WSMTATMC C138

Chapter 138

Wang Ying had no idea someone was working against him behind the scenes; the reason the shop didn’t open today was because he planned to go out and look for a new storefront. With him away, Lin Sui couldn’t handle all the customers alone, so he simply shut the door and let everyone take a day off.

With over thirteen hundred strings of cash on hand, Wang Ying planned to rent a better storefront and decorate it at a higher grade; only then could the iced drink prices be set higher. After all, who would pay fifty cash for a bowl of shaved ice sold from a shabby little stall?

Wang Ying first went to the official broker’s guild to look around, but at this season shops were hard to rent—most good ones had been taken early. Those left unrented either had poor locations or were priced too high.

After a full circuit with nothing suitable, Wang Ying gave one string of cash to a broker and asked him to keep an eye out; if someone needed to transfer a shop urgently, to contact him at once. The broker, happy to take the money, readily agreed; in that line, successfully renting out one shop meant a commission of a hundred cash, so he was eager to help.

Leaving the official broker’s, Wang Ying went on to private brokers. After half a year living in the prefectural city, he understood the lay of the land—he knew which private houses were reliable and which were predatory.

The one he visited now was Sun’s Brokerage; the owner, Sun Peng, was a man in his thirties whose speech and work were crisp, with an excellent reputation in the city.

As soon as he entered, a clerk came forward. “Honored sir, please come in. Are you buying or selling servants, or renting or buying a house?”

“I’d like to rent a storefront—do you have anything suitable?”

“Please wait a moment; I’ll fetch the owner.”

Soon, Shopkeeper Sun came from the back courtyard, smiling broadly the moment he saw him. “You must be the proprietor of Mi Xue.”

Wang Ying blinked. “You recognize me?”

“The iced drinks you sell are much to my son’s liking. The day before yesterday I went to buy one for him.”

Wang Ying smiled. “So that’s how it is—an honor to be favored by your noble son.”

“Please, sit. What brings Shopkeeper Wang to me today?”

“I want to rent a storefront—spacious, and preferably located closer to Zhengtong Street.”

“Is your current lease expiring?”

“No.”

Sun Peng understood at once—business was so hot he meant to open another shop. “One moment; I’ll bring out the recent listings.”

“Much obliged.”

“No trouble at all. Zhuzi, pour tea for Shopkeeper Wang.”

While he was gone, Wang Ying looked around the brokerage. The front wasn’t large, but it was very tidy; potted plants to the side were well kept. A hanging scroll of lofty mountains and flowing water graced the wall, with “Prosperity in Business” written beside it.

No wonder Sun’s Brokerage had the best name in the city—Shopkeeper Sun’s manner made one feel at ease.

Soon, Sun Peng returned with a wooden tray, stacked with sheets—shops currently for rent. He selected a few and laid them on the table. “These are well placed; this one sits at the intersection of Zhengyang and Zhengtong Streets—passersby are invariably well-to-do. It used to be a pawnshop, but the owner ran into trouble and shut down; it just came on the market last month.”

Wang Ying took up the paper and studied it. The dimensions were marked: four zhang long, three zhang wide, with rent at seven hundred fifty strings per year.

Too expensive!

Income from shaved ice was about ten strings a day, and after two months the weather would cool. Milk tea hadn’t been tried yet—sales unknown. If it didn’t sell, the earning might not cover the rent—no, unacceptable.

He put that down and picked up another. Most rents were over five hundred strings, yet locations inferior. There was even a restaurant transfer at one thousand one hundred strings a year—no need to look—absolutely out of reach.

Sensing his concern, Sun Peng said, “If you’d come at the beginning of the year, there were some good places around three or four hundred strings. Now, there just aren’t many on the market.”

“I’ll keep looking. If it doesn’t work, I’ll rent next year.”

“Very well; I’ll also keep watch. If a well-situated place at a fair price comes up, I’ll have a clerk inform you.”

“Ah, thank you kindly!”

“No need to thank me—that’s my trade.”

With nothing immediately suitable, Wang Ying could only continue running the current small shop. When he first rented, he’d favored cheap, and the doorway was narrow and the inside not spacious. That worked for vegetables; most buyers then were servants of the wealthy, who were more courteous and queued of their own accord.

Now the popsicle buyers were mostly ordinary folk without much schooling, quick to curse if a few words rubbed wrong; underpaying was common. A bamboo-tube popsicle cost ten cash, yet some flung eight or nine coins on the table; while Lin Sui was too busy to count, they grabbed a stick and left. After many such incidents, Lin Sui was in tears, and with a line out the door, he could only keep taking money and hand out the next.

With no other choice, Wang Ying called in Ershun and Steward Chen to maintain order, while he and Lin Sui focused on taking cash—sales were faster and less fraught that way.

—

Fifth month, tenth day, the prefectural academy’s rest day.

The three had packed the night before and, at first light, having taken their assignments, set off. At the gate, their own carriage hadn’t arrived—but Liu’s carriage did.

“Brother Qingyan, Qinghuai, Brother Song—ride with me.”

“No need—too much trouble.”

“What trouble? It’s barely a detour. And I have a few points I don’t understand and want to consult Elder Brother.”

Hearing this, Chen Qingyan agreed and told the gate porter: if their carriage came, to relay the message so they wouldn’t miss each other.

The three climbed into Liu’s carriage, which had a little table with a drawer underneath. Liu slid it open and took out preserved fruit and seeds to pass around. In truth, escorting them home wasn’t the point—he wanted to sneak a glance at Qingyun.

In just under a month, the two would be betrothed. Liu had bought a jade hairpin, intending to gift it to her.

A quarter-hour later, the carriage stopped at the Chen gate. “Come in for a sit,” said Qingyan offhand.

“Yes!” Liu hopped down at once.

By happy coincidence, Qingyun and Yuanbao were chasing butterflies in the courtyard. Seeing their elder brothers return, both ran up in delight.

“Dad!”

“Yuanbao~” Qingyan set down his book case and scooped up his son. Behind, Qinghuai and Qingsong joined in teasing the little nephew.

Only Liu, hands and feet unsure where to put them, ventured a timid greeting.

At the sound of his voice, Qingyun noticed a stranger with them—her face reddened. The two stood there, shy and speechless.

Qingsong rescued the moment, pulling Liu along. “Brother Changyi—come sit. I’ll put away the baggage. Sister—brew a pot of tea.”

“Mhm.” Qingyun, moving hands and feet together, scurried to the side room, leaving Qingyan and Qinghuai to meet each other’s eyes and burst into laughter.

Hoisting Yuanbao, Qingyan asked, “While Dad was away, were you naughty?”

“No—Yuanbao listened to Ah-Fu.”

“Where’s your Ah-Fu?”

“At the shop selling ice—ice is so tasty!”

With the heat these days, Wang Ying sometimes let the boy have a little iced treat—but not much, lest he get an upset stomach.

“I’ll go take a look.” He passed the child to Qinghuai and went to change.

In the main hall, Liu sat stiffly on a chair. Soon, Qingyun came with a teapot to pour him tea.

“I—I can do it,” he said, reaching quickly. In his haste, hot water splashed his hand.

“Tss—”

Startled, Qingyun whipped out a handkerchief to dab the water. “Oh no—it’s red already. Quickly—rinse it in cold water.”

“It’s… fine—no matter.”

“No. It’ll blister.” She took his arm and pulled him into the courtyard, ladling cool water from a vat over his hand.

The sting eased a little. Liu’s eyes fell on the gloss of her dark hair—his pulse quickened and he turned his head away.

“Does it still hurt?”

“No…”

“I’ll fetch burn salve—wait here.”

“No need to trouble—”

“No. That’s your writing hand—don’t let it scar.” She hurried inside.

Qingsong came by to find him holding up his hand and grinning, not responding when called. He waved a hand in front of Liu’s eyes. “Brother Changyi—what are you doing?”

“N-nothing—just scalded my hand.”

Seeing the vivid red, Qingsong thought: burned and still smiling? Boiled his brain, perhaps.

Soon Qingyun returned with the salve and pressed it into her brother’s hand. “Help Brother Liu apply it.” And she turned to go.

“Qingyun—please wait.” Liu hastily pulled a small wooden box from his chest and offered it. “I saw this on the street last time and thought it would suit you. Please don’t disdain it.”

Qingyun hesitated, took the box from his hand, thanked him, and slipped back to the room.

Holding the salve, Qingsong nearly rolled his eyes. So Brother Changyi escorted them home just to bring his sister a gift, eh!

—

Elsewhere, Qingyan walked toward his own shop, missing his husband after ten days apart. Because there were others in the dormitory, he hadn’t dared enter the experimental field.

Dorms at the academy were assigned by rank. The top class had fixed ten rooms, four students per room; Qingyan and Qinghuai were together, while Qingsong lived in the B class dorms. Their other two roommates were Lin Zhen, second in the academy exam, and Shen Mengzhou, third—their ages close, their relations harmonious.

Near the shop, Qingyan saw a great crowd gathered and couldn’t help the curve of a smile. Ah Ying had said popsicles beat vegetables—and so it was!

But up close, he sensed something wrong—this noise sounded like a complaint.

“Excuse me—pardon me!” He pushed through and saw, in the center, a plank laid flat with a man lying on it, a white cloth covering his body.

Beside it, a man in his teens knelt, sobbing as he cried out, “My younger brother ate their iced drink, and when he got home he had stomach pains. Even with a physician, he couldn’t be saved—poisoned to death by them!”