Ning Nuannuan returned to the Ninth Prince’s residence with the account books and silver, but she didn’t act immediately.
The shopkeeper Zhou of the silk shop was far more difficult to deal with than Wang Dafu from the grocery store. A shop that had stood firm for three years on Qianmen Street meant its manager had real capability. Forcing her way in wasn’t impossible—but a proper setup would yield better results.
She spread the grocery store’s account book on the table and went through it again from beginning to end.
The more she looked, the more interesting it became. Wang Dafu’s bookkeeping was crude, but his greed followed a pattern. Every month, he consistently handed over two taels of silver to Concubine Su without fail. Of the remaining profits, he pocketed seventy percent and left thirty percent in the accounts to maintain appearances.
Concubine Su collected two taels a month—twenty-four taels a year. Over six years, that amounted to one hundred forty-four taels. Add to that her cut from the silk shop—Ning Nuannuan hadn’t checked yet, but judging by its scale, it was at least three to four hundred taels.
Between the two shops, Concubine Su had siphoned off no less than five hundred taels from the original owner’s dowry properties.
It wasn’t an enormous sum, but the nature of it was vile.
A dowry was a woman’s private property. Not only were concubines forbidden to touch it—even the head wife had no right to interfere. For Concubine Su to reach her hand into it was essentially theft.
Ning Nuannuan put the account book back into the iron box and locked it.
Tomorrow, she would visit the silk shop.
Early the next morning, Ning Nuannuan didn’t change into casual clothes. She went out directly in her formal attire as the primary consort.
A lotus-purple banner dress, paired with kingfisher feather jewelry—an old set she had found among her dowry. The quality wasn’t top-tier, but it was complete in form. At her waist hung the token of the Ninth Prince’s residence.
The entourage was larger than yesterday. He Yuzhu had arranged for four guards from the residence to accompany her, along with two maids. Seven people in total made their way grandly to Qianmen Street.
The storefront of “Ruijinxing” Silk Shop looked imposing under the sunlight. Three connected shopfronts, red tassels hanging from the eaves, and a welcoming banner fluttering in the autumn breeze.
Ning Nuannuan stepped down from the sedan chair and strode into the shop.
This time, she wasn’t here to investigate—she was here to take control.
There were three or four groups of customers browsing fabrics inside. The same clerk from yesterday was introducing Suzhou embroidery to a woman in a trimmed banner dress. Another clerk stood behind the counter, working an abacus.
When they saw Ning Nuannuan enter with guards, their hands froze.
“Call your Shopkeeper Zhou out.” Ning Nuannuan stood at the counter and placed the Ninth Prince’s token on the surface.
The clerk from yesterday recognized her face, his mouth parting slightly. He also recognized the inscription on the token—“Residence of the Ninth Prince Yintang.”
“You… you are—”
“The Ninth Prince’s Consort. The owner of this shop.” Ning Nuannuan had no patience for small talk. “Go get him.”
The clerk scrambled toward the back courtyard.
In less than the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, the curtain at the back was lifted, and a middle-aged man in his forties walked out.
Shopkeeper Zhou.
Of average height, with a lean face and neatly trimmed mustache. He wore a gray-blue cotton robe, a faded cloth tied at his waist. His steps were unhurried.
His eyes stood out the most—not large, but sharp and constantly moving, carrying the keen calculation unique to a seasoned merchant.
“Consort, your arrival honors us. I failed to welcome you from afar.” Shopkeeper Zhou stopped at the counter and gave a half-bow. Neither servile nor arrogant—his composure far surpassed Wang Dafu’s.
“I came yesterday,” Ning Nuannuan said bluntly.
Shopkeeper Zhou’s expression didn’t change. “This humble one heard from the staff. I wasn’t in the shop yesterday and neglected the Consort—deserving of punishment.”
“Punishment can wait. Bring out your account books now.”
Shopkeeper Zhou didn’t move.
He rubbed his hands together, forcing a troubled expression. “Consort, it’s not that I refuse to show you the accounts. It’s just that the rules of this shop have always been set by Concubine Su. The supply channels, the merchants, the financial routes—all arranged by her people. If I hand over the accounts privately, when they question me—”
“Concubine Su?” Ning Nuannuan cut him off.
Again, Concubine Su.
From stewards to shopkeepers, both shops spoke only of her. A mere concubine managing the dowry businesses of a legitimate daughter—the Dong’e family truly had no rules left.
“Shopkeeper Zhou, I’ll say this once. Listen carefully.” Ning Nuannuan took the deed from her sleeve, unfolded it, and placed it on the counter.
On the paper, in clear black ink, were the words “Dong’e Ningnuan,” stamped with the official seal beneath.
“This is my shop. Concubine Su’s surname is Su, not Dong’e. She is a concubine, not the master. You’re treating her words like orders—do you think a concubine outranks the rightful owner?”
Manager Zhou glanced at the deed, his eyes shifting twice.
“What Madam says is true. It’s just… the shop’s supply comes from Concubine Su’s people. If it’s suddenly cut off—”
“You worry too much.” Ning Nuannuan put away the deed. “The account books. Now.”
A flicker of hesitation crossed Manager Zhou’s face. It was brief, but Ning Nuannuan caught it.
He was calculating, weighing which would be worse—offending Concubine Su or offending the new owner.
In his mind, the answer was obvious: Concubine Su.
She had operated in the Dong’e household for over a decade—favored, well-connected, with two daughters to rely on. And this legitimate Madam before him? She had only been married into the prince’s residence for a few days. Even her natal family didn’t seem to favor her. How much trouble could she really cause?
Manager Zhou made a decision he would regret for the rest of his life.
He took half a step back, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and straightened his back.
“Madam, please forgive me. It’s not that I refuse—but Concubine Su gave orders that the shop’s accounts cannot be shown to outsiders. If you and Concubine Su come to an agreement, I’ll present them immediately.”
Outsider.
That was the word he used—outsider.
Ning Nuannuan stared at him for three seconds. Throughout those three seconds, Manager Zhou maintained that shrewd yet respectful smile. He likely thought his response was perfectly handled—neither openly defiant nor directly refusing, while pushing the problem onto Concubine Su.
Ning Nuannuan said nothing more.
She turned and walked toward the shop entrance.
Manager Zhou let out a sigh of relief. It seemed this Madam was nothing special—rejected once, and she simply left. After all, she was inexperienced—
“Bang!”
A loud crash sounded behind him.
Manager Zhou whipped around.
Ning Nuannuan stood at the doorway.
The threshold of “Ruijinxiang”—a solid wooden beam about four inches high and as thick as an adult’s forearm—had been kicked in half by her.
Split clean into two pieces.
The break was jagged, wood chips scattering. The two halves flew apart in opposite directions, one slamming into the doorframe and embedding itself into the wood.
The customers browsing fabrics in the shop froze in shock. A finely dressed woman dropped the silk in her hand. The maid beside her screamed outright.
A shop assistant holding an abacus stared blankly at the broken threshold. He had worked there for two years, stepping over it daily—he knew the material well.
Elm wood. Solid, old elm—not soft pine.
And it had been broken with one kick.
Ning Nuannuan turned back and walked to the counter.
Manager Zhou’s smile was gone. The ends of his mustache trembled.
“Manager Zhou.” Ning Nuannuan stopped in front of him. “That kick was for the threshold. What the next one lands on depends on what you say next.”
Manager Zhou swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing twice. His gaze shifted from her face to her foot—the same boot that had just split a thick elm threshold in half without even creasing.
“The account books are in the back storeroom,” he said hoarsely.
“Lead the way.”
Manager Zhou turned toward the back courtyard, walking twice as fast as before. At the corner, he even tripped over his own robe.
The back courtyard was small—one storeroom, one kitchen, and a shed for goods. The storeroom door was locked. Manager Zhou’s hand trembled as he took out the key, missing the keyhole twice before finally opening it.
The scene inside the storeroom was even more outrageous than Ning Nuannuan had expected.
There were over a dozen bolts of silk on the shelves. The top few were wrapped in oilcloth, hiding their quality. Ning Nuannuan lifted the covering—
Top-grade Hangzhou silk. Genuine. Smooth to the touch, tightly woven—completely different from the so-called “top-grade silk” displayed outside.
“The goods outside are inferior. The best ones are hidden in the storeroom.” Ning Nuannuan placed the silk back. “Were you planning to sell them privately, or send them to Concubine Su?”