OFTLHFRO C57

Chapter 57: God of Wealth

Compared to other sugars, making maltose was simpler.

Sprout barley to about three or four centimeters, then chop the malt finely.

Steam soaked glutinous rice and crushed corn, let cool, mix with the minced malt, pack into a cloth bag, and let it ferment.

Afterward, press out the liquid, then boil over high heat until thick.

For tastier maltose, proper filtering was essential.

With a big pot of maltose finished, Luo Mingchen’s eyes shone.

Costs down again—perfect.

Perhaps because the wheat, glutinous rice, and corn were grown in the space, the milk tea’s mouthfeel seemed a bit better, with a faint, pleasant fragrance.

A boy buying milk tea exclaimed, “Boss, did you tweak the recipe again?”

Luo smiled. “No, just switched to a different sugar. Tastes a bit better, right?”

“It’s a lot better, actually.”

Others chimed in.

“If this were sold in the county, we’d probably never get any.”

Soaking in the praise, Luo glanced over the crowd but didn’t spot the strange man Wen Liuyun had mentioned.

They must know that person—why else would he only show up when Wen was alone?

As he thought this, someone said, “You two are doing quite well.”

Turning, Luo was surprised. “Master Ming—what brings you by today?”

“I brought a fellow flower-lover, hoping to consult the young brother here about his ‘ghost orchid.’ He’s had it three years without a single bloom—what’s wrong?”

As he spoke, Master Ming looked at the man beside him.

The man seemed about twenty-five, with a stern air.

Hard to describe—simply very formal.

Not in an affected way, but like someone rigidly trained since youth; posture overly proper, standing out as rather odd among a group like theirs.

“Ghost orchid?”

Feeling this guest’s status was delicate, Luo didn’t want the hot potato. “Master Ming knows I don’t do flowers—I grow vegetables. ‘Consult’ is too much.”

“No matter. This gentleman isn’t short on money. If you can solve it—forget a hundred taels of gold—even two hundred wouldn’t be a problem.”

Master Ming smiled at the young man. “Third Young Master, wouldn’t you say?”

Resigned, the man said, “If you can make the ghost orchid bloom—two hundred taels is not out of the question.”

Luo’s grin flashed brilliantly. “Please—let’s talk inside.”

Off to the side, Huo Yan: “…”

Still, if Master Ming brought him, he wouldn’t be a bully throwing weight around. The money wasn’t unearnable.

Master Ming, his steward, and the Third Young Master—plus a few guards—filed into the shop.

Noting the noise inside, Luo led them straight to the back courtyard.

Chen Xiu Yue, who was cleaning, froze for a moment.

Smiling, Luo said, “Auntie Chen, could you take Yueyue to the room for a bit? We’ll only be a moment.”

“Of course,” she replied warmly.

Luo gave Yueyue a quick reminder too, then sent her with Auntie Chen into the room.

Master Ming had wanted a word with the little girl, but seeing Luo and Huo so cautious, he let it go.

One guard carefully set a flowerpot on the millstone.

There was no choice—what else was there but stove and mill here? They couldn’t set their young master’s treasured orchid on a stove.

Luo studied the pot—roots everywhere. “Third Young Master, may I touch it?”

He wasn’t wood-aspected; only by contact could he guess what the plant lacked.

And only the basics—water, light, that sort of thing.

“You may,” the young man said, lips pressed thin.

Luo touched the plant that looked unlike any orchid, peered into the pot, and frowned. “This orchid’s needs… are a bit complicated.”

The young man blinked. “Do you… understand the language of plants?”

“Not exactly.”

He examined the leaf-mold in the pot.

In truth, for the many mutated plants he’d seen, leafless things growing in rot usually parasitized some other plant.

To confirm the hunch, he’d need privacy—and the space—for a test.

After thinking it over, Luo said, “If you trust me—leave it here and come back in two days.”

A slight frown. “Could you not let us know the method? This ghost orchid is extremely delicate. Left here two days—it may die.”

“It won’t,” Luo said.

He would guarantee nothing else, but plants didn’t die in his space.

Seeing Luo’s confidence—and recalling the revived orchid at Master Ming’s—he nodded. “Very well.”

Luo was about to say something more to calm this God of Wealth when a commotion sounded outside.

“I’ll go look,” Huo said.

Sensing trouble, Luo followed.

Five men had arrived—wearing constable uniforms—and the leader rudely shoved aside customers, nearly spilling someone’s milk tea.

“Out of the way.”

He strode up to Wen Liuyun and jerked his chin. “This your shop?”

“Not mine,” Wen said calmly, recognizing bad intent.

“Where’s the owner then? There’s been a report that your milk tea contains poppy shells, causing addiction.”

Luo and Huo had just stepped out in time to hear that.

If that stuck, their shop was finished.

Customers hadn’t believed it at first—but seeing so many “constables,” doubt crept in.

Wen offered levelly, “Sir, we’ve sold this milk tea longer than a day or two. If poppy shells were added, regulars wouldn’t just crave milk tea—they’d feel drowsy, listless, irritable. By now, addiction would be clear, symptoms all over the body—any physician would have found it.”

Some worried customers visibly relaxed.

An auntie said, “Sir, might this be a misunderstanding? We’ve drunk it more than half a month—and no one’s had any trouble.”

The leader clearly wasn’t listening. “If you all could tell that much, he wouldn’t need a shop—and we wouldn’t need to check!”

Luo recalled that Huo knew the county yamen’s head constable—the one who’d handled their household registration. “You know this one?”

“Never seen him,” Huo said. “Doesn’t look like one of ours.”

Fake or not, they’d come in force. Luo stepped forward. “Sir, you said someone reported us—who was it? No offense meant. We don’t want to target anyone. But someone pried our lock before—many regulars know it. We have reason to suspect this is jealousy of our milk tea’s success, a ploy to obtain our recipe by smearing our name.”

Footnotes:

• Maltose (饴糖): A traditional grain-based sugar made by saccharifying cooked grains with malt and concentrating the filtered liquid; known since early Zhou and detailed in agricultural texts.