Chapter Eleven The Prodigy of Commerce

Wave after wave crashed before him, and Lu Liaoliao was submerged beneath the water, desperately struggling to break the surface, fighting toward the shore. Gradually, his limbs grew heavier, leaden, dragging him downward. Slowly, he sank into the depths. His powerless hands grasped at nothing.

He jolted awake, stunned for a long moment. Absentmindedly, he gazed at the neatly arranged, brand-new clothes before him and instinctively touched the white undergarment—it was extraordinarily soft and smooth.

Lu Liaoliao had never worn such fine fabric before. He glanced at his own tattered clothing, then quietly washed himself with the clean water in the basin and changed into the new garments.

A girl of about twelve or thirteen, round-faced and pleasant-eyed, entered the tent carrying a steaming bowl of meat porridge. Upon seeing the transformed Lu Liaoliao, she nodded with satisfaction.

“Ninth Young Master says, since you’re following at his side, you mustn’t disgrace him. Throw away those rags you had on,” she instructed, paying no heed to Lu Liaoliao’s reaction as she gathered up his discarded clothes.

The steaming porridge was so thick a chopstick could stand in it. Large, pearly grains of rice floated within, and Lu Liaoliao’s stomach growled in response.

Taken in by this youth, burdened inexplicably with a massive debt, and now treated with such generosity—Lu Liaoliao found himself unable to understand this otherworldly young man. Yet within, his anxiety only deepened.

Dawn had barely broken; mist still lingered as the caravan finished its preparations and set off.

Perhaps it was the brush with death, but everything before him now seemed easier to accept. He sat quietly inside the carriage, resigned to whatever fate might bring.

In the carriage ahead, finer and more comfortable than the rest, the boy and his maidservant sat together. Two riders flanked the carriage as guards, young and sharp-eyed—one of them was Wang Shiyi. Yet, as if having completely forgotten the person he had picked up, the young master had not spared Lu Liaoliao a single glance in two days.

By late afternoon, as the sun slanted westward, the caravan made camp early.

The little maid, Qing’er, summoned Lu Liaoliao. The Ninth Young Master sat serenely beside a scenic creek, a portable tea table before him, Wang Shiyi attending at his side.

Qing’er pointed to a zither, already set nearby. Understanding, Lu Liaoliao seated himself and began to play.

After several pieces, the youth opened his eyes, picked up his tea, and took a sip, nodding faintly to the maid.

Qing’er approached Lu Liaoliao and tossed a row of gleaming Kaiyuan coins onto the zither table. “These are your reward from the Ninth Young Master.”

In such circumstances, Lu Liaoliao no longer cared to argue about dignity or integrity. Staring with a complex expression at the line of golden coins, he knew he would never reach out for them.

In a blink, Qing’er swept up the coins and tucked them away, smiling like a crescent moon. “And the Ninth Young Master says, consider these a small interest payment.”

Lu Liaoliao was left bewildered.

The next day, the long caravan suddenly slowed to a halt. Wang Shiyi, with several guards, rode ahead to investigate and found at the mountain pass a group of over ten men and women in Miao garb, holding up portraits and stopping travelers for inspection.

Glancing at the portrait, Wang Shiyi found the likeness vaguely familiar but thought little of it as he spurred his horse forward, declaring haughtily, “Why are you blocking the road?”

A middle-aged man strode forward with a swagger. “The Five Sacred Sect is hunting a runaway slave. All travelers must stop and be inspected!”

Wang Shiyi sneered. “The Five Sacred Sect may be powerful in these southwestern hills, but our Four Seas Trading Company’s caravans have never submitted to any inspection.”

At his words, the guards behind him drew their weapons in unison, aiming them at the man.

Seeing the military-grade crossbows trained on him, the man swallowed hard.

“So, it’s the Four Seas Trading Company—my apologies! I am Mu Shang, known as Liang, one of the Four Ghosts of the Five Sacred Sect. We wouldn’t trouble you over a mere fugitive, but that slave stole a sacred object from our sect—the master has decreed, bring back the living or the dead, reclaim the relic at all costs. We mean no offense, and hope you’ll understand.”

Seeing the man’s forced smile, Wang Shiyi’s expression softened, but he still refused to yield.

“Your master’s orders cannot be disobeyed, but neither can our company’s rules be broken. Does the Five Sacred Sect truly wish to set this precedent?”

Mu Shang felt awkward; though the sect was powerful locally, it could not act with complete impunity. The Four Seas Trading Company was renowned for its deep connections and elite guards. Sects like the Five Sacred Sect could not hope to match such firepower.

Thinking quickly, Mu Shang smiled apologetically. “We needn’t trouble your caravan with inspections. If our people and a spirit hound can just circle the convoy, that will suffice. Perhaps you could discuss with your master? We’ll be sure to thank you afterward.”

“Wait here. I’ll speak with my master—whether it works, I can’t say.” Wang Shiyi, unwilling to start trouble with the notoriously difficult Five Poison Sect, rode back.

Seeing Lu Liaoliao, pale and pacing by the roadside, Wang Shiyi suddenly thought of something, comparing the portrait to Lu Liaoliao.

He eyed Lu Liaoliao thoughtfully, then muttered at length outside the Ninth Young Master’s carriage.

Lu Liaoliao was summoned. The youth fixed him with a hostile stare for a long moment.

“A runaway slave from the mountains, yet you dared claim to be a scholar, a tribute student, before me. Lu Liaoliao, you dared deceive me!”

Lu Liaoliao, face ashen, forced himself calm. “I am indeed a tribute student from Jinshui County, Yangzhou Prefecture, kidnapped by a witch of the Five Poison Sect and forced into slavery. I seized a desperate chance to escape by water—when have I ever deceived you?”

The youth was uninterested in debating the details of abduction and escape. Narrowing his eyes, he extended his hand. “Let me see the sacred object you stole.”

Lu Liaoliao straightened his clothes and stood tall. “I am a scholar of integrity. How could I be a thief? Do you see anywhere on me to hide a sacred object?”

“To go to such lengths for a mere slave—surely you’ve done something more. You think you can fool me?” The youth’s gaze was uncertain as he studied Lu Liaoliao.

Lu Liaoliao’s heart ached, his face bleak. “How can I fathom the workings of that vicious sect? If you fear I’ll bring trouble, hand me over and be done with it.”

Provoked, the youth sneered. “Our Four Seas Trading Company travels unhindered; we do not fear wild cults. But I will not risk conflict for a nobody like you.”

“Shiyi, go give them my answer—I agree.” The youth waved Wang Shiyi away.

Lu Liaoliao’s heart went cold with despair, knowing this time there truly was no escape.

“I don’t care what sacred relic the Five Sacred Sect lost, nor do I wish to know what you’ve done. I only know you owe me one thousand five hundred and two taels of silver. Get in the carriage!” The youth called Lu Liaoliao aboard, leaving no room for refusal.

Numbly, he watched as Qing’er opened a hidden compartment beneath the seat, revealing several sets of luxurious women’s clothing. At the youth’s signal, Lu Liaoliao lay down.

Bottles of rouge and powder were scattered over him, their fragrance overwhelming, making him sneeze. Then the lid closed, plunging him into darkness.

To think, a grown man, forced to lie beneath the youth and Qing’er, surrounded by cosmetics and women’s clothes—Lu Liaoliao’s humiliation burned within him, and he cursed inwardly, wishing the effeminate, cross-dressing youth would one day be abducted and suffer as a catamite.

The aroma was rich and mouthwatering. A meal of wild mushrooms stewed with meat won the praise of all. The Five Poison Sect’s two wagonloads of mountain produce, offered as apology, were mostly mushrooms and fungi, perfect for the table.

Seeing everyone’s lingering appetite, Lu Liaoliao couldn’t help but comment, “These wild mushrooms cover the hills after rain. The mountain folk feed them to livestock when there’s too much. You treat them like rare delicacies.”

Faces darkened at his words, and two guards, unable to contain their anger, moved toward Lu Liaoliao, intent on teaching him a lesson.

The youth waved them off and summoned Lu Liaoliao.

“Do you realize I’ve just saved your life again?”

With debts mounting, Lu Liaoliao resigned himself and held up a finger. “Isn’t it just another one thousand and two taels? Write the note, and I’ll owe it.”

The youth shook his head. “Are you sure there’s plenty of this in the mountains? That it’s worthless?”

“I’ve been trapped here for over a year—I’d know. Why would I lie?” With his debt now higher, Lu Liaoliao had little patience left.

The youth glanced at the dozens of empty wagons, thinking for a moment, then summoned a middle-aged steward.

“Steward Wang, stay behind and buy up all these wild mushrooms and fungi. Fill every empty wagon for me.”

Steward Wang looked troubled. “Young Master, these mountain goods are cheap. By the time we haul them to Chang’an, the shipping alone will cost more than they’re worth.”

“Gifts for the nobles and great families allied with us will make them treasures,” the youth replied confidently.

Lu Liaoliao stared at the youth in astonishment—he had never seen such a thing.

“Your mouth may be sharp, but because of it my empty wagons will return full, and I gain a new source of profit. Therefore, I reward you five hundred taels of silver, deducted from your debt. You now owe me two thousand and two taels.” The youth spoke as if it were a trivial matter.