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Dao of money Chapter 92
🕑 Added 2025-03-30 11:24:46 +0000 UTCChapter 92
The initial crowd demanding compensation for counterfeit perfumes had been just the beginning. By mid-morning, the trickle turned into a flood. More and more furious customers kept arriving, slamming down cheap wooden bottles with deceptive labels and demanding their money back. To save face and protect their reputation, Chen Ren had no choice but to hand out replacements from their own stock. Even if they were the lowest-priced perfumes in the shop, the losses were piling up fast—and he hated losses, especially when they came from someone else’s scheme.
He clenched his jaw as yet another disgruntled buyer left the store, satisfied only after walking away with a real bottle of their perfume. “At this rate, we’ll be handing out half our inventory before the sun sets,” he muttered to himself.
This wasn’t just bad business— it was personal. Whoever had flooded the market with cheap knockoffs wasn’t just after profit; they were trying to destroy his brand. And he wasn’t going to let them get away with it.
He’d already asked Tang Boming to take his men and sweep the city; to find those counterfeiters and drag them to him. But by the time Boming’s men reached the places—the ones the scammed customers had told him they had bought the perfume from—the counterfeiters were already gone. It was as if they had vanished overnight. No trace of the cheap perfumes, no sign of their operation. Chen Ren wasn’t surprised.
The Xueying Clan had already covered their tracks.
Still, he wasn’t naïve enough to think they were done. If anything, they were probably preparing to pump out more counterfeits. This was just the opening move. Therefore he kept his men patrolling the city, scanning for any sign of new stalls or suppliers. He wasn’t going to be caught off guard again.
Meanwhile, Yuqiu wasn’t sitting idle either. She had stormed off to the local bureaucracy, determined to pressure the officials into taking action. But Chen Ren already knew how that was going to go.
The empire’s bureaucrats were slow-moving at the best of times, and when it came to protecting merchants from knockoffs? They barely lifted a finger. Patent rights didn’t even exist for most products in the empire. Copycats were everywhere—he’d seen it firsthand with his noodle stall, where imitators had popped up recently.
Sure, the officials might move against the counterfeiters eventually, since outright scams were technically illegal. But with a powerful clan like Xueying pulling the strings, the bureaucrats were more likely to just sit back and watch the chaos unfold rather than risk stepping in. Hence, he knew he had to do his own thing.
Beyond managing day-to-day operations, he’d been quietly gathering information. With Yalan’s help, he had been asking around in inns and taverns, bribing servants and workers connected to the various union clans, and piecing together a map of alliances, rivalries, and hidden dealings.
Now, he had everything he needed.
It was time to put that information to use and go against Xueying Clan.
After the day finally wound down and Heavenly Fragrances closed its doors, Chen Ren found himself seated on the second floor of the Rice Heaven Pagoda, the prestigious restaurant owned by one of the union members, Wenqing. It wasn’t his first choice of where to be after a long day of compensating angry customers, but this meeting was needed.
The second floor of the restaurant was eerily quiet, with only a handful of servants lingering in the corners, waiting silently while Chen Ren sat alone at a polished mahogany table. Getting here hasn't been difficult. As a cultivator, access to the VIP floor was practically guaranteed. Flashing his sect mark had been enough to convince the manager to take him seriously, and when Chen Ren mentioned he was from Heavenly Fragrances and hinted at a lucrative business opportunity for their boss, the man had practically bolted off to summon her without a second thought.
Now, he waited. Alone, but not idle. His fingers tapped a quiet rhythm against the table as he kept his senses sharp, stretching his awareness to feel the ebb and flow of qi in the restaurant. It was unlikely that anyone here would make a move against him, but he wasn’t the kind to sit defenseless. Not after what had happened today.
After about ten minutes, the sound of soft footsteps broke the silence. Chen Ren’s eyes lifted just as Wenqing entered the room.
She looked to be somewhere in her mid-fifties, though it was clear that old age was creeping up on her. The lines on her face were deep, and there was a faint weariness in her step that spoke of someone who had spent too long carrying heavy burdens. Still, there was a certain sharpness to her; how her black hair was dyed and combed back neatly, and how clean her attire was, and even the way she looked at him.
Wenqing was flanked by two guards, both of whom moved with the restrained power of cultivators. Chen Ren didn’t need to probe too deeply to sense their strength. Body forging realm. Solid, but nothing he couldn’t handle.
He rose to his feet as she approached, but he didn’t bow his head. Instead, he offered a small, polite nod and spoke.
“It’s nice to finally meet the owner of the Rice Heaven Pagoda. I’ve been meaning to dine at one of your restaurants.”
Wenqing’s lips curved in a faint smile as she nodded at him. “And you’re going to dine with the owner herself. Not many get the honor.”
Chen Ren didn’t respond, his eyes sweeping the room. He noted the servants standing silently along the walls, their postures rigid, their eyes carefully lowered. Then, he glanced back at Wenqing and raised an eyebrow.
“Are we going to talk with them around?” He asked, looking at the people around. “I don’t think you’d want business discussions slipping out.”
Wenqing’s smile didn’t waver. “They’ll leave after serving the food.”
“Alright,” Chen Ren inhaled and followed after her and sat. Within minutes, the servants returned, carrying trays filled with different types of dishes—a platter of glazed duck with crispy skin, bowls of fragrant rice, stir-fried greens shimmering with oil, and small plates of steamed dumplings. A separate tray held a carafe of deep red wine, which one of the servants poured into crystal glasses.
Once everything was set, the servants and even the guards left the room, closing the doors behind them.
Wenqing swirled her glass of wine, watching the crimson liquid cling to the sides, before taking a small sip. When she set the glass down, her eyes were sharp, cutting straight to the point.
“I don’t like beating around the bush,” she said. “Especially because this isn’t some courting meeting. What do you want, and what can you offer in exchange?”
Chen Ren chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “More than what I want, I’m here to make a deal about what you want.”
Her expression hardened, lips thinned and she frowned. “Don’t play games with me. I don’t like all that. Talk about what’s pertinent to the meeting.”
He shrugged lightly, picking up his chopsticks. “It is pertinent to know what you want if we’re going to have a real discussion here.”
Wenqing’s almond shaped eyes narrowed. “And what do you think I want?”
Chen Ren didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a small bite of the glazed duck and then the rice, chewing slowly as if savoring the taste. After swallowing, he spoke casually.
“This food is good,” he said, “but I don’t sense any spiritual ingredients in it.”
Her frown deepened. “It’s high-quality rice. The ducks are cooked with precision. Everything here is high quality.”
Chen Ren shifted his attention solely to the bowl of rice, scooping up a small bite again. He chewed slowly, then nodded as if confirming something to himself. “But it’s not spiritual rice.”
He set his chopsticks down.
“You’ve been trying to break into luxury dining for a while now, haven’t you? A place that caters exclusively to cultivators. Targeting rogue cultivators who roam the region and the wealthy merchants who’d pay a fortune for even the smallest benefits from spiritual food. Your restaurants serve everyone in the city, but you want to expand, to attract the wealthiest clientele.”
Wenqing’s expression didn’t change, but Chen Ren caught the slight tension in her shoulders.
“So what?” she asked.
It was clear by her tensed shoulders that she’d put up a cold front for him. Probably because she knew exactly who he was, and didn't want to associate much with him since the head of the union she belonged to was against him. He couldn’t blame her, but her coming here was enough for him to know that there was hope.
“So,” Chen Ren said, “the Jinshi Trade Association stabbed you in the back. Even though they’re part of the same merchant union, they’ve taken the idea you’ve been working on and gone behind your back to make it happen first. They’ve secured a better deal with the White Bear Sect, offering higher prices in exchange for their supply of spirit rice. And now…” He paused for effect. “Now, you can’t find another source of it—not one that won’t bleed your coffers dry.”
Wenqing’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she said nothing.
Chen Ren continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Spirit rice is a luxury product for a reason. It’s only grown by sects, and only in qi-dense environments. Most sects cultivate it solely for their own disciples—it strengthens their bodies, keeps them full for longer, and enhances recovery. Very few ever sell it, and even then, it’s in tiny quantities at sky-high prices.”
He leaned forward again, his voice dropping slightly. “Finding a reliable source for spirit rice? That’s nearly impossible… unless you know where to look.”
Wenqing’s hand came on top of her other hand, knotting.
“Why are you telling me all this? I get that you’ve done your research, but unless you actually have spirit rice, you’re just reminding me of the sinking hole I’m already in. And trust me,” she added dryly, “there are plenty of people happy to remind me of that every day.”
Chen Ren smiled.
Wenqing’s displeased face deepened. If there was one bitter looking woman he’d met in this life, it could be the one in front of him.
“What?” she asked.
“I do have spirit rice.”
For a moment, she froze. Her mouth opened, then closed, as though she was struggling to form a coherent response. When she finally spoke, her voice was incredulous.
“Impossible. From what I know, your sect is too young, too… raw… to already have access to spirit rice.”
“You’re right about my sect being young,” Chen Ren said with a casual shrug. “But that doesn’t really matter, does it? What matters is that I can get you the spirit rice.”
Wenqing fell silent, her brows furrowing as she mulled over his words. After a long pause, she finally sighed. “What’s your price?”
Chen Ren smiled inwardly. Got her.
In any business deal, if the conversation reached the question of price, it meant the deal was already halfway done. And seeing by how defeated she looked, she was more than ready to give in.
“It’ll take more than just coins.”
Her eyes flashed up and her upper lip curled. “If you’re thinking I’ll betray the union, forget it. I know they’re trying to sabotage your growing business, but going against them outright would be disastrous for me. I’m not strong enough to take them on. Find your way out if that’s what you want.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” Chen Ren said smoothly. “But you misunderstood. I’m not asking you to take on the entire union.”
“Huh? What else…”
“I want you,” he continued, “to go against the Xueying Clan, the Jinshi Trade Association, and Lotus Mist Fragrances. That’s not the same as turning the whole union against you. It’s more about weakening a few key members—and maybe getting them into a little trouble.”
She blinked, her frown deepening. “I still don’t get it. How do you expect me to do anything like that? Spirit rice is good—I want it—but these businesses are strong, deeply rooted. You can’t just take them out on a whim.”
Chen Ren took another bite of rice, chewing thoughtfully before answering.
“I have plans,” he said, setting down his chopsticks. “And we’re not going after all three at once. We’ll be focusing mainly on the Xueying Clan. Their current head, Xueying Shenmu, also happens to be the head of the entire merchant union. If we can get rid of him, the other two will lose their strongest supporter. They’ll pull back on their own.”
Wenqing studied him carefully. But Chen Ren could see the glint of interest in her eyes, the flicker of hope she was trying to suppress.
She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she started eating; eating with the grace and precision of someone accustomed to maintaining appearances, even in private. Every sip of wine, every bite of food, was slow.
Chen Ren mirrored her pace, savoring his meal as though they weren’t in the middle of discussing a plan that could shake up the entire merchant union. He relished the pause. The longer the silence stretched, the better it was for him. It meant she hadn’t dismissed the idea outright. She was weighing it, calculating the risks and rewards, deciding whether siding with him and betraying the union head would be more profitable than kicking him out.
And she’ll choose the former, Chen Ren thought, his confidence unwavering. Merchants, after all, were naturally greedy. And what he was proposing wasn’t just about revenge or power—it was about profit. Serious profit. Enough to tip the scales in his favor.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Wenqing set down her wine glass and cleared her throat.
“This plan of yours,” she said slowly. “How confident are you in it? And what’s the basis for it?”
“Very confident,” he said. “And it’s very simple. The Xueying Clan is the biggest business clan in the city. They have their hands in almost every major trade and industry. It’s obvious that if anyone tries to expand or get big, it’s going to ruffle their feathers.”
Wenqing’s lips twitched, as though she were suppressing a smile.
“Union members might tolerate them because they’re too strong to fight directly,” Chen Ren continued, “but who said you have to fight alone? You band together, push them into a corner, and suddenly they’re the ones scrambling to protect their assets. Especially if we play it smart.”
Wenqing nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing in thought. Chen Ren could see the gears turning in her mind as she began to piece together the possibilities, stitching together the vague framework he’d laid out for her. He had deliberately left her with just enough information to let her imagination fill in the blanks.
He didn’t know exactly how she would execute it. That wasn’t his job. But he could tell, from the glint in her eyes, that she was already considering ways to make it work.
And more importantly, she knew that he knew it too.
“Let’s discuss the spirit rice price first,” she said.
“Sure,” he said. “But keep in mind that it won’t be available for a few months. Once it is, though, I can supply you with more than just a few pounds.”
Wenqing nodded, swirling the wine in her glass thoughtfully. “Then, I’ll pay three thousand silver wen per pound.”
Chen Ren tilted his head, suppressing a smile. “That’s too low.”
“It’s not,” she countered smoothly. “Especially since I’ll be helping you out with the union.”
He smiled for real this time, thinking, Got her for real. A verbal confirmation, subtle as it was, meant she was already leaning in his favor. Now it was about hammering out the details.
“Still,” he said, “this is a long-term partnership. I don’t want to take a loss. And once the Xueying Clan is out of the way, the seat of the union head will be open. Don’t tell me you’re not eyeing it.”
Wenqing grimaced, caught off guard, before quickly masking her reaction. “Four thousand silver wen.”
“Eight thousand,” Chen Ren replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “You’re pricing it like it’s spirit jade.”
They volleyed back and forth, each offering slightly better terms while trying to squeeze the best deal out of the other. The tension heated, voices rose, and more than once Wenqing glared at him like she was ready to throw her wine glass across the table.
But Chen Ren kept his cool, keeping pace with her relentless haggling until, after half an hour of heated negotiation, they finally found common ground.
“Five thousand silver wen per pound for the first year,” Chen Ren said, offering his final compromise. “After that, we can revisit the price, depending on how well the market responds.”
Wenqing drummed her fingers again, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, after a brief pause, she leaned forward. “Make it two years at that price, and we have a deal.”
“One and a half,” Chen Ren countered.
She narrowed her eyes, considering. “And you don’t sell to anyone else in the city during that time.”
Chen Ren grinned. “Deal.”
Wenqing sighed, leaning back in her chair as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. For a moment, she looked like she grew younger.
“I never thought someone as young as you would go toe-to-toe with me in negotiations,” she admitted, taking a long sip of her wine.
Chen Ren chuckled. “I’m a cultivator. I might not be as young as I look.”
“Are you actually old, then?”
He shook his head. “No. Just reminding you.”
She gave him a sharp look, then laughed softly. “Fair enough.”
Chen Ren set his chopsticks down for the hundredth time and prepared for the real discussion.
“Either way, now that we’ve got that settled, why don’t we get to the crux of the plan? It might take a bit of time.”
Wenqing nodded. “Sure.”
And as the servants quietly cleared the table off the plates, leaving them alone once again, Chen Ren began outlining the plan that would set everything into motion.
Comments
Dirk Gent Lee
Very excited for this plan
