Chapter Twenty-Nine: Affairs of the Eastern Residence (1)

Shi Yi spent the entire afternoon at Mengpo Studio. When he returned to the east wing, he found Qingwen propping her cheek as she dozed on the couch, with an unfinished knitted cap still lying on the nearby desk.

By now, dusk had already fallen. It was too late to seek out Daiyu. Shi Yi casually kicked off his boots and climbed onto the warm couch, propping his chin on one hand, tilting his head as he gazed at the ceiling beam, lost in thought.

His convenient father and mother had left as quickly as they had arrived, without the slightest hesitation. Could this perhaps be a subtle signal from the Emperor?

In the original story, he remembered that his convenient father had aligned himself with the Emperor, and in the end, the Xue, Wang, Jia, and the second branch of the Shi family were all raided—only his own branch emerged unscathed.

Shi Yi couldn’t help but wonder if his arrival had somehow accelerated the downfall of the four great families.

He now felt muddled and uncertain—he could no longer rely on so-called scientific principles or his foresight to judge the current situation. Otherwise, he would not have been reborn into this world in the first place. These matters could no longer be explained by known scientific or physical theories.

It was much like the chaotic and complex state of industrial technology in this world. The West had already built firearms, cannons, and warships, far surpassing the current strength of Dashun.

Dashun had only opened its customs in the past two years, trading openly with Western nations, which showed that the Emperor was not opposed to Western technology and had even managed to persuade the old-guard nobles and the retired Emperor.

There were even various Western academies and technical institutes in the capital, and Westerners were allowed to freely build roads, houses, and factories in the country.

All these were vibrant signs of reform, though Shi Yi felt a slight regret that, in these enterprises, apart from the laborers who were local commoners, all the middle and upper management positions were held by foreigners.

Industrialization brought by the West could indeed transform Dashun and help the country gradually catch up with the world. But at the same time, it planted the seeds of future calamity—imagine, twenty years from now, if the lifeblood of Dashun’s economy was in foreign hands...

Shi Yi suddenly thought of that so-called number one country in the universe, infamous for its fate.

But it was worth noting that the current Emperor was remarkably clear-headed, as evidenced by all these measures. Shi Yi couldn’t help but admire this aspect: throughout history, reform had always been the most difficult task.

The Emperor hadn’t tried to force things through, but rather had introduced Westerners and Western merchants step by step, gradually implementing changes.

Shi Yi’s thoughts drifted. In truth, none of this had much to do with him. For now, he only needed to consider how to protect these golden hairpin girls one by one.

It seemed... without real strength, nothing could be accomplished.

Qingwen had watched her young master sit on the couch by the window for nearly half an hour, unmoving and unresponsive despite several calls.

“Master Yi?” She couldn’t help waving her hand in front of him, muttering softly, “He hasn’t gone stupid, has he?”

Shi Yi snapped out of his reverie and grabbed her hand, “What are you doing?”

Qingwen quickly pulled away, retreating a few steps, and said softly, “Master Yi, it’s late. Time for bed!”

Shi Yi glanced at the night outside the window, then turned to look at Qingwen, smiling, “Go warm up the bedding first—do you expect me to crawl into a cold bed?”

“Oh!” Qingwen replied reluctantly, shuffling over in small steps, taking off her shoes and socks before obediently lying down on the small bed.

Shi Yi pondered for a moment, then spread out a sheet of rice paper and picked up his wolf-hair brush, continuing to tinker with the design for the Type 38 rifle.

Time in Dream of the Red Chamber was a blurred account—before he knew it, the end of the month was near, and soon it would be New Year’s Eve and the Spring Festival.

The corridors in front of the Ning and Rong mansions were already festooned with spring lanterns and banners hanging from the treetops.

At Tianxiang Tower in the Ningguo Mansion, Jia Zhen, Jia Lian, and Jia Rong were enjoying the spring air as usual—listening to music and drinking wine.

A couple of rounds of warm wine soon set their blood aflame.

Jia Lian took a cup and said, “Brother Zhen, you must keep a close eye on those foreign goods. Master has been nagging me about this deal for days.”

Jia Zhen refilled his cup and laughed, “Don’t worry, Brother Lian. The first batch has already arrived at Linhai Customs and will be shipped up the canal to the capital soon.”

Jia Lian was delighted, “That’s a relief. I’ll go report to Master right now and finally have some peace.”

Jia Zhen stopped him, “No rush, Brother Lian. Finish your wine, then see Master.”

Jia Lian cupped his hands and smiled, “Brother Zhen, forgive me for leaving the table. I’ll hurry back as soon as possible.”

Jia Zhen clapped him on the shoulder and said in a low voice, “Alright then. I just bought two Western girls from the foreign quarter—when you return, we’ll enjoy them together.”

No sooner had Jia Lian dashed off than a young servant delivered a message to Jia Zhen: new information had arrived regarding the batch of Western goods from the south.

Jia Zhen’s face brightened as he opened the note, but his expression changed instantly.

Jia Rong, reading the signs, quickly dismissed the singers and women.

Jia Zhen’s face was dark, his fingers tapping repeatedly on the table.

“Father, has something happened?” Jia Rong asked nervously.

Jia Zhen pondered, “Our goods have been seized at Jianghai Customs.”

Jia Rong was alarmed, “But didn’t we make arrangements in advance? How could they be detained?”

Jia Zhen looked at him and ordered, “Go to the Ministry of Personnel and find out if there have been any recent changes among the southern customs officials.”

“Yes, I’ll go at once.” Jia Rong hurried off and soon returned.

“Well?” Jia Zhen pressed.

Jia Rong forced a bitter smile, “Father, there’s been no change in personnel at Jianghai Customs.”

Jia Zhen was stunned, his body slumping into the chair. “It’s over—so the Governor of Jianghuai is truly a man of Prince Zhongshun.”

Jia Rong’s brow furrowed, sensing impending doom. “Father, do you mean... we’ve been set up?”

Jia Zhen’s temper flared, and he roared, “Fool! Can’t you use your brain? All you do is dote on your wife all day! If this deal falls through, you’ll eat dirt this New Year, mark my words!”

Jia Rong was so frightened he dropped to his knees.

Jia Zhen glared at him in disappointment, “You’ll stay here and think of a solution—if you can’t, you’ll regret it.”

With that, he flung his sleeve and strode out of Tianxiang Tower.

Jia Zhen paced anxiously in the main hall, brow furrowed, pondering how to deal with this crisis.

After all, he had invested all his silver in this batch of Western goods, leveraging his connections to smuggle a shipment of ingeniously crafted glassware and woolens from the Red-Haired Country.

He had planned to sell them below market price, profiting from the growing trend of Dashun trading with the West, knowing that such goods would soon become commonplace and no longer rare, squeezing the market ever tighter.

Jia Zhen had hoped to seize this moment of transition for a handsome profit.

Who could have foreseen disaster striking at such a crucial juncture?

After a moment’s thought, Jia Zhen turned to his chief steward and commanded, “Lai Sheng, prepare the carriage for the Prince of Beijingsi’s residence.”