The sun slanted westward, the heat on the street still lingering.
Xu Qinghuan sat in the high-backed official's chair, the stack of newly collected banknotes clenched in her hand. The rough edges of the paper money had rubbed her fingertips warm.
Too much money.
For others, this was a blessing. For her, it was a death warrant.
Now, these merchants weren't cursing her; instead, they looked at her with the eyes of someone beholding the God of Wealth. It made her skin crawl.
She had to spend it.
She had to turn this money into something that would make the common people's eyes burn with envy and their hearts ache with waste.
"Li Sheng." Xu Qinghuan slapped the stack of banknotes onto the corner of the table with considerable force.
Li Sheng, who had been hunched over the account book counting money, quickly looked up at the sound, the wrinkles on his face spreading into a smile. "Young Mistress, your orders. Shall we transport this money back to the manor for storage? I'll go call some men right away."
"Store it? This money is filthy. I find it takes up space," Xu Qinghuan said without even lifting her eyelids.
She pointed at the bluestone-paved road beneath her feet, which had just been swept spotless.
"Find craftsmen. Tear up this road."
The brush in Li Sheng's hand nearly fell to the ground. "T-tear it up? But this bluestone was just laid the year before last. It's perfectly fine."
"It's too plain," Xu Qinghuan retorted with a disdainful curl of her lip. "Replace it with white marble. No, wait. White marble is slippery, people could fall and die. Replace it with the 'golden bricks' shipped from Suzhou, the kind used for palace floors, the square ones that ring with a metallic chime when struck. I want this street to be a place where even beggars have to take off their shoes to enter."
Li Sheng drew a sharp breath. Golden bricks—one tael of gold per brick. Paving this entire street would not only swallow those hundred thousand taels of silver but require even more.
"And those lanterns," Xu Qinghuan continued, pointing at the old lanterns hanging in front of the shops along the street. Though uniformly hung at the same height, they looked shabby. "Take them all down. Replace them with Suzhou embroidery lanterns, double-sided embroidery at that. The candles inside can't be ordinary tallow; they must be mermaid-oil candles blended with incense. I want this street at night to be as bright as day, the fragrance so thick it stings the eyes."
This was squandering wealth. This was sheer extravagance.
While refugees outside the city walls were still drinking gruel, she was here laying golden bricks and burning fragrant candles. Such a stark contrast between wealth and poverty was guaranteed to draw maximum hatred.
Li Sheng stood with his mouth agape, not daring to respond for a long moment. He thought the Young Mistress wasn't just mad; she was playing with fire—money fire. But then it occurred to him—perhaps this was another form of commercial packaging? Like the top courtesan at the House of Ten Thousand Flowers, whose price increased the more expensive her attire?
"Go do it," Xu Qinghuan said, wanting no arguments. "Start work tonight. If anyone dares to stop it, tell them to come see me."
As soon as the words left her mouth, a commotion arose from the street corner.
It wasn't the cheerful shouts of a successful sale, but the sharp sound of things being smashed, mixed with a woman's shriek and men's curses.
Xu Qinghuan frowned.
She had just decided to turn this street into the Great Qian Empire's number one den of extravagance and gold-squandering. Who dared to bring bad luck at a time like this?
Her gaze swept over the crowd.
At the far end of the street, in a corner that was originally a vegetable seller's stall. That auntie was the first to pay fifteen taels for a special permit plaque. Xu Qinghuan remembered her well—she was her number one cash cow.
Now, that stall was overturned.
Vegetable baskets rolled into the middle of the road, tender green spring onions trampled into the mud.
Over a dozen bare-chested men with red cloth strips tied around their arms surrounded the spot. Their leader had a long scar running from his brow to the corner of his mouth—clearly not a friendly sort.
"Iron Fist Gang business! All idlers, clear off!"
Scarface planted his foot on the wooden plaque that read "Xu Family Special Permit," grinding his boot heel against it a few times, cracking the plaque the auntie had just polished to a shine.
The surrounding merchants shrank back in fear. The bustling trade of a moment ago came to an abrupt halt.
The vegetable-selling auntie sat slumped on the ground, clutching the cloth pouch containing her money tightly to her chest, her hair disheveled.
"Sirs... please have mercy, sirs," the auntie pleaded, her voice trembling with sobs. "All the money's been paid to the Xu family. I really have nothing left. That was fifteen taels! My whole family's food supply was in that."
"Paid to the Xu family?" Scarface sneered, bending down to grab the auntie's hair and yank her face upward. "The Xu family is nothing! In Taoyuan County, it's always been our Iron Fist Gang that calls the shots. Xu Youde is an official, we're outlaws. Well water doesn't interfere with river water. What? Now that wastrel woman from the Xu family wants to reach into our bowl and steal our food?"
Slap!
A backhanded blow landed on the auntie's face.
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. The cloth pouch in her arms was knocked to the ground, a few copper coins rolling out.
"Let me tell you," Scarface straightened up, scanning the surroundings, his fierce gaze sweeping over the shops displaying Xu family plaques. "Paying the Xu family was your stupidity. The Iron Fist Gang's protection money—not a single copper less! Anyone who dares not pay, this is what happens!"
He swung the iron rod in his hand, smashing it down hard on the nearby tofu pudding stall.
The large table shattered into pieces, hot soup splattering everywhere.
The merchants' faces turned pale.
This fear was bone-deep. Before, these thugs would come to sweep through once a month, truly beating and smashing. They had thought paying the Xu family would buy peace. Who knew it would invite disaster? If both sides demanded money, how could they possibly survive?
Some began secretly taking down the Xu family wooden plaques hanging at their doors, trying to hide them.
Xu Qinghuan sat on the high platform, her teacup paused at her lips.
She looked at the cracked plaque, then at the overturned vegetable basket.
Anger.
Not because the auntie had been beaten, nor from an overflow of sympathy.
Because someone was touching her money.
Those fifteen taels were the permit fee, the proof that she, Xu Qinghuan, had corralled these merchants like pigs to be raised. These merchants were now her private property, her endless source of cash.
What did this Iron Fist Gang think they were?
It was like she had painstakingly planted a field of leeks. Just as the first crop sprouted and she was ready with her sickle to harvest, a herd of wild boars from next door charged in, not only rooting up her field but also digging out her leeks by the roots.
This was a provocation.
This was robbery of her private property.
"Outrageous," Xu Qinghuan said, dashing her teacup to the ground.
The shattering of porcelain was especially piercing in the quiet street.
She rose from her chair, the crimson skirt of her dress fluttering loudly in the wind. Looking down from her height, she pointed at the still-bellowing Scarface, her voice cold as if dredged from an ice cellar.
"Pockmarked Liu!"
Pockmarked Liu had been standing with his men at the street side maintaining order. Seeing this scene, he had initially felt a twinge of fear. The Iron Fist Gang were real underworld figures, with blood on their hands—not the same breed as small-time hoodlums like him who used to only dare steal chickens and dogs.
But hearing Xu Qinghuan's shout, Pockmarked Liu shuddered.
He turned and saw the Young Mistress's face.
It wasn't fear he saw there, but a greedy, furious rage that wanted to devour someone.
"Are you all dead?" Xu Qinghuan pointed toward the street's end. "I pay you five taels a month, feed and house you, clothe you in silk, so you can stand here as decorations?"
"Someone is smashing my stalls! Someone is stealing my money!"
"That vegetable seller—that's my cash cow! No one touches her but me!"
Xu Qinghuan took two steps to the edge of the platform, even wanting to charge down herself and kick someone.
"Beat them down!"
"Break the legs of these stray dogs stealing our food and throw them out! Let everyone know that in Taoyuan County, only I, Xu Qinghuan, can collect the money! Only I, Xu Qinghuan, can set the rules on this street!"
