Chapter 11: The Rat in the Ranks
The march toward the Azure Creek Silver Mine was tense. One hundred and fifty Shen guards and Wei'an's own mixed unit moved like a giant iron snake through the mountain passes.
Li Wei'an sat on his horse, looking like he was daydreaming. In reality, he was watching the Merchant's Ratio.
"Old Chen," Wei'an whispered. "Who among the Shen guards isn't eating the grain I provided?"
The steward paused. "A group of six, Master. They claim to have brought their own dried rations from the city."
Wei'an smirked. Logic 101: In a hungry world, no one turns down free, high-quality wheat unless they're afraid of being indebted to the provider—or they're already on someone else's payroll.
"Steward Qiu," Wei'an called out loudly. "I've decided! We're camping here for the night. And since I'm a 'generous' son-in-law, I'm giving every man a double ration of wine!"
The camp erupted in cheers. But as the sun dipped, Wei'an didn't drink. He watched. When the "group of six" tried to slip away toward the horse lines to send a signal flare, they found themselves staring at the business end of twenty-five mercenary crossbows.
"Leaving so soon?" Wei'an stepped out of the shadows, twirling a dagger he barely knew how to use, but looking damn good doing it. "The Count's silver must be heavy if you're in such a hurry to report."
By dawn, six traitors were tied to trees, and the Shen guards were looking at Wei'an with a new, terrifying respect. He hadn't used a sword; he'd used a grocery list to find a spy.
POV: The Jade Pavilion (Lian'er)
Back in the city, Lian'er leaned against the balcony of the Jade Pavilion, watching the morning mist roll over the river. She looked at her hand—the one Wei'an had kissed with such practiced, effortless charm.
"Buy me, will you?" she chuckled softly to herself.
She thought of the price she had set for her freedom. She wasn't a Capital star, just a local treasure, but she wasn't cheap.
"Two thousand silver taels, Master Li," she whispered to the wind. "A steep climb for a man living in a barracks, but... at least you were charming enough to make me think you might actually try."
POV: The Cousin (Shen Mu)
In a nearby carriage traveling toward the Shen Estate, a young man named Shen Mu looked out at the passing trees. He was a distant cousin, a scholar by trade, and someone who had always been a "background" character in the clan's drama.
He had heard of the "Useless Heir" marrying his cousin Yao'er.
A merchant in the family? Shen Mu sighed, rubbing his temples. Disgraceful. But... if he can actually handle the debt collectors while I focus on the legal defense of the mine, perhaps he isn't a total waste of space. I'll reserve judgment until I see if he can survive the first week without being stabbed.
He wasn't a villain; he was just a man tired of seeing his family name dragged through the mud.
POV: The Shen Estate (Shen Yao)
Shen Yao sat in her study, surrounded by old maps and legal documents regarding the historical claim of the Count. She was preparing for the "Negotiation" front of the challenge, her mind a whirlwind of laws and precedents.
But every time she tried to focus on the silver mine, her fingers drifted to her ear.
She could still feel the warmth of Wei'an's touch from the courtyard. The way his rough, merchant-calloused hand had tucked her hair back. The way his eyes had suddenly turned serious, losing that infuriating playful glint.
Her face heated up, a deep crimson flush spreading across her cheeks.
"Stop it," she hissed at herself, fanning her face with a document. "He's a merchant. A scoundrel. A man who jumps out of windows to visit courtesans."
She stood up, pacing the room. But the blush wouldn't fade.
"He's just a tool for the house," she told her reflection in the bronze mirror. "A very... surprisingly warm... annoying tool."
She slammed her desk, dismissing the feeling. She had a Count to face and a mine to save.
Wei'an finally reached the mountain pass where Commander Sang held his ground. But instead of an army of rabid bandits, he found a camp that was cleaner than the city's main square.
He was escorted alone into a large tent. There sat a man with silver hair and eyes that looked like they had seen the end of the world.
"A merchant sent to negotiate for a noble house," Sang said, looking at a Go board on the table. "Sit. If you can beat me, I'll listen. If you lose, I'll take your 175 men as my new recruits."
Wei'an looked at the board. He wasn't a master, but he knew Modern Game Theory.
"Commander," Wei'an said, sitting down. "Instead of a game of Go, how about a game of Opportunity Cost? You want to feed your veterans. I want to pass. If you join me, you don't just get food—you get a legal identity back."
Sang paused, a black stone held between his fingers. "Talk is cheap, boy."
"So is grain," Wei'an countered. "Until there's a famine."