Chapter 137: Turning Hands to Rain

"Move aside, move aside, move aside. Don't crowd me..."

"Keep your voice down."

"What does it matter? They can't hear us from over there..." Whispers rustled back and forth. A boy and a young maiden were hiding behind the pillars of the third-floor veranda, peering downward. It was afternoon.

The street located in the Eastern Market district was one of the relatively leisurely neighborhoods in Jiangning City, ideal for relaxation. While flourishing brothels were scarce here, tea houses and wine taverns stood in dense rows. Shop after shop featured flying eaves and bucket-arches, their corners interlocking. The street below was not wide, constantly bustling with vendors gathering to sell various specialty pastries. Inside the taverns and tea houses, performers often congregated to sing operas or recount epic tales. The Xiangnuan Teahouse at this moment was arguably the largest and most famous tea establishment in the vicinity. From the third floor, one could overlook the rooftops of many neighboring tea houses and the scenery of pedestrians below. However, the third floor consisted entirely of private rooms, and the prices were steep. The two children currently lingering near the corridor railing were dressed in lavish clothes and hats, their bearing far more aristocratic than children of ordinary households. Oblivious to whatever had caught their attention, they were skulking about here in a secretive manner.

"Ah, ah, ah... He's actually pouring tea for someone else! He certainly isn't saying anything pleasant..."

"That fellow's expression is turning so bizarre, flushing red and turning pale all at once..."

"A smiling tiger, definitely putting on an act of playing the fool again. That person from the Wu family is going to be choked with rage..."

"Sister, you often get infuriated by the teacher too... Fine, I won't say it. I was wrong..."

The young maiden glared fiercely at the boy.

Across the street, on the diagonal opposite, at a tea house named Respectful Bamboo Forest, two men appeared to be sitting near a second-floor window, drinking tea and chatting. Shortly after, one of the men stood up and left, while the other began lowering his head to read, writing and sketching. The brother and sister on this tavern's balcony began discussing whether they should run over and greet them.

"Perhaps he's writing something interesting..." the boy muttered, resting his chin on the railing.

Before the young maiden could reply, a voice rang out from behind. "Oh? Who might that be?"

The two children hastily turned around only to find that, without a sound, quite a few people had appeared behind them. Leaning over next to them was a middle-aged man of about forty, with a square face, a mustache nearly three inches long, and an air that blended dignity with a prosperous, portly demeanor, a smile resting on his face. Faced with this question, the young maiden, named Zhou Pei, blinked her eyes, her gaze rolling as if she was reluctant to tell the truth. The boy, named Zhou Junwu, suddenly pursed his lips and began shaking his head vigorously. The middle-aged man chuckled slightly in surprise.

"Ah, you can't say..."

"No, we don't know them." Junwu flashed a toothy grin. Beside him, his sister's rolling gaze suddenly froze. The middle-aged man nodded with an "oh" and glanced once more toward the second floor of the tea house across the street. "However, this father thinks that this young man is quite talented and of fine appearance, and wouldn't mind making his acquaintance." Saying this, a thought suddenly struck him. He leaned down, lowering his voice so that only the others could hear, and murmured into the young maiden's ear, "Speaking of which, Pei'er will reach the capping age for women in two years. Earlier, when so many scholars were chatting inside, you were unwilling to enter. Could it be that you and Junwu are here simply—"

"How could that be!" Zhou Pei blurted out. Then, stunned, she turned her head away in vexation and tapped her own forehead.

The middle-aged man burst into laughter, glancing at his attendants. "In that case, I truly have no idea who that person is. Do any of you know?"

"Replying to Your Highness, that person is the son-in-law of the Su family, Ning Yi, styled Liheng," an attendant in his fifties smiled, cupping his hands and answering in a low voice.

"Oh? The top scholar?" The middle-aged man addressed as a prince was also slightly startled, then looked across the way. Yet viewed from this distance, the figure with the bandaged hand seemed far too young in every respect—though that impression naturally arose only in comparison with the prestige of the title "top scholar." He glanced at his son and daughter, his eyes carrying a mixture of understanding and doubt.

"I have long heard that this man possesses earth-shaking poetic talent, though I have never had the fortune of seeing him. All of you present are also men of profound learning; I wonder if any of you are acquainted with him..." He originally intended to say that if so, he could arrange an introduction for the Prince, but catching the attitude of his son and daughter, he changed his mind. "I wonder... is this man's reputation truly well-founded?"

The middle-aged man before them was indeed the father of Zhou Pei and Zhou Junwu, and one of the idle members of the imperial family residing in Jiangning, Prince Kang, Zhou Yong. Although he bore the title of Prince, he had achieved nothing of note, nor was he as adept at making money as his aunt Zhou Xuan and uncle Kang Xian. In truth, he cared little for poetry and literature; his daily preferences ran to wandering about and listening to operas, while pursuits like cockfighting and dog-racing were second nature to him. He would occasionally go out hunting for leisure, occasionally managing to shoot a rabbit or two.

Of course, matters like poetry and literature had always been a common pastime appreciated by all classes, high and low, and every now and then he would put on a show of refined tastes. Given his status, whenever he wished to display refinement, refined company would invariably follow. The few individuals accompanying him this time were essentially Jiangning's foremost men of letters. At his inquiry, one of them stepped forward with a smiling bow: "This man, Ning Yi, indeed possesses considerable talent."

These were polite words. If any of the Su family's profligate youths had been present, they would likely have been startled, for the man who stepped forward was none other than Liu Qingdi, who had previously crossed paths with Ning Yi and harbored some grievances. However, having said this, he also chuckled: "It's just that recently, er... well, this matter has nothing to do with poetry and literature, so perhaps there's no need to mention it. As for Ning Yi's poetic genius, I have always admired it."

"Oh? Has something happened to this Ning Yi? Qingdi, feel free to tell us about it; everyone would like to hear..." Zhou Yong smiled warmly as he looked at him.

Liu Qingdi's expression shifted. After hesitating for a good while, he finally nodded and said, "Since that is the case... actually, this is hardly fresh news, but Your Highness Prince Kang has likely not heard it yet. The matter must be traced back over two months ago, when an unexpected incident befell the Su family's textile business..."

Over the past two months or so, the rivalry that had erupted within Jiangning's textile trade possessed a remarkable narrative quality. It began with the Su family being targeted in an assassination attempt, which was subsequently exposed as a frame-up orchestrated by certain rivals. Following that, the Su family rebounded stronger from adversity, building up momentum and courageously vying to become imperial merchants, only to be overthrown at the very final hurdle. Although stealing another's formula was undeniably immoral, due to the twists and turns of the affair, recounting it now left everyone marveling at the intense covert struggles among all parties involved. However, once Liu Qingdi finished speaking, everyone realized that the role Ning Yi played in it all had truly been devoid of any notable achievements.

The top scholar might excel at composing poetry, but if he proved mediocre in other areas, people would inevitably conclude that he was merely good for empty talk, which was somewhat disappointing. Looking back at the young man across the street, that made sense. If such a person possessed formidable poetic talent, it was purely due to innate genius; thus, when composing new lyrics out of forced melancholy, his life experience ultimately remained insufficient. Over in the distant teahouse, Ning Yi's figure had already gathered his things to settle the bill and then vanished from everyone's sight.

"Oh, what a pity..."

Zhou Yong sighed, unsure whether he was lamenting the missed opportunity to meet Ning Yi or commenting on the struggle between the Su and Wu families. Yet amidst his words, as he glanced at the somewhat dismissive son and daughter beside him, his gaze turned slightly complicated. Amidst signaling his attendants to look after the others, he lowered his head and fell into deep thought.

Liu Qingdi then glanced in the direction where Ning Yi had disappeared, a trace of triumph and lingering resentment flashing in his eyes.

Beside them, the brother and sister pursed their lips and exchanged a cunning glance.

...

When the carriage driver lifted the curtain to inform him that they had arrived home, Wu Qilong lifted the curtain himself. The time was approaching dusk, and the sunlight began to slant, losing its blinding glare as it poured its golden radiance from the far end of the Wu family's grand estate. The magnificent and imposing main gate looked exceptionally solemn. Whenever he witnessed this sight at this hour, it would involuntarily evoke a sense of the family's dignity and honor. He remembered when he was young, asking his mother why their courtyard was particularly large and why their gate differed from everyone else's. His mother had replied, "Because our Wu family is Jiangning's premier textile merchant."

The Wu family is Jiangning's premier textile merchant...

In truth, especially during this recent period—a month and more of rushing about and bustling—this sentiment had become exceptionally vivid in his heart, recalling the times from his childhood when his parents and those around him uttered those words and instilled this awareness in him.

Jiangning's premier textile merchant.

How many people's sweat and toil had it taken to reach this position? Ever since he was a child, everything he envisioned was how to transform this realization into something that surpassed mere dominion over Jiangning. Since youth, he had harbored the confident conviction that he would undoubtedly achieve this goal. Even during the preceding period, he had momentarily felt as though he were already witnessing a guaranteed success.

All of this—the radiance—had suddenly plunged into darkness this very afternoon.

By this moment, chills racked his entire body.

He had almost no recollection of what thoughts had crossed his mind while inside the carriage, nor did he truly remember how he had descended from the tea house and boarded the carriage. His steps and limbs felt uncontrollable, light and drifting.

"All of this will cease to exist..." he thought to himself as he walked toward the place where his family was likely gathered.

He scarcely knew how he was supposed to broach the subject, to tell his father or the others about these events. Yet some matters truly could not go unsaid...

...

When Wu Qihao returned home, lamps were already being lit. The atmosphere inside the household was somewhat amiss. A servant informed him that he must go to the main hall immediately. As he passed through the courtyard, he caught sight of the Fifth Great-Uncle—who had not emerged in a long time—being supported by two maidservants as he made his way in that direction. The lanterns of the Wu family burned with a surplus of brightness.

He knew that a grave crisis had finally struck. Over these past few days in the warehouse, the brilliant golden brocade had continuously faded in color, and he had known that sooner or now, things would inevitably reach this pass. Yet when the moment truly arrived, it still caused his heart to plunge violently. For a moment, there was no time to exchange polite greetings with the dawdling Fifth Great-Uncle; he broke into a run toward the main hall.

His father, his elder brother, his eldest uncle Wu Chengjian, his third uncle Wu Chengyuan, and even two of the family's closest male cousins had already arrived. These cousins also held significant stakes and profit-sharing shares within the household, though key decision-making managers such as Cen Minzhi were nowhere to be seen. The people who had rushed over had likely not yet eaten; simple meals were placed beside each person, but no one possessed the appetite to partake. Wu Qihao cast a glance around and strode forward.

The situation was far more severe than he had imagined, for if it were merely a matter of fading fabrics, everyone should have mentally prepared themselves days ago. At this moment, however, his father's expression was unmistakably strange. Because not everyone had arrived yet, his father merely sat upon a chair to the side. Though he was subconsciously maintaining an air of majesty and calm on the surface, his gaze held a subtle aberration. It was only when Wu Qihao drew near that his father snapped out of it, and Wu Qihao heard him emit a subconscious, cold chuckle.

"..."Zhu men xian da xiao tan guan... Bai xiang zhi you an jian..." Heh..."

That sneer was devoid of hostility; to the ear, it simply sounded bone-weary. He looked at his second son before him and slowly shook his head.

"Everyone was deceived by him alone... The man never regarded us as anything serious at all... Oh, Qihao..."

"Father, what is it?"

"Have you eaten?"

"Have someone bring some food, eat a bit first. Something has happened; go ask your elder brother..."

Wu Qihao watched as his father closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. When he reopened them, his gaze had steadied, wiping away that fleeting trace of trance and reverting to the introverted ruthlessness characteristic of the head of Jiangning's premier textile family. Yet after a brief moment, staring into the corner of the room, he still let out a long, heavy sigh.

That was not a favorable signal.

Wu Qihao turned and walked toward his elder brother, who was seated near the doorway. At this precise moment, his brother's figure appeared still, though his gaze was icy cold.

Fortunately, his elder brother remained calm at this juncture; he was devising countermeasures.

"Brother."

"Sit." Wu Qi隆 looked at him and patted the seat beside him. His phase of panic had already passed, and he was now capable of suppressing his emotions. Waiting for his younger brother to be seated, he spoke in a flat tone: "The fabrics in the warehouse are still fading. This afternoon, while I was out, I ran into Ning Liheng, and then..." He paused, watching the elderly Fifth Great-Uncle enter from the doorway and standing up along with everyone else, "...and then we spoke of certain matters, and I finally understood the whole affair..."

The daylight had completely faded, the lamps burned brighter, and the night grew deeper. Within the grand Wu family estate, the whistling wind stirred flickering specks of firelight. One by one, individuals holding pivotal positions within the clan began converging upon the main hall.

Whether it were the brothers of various branches who shared household management with Wu Chenghou and were qualified to participate in weighty matters, the paternal and maternal cousins truly engaged in the family business, the younger generation who had genuinely won trust and gained entry into the inner sanctum such as Wu Qilong and Wu Qihao, or the older generation of the Wu family who had once competed toe-to-toe with Su Yu in the marketplace—all of them, the current and former titans who called the shots in Jiangning's commercial arena, had been thoroughly jolted by the unfolding crisis. They were compelled to gather under one roof and pool their efforts to discuss countermeasures.

Over two months ago, even during the scramble for the title of imperial merchant, the Wu family had not mustered even a quarter of the people gathered here now. In particular, veteran figures like the Fifth Great-Uncle and Eighth Great-Uncle—men who in the past could make Jiangning's textile world tremble with a single stamp of their foot and who had since retired to enjoy their twilight years—were now forced to step back out to confront this desperate plight.

Two months ago, the members of the Wu family had leisurely contested for the spoils they desired. That scholar had appeared rather like a joke, performing acts that seemed comical to everyone—much like the casual chatting, speaking, and tea-pouring at the teahouse today. No one had suspected a thing. Yet over the course of those two months, that very hand which poured the tea had finally turned over casually amidst that nonchalant process, transforming into a fatal, crushing intent to kill, and came crashing down overwhelmingly upon this multitude of souls!