Chapter 18: Love, War, and Rotting Cows
Before the march, the courtyard of the Shen Estate was a flurry of activity. Amidst the clanking of armor and the smell of pitch, Wei'an found Yao'er checking the inventory of smoke pots.
He stepped into her personal space, smelling not of the battlefield, but of the expensive sandalwood balm he'd given her mother.
"Yao'er," he murmured, his voice dropping to that smooth, vibrating tone that usually meant he was about to close a million-silver deal. "If I don't return from the city gates, remember that my last thought was of your eyes... and how they look when you're about to slap me."
He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "You're the most beautiful 'investment' I've ever made. Truly, a merchant's heart is a fragile thing in your hands."
Internal Thought (Shen Yao): DON'T FALL FOR IT. He is a scoundrel. He probably practiced this in front of a mirror. He visited a pavilion on your wedding night! Resist the handsome face! Resist the innocent pout!
But as his fingers brushed her skin, her knees felt like they were made of melting wax. She looked at his eyes—so bright and full of a perverse, playful energy—and her heart did a traitorous somersault.
"You... you're a pervert," she whispered, though she didn't pull away.
"Only for you, Dear Wife," Wei'an grinned. Then, the moment was shattered as Commander Sang walked past, dragging a literal sack of dead rats.
"If you two are done breeding, we have a war to win!" Sang roared.
Wei'an winked at a beet-red Yao'er and vaulted onto his wagon. "Keep the pitch hot, honey! I'll be back for dinner!"
The War of Attrition
The initial clash didn't go as Wei'an planned. The Count wasn't an idiot; he was a veteran. When he saw the "Shameless" traps at the border bridge, he simply stopped his army. He didn't charge. He sat back, let his scouts probe the area, and avoided the pitch-bombs entirely.
"He's cautious," Sang muttered, looking through a spyglass. "He's going to starve us out."
"He wants a slow war?" Wei'an adjusted his topknot. "Fine. Let's give him a disgusting one."
Wei'an closed all his city shops—there was no time for profit now—and pulled every man back into the forest. He turned his 25 Elite Mercenaries into Ghost Units.
The Count's Nightmare
That night, the Count's camp was a scene of disciplined nobility—until the sky started falling.
Thud. Squish. Splat.
"What in the Emperor's name is that smell?!" a knight screamed, waking up to find a rotting pig carcass had been catapulted directly onto his tent.
Behind him, another tent erupted in flames as Fire Arrows whistled in from the darkness. But when the Count's cavalry charged the source of the arrows, they found nothing but Noise Traps—tin cans tied to strings that rattled in the wind, making it sound like a thousand men were retreating.
"My Lord!" a scout ran to the Count's pavilion, gagging. "The northern well... they threw a dead horse in it! And the southern supply wagons... someone sneaked in and greased the axels with animal fat! They can't move!"
The 25 Elites were in their element. They weren't fighting; they were guerilla marketing. They would appear, throw a smoke pot, scream like demons, toss a rotting sheep at the officers, and vanish into the brush before a single sword could be drawn.
"This is not warfare!" the Count roared, wiping a piece of fermented entrails off his expensive silk cape. "This is... this is vandalism!"
"Actually," Wei'an whispered from a nearby ridge, watching through a telescope, "it's called 'Lowering the Enemy's Morale via Biological Hazard.' It's very cost-effective."
The Return
Back at the Shen Fortress, Wei'an returned two days later, covered in soot and smelling faintly of "expired cow."
He found Shen Yao waiting at the gate. She looked relieved, then disgusted as the wind blew his scent toward her.
"You're back," she said, covering her nose with a silk handkerchief.
"Did you miss me?" Wei'an asked, leaning in for a kiss.
"Stay at least five feet away from me, or I will authorize the guards to use the pitch-bombs on you," she snapped. But through her irritation, her eyes were shining. "I heard the reports. The Count's vanguard is demoralized. They're calling us the 'House of Stench'."
"A brand is a brand, Yao'er," Wei'an laughed, staggering toward the bathhouse. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to wash off the smell of victory. It's surprisingly pungent."
Next Chapter Hook:
The Count, pushed to his limit by the "Stench Tactics," decides to ignore the "Test of Arms" and launches a full-scale, all-out siege on the Shen Estate. But Wei'an has one more "Modern" trick up his sleeve: The Insurance Scam.