That night, forces on all sides were making their moves.
The next day, dawn broke.
The undercurrents of the previous night were concealed beneath the sunlight. Residents opened their doors and gates, put out the lanterns that had burned all night, and habitually checked on their neighbors.
If nobody was missing, everyone had made it through another day.
If someone was missing, they mourned their unfortunate neighbors for a couple of seconds, then settled on the day's topic of conversation for the women: what the family who had vanished the night before had been like.
In the districts where the wealthy merchants lived, their servants opened the doors. Whether anything had happened in the household or not, they all wore cold expressions once the doors were open, determined not to let their masters lose face.
Unless it was a catastrophe like the Wang family's, which had nearly wiped out the entire household, nothing could shake the atmosphere in these wealthy homes—not when there was money to be made.
But today was a little different.
Not long after the servants opened the doors, the masters and madams of the households emerged in their finest clothes and climbed into the carriages that had been prepared early.
Their faces even betrayed barely contained excitement and nervousness. The elegant, richly dressed madams carried heavy wooden gift boxes themselves, their voices fading inside the carriages as they rolled away.
Other than the coachmen, not a single servant was allowed to accompany them. Several high-ranking servants stood in a line at the gates, watching their masters depart.
They were used to the rule that servants weren't allowed at the Feng family's annual birthday banquet, but they couldn't help exchanging a few words after their masters had left. "I really don't understand why they have to make