The wooden railing on the tea house's second floor was worn smooth and glossy.
Zhao Si held a few peanuts in his hand, not bringing them to his mouth. His beady eyes were fixed downward, staring so hard they seemed about to pop out.
The main street below had just been turned upside down.
All the wooden stalls that used to pay him rent were gone. In their place were pots of delicate peonies and those strange, porous-looking rocks said to be transported from Lake Taihu—things that looked expensive just to look at.
Zhao Si tossed the peanuts back onto the plate, brushed the crumbs from his hands, his face a picture of pained distress. "Shopkeeper Wang, do you think Miss Xu's mind has been addled by too much money? That row of stalls could bring in at least two taels of silver a month in rent. And now? Flowers. Can you eat flowers? Can you wear them?"
Shopkeeper Wang, sitting across from him, was busy with his accounts, abacus beads clacking away. He didn't look up. "Two taels? That was before. Now this street looks like the Imperial Gardens. If I wanted to set up a stall there now, who knows how much I'd have to pay. Not a chance. I'm not going to court that trouble."
At the next table sat a long-bearded merchant in silk robes, holding a teacup. But his eyes were fixed on the newly erected white marble pillars outside the window, his hand trembling slightly.
The pillars stood every ten paces, pure white, carved with cloud patterns, each topped with a multicolored glass shade.
In the Great Qian Dynasty, such fixtures were typically found only in imperial tombs or the highest-grade temples.
"Gentlemen," the merchant put down his teacup, his voice tight as if he had a lump of charcoal stuck in his throat. "This spectacle in Taoyuan County... I fear even the capital can't compare. These pillars... carved from single blocks of white marble! It's like paving the mud with gold bricks!"
Another merchant snorted, his tone sour. "Stone isn't worth much. It's those glass shades that look decent. But left out on the street like this, they'll be smashed by the local boys within three days, just to hear the sound. Let's see if the Xu family feels the pinch then."
Downstairs.
Xu Qinghuan stood before one of the pillars, reaching out to touch the cool stone.
It felt smooth and fine, almost flawless—too perfect, in fact.
Li Sheng followed behind her, clutching an account book, his face so scrunched up it could kill flies. "Miss, these pillars are solid. Over there earlier, a delivery cart crashed into one. The axle broke, but the pillar didn't even get a scratch."
Xu Qinghuan withdrew her hand, somewhat disappointed.
Too sturdy.
Sturdy meant no repairs. No repairs meant the money spent was a dead cost, not generating ongoing expenses. This was what she called "ineffective squandering."
She looked up at the multicolored glass shade.
"What about that one?" Xu Qinghuan pointed upward. "That's fragile, right?"
Li Sheng shrank his neck, unsure of the young mistress's angle, and could only tell the truth. "Very fragile! Yesterday during installation, a craftsman's hand slipped and grazed one. Cracked a seam. I've already had it replaced. The cracked one was smashed."
Xu Qinghuan's eyes instantly lit up, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself.
"Good!" She dusted off her hands, her tone turning light. "Remember, don't treat these things too preciously. If anyone gets an itch to smash one, or if the wind blows one down, don't you dare feel sorry for it. Replace it immediately! The Xu family has plenty of glass. We want precisely this kind of 'high-maintenance' flair!"
She looked around.
The once dirty, disorderly street was now paved with neat bluestone slabs, lined with blooming flowers on both sides. The white marble lamp posts, which she considered "beautiful trash," now glowed with a warm luster in the setting sun.
A crowd of commoners had gathered, keeping their distance, not daring to approach.
A child reached out to touch the stone, only to get a slap on the back of the head from a parent. "Looking for death?! That's a sacred object for feng shui! Break it and selling you wouldn't cover the cost!"
Hearing this, Xu Qinghuan rolled her eyes inwardly.
Superstition was the death of progress. If no one dared touch these pillars in the future, how would she spend the maintenance money? They'd become immovable assets!
The sun sank lower.
The red clouds at the horizon were swallowed whole by a grey-blue night. Taoyuan County's night watchman struck his first gong, its lonely sound echoing through the empty street.
At this hour, shops would usually be putting up their shutters. In the pitch dark, no one would loiter on the streets. It was better to save lamp oil and go to bed early—a rule upheld for centuries in the Great Qian Dynasty.
The entire street quickly darkened. Only the pale, dim light from paper lanterns hung at the gates of a few wealthy households remained, flickering in the wind like beckoning spirits.
Xu Qinghuan stood at the head of the street, a fire starter in her hand, her red dress flapping sharply in the night wind.
"Light them."
Without further ado, she brought the flame to the wick of the first lamp.
The wick was specially made cotton, saturated with expensive whale oil. The moment the flame touched it, whoosh—a bright, steady fire instantly leaped up.
The light wasn't murky yellow, but a clear brightness close to daylight. Passing through the multicolored glass shade, the light refracted, magnified, and spilled onto the ground in a patchwork of shimmering hues.
In that instant, a chunk of the surrounding darkness was forcibly carved away.
Immediately, the servants stationed along both sides of the street simultaneously raised their torches.
Light began to spread along the long street. It was like a slumbering fire dragon suddenly opening its eyes, its scales lighting up one by one in the night—a visual impact that was domineering, unreasonable.
The commoners, accustomed to darkness, stood frozen in place. They lifted their heads, mouths agape, beholding this never-before-seen spectacle.
The street was lit.
Not a vague, fuzzy light, but a light so bright you could see the color of the moss in the cracks between the paving stones. The white marble pillars became translucent under the illumination, as if glowing from within. The peonies by the roadside unfurled their petals under the lamps, crimson and bewitching, pink and delicate.
The burning whale oil gave off no smoky, acrid smell, but instead a faint, salty fragrance—the scent of burning money.
Zhao Si was about to fit the last shutter onto his shop front when his movements froze.
A beam of light fell right at his shop's entrance. It was so bright it made the sundries inside gleam, even the pickle jars took on a certain refined clarity.
"This..." Zhao Si squinted, taking a good while to adjust before daring to open his eyes wide. "Is this still night? Has the Dragon King descended?"
Up in the tea house, the out-of-town merchant finally lost his grip on his teacup. It fell with a clatter, hot tea splashing on his boot. He paid it no mind, leaning over the railing, his eyes glued to the dazzling, radiant street below.
"The City That Never Sleeps..." the merchant's lips trembled as he muttered to himself. "Have they pulled down the Milky Way from the heavens?... How much money must this be burning..."
Xu Qinghuan stood within the light and shadow, watching the scene, her heart bleeding inwardly.
Every flicker of flame in these lamps was burning pure, white silver. Whale oil cost five taels of silver per tael. Burning it for one night like this was enough to pay the entire county's commoners a month's wages.
Perfect.
This was exactly the effect she wanted!
Once this lantern is lit, money flows out like water, impossible to stop. What do you call this? This is a "continuous loss project," a milestone on the road to squandering a family fortune!
Xu Qinghuan turned around and waved to Li Sheng, who was still beside her, heart aching so much he was practically twitching. "Bring me the account book."
Li Sheng tremblingly handed over the ledger.
It was densely filled with the expenses of the past two days: white marble pillars, multicolored glass shades, whale oil from the East Sea, and all those delicate, expensive flowers and plants...
The final line: Balance: Zero.
Xu Qinghuan looked at that clean "zero," let out a long, slow breath of turbid air, and felt only clarity and refreshment.
Satisfying.
She had finally squandered all that five thousand taels of ill-gotten wealth.
"Young Mistress," Li Sheng reminded in a small voice beside her, his tone carrying a sob, "This lantern... are we really lighting it all night? If there's no one around in the later hours, wouldn't that just be burning money for nothing?"
Xu Qinghuan closed the account book, her tone resolute. "Even if there's no one, I'd gladly light the way for ghosts. As long as the sky isn't bright, this lantern must not go out. I want Taoyuan County to know no more darkness from now on!"
She thought that was the end of it.
