"Song Yi." Mrs. Xu hesitated to speak. She remembered that her daughter had said last month that she wanted to take over the rouge shop. How could she have swallowed up the assets of Shengfeng Trading Company in the blink of an eye? The company was backed by...
"Uncle, try this pickled goose feet." Jiang Songyi smiled as she served Jiang Dinglian the dishes. "I heard there's a new chef from the Western Regions who's specializing in grilled camel humps. I'd like to invite you to try some of their specialties someday."
Jiang Yihuan suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. The girl's moon-white skirt, embroidered with lotus flowers, now resembled a white snake spitting out its tongue. He suddenly remembered a border legend: the most venomous snakes often have the most beautiful skins.
"How did you snatch food from the mouth of Shengfeng Trading Company?" He heard his hoarse voice.
Jiang Songyi tilted her head and chuckled softly, the crystal pendants hanging from her hairpins shimmering with light. "Of course. The gambling house owner voluntarily gave me the deed." She ran her fingertips over the menu. "As for the Delicacy Pavilion—my second brother signed it himself, and the prefect stamped it. It's written in black and white and can't be faked."
Bai Linxi suddenly exclaimed, "Ah!" "I remember now! The notice about the gambling house's change of ownership was posted at the city gate last month. The new owner seemed to be called..." She counted on her fingers and recalled, "Jiang Yi?"
"Jiang's Trading Company, Jiang Songyi." The girl dipped her hand in the wine and wrote her name on the table, her ink-colored small characters penetrating the mahogany wood. "The face of the owner of Shengfeng when my second brother pledged the land deed." She covered her lips with her round fan. "Blacker than the charcoal in the stove."
Jiang Yihuan's vision darkened. He finally understood why his father always said, "If Song Yi were a man, he would be a man of great talent." This girl had clearly calculated every move. He feared his second brother had fallen into her trap the moment he entered the gambling house.
The night breeze blew through the hall, carrying the dampness of the lotus pond. Jiang Songyi gazed at the brightly lit Zhenxiu Pavilion on the opposite bank. The glazed windows reflected a cunning glint in her eyes. Tomorrow, she should have the shopkeeper add a small note to the menu: "Boss Jiang Songyi, the wrath of Shengfeng Commercial Bank."
…
As dusk fell, the Buddhist beads in Madam Jiang's hands clattered against the huanghuali wood table, making a crisp sound. She looked down at Jiang Yihuan, who was standing next to her. "The ups and downs of business are like a battlefield. Baichuan has fallen into this trap himself, so he can't blame anyone else."
"Grandson understands." Jiang Yihuan lowered his eyes, staring at the ants crawling through the cracks in the blue bricks. The smoke rising from the gilded incense burner blurred the sneer in his eyes—if someone else had harmed Jiang Baichuan, he would have made them pay back a hundredfold, but this time. He stroked the mutton-fat jade pendant at his waist, remembering the account book sent by the gambling house, which was a full three inches thick.
In a shabby alley in the west of the city, Jiang Baichuan squatted under a leaky eaves, munching on a cold, hard multi-grain pancake. The aroma of spicy hot soup wafted in the distance. He swallowed his saliva and reached for his empty wallet, then suddenly sneezed loudly.
"Song Yi must be thinking about me." He bit down fiercely, his chipped front teeth rubbing against the rough crust. A dark shadow flashed by, and half the pancake was already in the wild dog's mouth.
"You beast!" Jiang Baichuan grabbed his bamboo cane and limped after him. The black dog darted into a deep alley and stopped in front of a lighted house. A slender figure was reflected in the glazed window. The man in brocade clothes placed the celadon bowl on the stone steps, the fat from the pork belly glistening in the moonlight.
Jiang Baichuan stared at the fat meat trembling in the dog's bowl, and his bamboo stick fell to the ground with a clang. The young man who was feeding the dog turned his head, and the golden python pattern on his Feiyu suit stung his eyes.
"Second Young Master Jiang?" Ji Cheng's fingertips were still stained with broth, and his gaze, like an imperial torture instrument, wandered over his tattered clothes.
"You got the wrong guy!" Jiang Baichuan turned and ran, his broken leg banging against the bluestone slabs with excruciating pain. Only when he saw the closed gates of the Yongding Marquis's mansion did he lean against the stone lions and gasp for air. Three days ago, he had seen Jiang Yihuan riding his horse back to the court at the city gates, the cheers of the people so loud that they hurt his ears.
The sound of the night watch pierced through the walls of the mansion. Jiang Baichuan huddled in the corner of the stone steps. The gambling clerk's sinister smile and Jiang Songyi's tearful eyes met before him. He pounded his stump hard, "Serves you right! Seriously!"
In the western courtyard of the Fourth Prince's mansion, Jiang Yuyao was taking off her earrings in front of a bronze mirror. Suddenly, a crimson figure appeared in the mirror. Yu Chuwei stroked the jade bracelet on her wrist and smiled, "My sister left in a hurry on the day she returned home. Do you need me to help you with the dowry list?"
With a snap, the pearl earrings snapped in two between Jiang Yuyao's fingers. That day, Xinyi Zigu had abandoned her at the gate of Chansibo's mansion, and Xu had even confiscated her dowry. If Liao Xianxian hadn't hidden half a bag of golden melon seeds, they wouldn't have even had the money to hire a donkey cart.
"Sister's rouge shop has been doing brisk business lately, so I bet she'll need some of my little extra." Jiang Yuyao tossed the broken earring into her makeup box, its mother-of-pearl-inlaid lid reflecting her distorted image. Yu Chuwei chuckled softly, her golden hair swaying in a way that was dazzling.
The sound of cups shattering could be heard from the main hall. Xinyi Zigu tossed the secret letter into the charcoal basin, and the flames illuminated his sinister features. "How dare you, Marquis Yongding, secretly contact the Crown Prince's former subordinates?"
"Your Highness." Yu Chuwei gracefully entered, carrying a bowl of ginseng soup. Her slender fingers stroked his furrowed brows. "I recently acquired a piece of floating brocade and was thinking of making you a cloak."
The gong sounds at the hour of Xu startled birds roosting under the eaves. Jiang Baichuan huddled at the corner gate of the mansion, counting the tiles, when he suddenly saw a servant carrying a food box to the stables. The aroma of roast chicken escaping from the oil-paper package made his stomach ache. Just as he was about to step forward, he heard a conversation drifting from inside the wall.
"The Third Young Master has made great contributions in suppressing the bandits this time. I heard that the Emperor will reward him with the Night Pearl of the South China Sea."
"It's a pity that the second young master has squandered all the family wealth, and his wife cries every day."
Jiang Baichuan dug his nails into the cracks between the bricks, leaving his fingertips green with moss and blood. A familiar neighing echoed from the stable. It was his horse, Zhao Yebai, who had been sold for gambling debts. Animals could still live in the feed shed, but he didn't even have a roof over his head.
A sudden bark of a dog echoed from the end of the alley. Ji Cheng approached slowly, leading his black dog. The hem of his flying fish coat swept the fallen leaves. "If Young Master Jiang has nowhere else to go, there's a vacant room in the Imperial Prison." He stroked the dog's head and chuckled softly. The black dog bared its teeth, revealing sharp, flesh-stained teeth.
Jiang Baichuan fell backward into the shadows. Back when he was spending lavishly at the Zhenxiu Pavilion, he had once glimpsed this living devil through the cracks in his private room window—that day, the Northern Pacification Office paraded a bloody man through the streets. It was said that he had embezzled money for river works, and his fingers had been scraped to the bone by an iron comb.
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