Lu Chao had already finished two cups of tea at Baizhenfang when the Xu Family Daughter finally arrived.
The two spoke in the third-floor attic for the time it takes half an incense stick to burn before the Xu Family Daughter hurriedly left through the back door.
"Chaochao, you want to make money? Why? Our family doesn’t lack for it. Scholars shouldn’t be tainted by the stench of copper," Lu Yuanyi said, puzzled.
"Second Brother, who told you that nonsense? That’s ridiculous. Without this 'stench of copper,' you’d be choking down dry buns every day. Without it, you wouldn’t even set foot in a schoolhouse—how could you call yourself a scholar?" Lu Chao pointed at the bun in his hand and spoke bluntly.
"Scholar Baili said it. He often praises Lu Houhua from our class, who wears coarse clothes and eats plain porridge yet tops the exams. But he scorns us, saying we reek of money."
"Don’t listen to his nonsense. He’s just poor and pretentious. Our family’s wealth was earned through the hard work of our ancestors. As a descendant of the Lu family, you’re entitled to enjoy it. If he’s jealous, blame his own ancestors for not striving harder. We’re not squandering our fortune—there’s no need to suffer for no reason. Scholars aren’t saints. If what he says doesn’t sit right with you, ask Mother or Eldest Brother instead of blindly following his words."
Lu Yuanyi had an epiphany. He’d always felt something was off but didn’t know how to argue back. Now, hearing Lu Chao’s explanation, it all made sense.
"Chaochao, Father also agreed with the scholar. He said I’m not as good as Lu Houhua, that I’m spoiled and indulgent, living in luxury at home. He thinks I should suffer a bit."
Lu Yuanyi pouted in complaint. Since childhood, he’d been taught that the father’s word was law. He idolized Father Lu, and whenever criticized, he’d feel guilty and uneasy. When he confided in his mother, she’d only tell him to work harder.
"Pfft. He drinks tea worth this much every day! Why doesn’t he suffer a little?"
Lu Chao gestured with his fingers and raised an eyebrow. If Father Lu was so noble, why wasn’t he living frugally?
"Adults love lecturing children. When they’re right, we listen. When they’re wrong, we just nod along. But Second Brother, you need to think for yourself—don’t blindly accept everything you hear."
"Reading makes one wise, but don’t be a bookworm."
Though a man himself, Lu Chao despised Father Lu’s behavior. While his wife managed the household and raised their children, Father Lu indulged in concubines and acted like a tyrant at home. But men in this era were mostly like that, so Lu Chao wasn’t foolish enough to stand out. Instead, he stuck close to Lu Yuanyi, slowly reshaping his brother’s mindset, aiming to mold him into a virtuous young man.
On the way home, Lu Yuanyi gazed at his younger brother’s innocent profile, lost in thought.
At dinner, Father Lu lectured Lu Yuanyi as usual. This time, however, Lu Yuanyi stared at Father Lu’s quivering beard and recalled Lu Chao’s rebellious words, zoning out for once.
"Do you understand?"
Lu Yuanyi nodded hastily. Father Lu frowned, then glanced at Lu Chao, who was eating quietly, and surprisingly praised him.
"Always so careless. Look at your younger brother—he’s far more composed than you!"
Lu Yuanyi: "…Composed? Chaochao? More like he’s ignoring you."
Watching Lu Chao eat calmly, he suddenly understood. With newfound composure, he cupped his hands respectfully, his eyes no longer uneasy.
Lu Chao calculated the silver in his hands, pondering money-making schemes. Commoners were penniless—his target was never them. In these times, the noble families were the wealthiest. He needed to find a way to skim some of their riches.
What was most profitable? Scarcity drove value. The rarer, the more lucrative.
That night, the oil lamp in Lu Chao’s study burned until dawn.
A few days later, a spry, white-haired old man and a pair of twins appeared on the streets of Yingchuan City.
"Old man, you dote on your grandsons too much. The bond between generations is truly special," a vendor remarked, watching the twins slurp wontons.
"Hah! Young man, these aren’t my grandsons—they’re my sons!" The old man laughed heartily.
"Sir, how old are you? Still capable of fathering children?" A middle-aged man from the neighboring stall gaped in disbelief.
"I’m seventy-three! Hahaha! Heaven has blessed me!" The old man chuckled, unoffended.
"No way! You’ve still got vigor, old man!"
"Ask around in Ma’an Village! Old Man Yu never lies! I’ve got seven sons and two daughters—everyone there knows it!" He thumped his chest proudly.
"Wait—boss, put these three bowls of wontons on my tab!" The middle-aged man tossed a piece of silver to the vendor, then pulled Old Man Yu aside, whispering urgently.
Bystanders strained their ears but caught only fragments—something about a "secret remedy," then nothing more.
Someone laughed, "Zhao Carpenter’s gone mad for a son!"
Everyone on the street knew Zhao Carpenter, a furniture maker nearing forty with no heir. After years of doctors and even renting out his wife multiple times, he’d had no luck. Now, seeing Old Man Yu was like rain after a drought.
Onlookers shook their heads outwardly but secretly planned to ask Zhao Carpenter about the remedy later.
After two days in the city, Old Man Yu and the twins returned to their village.
The incident seemed forgotten.
Two months later, Zhao Carpenter invited the most renowned physician from Yingchuan City’s Huichun Hall into his home. Later, he tearfully escorted the doctor out.
Neighbors speculated—was Zhao’s wife ill? She’d looked fine days ago. Soon, she rarely left home, with Zhao Carpenter doing all the shopping.
Another two months passed. The Huichun Hall physician visited again. This time, Zhao Carpenter beamed as he saw him off.
The neighbors assumed his wife had recovered.
Days later, jaws dropped as Mrs. Zhao stepped outside, glowing and cradling her swollen belly.
"Zhao Carpenter!! Your wife’s pregnant?!"
Zhao Carpenter grinned so wide his gums showed.
"Hehehe! Over three months along!"
"Congratulations!! Finally, an heir!! How’d it happen? Which doctor fixed it? Refer them to me! I’ve got a friend who…"
"Mrs. Zhao’s hardships are finally over."
"Nobody heard a thing—how’d she suddenly conceive?"
"Remember that seventy-year-old who fathered twins months ago? Zhao Carpenter treated him to wontons. Must’ve been some remedy!"
"My goodness, a family secret! That old man said he had eight sons!"
"Quick, find out what they took!"
Word spread like wildfire.
