Chapter 15: The Art of Failing Upward
With Commander Sang officially on the payroll, Wei'an wasted no time. He handed his 25 "buff" mercenaries over to the old general.
"Make them into a unit that can break a formation," Wei'an ordered. "I don't care if they hate you. I just want them to be able to stand in front of a charging knight without wetting their trousers."
While the yard echoed with the sounds of Sang's drill-sergeant screams and the rhythmic thud of heavy spears, Wei'an decided to enjoy the "benefits" of being a high-ranking son-in-law.
He was currently lounging in a sunlit pavilion, a young maid named Xiao-Li sitting nervously—but blushing furiously—on his lap. Wei'an held a charcoal brush, looking at her with a gaze so intense it could melt lead.
"Stay still, Xiao-Li," Wei'an murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "A beauty like yours shouldn't just be seen; it should be immortalized. I'm going to draw you so beautifully that the moon itself will feel plain by comparison."
"Master Li... you're too kind," the maid squeaked, her face the color of a ripe cherry.
"I'm not kind. I'm just an admirer of fine assets," Wei'an chuckled, leaning in to adjust her pose.
"LI WEI'AN!"
The voice didn't just break the silence; it shattered the afternoon. Shen Yao stood at the entrance of the pavilion, her eyes burning with a fire that suggested she was about to commit a capital crime.
The maid let out a yelp, jumped off Wei'an's lap as if he were made of hot coals, and vanished into the shrubbery faster than a startled rabbit.
Wei'an didn't even have time to stand up before the verbal annihilation began.
"You scoundrel! You lecherous, bottom-feeding merchant!" Shen Yao screamed, her finger pointing at him like a loaded crossbow. "While my father is 'dying' in the next room, and our men are bleeding in the yard to save your shops, you are here... painting maids? Do you have a single shred of dignity, or did you sell it for a discount on grain?!"
"It was an art lesson, Yao'er! Anatomy is important for—"
"I don't care about anatomy! I care that I married a man who behaves like a stray dog in heat!" She spent the next ten minutes deconstructing his character, his lineage, and his fashion choices with such precision that even the statues in the garden looked ashamed.
Wei'an sat there, verbally shredded and emotionally bankrupt. "Ouch," he muttered once she stormed off. "She's getting better at that. Her vocabulary is definitely expanding."
The Mother-In-Law's Wisdom
Seeking a safe harbor, Wei'an headed to the inner chambers of the Matriarch.
He didn't bring gold. He brought a simple, high-quality wooden comb and some common honey-cakes he'd bought from a street vendor.
"Mother," he said, bowing low. "I've come to seek your guidance. I'm a man of numbers, but this house... it's a riddle I haven't solved yet."
Madam Shen Rui looked at the honey-cakes. They were the kind she used to eat as a girl, before the weight of the Viscountcy crushed her spirit. She sat him down and, for an hour, she spoke. She didn't talk about glory; she talked about the Debt.
"We owe 40,000 silver taels to the Imperial Bank," she whispered. "Our territory has shrunk to three valleys. Our troops are loyal but starving. We are a house of paper, Wei'an. One strong wind, and we burn."
Wei'an listened, nodding. "Understood, Mother. I'll take it from here."
"And Wei'an?" she added as he stood to leave. "Try not to let Yao'er kill you. She hasn't been this angry in years. Anger is better than the silence she had before."
The Ledger and the Light
That night, Wei'an sat in his study, surrounded by the Shen family ledgers. He was doing the "Merchant Math."
40,000 in debt. 3 valleys. 222 total troops. Interest rates at 8%.
He scratched his head, then pulled out a small, secret ledger from his own robe.
Personal Balance: 800 silvers. Goal: 2,000 silvers for Lian'er's freedom.
He was daydreaming about the Jade Pavilion when he felt a presence. He looked up. Shen Yao was standing in the doorway, her expression no longer angry, but tired.
"The Count's champion will be here tomorrow," she said softly. "Are we ready?"
Wei'an stood up. The moonlight caught her face, and for a second, the frustration between them melted. He stepped toward her, his hand reaching out—not to flirt, but to steady her.
"I have a plan, Yao'er," he said, his voice unusually grounded. "We aren't going to fight him with swords. We're going to fight him with interest rates."
He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face—the same touch that had made her blush before. This time, she didn't swat him away. She just leaned into it, just for a heartbeat.
"You smell like honey-cakes," she whispered.
"It's my new cologne. 'Essence of Pity'."
She let out a tiny, genuine laugh, but then her eyes fell on the secret ledger on his desk. She saw the number 2,000 and the word Jade.
The romantic moment died instantly. Her eyes turned back into ice.
"2,000 silvers for a 'Jade'?" she hissed. "You're still thinking about buying her?"
"Wait! It's an investment! Information networks! Logistics!"
"Go to sleep, Wei'an," she snapped, turning on her heel. "And sleep with one eye open. I might decide to help the Count tomorrow."
Next Chapter Hook:
The Count's champion, a 7-foot-tall monster of a man, arrives for the Test of Arms. Wei'an realizes that instead of a duel, he can challenge the man to a "Weight-Lifting Competition" using his reinforced merchant wagons.