Chapter 10: The Silver Mine and the "Purity" Defense
Li Wei'an didn't just return from the Red Light District; he returned with a strategy.
As the scoldings from Shen Yao rained down on him like hail, Wei'an didn't even flinch. He didn't try to charm her. Instead, he turned his "Merchant Gaze" toward the Matriarch, Madam Shen Rui, who sat at the head of the table like an ice sculpture of grief.
"Mother," Wei'an said, his voice dropping the playful tone for something grounded and warm. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped box.
"I know I am but a humble merchant who has stumbled into your noble halls," he said, sliding the gift across the table. "But I saw this and thought of the dignity you've maintained despite the storms. It's a specialized aromatic balm—sandalwood and white tea. It's common enough for a merchant to find, but refined enough for a Matriarch."
In truth, Wei'an had used his modern knowledge of aromatherapy. He knew that after the trauma of losing a son, the Matriarch wasn't sleeping. Sandalwood wasn't just a gift; it was a sedative for her soul.
Madam Shen Rui stared at the box. For the first time in two weeks, the mask of cold indignation flickered. She didn't smile, but she didn't throw it back at him either.
"Can I... call you Mother? Instead of the formal titles?" Wei'an asked, tilting his head sheepishly.
The Matriarch picked up the gift, her fingers lingering on the silk wrapping. "Call me as you please," she said tonelessly, but she took the gift with her as she walked away.
The Patriarch, Lord Shen Guanglin, watched his wife leave, then looked at Wei'an with a raised eyebrow. "My boy... that is the first reaction she's given anyone besides anger since we buried our son. You have a strange way of navigating a house."
"I just know that a happy CEO—I mean, Matriarch—makes for a better business environment," Wei'an muttered. He sat down, tied his hair back into a functional topknot, and began devouring his breakfast like a man who hadn't eaten in a century.
Mid-bite, he slumped forward, his forehead nearly hitting the bowl.
"So," Shen Yao said, her voice dripping with suspicion. "What exactly did you do with that courtesan that has you falling asleep in your congee?"
Wei'an snapped awake, his eyes wide. "I am pure! I am a temple of virtue! I did not do anything!"
"You did something," she narrowed her eyes.
"I did not do something! I did that thing—I mean, the information thing! It was a business meeting!"
"You did something."
"I did not! I swear on my remaining 300 silvers, my purity is intact!"
The Silver Mine Crisis
The comedy died the moment Shen Qiu, the House Steward, entered the room. His face was the color of old parchment.
"Master, the situation has escalated," Shen Qiu reported to the Patriarch. "The Count from the neighboring province has sent a formal challenge. They are claiming the Azure Creek Silver Mine belongs to their bloodline historically."
Wei'an's merchant-ears perked up. Silver mine?
"They know we are weak," the Patriarch growled. "Ever since our Great-Grandfather lost the war against the Marquis and saddled this house with a mountain of debt, we've been hanging by a thread. That mine is the only thing keeping our interest payments afloat."
"They've proposed a Three-Front Challenge," Shen Yao explained, her face pale. "A test of arms, a test of scholar-wit, and a test of... wealth management. If we lose, we hand over the mine legally. If we refuse, they'll use it as an excuse for a border skirmish."
Wei'an leaned back, his mind spinning. The Shen House was a "Beautiful Corpse"—noble on the outside, but rotting under a century of debt and lost territory.
"We have no heir for the duel, our scholars have all fled to richer houses, and our treasury is... well, you married me for a reason," Wei'an noted dryly.
"Which is why you are going with Shen Qiu," the Patriarch commanded. "Take 150 of our house guards. Go to the border. Deal with the Rogue Commander Sang first—he's blocking the path to the mine. If we can't even get to our own mine, we've already lost the challenge."
The Departure
As Wei'an prepared his wagons, Shen Yao walked up to him in the courtyard. She looked at his 25 "buff" mercenaries and the 150 Shen guards.
"Don't die," she said, her voice surprisingly soft. "If you die, the debt falls entirely on me again."
"Always the romantic," Wei'an chuckled. He reached out, tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and for a second, the "Merchant" was gone. "I'll save your mine, Yao'er. Just make sure the 'Safety Sake' is actually safe when I get back."
She swatted his hand away, blushing furiously. "Go! Before I change my mind and sell you to the Count myself!"
Wei'an climbed onto his lead wagon, signaling the start of the march.
150 veterans vs. my 175 mixed bag, Wei'an thought, his eyes turning cold as he looked toward the mountains. Debt, historical claims, and a rogue commander. It's not a war. It's a hostile takeover.
Next Chapter Hook:
Wei'an and the Steward reach the mountain pass, but they don't find a bandit camp. They find a well-ordered military outpost. Commander Sang isn't looking for a fight—he's looking for a reason to stop fighting. But the Count's assassins are already among the Shen guards, waiting for the perfect moment to "retire" the new son-in-law.