The ebony mast of the pleasure boat was like a green sword cleaving through the mist, shattering the morning fog that had condensed all night into a myriad of silver beads. Su Jinli leaned against the carved window of the sedan, her fingertips unconsciously twisting the coral beads on the edge of the curtain. The tassel, made from South China Sea red coral, was rubbed until it was hot. Suddenly, a crisp "creak" sound came from the next cabin. Si Yan had used too much force on the abacus, and a jujube wood bead had broken off the string. It rolled through the gap in the deck and landed in front of the tip of her shoe embroidered with lotus flowers.

"Mother! Look at the shore!" Nian Li suddenly opened the jade-inlaid curtain, and the pearl hairnet brushed against the back of Su Jinli's hand, leaving a slightly cool touch. The little girl leaned forward and pointed toward the banks of the river. The newly pomegranate-red pompom in her hair trembled in the morning breeze, making her chubby cheeks look like ripe fruit.

The river was indeed choked with salt-carrying ships. Hundreds of black-sailed boats crammed together, their canvas awnings condensing into strings of dewdrops that dripped onto the emerald water, tinting the water with a strange white haze. On the docks on either side, bare-chested porters filed by, carrying bamboo baskets on their shoulders. Salt particles, leaking through the cracks in the baskets' bottoms, accumulated like a fine snow on the bluestone slabs, refracting a dazzling light in the sunlight. But the mountains of salt bags seemed to be under a spell, and not a single one dared to be carried to the city gates. The porters squatted on the stone piers where the boats were tied, smoking, their copper pipes clanging against the planks and startling the sparrows perched on the salt bags.

"Why is that?" Jiang Yan asked, the hem of his moon-white gown brushing the mottled moss on the side as he helped her off the boat. Si Yan had already leaped onto the shore like a civet cat. The eight-year-old child stepped into the pile of salt, the abacus pinned to his brocade vest swaying slightly with his movements. He calculated for a moment with his reddened fingers, then suddenly looked up, a few grains of white salt on the tip of his nose. "Mother, the amount of cargo unloaded at the dock has dropped 73% compared to yesterday, while the amount stored has more than tripled..." The child's eyes shone startlingly in the morning light. "According to the 'Market Changes' chapter in the arithmetic classics, the price of salt will definitely skyrocket!"

Before he could finish his words, a sudden thumping sound erupted from the teahouse nearby. Su Jinli looked in the direction of the sound and saw an old scholar in a coarse cloth robe smashing his tea bowl onto the pine table. The brownish-yellow tea splattered the patch on his front. The old man blew his beard and glared, shouting, "Three hundred wen a dou of salt?! Last year at this time, eighty wen could have bought a dou of salt!"

"Old sir, please stop talking!" Dr. Tea came hurriedly, swinging his rag, his indigo apron covered with a layer of white salt frost. "The Hu family salt warehouse took the lead in hoarding 30% of the Yangzhou salt permits, and 17 salt merchants in the city followed suit and raised the price. Now people have to dip their fingernails in the salt jar and shake it when cooking porridge!" He pointed to the three-in-three-outlet house in the middle of the street. The four gold-plated characters "Hu's Salt Warehouse" on the lintel had been darkened by the salt smell over the years. The copper bells on the eaves swayed in the wind, but no crisp sound could be heard, as if the ringing holes were blocked by salt grains.

Su Jinli frowned slightly at the words. This Hu family… She subconsciously reached into her sleeve. The mutton-fat jade pendant her grandfather had given her was pressed against her chest through the brocade. The words "Jinji Hu Bo" on the back seemed to carry her body's warmth. As she pondered this, Nianli suddenly yanked her wrist, causing it to hurt. The little girl pointed her tiny hand at the tall horse in the middle of the street, nearly tearing her pearl hairnet apart.

On horseback sat a man in a brown brocade robe embroidered with lotus flowers. His jade belt buckle was distorted by his bulging belly. His gold-and-jade whip casually flicked a flyer, the white paper rustling in the morning breeze. The eight characters, written in thick ink, pierced his eyes. Servants followed behind, scattering the flyers. The snow-white pages resembled mourning banners. A few fluttered into the cracks of Siyan's abacus, catching the units bead he had just set.

"Fat Winter Melon!" Nian Li shouted, hands on her hips, her hair trembling with anger. "You've hidden salt better than gold. We're all going to have to eat dirt!"

Hu Wanguan on horseback was startled by the childish scolding and lowered his head. Seeing that it was a delicate and pretty girl, he immediately slammed the whip on the saddle, startling his mount so much that its front hooves raised up, and the horseshoes rubbed against the bluestone slabs, sending sparks: "Where did you come from, wild girl! If you make any more noise, I will sell you to Yancheng to make salt!" His saliva flew as he spoke, and a few drops fell on Siyan's nose, but the child did not move at all, and was only busy picking the flyer between the cracks of the abacus with her fingernails.

Jiang Yan took a half step forward, shielding the two children behind him. His moon-white robe rustled in the morning breeze, and the bamboo patterns embroidered in silver thread on his sleeves brushed against Hu Wanguan's stirrups. His tone was as cold as the ice at the bottom of the canal: "Master Hu, are you aware that the imperial court clearly prohibits hoarding goods?"

Hu Wanguan's small eyes darted around the belt around Jiang Yan's waist. Seeing that the fish token was a purple gold fish bag, which was exclusive to Beijing officials, his arrogance immediately dwindled. However, he still stiffened his neck and argued: "It's a market economy, willing to buy and willing to sell! What's your business—" Before he could finish his words, Si Yan suddenly raised the abacus, and the jujube wood beads hit Hu Wanguan's jade-studded riding boots with a crisp sound: "Uncle, a dou of salt is 300 wen, enough to buy three dou of Suzhou and Hangzhou new rice, five catties of braised pork, and even ten sugar paintings for my sister!"

Hu Wanguan stumbled from the impact of the abacus, nearly striking Siyan with his whip in anger, but Jiang Yan calmly deflected it. Su Jinli crouched down to smooth Nianli's wind-twisted braids, her fingertips brushing against her daughter's burning ears. Suddenly, she remembered the time in her past life, when her stepmother withheld her monthly allowance, and she'd led her maidservant through the streets singing doggerel. Back then, clutching half a cold, rock-hard bun, she'd dared to point her finger at the housekeeper and curse him. Thinking back now, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"Jiang Yan," she suddenly turned her head, the morning light shattering into stars on the cinnabar mole between her eyebrows, a cunning glint in her eyes, "If everyone in Yangzhou City started singing 'The Salt Merchants Are Too Black-Hearted,' would the Hu family still be able to keep their overflowing salt warehouses?"

Jiang Yan raised an eyebrow and reached out to brush away the salt particles that had clung to her shoulders. His fingertips touched her slightly cool skin. "Do you want me to write a letter to the Salt Inspector immediately?"

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