Fei Sheng handled the aftermath with great care. The personal guards cleaned the blood from the corridor in the fastest possible time—no more than the span of a single cup of tea. When Fei Sheng lifted the curtain, he saw the Duke with his eyes closed, feigning rest. He lowered his voice. “My lord, it’s been dealt with.”
Shen Zechuan seemed half-awake, half-asleep. His lowered lashes rested over his eyes as he stared at the candle that was about to burn out, sitting there with an air that made him difficult to approach. After a long pause, he said, “Where is Gujin?”
Fei Sheng replied, “He should reach Luoshan tonight.”
Shen Zechuan gave a faint nasal “mm,” as if waking properly at last. “Tell him to return.”
Fei Sheng knelt on one knee at the doorway, hesitating for a moment. He did not dare make his words sound too sorrowful, only said carefully, “He is carrying Second Master’s letter. My lord, Luoshan is not far from Endzhou—it won’t take much time.”
Shen Zechuan was in a poor mood that night and did not respond. Fei Sheng immediately fell silent and withdrew obediently. Within the time it took to burn two incense sticks, Qiao Tianya arrived pushing Yao Wenyu in.
The bamboo curtain lifted and fell. Shen Zechuan spoke first. “Why is Yuan Zhe still awake? It’s so late.”
Yao Wenyu loosened his grip on the book and adjusted his thin blanket. “Without Yan Heru, the shops in Hezhou will fall into disorder. My lord is sitting here alone tonight considering countermeasures—why not listen to my humble opinion?”
Yuan Zhe had once been skilled in refined debate; his voice was like a flowing stream—gentle, measured, and pleasant to the ear.
Shen Zechuan tilted his head. “Light the lamps. Serve tea.”
The attendants entered, removed the tea-stained rug, and replaced the lamp, finally brightening the room. Fei Sheng deliberately instructed them to brew strong tea to keep both the Duke and Yao Wenyu alert.
“Killing Yan Heru would throw Hezhou’s shops into temporary chaos. Not killing him would throw the world’s commerce into chaos for years,” Shen Zechuan said without drinking. He forced himself to stay alert. “Moreover, Yan Heru is so certain I won’t kill him—if I obey him, it will create endless trouble later.”
Shen Zechuan had never been patient with willful children. From the moment Yan Heru mentioned Master Yideng, Shen Zechuan had already determined his outcome. He could be deceived, but he could not be coerced. In truth, Yan Heru did not understand Shen Zechuan at all—nor did he understand Xiao Chiye, nor which of the two men truly held the blade.
More importantly, Xiao Chiye’s urgency in searching for the master came from a recent personal loss. Every time Shen Zechuan thought of what Xiao Chiye would feel upon receiving the news, he had no intention of letting Yan Heru live even a moment longer.
Yao Wenyu waited until the attendants had withdrawn before speaking. “Yan Heru came alone, leaving even his trusted men in Hezhou. He is deliberately making you wary.”
Just as Yan Heru had said himself, he was unarmed and without martial skill. Yet he had still dared to confront Shen Zechuan in person because he was confident. His men remained in Hezhou—if he failed to return on time, the Yan clan would cut off the lowest branch of the Huai Ci tea trade route and block Zhongbo’s merchants entirely. That would force Shen Zechuan into a longer, more dangerous detour through Huizhou, Duyi, and eventually deep into Western territories, where even a slight mistake could ruin everything.
“Merchants of the world act for profit,” Shen Zechuan said. “Zhongbo sits between Northern Li and Qingtong—it is the transit hub. Yan cutting off trade doesn’t just disrupt me; it disrupts all merchants already invested. Once they’ve tasted fine goods, you can’t make them return to wild greens. Their stomachs won’t allow it.”
Unlike bandits like Cai Yu or Lei Jingshen, Shen Zechuan held legitimate authority in the east. He controlled tariffs and firmly held Luoxia Pass, the mutual trade markets, and Dengzhou. Yan Heru could not pressure him through commerce alone—it depended on whether Shen Zechuan allowed it.
Even Zhongbo’s military supplies for the coming year were not a concern. He did not produce weapons himself; copper came from the west, and merchants who had secretly trafficked official copper were now desperate, their goods piling up and their eyes bloodshot. Zhongbo alone could absorb such a massive supply. They would come without him even knocking.
The same was true for Endzhou grain supply.
When Shen Zechuan removed the Xi clan’s shops, he relied on Xi Dan and Ge Qingqing, taking some effort because the Xi were a lineage family. But the Yan clan was different—they were a band of sworn brothers from a tea merchant origin. Without Yan Heru, the faction beneath him would fall into disorder and willingly negotiate directly with Shen Zechuan.
Yan Heru was important—but not nearly as important as he believed.
“Liu Prefecture Port is entirely under Yan Heru’s control,” Yao Wenyu said. “The details are unclear, but Xi Dan is still managing overseas trade for the Duke. If we send people to take over, we can stabilize things. The urgent issue is funding—the port requires a large sum, and Zhongbo alone cannot bear it.”
Shen Zechuan asked, “What does Yuan Zhe suggest?”
“Since the Duke will eventually return to Ju City, all merchants will still be yours,” Yao Wenyu said after suppressing a cough. “The port benefits everyone. It would be better to let the merchants contribute the funds. They gain goodwill, and in the future, when you open Liu Prefecture and adjust tariffs, they will become both the state’s treasury and yours.”
Moreover, Yan Heru’s idea of building a new port in Liu Prefecture was sound. The harbor could accommodate many ships; nearby towns would flourish. It was fertile ground ready for cultivation—any sensible merchant would willingly share the profits with Shen Zechuan.
Yao Wenyu could already envision it: once the old aristocratic order was swept away and the world began to recover, Liu Prefecture would become Shen Zechuan’s first major port connecting the southeast—and even the gateway to overseas trade.
At that moment, Yao Wenyu suddenly covered his mouth and coughed violently. In his haste, he knocked over his teacup, scalding liquid spilling across his blanket and soaking his legs.
Shen Zechuan had already stood up, catching the cup. He leaned forward. “Yuan Zhe…”
Yao Wenyu could not finish speaking. His words were trapped in his chest, crushed by the coughing. He raised a hand to signal he was fine.
“Fei Sheng!” Shen Zechuan saw blood soaking into the wide sleeve. His voice turned sharp. “Call a physician!”
Outside, Fei Sheng immediately responded and ran to summon help. The sound of something crashing came from within the room. Qiao Tianya’s expression changed instantly. Without waiting to be called, he lifted the curtain and rushed inside.