Chapter 15: Undercurrents

“All right, all right, you’re making me deaf with all your shouting. I calculated this long ago—today’s the third day, and by now everyone is out of stock. They have no choice but to come to us.”

Lu Xin was certainly excited as well, but this outcome was something he had foreseen before he put his plan into action, so he felt little surprise. Seeing Cao An approach, weighed down by several strings of copper coins, Lu Xin took all the money and handed it directly to Mute Wu.

“Two hundred and fifty Dream-Soul Pills, that’s one thousand two hundred and fifty coins. Uncle Wu, here’s the money I borrowed from you. The rest is interest.”

After Lu Xin spoke, a clear look of shock flashed in Mute Wu’s eyes. It was a simple calculation: by Lu Xin’s pricing, each Dream-Soul Pill sold for five coins. The original price had been two pills for a single coin—a tenfold difference. Mute Wu found it unbelievable. The servants in the West Wing, like Ding, received only fifty coins a month. Even spending five coins on a single Dream-Soul Pill was an extravagant expense. In Yuezhou, five coins could buy half a peck of rice and a pound of pork.

“With such a high price, aren’t you afraid no one will buy?”

Once Cao An left, Mute Wu immediately wrote his question on the ground. He was skilled in martial arts but knew nothing of business.

“Uncle Wu, there’s nothing strange about it. There’s a saying: rare goods command a high price. Five coins for a Dream-Soul Pill is exorbitant for those who aren’t addicted, but for those who are, it’s a life-saving medicine. According to my plan, within half a month, all two thousand Dream-Soul Pills will be sold. By then, we’ll have ten taels of silver.”

“Still, as you say, this stuff does no good to the body, and it isn’t accepted by the Xu household. You should be careful, lest something goes wrong.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Wu. I only took this desperate measure because I had no other choice. Once we get through this period, I won’t do this business anymore. By the way, although you won’t teach me martial arts, can you at least teach me to read and write?”

After starting the Dream-Soul Pill business, Lu Xin continued with his usual chores of cleaning the latrines. All business matters were left to Cao An. Every night, Lu Xin would study reading and calligraphy with Mute Wu. He was especially eager to understand the contents of the “Scripture of Virtuous Earth Burial.” Initially, he had planned to learn from a professional tutor once he had the money. But now, with the accomplished Mute Wu by his side, there was no need for such trouble. However, since Mute Wu could not speak, many characters had to be explained through gestures and written interpretation, so he could not teach pronunciation.

Even so, Lu Xin learned quickly. In modern society, he had always been a lackadaisical student whom even his teachers looked down on, but here in the Tang dynasty, he had become someone keen and eager to learn. The world is truly strange and unpredictable. People do change. Whether one grows depends only on the willingness to put in the effort.

A month later, Lu Xin could basically understand every word in the “Scripture of Virtuous Earth Burial.” Meanwhile, the Dream-Soul Pill business entered its second phase. Ten days earlier, Cao An had already sold out all the stock. After repaying Mute Wu and paying Cao An for his efforts, Lu Xin was left with eight taels of silver—eight thousand coins. He then spent two strings of coins to bribe Liu the Leper, steward of the West Wing, and Tong Si, steward of the North Wing. Not only did they prevent buyers from the West and North Wings from leaving the estate on June fifteenth, but they also secured a private room for Lu Xin.

So far, the Dream-Soul Pill business had been smooth sailing for Lu Xin. He had even forgotten that he was living in a cage. Sometimes, when money comes too quickly, it’s not necessarily a good thing.

On the twentieth of June, in the late afternoon, Lu Xin and Cao An were eating in the kitchen, discussing matters about the Dream-Soul Pills. Around them stood a crowd—according to Cao An, these were his new recruits. Lu Xin paid them little mind; if a bit of money could buy their loyalty, it was better than making a host of enemies.

“This month we have three taels of silver worth of goods—almost half the Dream-Soul Pills in Yuezhou are ours now. We can’t afford a single mistake. How are things in the North Wing? Any trouble?”

“Don’t worry, Xin. There are fewer people in the North Wing than in the West, and with Steward Tong’s help, we made five taels of silver in just four days. The clatter of coins fills an entire chest! If you hadn’t told Uncle Wu to leave in advance… well, never mind that. Today, let’s celebrate. I had Da Niu buy this plum wine for you outside the estate, perfect for the summer heat.”

These days, Cao An was truly in the limelight. Once a lowly stable hand, often bullied and poorly paid, he’d transformed since joining Lu Xin in the Dream-Soul Pill trade. Not only did he make money, but he also formed his own little gang across the West and North Wings, becoming a leader.

Seeing Cao An so happy, Lu Xin couldn’t help but smile. No matter what, Cao An had managed the business admirably, saving him much trouble. Yet, as they drank and made merry, two figures stood in the shadows of a distant corridor, grinning coldly as they stared fixedly at the kitchen window.

“Hmph. A bunch of clueless vermin. Do they really think they’re making a fortune? If I hadn’t been covering for them, they’d have been dead and buried by now!”

“Heh heh, Feng Li, you really did me a great service. If you hadn’t been watching those two from the shadows, I’d still be in the dark. Now, their profits are ours. When the time comes, all I need to do is bring them before the master, and it’ll be a great achievement. As for old Tong in the North Wing… we’ll see how long he keeps his seat.”

“Steward Liu, you’re absolutely right. If you rise in rank, the West Wing will be mine, thanks to your praise before the master.”

“Of course. You can count on me. If I move up, the West Wing is yours.”

“Thank you for your support, Steward Liu. So, when do we make our move?”

Feng Li gestured slitting his throat toward the kitchen. Liu the Leper’s expression changed and he quickly pressed the man’s hand down.

“What’s the rush? I’ve already planted spies around Cao An. We’ll wait until they’ve sold off this month’s stock. Let’s go. Too many tongues in the West Wing; we must be cautious. Our master is not someone easily fooled.”

Time passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, another half month was gone. Lu Xin had long grown used to his days cleaning latrines. Though looked down upon, he enjoyed the peace—after all, who would ever come to make trouble in a latrine? With Mute Wu, the master, for company, Lu Xin was quite content. According to Cao An, the second batch of Dream-Soul Pills was almost sold out. Before the fourth of July, Lu Xin received twenty-five taels of silver. Added to the previous three taels, in just two months, he had transformed from a penniless lowly servant into a man of considerable means.

Twenty-eight taels of silver—twenty-eight thousand coins. In this era, enough for a family of five to live comfortably for ten years. But Lu Xin was not satisfied; this was far from enough to repay Master Xu’s kindness. He needed to find a way out from the “Scripture of Virtuous Earth Burial.”

“These past two months, the people in the West and North Wings have spent too much on Dream-Soul Pills. I need to pause the business for now. If they get desperate, all my efforts could be for nothing. Yes, I’ll tell Cao An tomorrow.”

Late at night, Lu Xin lay sleepless in bed after returning from Mute Wu’s room. He’d made money, but felt uneasy, as if something bad was about to happen. Unable to sleep, he lit a lamp and took out the “Scripture of Virtuous Earth Burial” to study. He had deciphered all the characters two weeks ago, but after translating the text, he realized it was merely a book on geomancy and burial—no martial arts secrets, and certainly no magical powers.

Though the book described in detail several techniques for finding dragon veins and assessing feng shui, this was not what Lu Xin wanted. He had no desire to make a living dealing with the dead after he left the Xu household.

“This doesn’t make sense. Even those powerful monks fought over this thing. There’s no way it has nothing to do with exorcists or shamans. I’d never believe it.”

Lu Xin was stubborn by nature; once he set his mind on something, he wouldn’t give up easily. Muttering under his breath, he began to remove his outer robe to retrieve the brocade-wrapped book. At that moment, the tightly closed door suddenly swung open.

A gust of wind swept into the room, carrying with it a pitch-black figure. The just-lit candle was instantly extinguished. Before Lu Xin could cry out, a cold glint of steel shot straight for his throat. He leapt from bed in terror; the shadowy figure, surprised by his speed, let out a cold snort and flipped through the air, pinning Lu Xin beneath him.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Lu Xin wanted to shout for help, but his mouth and nose were tightly covered; he couldn’t make a sound. The attacker’s strength was overwhelming—once pinned, Lu Xin couldn’t move a toe.

“I’ve taken money to rid you of trouble, so forgive me, little brother!”

The intruder didn’t hesitate. Even before he finished speaking, his dagger plunged toward Lu Xin’s chest, aiming precisely for the heart despite the darkness. Yet as the blade struck, he was stunned to find it couldn’t pierce Lu Xin’s flesh.

“What? Golden silk armor? Impossible!”

“Xin, are you asleep? I’m coming in—eh? Why’s the door open?”

As the black-clad man reeled in shock, Cao An’s voice sounded from outside. Hearing someone approach, the intruder quickly withdrew his dagger, eyes flashing coldly, and struck Lu Xin’s chest with a heavy palm. Then, with a light tap of his toes, he vaulted out the window and vanished into the dark night.