"Young Mistress, here is a jar of fine, aged vintage. It is known as the Aged Qingzhou—a rare brew, exceedingly difficult to come by in these parts."
Mu Ying watched as the merchant's servant carefully placed the heavy clay jar upon the wooden table beside her. The moment the wax seal was broken, a rich, mellow aroma rushed forth, filling the room. Her eyes lit up with unbridled joy. Subtly, she shifted her gaze from the merchant to the liquor vessel.
'Aged Qingzhou? Ten years old at the very least. Hehe... I wonder if the old fox has more hidden away in his carriages,' she thought. A sharp, predatory grin stretched across her face as her eyes swept over the fine silk of his robes.
She practically drooled at the prospect. Sensing her feral, piercing gaze, the merchant involuntarily shifted back in his seat, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck. Beside her, Aihan rolled her eyes, deeply exasperated by her mistress's utterly shameless behavior.
'A pity, nothing in this world comes for free,' Mu Ying lamented internally, regaining her composure.
Clearing her throat, she deftly resealed the jar with a swift motion of her hand. Her demeanor shifted instantly into that of a dignified noblewoman. With a courteous gesture, she ushered the merchant to a seat before smoothing her skirts and taking her own place across from him.
"A rare vintage indeed. And terribly difficult to transport across provincial lines without breaking the seal," Mu Ying said, her voice dropping to a measured, business-like tone. "You did not bring such a treasure merely for my refreshment. Speak your mind."
The merchant shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. "Young Mistress Mu is indeed as perceptive as the rumors say..." He offered a sheepish, deferential smile. "I dare not cause undue trouble, and yet..."
Mu Ying offered him a polished, flawless smile—the kind reserved strictly for lucrative transactions. Beside her, Aihan raised a sharp eyebrow.
"And yet, are you not doing exactly that—?" Ai Han began, her voice laced with skepticism.
Without breaking eye contact with the merchant, Mu Ying subtly lowered her hand, gesturing downward with two fingers. Aihan caught the silent command and immediately held her tongue.
"Let us hear your proposal then," Mu Ying said smoothly.
Not long after, they returned to the inner courtyard of the merchant house, moving past the bustling storefront. After inspecting the quality of the timber, haggling down the prices, and signing the official registry, Mu Ying finally had the man escorted out through the main gates.
It was a job well done. The contracts were sealed with red ink, and the merchant had departed with a lighter pocket.
At the front counter of the shop, Enlai was already hard at work, grinding fresh ink to record the newly received inventory alongside the backlog of catalog orders.
Aihan strode into the back room behind Mu Ying, her shoulders tense and a sharp huff escaping her lips.
"What a shameless scoundrel," Aihan spat, crossing her arms.
Mu Ying let out a soft chuckle, stretching her arms. "In the world of commerce, it is called strategy, Aihan."
"Did that man truly believe he could bribe you with a jar of wine and then swindle us on the timber? If he were dealing with the regional magistrate, he would have lost his head for such deception!" Aihan continued to fume.
"Calm your wrath, Aihan. No one is losing their head today," Mu Ying said, settling into her cushioned chair with a sigh of relief. "While the timber is not of the premium grade he promised, it is far from useless. The profit margins may be slim this time, but we have successfully secured a new supplier for the winter. That alone is worth the effort."
Though Mu Ying possessed a brilliant mind for trade, running a mundane shop was dreadfully dull for someone of her background. Yet, until the capital sent word to recall her, she had no choice but to bide her time here.
Leaning her head back, Mu Ying stared lazily at the exposed wooden rafters of the ceiling, her mind instinctively mapping things only known to her before her eyes drifted sideways to the clay jar sitting on the table.
'At least the wine is real.'
Mu Ying shifted her posture, dragging the heavy jar closer to her chest. "Enlai!" she called out.
"Present, Young Mistress," Enlai answered from the storefront. He quickly hurried into the back room, bowing respectfully before her.
"Go down to the cellar. In the iron-bound chest, you will find a set of three celadon bowls and a long-handled bamboo ladle. Bring them to me."
"Right away, Young Mistress." Enlai nodded and retreated deeper into the property.
Mu Ying hugged the clay jar to her chest with sheer glee. Aihan watched her, completely unimpressed, practically seeing the blissful, daydreaming clouds floating around her mistress's head.
Moments later, Enlai returned, carefully placing the three wide bowls and the long wine dipper onto the table.
"Come, come, sit down," Mu Ying urged eagerly. She took up the ladle, breaking the seal once more, and began to stir the amber liquid slowly before scooping a generous portion into the first bowl.
Enlai cast a desperate, pleading look toward Aihan. The maidservant merely shook her head, offering absolutely no assistance.
"Young Mistress, the storefront cannot be left unattended," Enlai said quickly, bowing in apology as he backed away. "I must watch the ledger. I cannot drink on duty, but pray, indulge on my behalf!"
Before Mu Ying could utter a single word of protest, Enlai vanished past the curtain, fleeing back to the front counter.
"Ah—" Left speechless by the boy's swift retreat, Mu Ying slowly turned her gaze toward her maid.
"No," Aihan said flatly, cutting her off before Mu Ying could even open her mouth.
The two women exchanged a brief, awkward silence. Then, Aihan's face returned to its usual stern neutrality.
"Aya... but you haven't even tasted it!" Mu Ying called out as Aihan turned on her heel and swiftly retreated from the room without a single backward glance.
Left alone, Mu Ying looked down at the filled bowl in her hand, then at the massive jar. Gently caressing the cool, unglazed clay of the vessel, she pouted. "They simply do not understand your worth the way I do."
With that, she raised the bowl and threw her head back, gulping down the rich liquor in one continuous draft. She wiped her mouth thoroughly with the wide silk of her sleeve.
"Ha! A true blessing from the heavens. It is a fine day to lose myself in drink," she cheered softly, peering down into the depths of the clay jar.
'If I cannot finish it all, I shall simply take it back to the manor,' she mused. 'Hehe... but where would I hide it ?' She pondered the dilemma for a moment before glancing out the open window toward the alleyway. 'Forget it. I will cross that bridge when I am drunk enough.'
—-_—---_—------_____—-_____—-_—---_
Miles away, as the last stroke of black ink dried upon the parchment, a man dressed in exquisite, high-ranking official robes sat before his mahogany desk. He folded the secret letter with meticulous care, sealing it with wax.
He held the missive out into the dim room.
Without a sound, a dark figure materialized from the shadows of the chamber. The figure bowed low, took the letter in a swift motion, and vanished back into the night as though he had never been there at all.