Chapter 42: The Doting Mother Spoils Her Child

The next day, Yan Dong returned, bearing an imperial edict from Li Shimin, and unleashed a furious tirade against Cai Cong—accusing him of neglecting his duties, failing to serve his country, being corrupted by indulgence, and every other reproach he could think of. Only after thoroughly scolding him did Yan Dong instruct him to quickly wrap up these miscellaneous affairs, reminding him that many weighty military and state matters awaited his attention. Finally, Yan Dong took away ten of the kitchen maids. Though he called it a temporary requisition, Cai Cong doubted they would ever be returned.

After Yan Dong left, Cai Cong sat in silence for a long while. Clearly, he would need to discuss his money-making plans with the Empress as soon as possible. Officially, Yan Dong had come to borrow kitchen maids, but in reality, Li Shimin was sending a message: finish up quickly—soon you’ll be summoned to strengthen the army.

This left Cai Cong somewhat dejected. Centuries-old mindsets could not be changed with a few words, and Li Shimin still did not value the idea that commerce could enrich the people; at least, it seemed less important to him than building a powerful military.

“Damn it, if you won’t do it, I’ll handle it myself. One day, I’ll make you regret this. Meng Baolai, where have you gone? Get over here!” Frustration welled up inside Cai Cong, making him irritable as his thoughts churned.

“My young master, please don’t be angry. It’s just ten people, isn’t it? This is an honor for us! Once the restaurant opens, we can boast that all the palace cooks came from our establishment—customers will flock to us in droves!” Meng Baolai had never gone far; seeing Cai Cong sitting there in a foul mood, he assumed it was because the kitchen maids had been taken by the emperor.

“Nonsense! That’s not what bothers me. If your background isn’t thoroughly investigated, who would dare keep you in the palace? Enough talk—go now and arrange for the brokers to find me some blacksmiths to buy. Also, find out where we can get that white sand.” Cai Cong snapped, annoyed at Meng Baolai’s limited vision—he’d amount to something only if he had powerful backing in this life; without it, this was as far as he’d go.

“I’ll take care of it right away. Actually, there are some blacksmiths in my neighborhood; if you just need ordinary items forged, it’ll be convenient.”

“No, buy them outright. Tell the brokers I want honest and well-behaved families—no one with a dark reputation is allowed.”

“Don’t worry, master. The brokers wouldn’t dare offer anyone with a tainted history.”

“Good, I trust your work. Tell Ajie to have someone send more food to Miss Yan later. Such a picky eater at her age—reminds me of myself, I admire her.” Cai Cong, sounding mature beyond his years, made Meng Baolai struggle to suppress his laughter.

“If you want to laugh, then laugh! Let Old Jiu handle things here for now—you’re coming back to the village with me. Winter is nearly upon us, time to purchase supplies for the New Year.” Cai Cong had to return—Cai Family Village was his root. The old patriarch had beaten his own grandson to death with his own hands; this had shaken Cai Cong profoundly. In a world where the family came before everything, no one questioned the patriarch’s actions—it was an accepted norm.

He had also purchased some books and scholarly supplies, intending to hire a tutor for the village children, to keep them from running wild. No family could thrive relying on a single person; collective strength was what truly mattered. Just look at those ancient noble clans, producing talent generation after generation—when had anyone heard of a thousand-year-old family being propped up by just one man?

When Li Shimin eventually opened the imperial exams, perhaps someone from the Cai family might pass and enter officialdom—surely that would please the old patriarch. He’d have to prepare the “Three Character Classic” first; when Li Shimin began conscripting troops, there’d be no time to write it. He pitied those children struggling to learn from the “Thousand Character Classic”—after the first few lines, the rest became increasingly obscure, far less accessible than the “Three Character Classic.”

Yes, that’s what he’d do. Money wouldn’t be an issue, and he could invite children from neighboring villages to study for free, spreading a good reputation. With such renown, even if something happened to him one day, that foolish woman would still be able to live out her life in the respect of others.

Nonsense, he wasn’t about to die so easily—he hadn’t even seen the Tang Dynasty’s golden age and its myriad vassals bowing before it! If he died now, he’d be a laughingstock even in the underworld—a time traveler who amounted to nothing.

Cai Cong did have one flaw: he often let his mind wander, concocting wild schemes that made him increasingly pleased with himself. From outside the carriage, Meng Baolai and the others heard his eerie chuckling and broke out in goosebumps—who was he plotting against now? The last time he’d laughed like that was at the Right Martial Guard, and even General Li had avoided him for two days, for reasons unknown.

Fortunately, none of them felt they warranted that sort of attention. They comforted themselves and offered silent sympathy to whoever was about to suffer misfortune.

“Young master, we’ve arrived.” When the carriage pulled up to the gate, Cai Cong still hadn’t disembarked. Meng Baolai called out softly.

So soon? Lifting the curtain, Cai Cong saw chickens pecking about the yard—it could only be his own home.

“Mother, I’m back!” he shouted as he jumped from the carriage.

“Young master, you’ve returned. Madam has gone out—the village next door came to borrow grain, so she went to receive them,” a maid informed him. He’d forgotten which household had sent her; there were four maids in total.

“Why did my mother need to go herself for such a trivial matter? Where’s Brother Weiguo?” Cai Cong frowned—not out of arrogance, but because his status had changed. With higher standing came different protocols; a mere village commoner shouldn’t be entertained by a titled lady.

“Madam said they’re our neighbors, and they helped us when the estate was down on its luck. Now that we’ve prospered, we can’t put on airs or act haughty, so she went in person. She’s at the granary—it hasn’t been long.”

“Understood. You unload the goods; I’ll go find my mother.”

With that, Cai Cong headed to the granary, where he found quite a crowd. Each wore patched garments—if they were lucky, a patched robe over their tunic. They shivered in the cold, yet their eyes burned with hope as they stared at the granary.

“Lao Shuan, how much grain interest do you think they’ll charge? The new landlord’s wealthy, but who knows what sort of person he is? If he’s worse than Landlord Liu to the west, we’re doomed,” one man muttered, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands, his face etched with worry.

“Hard to say. I’ve heard this is a kind family, so maybe the grain interest won’t be too high,” the other replied, breathing into his hands, though he sounded uncertain.

Cai Cong knew this scene well—borrowing grain for winter planting was common. Some landlords were ruthless, charging exorbitant interest; by the time the peasants repaid both grain and interest the next year, there was little left for their families.

He walked over. The man guarding the granary recognized him and let him in directly.

“Mother, I’m back. Brother Weiguo, you’re here too!” Cai Cong greeted them as he entered, seeing a middle-aged man speaking nervously while his mother and Weiguo listened attentively.

“My son, when did you return?” His mother called out in delight. Whenever her son was away, she worried incessantly, always fearing for his safety.

“Just now. Brother Weiguo, could you step outside for a moment? I need to discuss something privately with Mother.” Cai Cong smiled and nodded to Weiguo and the others, indicating they should leave.

“You come with me—Madam and the young master have something to discuss. You’ll be seen later,” Weiguo said to the middle-aged man, leading him out.

“Son, these are all our neighbors. They once lent us grain when we were in need, so…I intend to lend them grain now,” his mother said hesitantly, casting a careful look at Cai Cong. She knew how much he valued grain—otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to purchase it.

“So, Mother, how much interest do you plan to charge them?” Cai Cong asked with a mischievous grin, teasing her.

“Thirty percent—no, thirty-five. No more than that; if we charge more, they’ll just need to borrow again next year.” She nervously held up three fingers, afraid he would object.

“That won’t do,” Cai Cong replied without hesitation, shocked by how high the rate was. In modern times, such terms would be usurious.

“Oh? Son, please, I beg you!” she pleaded, crouching down and coaxing him as if he were still a child.

“Mother, you misunderstand me—I mean the interest is too high. Let’s set it at just ten percent.” Seeing her eyes well with tears, Cai Cong dared not tease her further.

“Isn’t that too great a loss for us?” she faltered, torn between doing good and protecting the family’s interests.

“That’s not how we should calculate this, Mother. If we want the Cai family to flourish, we need not just wealth and status, but an excellent reputation. With your son here, we’ll never lack for money. Doing good deeds now and building goodwill will only benefit us in the long run.”

He explained earnestly. Though she was bewildered, she nodded along—whatever her son said was right; she doted on him that much.

“Whatever you say, son. I’ll go tell them and spread the word.” She was about to dash outside when Cai Cong stopped her—he hadn’t come back just for this.

“Mother, let’s start a private school, so the children from nearby villages can come to study. We’ll hire a tutor and charge them nothing.”

“If that’s what you want, then do as you see fit. I don’t understand these things—just do what makes you happy,” she beamed, unconcerned with anything but her son’s contentment.

“Very well. I’ll tell everyone it was your idea, so they’ll revere you like a living goddess.” Cai Cong couldn’t help but feel exasperated—he suspected that if he took to murder, his mother would only worry for his safety and send someone else in his stead, rather than stop him herself.