The preparations for the grand market involved more than just arranging stalls along a few streets on Minfu Road and ensuring safety—they also required inspecting the merchants participating. Usually, they checked the goods reported in advance: the stock had to be adequate and of good quality. Prices had to be surveyed in advance—merchants could not arbitrarily raise prices before the market and then reduce them during, pretending to offer a deal.
Many merchants had even been sued by customers. In previous years, such complaints usually ended up as bad debts; if taken to the guild, it was still decided by the same people and often left unresolved. Hong Chu, however, had relaxed restrictions elsewhere. For this year’s Four Seasons Grand Market, he gradually brought in many small and medium merchants, making the assortment more complete, with clearer quality distinctions, plenty of new products, and multiple options of similar goods at tiered prices for buyers to choose from. He no longer tolerated merchants who had been repeatedly sued by customers.
He had long agreed with Lu Yang to drop by often, chatting to pass the time. But after their last meeting, Hong Chu became busy and hadn’t had the chance.
Today, he came because of the invitation. He thought it would be too cold to wait until the study officially opened, so he arrived early to catch up with Lu Yang. He would come again on the opening day.
Lu Yang, having newly opened a tea room at home, welcomed him inside, leading him past the Moon Gate to a seat. He had visited Hong Chu’s bedroom before and now showed Hong Chu his own.
Hong Chu raised his eyebrows, struck by the familiarity.
The bookshelves here were arranged just like in his own room—careful to avoid the window lattice, orderly in height.
Lu Yang explained: “Originally, I didn’t have so many books. After my godfather and others came, I brought copies of the books they prepared. He ordered some from other printing workshops, bought additional carved editions, and I let my husband select a few. He also obtained many books from his senior brother. Without that, I wouldn’t have as many books as you see here.”
Lu Yang, fond of Maojian tea, served some to Hong Chu as well.
Having heard from Li Feng about Hong Chu’s formal habits—clean tables, tablecloths, silver teapots and cups—he could not replicate all that, and Hong Chu’s attendant hadn’t come, so the tea was served plainly.
Lu Yang, worried Hong Chu might feel embarrassed, took his own unused silver ring and briefly dipped it in tea and cake; it did not tarnish, which reassured him enough to let Hong Chu enjoy the tea.
His movements were smooth, though Lu Yang frowned slightly, muttering, “Ungrateful beasts,” before smiling and saying, “Neglect the risks behind this, and it’s actually quite fun.”
Seeing Lu Yang’s belly more pronounced than usual, Hong Chu asked, “Not four months yet, right? It looks a bit large.”
Lu Yang laughed and said, “Probably because I’m wearing more layers.”
Having never been pregnant, Hong Chu did not press further and instead chatted about everyday matters.
Lu Yang’s household was lively; godfather and brothers were all present. The entire alley was filled with relatives. Though they were far from home, it felt familiar—living in a distant place but still like being with family. His heart felt at ease.
With an open mind, he was in good condition—able to eat and sleep well.
Hong Chu had never seen such a harmonious family. Though he recognized some people, most families had conflicts.
Lu Yang said, “I moved away from the county and keep my relatives at a distance. Those who live together in the prefectural city get along well, so it appears harmonious. No one would bring along people they cannot get along with—I’m not looking for trouble.”
Hong Chu’s ideal was more ruthless: he would cull and separate kin, keeping only those he personally chose.
They spoke about this, and Hong Chu shared his recent busy work with the market, which Lu Yang enjoyed hearing about.
Lu Yang said, “If I ever have a very, very, very large business, it would be like the grand market—many trades under my name, sufficient goods, each merchant with a head shopkeeper, independent yet supported collectively.”
He also spoke of his study, mentioning the quiet rooms for reading. This time, he showed Hong Chu the annual calendar books and shared his plans.
It was uncertain if the little books would sell well, but he intended to combine them with the “reading attendance” activity.
First-time participants of the reading attendance would receive that year’s calendar book, in which they could begin recording which books they read in the study on specific dates and which they exchanged.
This served as a calendar, a record of their journey, and their “Golden House.”
Hong Chu found it interesting. “It’s a pity I live far away, otherwise I could come every day. I never keep track of what I read throughout the year.”
Lu Yang waved him off and handed him two copies, joking, “You don’t really need this—I’m just cheating for money. Before the calendar books existed, students still studied. It’s like street hawking: offer something flashy to attract attention, so buyers can imagine themselves benefiting. With the calendar, they can see what they’ve read and learned, checking at year’s end if they’ve wasted time. Beautifully put, it’s a trace of one’s time.”
Xie Yan and Hong Chu didn’t need this—they enjoyed reading daily. Old books were reread, good books read often, with no concern for brevity.
However, Hong Chu said such records were meaningful. As a merchant with foresight, he observed: “Calendar books with a record section will sell better than the daily self-examination version. The gentleman’s edition is tedious—one must write it daily, which eventually deceives oneself. Record books are easier and provide satisfaction.”
Lu Yang felt reassured. Indeed, he had printed more record books than gentleman editions this time.
Hong Chu noticed Lu Yang relaxing and asked, puzzled, “Hm? You’re not confident?”
Lu Yang glanced toward the Moon Gate; with no one else around, he confided, “You know, I’ve done small business before. Here in the prefectural city, my trade roots were modest—starting with a few hundred jin of goods. A study is different; I invested several hundred taels of silver at once. My family’s savings are nearly empty. Sometimes I worry—what if it fails, the past two years’ effort would be wasted.”
Most of the time, he was confident, having weighed the pros and cons and prepared thoroughly.
Now, with Xie Yan a degree-holder, even if he shamelessly leveraged the name, those who sought to associate with Xie Yan for prestige would not make him lose out. But occasionally, he still felt anxious and uneasy.
Lu Yang admitted, “I heard that pregnancy causes all sorts of worries.”
Hong Chu nodded, unsure if he fully understood, then said, “You’re clever, thoughtful, and bold enough to try. That’s not bad. Money in the prefectural city is easy to earn. As the saying goes, ‘Where the east is dark, the west is bright.’ I think your location is good. There’s opportunity to acquire surrounding shops.”
He continued, “Scholars come and go like the water in the canal. If you can cater to children of poor families, you’ll capture many students. You said your husband loves to write—have him select works, and you bring them to the shop occasionally. Now that he’s a degree-holder, next year a successful candidate, many will want to see his works. Reputation spreads, profit follows.”
Then Hong Chu shifted tone: “I dare not be so bold—there are many things I wouldn’t touch.”
Lu Yang comforted him, “Small businesses require risk and strategy. A large family enterprise might make me hesitant. Large ventures mean greater losses—just thinking about it pains me, and I’d move cautiously.”
Hong Chu, managing a sizeable family business himself, said, “Not only will those in power be cautious, but many will resist change. They’ll do everything to obstruct you. Facing so much opposition, it’s intimidating.”
Hearing Hong Chu repeatedly say “dare not” and “afraid,” Lu Yang realized that his recent situation was not as smooth as it appeared. He said, “Soon, when Young Master Wu returns, I must ask him.”
Hong Chu shook his head. He was not in a hurry and never relied on others to determine his fate. No one’s words could make him stop. Whether others agreed or not, he would act.
