Shen Guanting had been so busy these past few days that he scarcely had time to stop and catch his breath.
The goods on the cargo ships belonging to Jincheng Trading House had finally been inventoried, but Zhiyun Trading House still had a shipment to prepare for the capital. At the dockside warehouses, merchant caravans came and went in an endless stream of carts and horses.
Shopkeeper Qian and his party occasionally crossed paths with them at the dockside warehouses, exchanging a few polite greetings. They did seem to be making a serious effort to seek out new dishes, often lingering in the dockside food market, the morning market, and the food stalls and shops along the streets. Shopkeeper Qian had even visited the Jizhen Pavilion once, where he purchased some agarwood.
One day, during the hour of Shen, Young Zhang, a waiter from the Yunyan Restaurant, had just returned from the docks and was making his way along the main street toward the Pillow River House.
As he walked, his gaze was suddenly caught by the fluttering shop sign in the distance. He remembered his employer’s instructions to stop by the Twin Wood Pastry Shop, so he turned down the road.
Only when he drew nearer did he see how pitifully small the shop was. Its frontage was narrow, with two lanterns hanging beneath the eaves. Two plainly dressed women were carrying a wooden rack inside, while a boy stood beside the counter, putting away the remaining odds and ends.
Hearing footsteps, Lin Wu turned around and called out with a smile, “Little brother, we’re closing up for the day. Come early tomorrow.”
Young Zhang froze for a moment, then looked up at the sky. The sun was still hanging slantwise overhead, and nightfall was a long way off.
“It’s still light out. Why are you closing already?”
Lin Wu set the wooden rack in place. “We’re short-handed, and we have to get up early to prepare the ingredients, so we close earlier in the afternoon.”
Most of the pastry shop’s customers came for the morning and midday markets. Hardly anyone came during the evening market. If they opened for the evening trade, they would not be able to rise early the next day, which meant they would miss the morning market entirely.
Young Zhang peered into the shop. It was very cramped, and he could see straight to the back at a glance. Every sort of item was crammed inside, leaving no room even for a table and chairs.
Lin Wu locked the door, then left with Mrs. Sun and Liang Peilan toward the mouth of the alley. The young waiter remained where he was. He heard the shop sign sway in the wind with a soft puffing sound before falling still again.
He turned and entered the grocery shop next door, which was still open.
“Shopkeeper, do you have oil paper?”
Fatty Wang had been dozing behind the counter. At the sound of the voice, he jolted awake and hurriedly raised his head. “Of course, of course. How much would you like?”
“Ten sheets, and a roll of hemp cord as well.” Young Zhang leaned closer to the counter. “We’re from out of town. We bought some local delicacies from Huzhou and plan to wrap them up and take them home.”
Fatty Wang nodded as he took the oil paper down from the shelf. “No wonder you looked unfamiliar. I’ll cut the sheets a little larger for you. They’ll be more secure that way.”
His eyes flicked toward Young Zhang’s small cloth bag. “What have you bought that’s so good?”
Young Zhang waited while he cut the paper and answered casually, “I originally wanted to buy some steamed buns from the pastry shop next door, but who knew they’d close so early? I’ve heard their buns and thin, crisp pastries are both delicious. Even Young Masters Shen and Shopkeeper Qi buy them.”
Fatty Wang kept working, his expression unchanged. “The shop has always closed early. The owner is a widow, and she has a child studying at the academy. She has to go home and prepare the child’s afternoon meal, so she can’t afford to delay.”
He folded the cut sheets of oil paper. “As for the taste, how delicious can steamed buns possibly be? You’re from out of town, so you don’t know. There’s a trick to that place.”
At this, Young Zhang leaned closer.
The moment Fatty Wang finished speaking, a customer who had been selecting goods nearby looked up and said, “That’s a biased way of putting it, Shopkeeper Wang. The food from the Twin Wood Pastry Shop is loved by the academy students, but it doesn’t taste bad either. Those children aren’t fools. If the food weren’t good, who would waste their pocket money on it for no reason?”
Fatty Wang was not offended. He waved his hand amiably. “Yes, yes, of course it doesn’t taste bad. Who would dare open a shop without some skill? We’re neighbors, after all. We know the family well…”
He set the folded oil paper on the counter. “It’s just that the pastry shop’s reputation is rather new. A while back, Han the Provincial Laureate came first in the provincial examinations. Simply because he had once bought two pieces of pastry from her shop, those pastries became known as Laureate Cakes. That reputation came too easily. When it comes to dealings with scholars, the name is always louder than the flavor. I’m only telling you this honestly because you’re from out of town and specifically want to take some Huzhou specialties home. Those taro buns you mentioned—can they really be counted as a Huzhou specialty?”
The customer shook his head. “That, they cannot.”
Fatty Wang nodded and turned to take several paper packets from the shelves. “Our little shop also carries some unassuming local Huzhou snacks and pastries. If you’re interested, you can have a look. And I’ll be honest with you about this too: I don’t make these myself. I buy them from established old shops. If you want a greater variety, you should naturally go to the larger shops with long-standing reputations. For instance, the osmanthus cakes from the Liu family shop, the preserved fruits from Granny Zhang’s shop…”
The customer grew interested as well and joined in. “When it comes to peanut brittle, though, you still have to buy it from that shop on West Street…”
The two of them carried on, each adding a word or two, and soon the conversation became lively. Young Zhang joined in for several exchanges, then smiled, nodded, took the oil paper, and bid them farewell.
That night, the windows of the guest rooms at the Pillow River House glowed with the dim light of oil lamps.
Seated beneath the lamp, the accountant slowly related everything they had observed over the past few days. “He is unquestionably the son of a wealthy family. His clothes look refined and elegant, but the material is brocade fine enough for tribute. They are truly garments of luxury.”
His gaze swept over the brocade box resting to one side. Inside was the agarwood they had purchased from the Jizhen Pavilion earlier that day. “The Jizhen Pavilion’s most precious treasures probably aren’t even kept in the pavilion. They must be displayed in his residence. A few days ago, a foreign merchant arrived with a set of glassware worth a fortune. He bought the entire set on the spot, then had it taken directly to his estate. I hear that this is how he has always done things. He chooses what he wants first, and only the leftovers are sent to the Jizhen Pavilion for sale. This Young Master Shen makes sure he is comfortable and well provided for before thinking about doing business.”
The young waiter hurriedly added, “He has cultivated his reputation well too. The workers at Zhiyun Trading House are paid considerably more than those at other firms, and they receive bonuses during the festivals. Everyone in Huzhou says the Shen family is generous and fair. But over at Nanya… the Jibei workshop really has hired convicted laborers. I hear the wages are extremely low, so ordinary people are unwilling to work there. Only those convicts, desperate to stay alive, are willing to take the jobs.”
Shopkeeper Qian nodded slowly and remained silent for a long while.
The lamplight flickered, casting the shadows of the three men across the wall.
“He was raised amid wealth, after all,” Shopkeeper Qian finally said, his voice calm and unhurried. “The Shen family had already made its fortune before he was even born. No matter how refined he appears on the surface, extravagance is in his bones. He values pleasure, spends money like water, and cannot hide it.”
He shook his head. “To outsiders, he is the elegant and noble Shen family’s eldest young master. In Huzhou, he is the benevolent young master of Zhiyun Trading House. Both faces exist to secure the foundation of his business. Once his reputation is established, the road ahead becomes easier. But Nanya is far away, and those convicts can neither hinder him nor spread word of what happens there. So he does not even bother with appearances. The same person, two different ways of doing things—all depending on whether it serves a purpose. He knows perfectly well which face to show, and what price to offer each kind of person. That is what makes a true merchant.”
The accountant looked thoughtful. “You mean he wants both his reputation and his money?”
The lamplight swayed as Shopkeeper Qian’s voice grew heavier. “The sons of these great merchant families have been steeped in business from childhood. They’ve had the calculations of profit and loss carved into their bones. On the surface, employing convicted criminals looks like an act of charity. In truth, they’re turning the government’s own predicament to their advantage.”
Young Zhang was puzzled. “But getting involved with convicted criminals is no small matter. If word reaches the capital…”
Shopkeeper Qian tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “Nanya’s convicted criminals are a hot potato. The county office has to feed them and is constantly worried they’ll cause trouble. They’ve been desperate for someone to take them off their hands. At a time like this, the Shen family steps forward, gives them food and work, and the county office couldn’t be more pleased. They’ve solved an official headache, so naturally the officials will make things easier for them. As for the capital…”
The bookkeeper picked up the thread. “That is precisely where his calculation lies. He gives the convicted criminals meager wages, not personal favors. He has no private dealings with them and never speaks up on their behalf. On the books, everything is spotless, and no one can find fault with him. Even if the capital sends someone to Nanya to investigate, they’ll have no way to touch him. Yet the goodwill of the local officials in Nanya has already fallen into his hands, as have the silver coins saved by paying such low wages. He gets the benefits from both sides.”
Shopkeeper Qian nodded. “The people of Nanya are old, young, or otherwise without anyone to stand up for them. Whether they live or die, it’s all much the same. Who in the capital would bother keeping an eye on them? The important thing is the Shen family. They’re wealthy, and until now they’ve never involved themselves in official circles…”
A family like that was a tempting prize to many people in the capital.
Shopkeeper Qian said no more. He merely raised his eyes to Young Zhang. “Did you go take a look at the pancake shop?”
Young Zhang hurriedly nodded. “I did, I did. It’s just as Shopkeeper Qi described. Nothing special. The shop’s pitifully small—not even big enough for a table. They rely on the academy students to help sell things, offering steamed buns, rice wraps, pancakes, and thin, crisp meat jerky for the children to snack on. A few copper coins a portion. You can find the same things anywhere at the markets and temple fairs. Nothing remarkable.”
The bookkeeper pondered. “Thinking of it that way, that Young Master Shen is used to fine clothes and delicate food, entering and leaving grand halls and elegant residences, yet he was willing to set foot in such a tiny shop without even tables or chairs. It seems he does have some genuine affection for his younger brother and sister.”
Shopkeeper Qian let out a laugh. “That young master is more than ten years younger than him. I hear he’s scatterbrained and unstable by nature. What future could he possibly have? He poses no threat to his elder brother at all. Since that’s the case, why shouldn’t Young Master Shen put on the appearance of a generous elder brother? Brotherly harmony looks good to outsiders and keeps the household peaceful. Besides, the younger master’s friends are from such a poor family. There’s even less reason to interfere. The more tolerant he appears, the broader-minded and less snobbish he’ll seem. Once word of that reputation gets around, it will sound very pleasing indeed.”
The hypocritical, snobbish Young Master Shen had spent most of the day at Zhiyun Trading House’s warehouse.
Shen Guanting stood beneath the covered walkway with a ledger in hand, watching the workers bustle in and out.
Fang Qian came wandering over with a cup of tea. Seeing him like this, he couldn’t help laughing. “You’ve been working so diligently these past few days that it’s almost alarming. You didn’t happen to pack up this much merchandise because Zhiyun Trading House has warehouses full of goods no one can sell, and you’re rushing everything to the capital, did you?”
Shen Guanting set the ledger on a nearby table and took a sip of tea. “What are you saying, Uncle Fang? I simply thought that there are plenty of influential people in the capital. Shouldn’t I bring some of those choice goods we brought back from Nanya before the New Year? They don’t fetch much in Huzhou, but things will be different once they reach the capital.”
Fang Qian shook his head with a laugh. “I think you bought that set of glassware a few days ago and ran short of spending money, so now you’re hoping to find a few fools in the capital to make up the difference.”
That was what he said, but Shen Guanting had never personally supervised such matters before. He had plenty of stewards and accountants. Yet now he was spending his days at the warehouse, checking every detail in the ledgers himself.
Shen Guanting was suffering inwardly as well. He felt that accompanying Lin Jing in his martial arts practice would be far more pleasant. He hadn’t eaten a pancake or rice wrap from the Shuangmu Pancake Shop in ages. His body was exhausted, and even his stomach was suffering.
In theory, going to buy a pancake as he usually did wouldn’t seem strange. It would be his sudden absence that drew suspicion. But with Commandant Zhao watching him, he didn’t want to draw attention to that place.
So he could only keep himself busy. Zhiyun Trading House, Jizhen Pavilion, Jincheng Trading House—everywhere offered a perfectly legitimate reason for him to go. If he was so busy he couldn’t get away, then naturally he would have no time to visit anywhere else.
Shen Guanting sighed and picked up the ledger from the table once more.
While he was busy, the Shuangmu Pancake Shop had lost several of its regular customers. At first, Lin Wu didn’t think much of it. It was only after several days that she suddenly realized the shop seemed quieter.
She couldn’t quite say what felt different.
A pancake lay spread before her. Once one was cooked, she wrapped it and handed it to the customer. There were still several people waiting in front of the stall. Yet she felt an inexplicable emptiness, like the gloomy sky beyond the awning pressing down on her chest and leaving her ill at ease.
Perhaps it was because Lin Jing was no longer behind the counter, counting coins and chattering away in his little voice. No longer did his small figure dart around the shop, calling, “I’m back!” whenever he came in, and, “I’m off to the academy!” whenever he left, filling the place with noise and life.
There were fewer familiar faces at the stall, too. There were still plenty of customers now, with several waiting in front and several more behind. Her hands never stopped moving, and the cashbox continued to fill with copper coins. But for all its bustle, the shop felt strangely unfamiliar. The people came and went, and she couldn’t remember any of them.
Shortly after noon, thick clouds gathered overhead. A rumble of thunder rolled across the horizon, and then rain came pouring down.
Pedestrians on the road hurried beneath the awnings of the shops on either side. Lin Wu and Mrs. Sun quickly went outside and moved the wooden rack by the entrance farther inside. The calligraphy and paintings pasted across it would be ruined if they got wet.
Just as Lin Wu dragged the rack into the corner by the wall and straightened up, she happened to see a carriage passing along the main street.
A gust of wind came from somewhere, lifting one corner of the carriage curtain and revealing a sharply defined profile. The person inside reached out to catch the billowing curtain, long, knuckled fingers closing around the edge of the cloth before giving it a slight tug.
Through the curtain of white rain, those calm, narrow eyes seemed to sweep toward her.
That man usually appeared gentle and refined, yet those eyes concealed an unmistakable edge. Their smooth curve was like a crescent moon, though the outer corners lifted ever so slightly. When his gaze fell upon someone, he sometimes seemed to be smiling, and at other times seemed to be examining them from a lofty distance. For some inexplicable reason, it made him seem remote.
