racking his brains to deal with the clans in the south… he was physically and mentally drained. But fortunately, upon arriving in the capital, a “Hibiscus Soap” had brought him a pleasant surprise.
“Don’t be like that, I’m doing this for your own good,” Jiang Yuanlin raised an eyebrow, stepping in stride with him. “I’ll check your pulse in a moment and write a prescription for you to recuperate.” He and Wen Qiantan, along with Lu Xiao, had known each other since youth. Because their life paths had diverged and then wound back together, they were close confidants and always spoke with complete freedom. Wen Qiantan was older than him, and he was older than Lu Xiao. He wouldn’t call himself “brother” in front of Lu Xiao, but Wen Qiantan often put on the airs of an older brother in front of him… which deeply annoyed him.
“Very well, come with me,” Wen Qiantan paused, suddenly remembering something. “Tell me in detail what else this Shen Shangling has been up to… I need to have an idea before I see him tomorrow.” He had already agreed with Lu Xiao to see whatever mathematical “formulas” Shen Shangling had written down.
Shen Shangling was miserable, practicing calligraphy in the West Pavilion. Lu Xiao had left, and he had intended to slip away, but Li Yan was guarding the door. Li Yan had expressionlessly informed him that the Prince had ordered he could only leave after he had finished writing and handed over the papers.
Shen Shangling: “…” Damn it.
He bowed his head and wrote a sheet of calligraphy. After he finished, even he couldn’t bear to look at it… it was all clumps of black ink… It was truly because the traditional characters had too many strokes, and the brush was too thick naturally, the moment he started writing, it blurred into a mess. He flexed his wrist, gritted his teeth, and tore up that sheet. Rewrite! Otherwise, if Lu Xiao saw it, he might think he was working half-heartedly, and if the man got unhappy, he certainly wouldn’t have a good end.
One sheet, then he tore up another… Shen Shangling felt his eyes growing blurry. It was nearly dark, and his stomach was rumbling with hunger. Enduring it, he gritted his teeth and finished two sheets. After he was done, he looked at them and pressed his lips together.
“Guard Li,” Shen Shangling said, bracing himself as he handed them to Li Yan. “Sorry to trouble you.”
Li Yan took them and placed them on the table nearby, carefully pressing them down with a paperweight. His hand shook as he did so… Heavens above, what kind of drawing is this?