“Miss Caiwei, how many water-jade pearls does your Jinchuan Chamber actually have?”
one of the stewards asked.
“No one knows the total except Mr Jin himself, but here in Baling Commandery there is only this one!”
Yuan Caiwei replied. “So please do not miss your chance. Once it is gone, even mountains of silver may not secure another pearl in future.”
Tang Xiaobei had certainly brought more than one, but scarcity breeds value. The fewer pearls there were, the higher the price they would fetch.
If she released a whole basket at once they would be worthless, whereas offering just one brought far greater returns.
“Miss Caiwei, where do these water-jade pearls come from?” another steward asked.
“Do you really think a mere shopkeeper like me would know that?”
Yuan Caiwei smiled and countered, then continued, “But our Mr Jin has said that the water-jade pearls of the Jinchuan Chamber are the finest under heaven. Whether given as gifts or passed down through the family, they are treasures without equal!”
Great Kang was deeply steeped in the belief that official rank mattered above all.
To many in the realm, no matter how rich a merchant became, his status remained lowly.
Scholars looked down upon merchants and artisans.
Jin Feng was the only noble in the entire land who personally ran a chamber of commerce and spent his days in a forge.
To other scholars, becoming an official was the most promising career.
An official never lacked for money and could even secure privileges for his descendants.
Almost every powerful clan in Great Kang had produced high officials in previous generations.
That was why the clans’ enthusiasm for the water-jade pearls far exceeded what Tang Xiaobei and Yuan Caiwei had expected.
All day long, a steady stream of clan representatives came to Yuan Caiwei to bid.
After a full day of competition, the single pearl was finally won by the Feng clan for the price of eighteen shiploads of grain.
A single glass bead had exchanged for eighteen shiploads of grain. If Jin Feng knew, he would surely be delighted.
The moment Tang Xiaobei pictured Jin Feng’s happiness, the corners of her own mouth lifted.
“Madam, the Feng people are here. They say they urgently need the pearl and want to discuss handing it over early,” Yuan Caiwei reported to Tang Xiaobei. “They are willing to use property deeds as collateral.”
According to the agreement, the Feng clan would receive the pearl only after the grain was ready.
“It seems the Feng clan cannot wait any longer,” Tang Xiaobei said with a cold laugh.
She had studied the Feng dossier.
Eighty-odd years ago, the Feng family had produced a Chancellor, and the clan rose swiftly.
Relying on that ancestor’s prestige, in just a few decades they annexed tens of thousands of mu of land locally.
After the Chancellor died, his former protégés and subordinates, grateful for past favours, still lent the family some support.
But as time passed, those protégés died off, and their descendants gradually cut ties with the Fengs.
In recent decades the Fengs had produced no outstanding scholars, let alone another Chancellor; they had not even managed a county magistrate.
Without an official to shield them, they could not protect their vast estate.
Countless eyes coveted the Feng lands these years.
The Fengs themselves sensed the danger and had been sending people to the capital to grease palms, hoping to buy an official title for the family head.
Yet the high officials in the capital were selective about whose money they took. The Feng head had spent over half a year in the capital with no progress.
Recently, however, an opportunity had appeared. The Ministry of Personnel had several substantive posts available, but the official in charge prided himself on refined tastes and scorned vulgar silver; he preferred rare curiosities.
When the Feng head learned this official had attended an auction yet failed to obtain the water-jade pearl he wanted, he sent word home to search for one in Jiangnan.
The message had arrived only two days before Yuan Caiwei announced the pearl.
The Fengs lacked neither grain nor money; they lacked only an opportunity.
Now that the opportunity had come, they would not let it slip.
That was why they bid the highest and were the most desperate.
“Madam, here is the list of deeds they sent.”
Yuan Caiwei unfolded a sheet of paper. “The Fengs say that as long as we give them the pearl now, they will immediately deliver the deeds as security.”
The list detailed several residences and two well-placed shops.
“Now they are anxious? Too late!”
Tang Xiaobei glanced at the list but did not take it. “Tell the Fengs I want only grain. I have no interest in their houses. The pearl will be theirs the moment the grain is loaded onto the boats.”
The Fengs had a grain merchant among their backers who, when Tang Xiaobei had negotiated with him earlier, had been full of sarcastic remarks.
“Yes, Madam!” Yuan Caiwei bowed and withdrew.
The Feng reply left them furious yet powerless. They could only scramble to assemble the grain.
Fortunately, grain was their business; in just two days they managed to gather the full amount and load it onto the boats.
Tang Xiaobei sent people to count it and inspect the quality before finally handing over the pearl.
The Fengs immediately dispatched a rider to rush it to the capital.
“Caiwei, prepare some incense, candles, and offerings. Come with me outside the city.”
Tang Xiaobei watched the fleet sail away from the wharf and spoke softly.
Having gathered so much grain in Baling Commandery, Tang Xiaobei was satisfied. It was time to move on.
But before leaving, she had one more thing to do.
Three li beyond the city walls lay a small valley that served as a mass grave.
When great households accidentally beat a servant or slave to death, the body was sent here and buried in a shallow pit.
“The girl from Linglong Pavilion is buried here.”
A short farmer pointed to a small mound in the corner.
The underlings disliked coming to the mass grave. Usually, after dragging a corpse outside the city, they paid a few coppers to nearby farmers to bury it.
This farmer, besides tilling his fields, made his living doing exactly that.
“Are you certain?” Yuan Caiwei asked.
“Of course. This year two girls died at Linglong Pavilion. The last one was in spring,” the farmer said. “This one had finger marks on her neck, like she was strangled. Am I right?”
“Enough. You may go.”
Seeing that his account matched their investigation, Yuan Caiwei tossed him a few coppers and sent him away.
“Leave the paper money. All of you may go too.”
Tang Xiaobei took the basket of incense and candles and waved everyone off.
Yuan Caiwei led the chamber’s people away, but Alan stayed behind.
Tang Xiaobei took out the incense and candles, lit them with a fire starter, and placed them on the mound.
The mound was tiny, not even half a metre high. In less than three years the rain would probably wash it flat.
Or perhaps someone would soon dig it up to bury another poor soul.
Ever since learning that this girl had been strangled by Zhou Wenyan, Tang Xiaobei had felt uneasy.
Perhaps because she herself had once worked in a brothel, or perhaps because she had used the girl’s death to threaten Zhou Wenyan.
So, before leaving Baling Commandery, Tang Xiaobei had decided to pay her respects.
She said nothing, simply squatted before the mound and waited silently until the incense burned out before standing.
“Miss Qing’er, please wait a little longer. One day, I will avenge you.”
