The steward withdrew, his mind filled with doubts.
He could not understand why the young master had suddenly taken an interest in grain reserves. Seeing Zhao Chengyu’s grave expression, he dared not ask further, only quietly furrowing his brow and committing the matter to memory, fearing any oversight.
Inside the study, Zhao Chengyu stood alone by the window, gazing at the churning dark clouds outside, his eyes deep and thoughtful.
The Zhao Mansion had ample grain, but what about Shen Miao? Did she have enough?
…
That day, Zi An returned from purchasing grain outside and, upon seeing Shen Miao, hesitantly said, “Shen Gongzi, the grain merchants outside… they’re all mocking you, calling you a fool, a spendthrift… You’ve bought so much grain. What if the flood season comes…”
Shen Miao sat in the courtyard of her temporary residence. On the small table by the window, deeds for grain shops and granaries were neatly stacked.
Her fingertips lightly brushed the surface of the papers, her expression calm and unruffled, without a trace of panic or disturbance.
Memories from her past life had already told her that this year’s Jiangnan would face no ordinary flood season.
“Let them laugh.”
Her voice was gentle yet carried an undeniable certainty.
“In seven days, it will be them who can no longer laugh.”
Zi An listened, half-believing and half-doubting, but dared not ask further. He bowed and slowly withdrew.
A light breeze swept through the courtyard. Shen Miao raised her eyes to the gloomy sky outside the window, a faint glimmer flashing in her gaze.
They only knew the flood season was approaching, but they did not know that Jiangnan would face a flood of a magnitude not seen in decades.
By then, grain would become the true hard currency.
And she intended to be the one who held the lifeline of Jiangnan in her hands.
…
On the seventh night.
The sky suddenly darkened like ink, fierce winds swept dark clouds over the city, and a torrential downpour fell from the heavens, not ceasing all night.
The next morning, grim news spread throughout Jiangnan…
The riverbanks had burst, destroying fertile fields along the shores, submerging villages, and completely dashing hopes for the autumn harvest.
The grain market instantly went mad.
“Grain! My family doesn’t have a single grain left!”
“Buy grain! Buy as much as you have! We’ll pay any price!”
“It’s over… we’re completely out of grain this year!”
The grain merchants who had been freely mocking Shen Miao just days before were now as anxious as ants on a hot pan.
They rushed everywhere seeking grain but could not find even a single grain of rice.
And in all of Jiangnan, there was only one person who held the most grain—the mysterious buyer they had once regarded as a fool.
Shen Miao stood in front of her grain shop, dressed in neat men’s clothing, her half silver mask gleaming coldly under the daylight.
Zhao Chengyu, in a blue robe, stood quietly by her side. From beginning to end, he said little, silently helping her methodically manage the distribution of grain.
The people, young and old, formed a long line, their faces filled with fear and gratitude.
Someone held out silver coins, their voice choked with emotion: “Shen Gongzi, in the face of such a disaster, you haven’t raised the price at all. You are a living bodhisattva for the people of Jiangnan!”
Shen Miao’s gaze was gentle, her voice clear and resonant, carrying down the long street: “Fellow villagers, rest assured. In times of disaster, grain is the foundation of survival, not a tool for profit.”
“I stockpiled grain not to drive up market prices but to ensure that everyone has grain to eat and every household has rice to cook.”
“Selling grain at fair prices today is both my duty and my heartfelt intention.”
She paused, her tone steady and forceful: “As long as I, Shen, am here for a day, the grain prices in Jiangnan will not be thrown into chaos, and the people of Jiangnan will not go hungry.”
The people knelt and bowed in gratitude, their voices shaking the heavens.
Beside her, Zhao Chengyu watched her figure, his eyes deep and unreadable, emotions surging within him, indescribable.
After the last sack of grain was sold, the crowd on the long street dispersed, and dusk gradually fell.
Only when the surroundings grew quiet did Zhao Chengyu slowly walk to her side, his voice low, tinged with confusion and concern.
“Shen Gongzi, there is something I do not understand.”
He looked at her slightly weary yet still upright figure and spoke softly, “You sold your personal jewelry, exhausted all your resources, and went to great lengths to hoard grain. Now, you release it at fair prices, neither seeking exorbitant profits nor taking advantage of the crisis… Why go through such thankless trouble?”
Shen Miao gently raised her hand, brushing the dust from her fingertips before slowly turning around.
She gazed at the Jiangnan streets enveloped in twilight, her eyes free of greed or obsession, filled only with clarity and foresight.
“Young Master Zhao, merchants chase profit, but what I seek has never been short-term gain.”
Her voice was light, yet each word carried weight: “I want the grain supply in Jiangnan to remain stable, I want the people’s hearts to be won over, and I want all of Jiangnan to remember the stability of today.”
“The silver before our eyes is not what matters—what matters is the hearts of the people and the trade routes.”
“Today, I give them a path to survival. In the future, they will repay me with a realm of my own.”
Zhao Chengyu was taken aback, staring at this slender figure that seemed to hold boundless depth. His heart trembled with awe that lingered long after.
He finally understood.
The person before him was never merely conducting business.
She was laying the groundwork for a grand scheme that would sweep across all of Jiangnan.
…
The next day, Zhao Chengyu visited the small courtyard where she lived for the first time.
Dressed in white, his posture as straight and graceful as jade, he stepped into the courtyard with calm and measured steps.
When his gaze fell upon Shen Miao, clad in neat men’s attire and wearing half a silver mask, the initial condescension and wariness from their first meeting were gone, replaced only by sincere admiration and a steady sense of closeness.
Others might see only a young master of extraordinary means, but only Zhao Chengyu knew the grace hidden beneath the mask and the woman’s form concealed beneath the robes.
Zhao Chengyu took a step forward, his tone steady and resolute: “Shen Gongzi, after the grain affair in Jiangnan, I truly admire your strategy and courage.”
Shen Miao looked up and gave a faint nod. “Young Master Zhao, you are too kind.”
He lowered his gaze slightly, concealing the depth in his eyes, and spoke in a voice so low only the two of them could hear: “From this day forward, should you ever ask, the Water Transport Guild will spare no effort to assist you, without hesitation.”
“Your affairs are my affairs, and your identity, I will guard with my life.”
“I will not pry into your past, but if you ever need someone to stand by your side, I will be there for you.”
These final words were a promise, a vow of protection, and a sentiment hidden beneath the guise of an alliance.
Knowing she had just lost her child and was now alone, he wanted to become her most steadfast support.
Shen Miao looked into his eyes, filled with unreserved sincerity, and felt a slight stir in her heart.
After a moment of silence, she spoke softly, “Young Master Zhao.”
“Yes?”
Shen Miao raised her gaze, her usually cool eyes softening faintly. “Since you say we are allies, there is no need for such formality or restraint from now on.”
Her voice was calm, yet carried a rare hint of closeness. “You may call me A’Shen.”
Zhao Chengyu was momentarily stunned, his heart suddenly warming.
A’Shen.
This was a name reserved for those closest to her.
Seeing his slightly dazed expression, Shen Miao continued softly, “And I shall call you A’Yu. Is that acceptable?”
The words “A’Yu” were gentle and soft, shedding all distance and formality, leaving only the natural closeness between friends.
Zhao Chengyu took a long moment to come back to himself, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as an extremely faint, gentle smile surfaced in his eyes. He responded earnestly, “Alright, A’Shen.”
That single word was soft, deliberate, cherished, and brimming with hidden tenderness.