The updated logic for Shen Yao:Chapter 3: The Art of Being a "Fool" (Refined)
Li Wei'an didn't chase after noble titles. He didn't rush to the Shen House to offer his condolences. In fact, he didn't do anything a "proper" fallen heir was supposed to do.
Instead, he stood in the middle of his dusty courtyard and pointed at the sky.
"Old Chen," Wei'an said, his eyes gleaming with a terrifyingly practical light. "Buy five horses. Good ones. I don't need stallions that look pretty in a parade; I need sturdy beasts that can pull a load through mud without coughing up a lung."
Old Chen's jaw hit the floor. "Young Master, we just got the silver! We should be paying off the long-term interest to the Magistrate or—"
"Horses," Wei'an repeated. "And the two carriages in the shed? Repair them. The three heavy wagons rotting behind the warehouses? I want them reinforced. Axles greased, frames strengthened. Make them capable of carrying the weight of a small mountain. Spend what you must."
"But Master... why?"
"Just do it."
Wei'an wasn't finished. He took his newly acquired silver and began a spending spree that made the neighbors think he'd finally snapped.
He sent wagons to the surrounding villages. It was harvest season—the one time of year when grain was so plentiful that farmers were practically giving it away to avoid it rotting in the fields.
"He's buying grain?" a rival merchant chuckled, watching the Li wagons roll in, heavy with wheat and barley. "There's no shortage in Jianghe City. The silos are full. The boy is a genius—he's figured out how to turn silver into birdseed."
The city laughed. Even the porters shook their heads as Wei'an paid for premium cold storage. He was spending a fortune to store something that everyone already had in abundance.
Laugh away, Wei'an thought, watching a ledger entry for 1,000 silvers vanish into the grain. When the river freezes or the border scouts start a skirmish, birdseed is going to look a lot like gold.
Wei'an then turned his attention to the "corpse" that was the Li Mansion.
He didn't try to make it a palace. He didn't buy gold leaf or fancy fountains. He spent 500 taels on the basics: fixing the roof leaks, filling the dented holes in the walls, and ensuring the gates actually closed.
"Dress the guards," he ordered. The few men who hadn't deserted were given thick, reinforced leather and clean uniforms. He bought himself a few sets of high-quality, practical robes. Not the shimmering silk of a peacock, but the sharp, dark wool of a wolf.
When he was done, the Li Mansion didn't look rich. It looked ready.
With his remaining silver, he made his most "confusing" move yet. He walked into a dingy, smoke-filled hall on the edge of the slums: The Iron Vanguard Guild.
It was a small mercenary outfit with twenty-five men who looked like they'd fought more bar fights than wars. They were starving and desperate.
"500 silvers," Wei'an said, dropping a heavy pouch on their scarred table. "I want 35% of your equity. You keep your name, but I keep the veto power. And you work for me first."
The guild leader stared at the silver. He didn't care about "equity"—he cared about eating. The deal was signed in five minutes.
Finally, he bought a tiny, cramped shop in a high-traffic alley for 500 silvers and spent another 500 stocking it with "trash"—knick-knacks, basic tools, and oddities his scouts found in the countryside. He sent his steward to scout the streets, looking for what people were complaining about.
"Buy from the desperate, sell to the needy," Wei'an muttered.
After the dust settled, Wei'an sat in his study with exactly 300 silvers left in his personal chest. He was technically "poor" again. But he had a fleet, a granary, a private militia, and a storefront.
Meanwhile: The Shen Estate
While Wei'an was playing with grain and mercenaries, a very different atmosphere hung over the Shen House.
The air was thick with the scent of funeral incense. Inside the main hall, Madam Shen Rui, the matriarch, sat like a stone statue. Opposite her stood Shen Yao. She was dressed in white mourning silk, her face pale but her eyes sharp.
"The Imperial Censor will be here within the month," Madam Shen said, her voice brittle. "Your brother was the last male heir. Without him to hold the land grant, they will strip our authority. We will be 'Landless Nobility'—nobles in name, but beggars in practice."
Shen Yao's jaw tightened. She was already a widow from a previous ill-fated engagement; she knew exactly how cruel the world was to women without a house to back them.
"We still have the legal marriage seal," Shen Yao whispered. "If we find a man... a puppet... someone with enough family background to pass the survey but enough desperation to obey us..."
"All the noble houses are circling us like vultures, Yao'er," the Matriarch sighed. "They don't want to help. They want to marry you, bury me, and absorb our name."
"What about the merchant houses?" Shen Yao asked suddenly.
"Merchants?" The Matriarch scoffed. "Filthy money-grubbers. They have no standing."
"Exactly," Shen Yao said, a cold light appearing in her eyes. "A merchant would be grateful for the title. He would be easy to control. I heard the Li family heir—the 'Useless' one—just came into some money and is spending it like a madman. Buying grain and wagons. He's preparing for something."
The Matriarch paused. "The Li boy? Why would he buy grain when the harvest is full?"
"Because he's either a fool," Shen Yao murmured, "or he knows something we don't. I want to meet him."
Back at the Li House, Wei'an let out a massive sneeze.
"Someone's talking about me," he muttered, closing his ledger.
"Master," Old Chen called out, "we only have 300 silvers left. We're practically back to where we started!"
Wei'an looked out the window at his five new horses and his mountain of grain.
"No, Chen," Wei'an smiled. "Now, we're finally ready to start."
gate.