Chapter 48: Triumphing Over the Strong with the Weak

“…In theory, those bustling restaurants often find themselves overwhelmed, and with three or four days, results should show. Right now, we’re not exactly hiring people, but if we calculate based on wages, each restaurant probably won’t spend more than two strings of cash. There are four restaurants currently, selling sixty to eighty eggs a day with ease. As for profits, each preserved egg should net eight coins. In half a month or so, the investment will return…”

The sound of the abacus crackled through the room as Ning Yi spoke on, calculating with effortless ease. “If the market expands too quickly, the previous batches might not be enough, and supply could fall short of demand. So, I don’t think we need to consider expanding further just yet. No matter what, it’s never a problem to open up sales for a new product.”

Kang Xian sipped his tea, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve seen it myself these past days. I thought you’d have some ingenious trick, but it turns out you simply hired people as plants. The method is straightforward.”

“Heh, in warfare, there are orthodox and unorthodox methods. When the orthodox fails, the unorthodox steps in. It’s a simple matter—solve the problem and don’t overthink it,” Ning Yi replied with a smile.

“That’s true enough,” Kang Xian nodded. “But this method of yours, Liheng—do you call it orthodox or unorthodox?”

Old Qin laughed, “It’s both. If we speak only of the method, it’s unorthodox, but here, nothing is truly extraordinary, so perhaps it counts as orthodox.” He paused, then asked, “Liheng, you mentioned selling at fifty coins apiece—how would you sell them?”

“Heh, fifty coins and above—there’s no limit. You’re not just selling preserved eggs anymore,” Ning Yi chuckled. “‘Riches eggs,’ ‘jade eggs’—if I owned a restaurant, made it glitter with gold, and played up the egg’s symbolism, set a bowl at every banquet, spoke of auspicious meanings, invented a few stories, then people wouldn’t be eating eggs, but displaying them for status. Fifty coins, a hundred, even one or two strings—it’s all about the price tag. If a wealthy elder like Kang hosts a banquet and places a few bowls, saying a few words, the value rises. The rich will flock to it, nothing strange about that.”

“When I heard you mention fifty coins per egg, I expected some astonishing strategy. But it’s just this ordinary approach,” Kang Xian said, shaking his head with a smile. After a moment, he added, “Yet, it does make sense.”

Ning Yi laughed. “There are no astonishing strategies in this world. In the end, it’s about setting a goal and solving problems. Like on the battlefield—orthodox and unorthodox, defeating the strong with the weak. But really, it’s always the strong defeating the weak.”

“That’s an unusual perspective,” Old Qin frowned. “Military texts prefer orthodox methods, advocate the proper way, avoid unconventional tactics. But all military strategies focus on the weak overcoming the strong. If I am strong and the enemy weak, strategy hardly matters. Liheng, I cannot quite agree.”

“Oh, that’s not a common view?” Ning Yi was momentarily surprised.

“Indeed not,” Kang Xian laughed. “As you said, strategies are for solving problems, which arise when the enemy is strong and we are weak. If we are strong, there’s no need for strategy. Thus, military texts, aside from basic formations, mainly discuss confronting strength with weakness.”

“That’s true,” Ning Yi nodded with a smile. “It’s just a difference in perspective—I’m only theorizing, after all. Forgive my idle talk.”

“It is nothing but theorizing. I’m not well-versed in military matters myself…” Old Qin sipped his tea, recalling something that made his smile turn slightly conflicted. He continued, “Since we have nothing pressing, why not explain where your view comes from, Liheng?”

Ning Yi considered, then reached for the chessboard nearby. “It’s a matter of perspective, though the issue is the same. The notion of ‘the weak defeating the strong’ in military tactics actually focuses on reversing the strength between two sides.”

He took ten white pieces from the bowl across from him, then five black pieces from his own side. He divided the white pieces, saying, “Simply put, the enemy has ten, we have five. We can’t win outright, so we devise a plan to split the enemy into four groups—one, two, three, four. With our five, we attack their four, defeat them, lose one, leaving four. Then four against three, three against two, two against one… The outcome is settled. The weak defeating the strong, when broken down, is always the strong defeating the weak in each step.”

Old Qin smiled, “Your explanation is rather rational, Liheng…” He stopped mid-sentence, startled, and examined the chess pieces, frowning in thought. Kang Xian had wanted to dismiss the idea as idealistic theorizing, but seeing Qin’s expression, he too fell into contemplation.

Ning Yi smiled, “It is rather idealistic, admittedly.” He gathered the white pieces again. “Actual battle is far more complex—achieving such ideal conditions is impossible. But this is just a way of seeing things, not an attempt at precise calculation. If we trace results backward, every so-called victory of the weak over the strong, or strong over weak, when broken down, is this scenario. There’s no real occasion where weak troops defeat strong ones, because strength and weakness are defined by the ability to defeat the other. Here, success decides the hero. If the enemy is strong and we are weak, we find ways to divide, isolate, manipulate, so every engagement is locally strong versus weak. Even down to each soldier, though no general can control every detail. But every unit facing another, win or lose, can be simply grasped.”

“In business, in war, in conduct, in life—I do not believe in truly weak overcoming strong. Countless unseen factors are part of strength and weakness: intelligence, human nature, preferences, even luck. The goal stands ahead, the path may be unclear, or there may be many, but reaching each step toward the goal can be traced backward, broken into simple steps, each just solving a problem. So I don’t believe in extraordinary strategies.” He pushed the chessboard back, smiling self-deprecatingly. “Of course, this is just theory. Generals on the field are formidable regardless. It’s all about perspective—doesn’t solve real issues.”

“In detail, it’s always strong overcoming weak, never the weak defeating the strong,” Old Qin sighed. “Your explanation is simple, but accords well with greater principles. Military strategy… is about turning weakness into strength, not the weak defeating the strong. If that distinction is clear, then…”

To most, the way one views the logic behind events means little, but to people like Qin Shiyuan and Kang Xian, it matters greatly. As Qin pondered, Kang Xian shook his head slightly.

“This outlook is remarkably clear. Liheng values empirical study, unlike others, and such insight is truly thought-provoking. But have you considered, in all these calculations, what is a person? What of human nature and the ways of the world?”

Qin Shiyuan was pragmatic but also keenly aware of human affairs. Perhaps troubled by memories, he felt a certain emotion at Ning Yi’s words. Kang Xian, even more attuned to social intricacies, was first to notice these issues. After he spoke, Ning Yi glanced at the chessboard, smiled, and didn’t answer.

He had always acted within the bounds of modern analysis: everything was data, chess pieces, luck and accidents merely probabilities. At a certain level, so-called extraordinary strategies don’t exist—they are only a matter of appetite, greater appetite, or appetite gone too far. But now things were different. The universe moves forward, and the gentleman strives ceaselessly. Confucianism is conservative and rigorous, but within it lies an extreme hope, demanding utmost affirmation of personal cultivation and effort, individual significance, self-reflection and perseverance, even against thousands. The reasoning is complex, but in a sense, perhaps this is why Confucianism restrains empirical study, moving further from the cold, logical rigor of the West.

The conversation could not delve deeper, so they moved on to trivial matters. Ning Yi casually asked about Deputy Commander Song Xian of the Martial Vanguard, and in the curiosity of Old Qin and Kang Xian, he openly admitted it was due to Yuanxi. Kang Xian laughed, “Ha! Searching for him a thousand times, searching a thousand times—I thought you used the phrase to declare your ambitions, but you truly are searching for someone a thousand times. If others found out, they’d laugh themselves silly… But Liheng, you’re actually interested in martial heroes, which isn’t ideal. However skilled, they can only defeat ten or a hundred at most. Better your earlier theory—though it has issues, developed further you could be a Confucian general, a match for ten thousand… Ah, Gui, come.”

Despite his words, he called in his attendant, Ah Gui. The name sounded common, but the man’s status was evidently high; he was merely deferential before Kang Xian. Ning Yi knew his full name was Lu Ah Gui. Kang Xian then inquired about the assassination attempt on Song Xian, and the man considered.

“About Song Xian, I’m not very familiar. But if you’re interested in martial arts, he is said to possess deep skill, and can easily fend off a dozen men. He is highly valued in the Martial Vanguard, now commanding the elite guards. However… his reputation for character is poor—arrogant and vengeful, with a background in the outlaw world. For fame, he killed many former companions. If you are interested in martial arts, but not acquainted with him, I think it best not to approach. In martial circles, there are many taboos.”

“So… Brother Lu, do you know if there are many such highly skilled people in the martial world?”

“By ‘high skill,’ you mean true internal strength to uproot trees and break stones. Such people are very rare. In each army, you might find a few; some rebel or bandit groups may have such strongmen. For instance, the assassin who attacked Song Xian—I didn’t witness it, but heard the tale. The attacker missed, then slaughtered many in the Flying Swallow Pavilion, injuring more than ten including Song Xian, before leaving, barely wounded. Song Xian himself is an expert, so the attacker was clearly a top-tier martial artist. Yet, who she was, I cannot guess.”

He paused. He had met Ning Yi several times, and liked him, so he clasped his hands and said, “Forgive my candor—deep internal skills must be cultivated from childhood. Even if you find such a person, it’s of no use now. And even if it were, martial arts’ true wonder isn’t internal strength. Even the most powerful techniques, practiced for decades with talent, are useless unless honed in real combat. One must respond instinctively in battle; only then does skill matter—speed, ferocity, precision, and fighting spirit. Internal strength is just a method for exerting force. Practicing these alone, you’ll still lose to a seasoned veteran. You are a man of great talent, destined for office or command, a match for ten thousand—why abandon the essentials for this?”

No matter how romantic martial arts novels may be, in reality, who truly yearns for days where tomorrow is uncertain? Most people want to master skills to sell to the emperor. Lu Ah Gui had served Kang Xian for years, and probably considered Ning Yi exceptional—he saw training in martial arts as a waste. His meaning was clear: as a scholar, you have no opportunities for combat, no environment for integration, so even practicing martial arts is pointless. Ning Yi knew Lu Ah Gui’s words were sincere, and thanked him warmly.

After more conversation, Ning Yi took his leave. The afternoon sun was bright, spring along the Qinhuai River delightful. He strolled along the riverbank, still pondering martial arts. As he neared the small building where Nie Yunzhu lived, he saw, from the bend in the river, a column of black smoke rising as if there was a fire.

He approached, and in front of the building saw smoke billowing from the kitchen. A figure was engulfed in the haze, waving objects, fanning wildly, coughing, appearing and disappearing, until finally fleeing from the room.

It was the disheveled Nie Yunzhu, her face streaked with soot. Though the spring air was cool, sweat soaked her brow. She clutched a large bamboo fan, stepping onto the corridor, gloomily glancing back at the smoke-filled kitchen, perhaps still plotting how to re-enter. Turning, she spotted Ning Yi on the road, and paused, surprised.

Ning Yi couldn’t help but laugh. Nie Yunzhu soon joined in, embarrassed, rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand, which only made the soot mark stand out more against her sweat.

Her smile was tinged with bashfulness, but for some reason, the streaks on her face only made her look more pure and lovely…

More to come—there’s another chapter this morning, please vote for recommendations!

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