Sudden Wealth

At dawn, the underground Ruyi Casino in Qinghe County was already a den of chaos, noisier than the marketplace.

The stench of sweat and cheap tobacco mingled with desperate wails, hitting like a fist.

"Damn Jin Shijie! How could he die?"

"My coffin money! I bet it all on the Jin family's young master taking first place. Now it's all gone!"

Several gamblers, their eyes red from losing, sat sprawled on the floor, beating their chests and stamping their feet. One even tried to hurl himself against an iron-clad pillar.

Chen Ping lowered the brim of his bamboo hat and drew his patched coarse tunic tighter around himself, quietly weaving through the frenzied crowd.

No one paid any attention to this nondescript, impoverished young man. Every eye was fixed on the thick ledger in the bookkeeper's hands.

Chen Ping walked straight to the counter, pulled a crumpled betting slip from his breast, and gently slapped it down.

"Cash it in."

His voice was soft, yet carried a chill.

The casino manager, already sweating in frustration, looked up. His triangular eyes bulged as he prepared to curse, but then his gaze fell on the slip.

Group D, number seven. Chen Ping. Bet on the top ten.

The manager's hand trembled. The curse on his lips died in his throat.

If this had happened yesterday, he would have had thugs drag any poor wretch daring to cash such a huge sum into the back alley to feed the dogs.

But times had changed.

The man before him was the Tanhua of the Imperial Military Examination, whose results had just been posted yesterday—a scholar with official standing behind him.

The manager's fleshy cheeks twitched twice, and he forced out a smile uglier than a grimace.

"So it's Scholar Chen... Chen the Flower Examiner. I was blind to your worth. I'll cash it for you right away."

The clamor around them quieted for a moment. Countless gazes—jealous, awestruck, and greedy—pricked his back like needles.

Chen Ping ignored them, merely tapping his fingers against the counter in a steady rhythm.

The manager dared not delay, much less cheat him in front of all these witnesses. With trembling hands, he took a thick stack of banknotes from the inner cabinet.

Five hundred and fifty taels in principal, at ten to one odds.

After the casino took its ten-percent cut, the total came to four thousand nine hundred and fifty taels.

A thick stack of Great Tong Bank notes, redeemable anywhere, gave off the alluring scent of fresh ink.

Chen Ping took them, his fingertips brushing over the rough paper for an instant.

This was what power tasted like.

Without the title of Tanhua, this money would have been a death warrant. With it, this windfall was his by right.

He didn't count the notes, simply tucking them into his robes before turning to leave.

The casino still rang with wails, but to Chen Ping, they sounded like heavenly music.

He emerged from the shadowy underground casino into the sunlight, which stung his eyes.

Chen Ping breathed in the cool morning air. The banknotes against his chest felt like a ball of fire, warming him from head to toe.

Nearly five thousand taels of silver.

In this age, when one tael of silver could feed a family of three for a month, this fortune was enough to buy half a street of shops in Qinghe County.

But he didn't head straight back to where he was staying.

Chen Ping turned into Jinxiu Estate, the grandest clothing shop in the city.

When he came out, his faded coarse tunic had been tossed into a wastebasket.

He now wore a long blue silk robe, with a matching sash around his waist and a brand-new pair of official boots with thick, layered soles.

Fine clothes make the man, just as fine tack makes the horse.

Chen Ping now stood ramrod straight. There was no trace of the meek servant he had been before.

He passed Zhang's Butcher Shop on the corner.

The butcher, who usually rolled his eyes when Chen Ping bought just two taels of meat, was now waving a boning knife to chase away flies.

"Ten jin of pig's head, cut into big pieces."

"And two jars of twenty-year-old Daughter's Red."

The butcher froze. He looked up at the young man who seemed a young lord, ready with a fawning smile, but the face looked strangely familiar.

When he realized it was Chen Ping, the knife nearly crashed onto his foot. His mouth fell open in shock.

Chen Ping casually tossed him a piece of silver, without his usual lengthy haggling over two coppers.

"Keep the change."

With the wine and meat in hand, Chen Ping turned and left, leaving the butcher clutching the silver, stunned into silence.

This kind of swagger was intoxicating.

But the clarity in Chen Ping's eyes never faded.

He turned down two streets and slipped into an inconspicuous little money house.

Half an hour later, half the thick stack of banknotes in his robes was gone.

Inside a hidden layer of his clothes, dozens of thin, delicate gold leaves now lay concealed.

Banknotes were only paper; in troubled times, they were worthless. Only gold was hard currency.

Chen Ping found an empty dead-end alley, deftly took out a needle and thread, and carefully sewed the gold leaves into the lining of his clothes.

The stitches were tiny, flat, and invisible.

Only after he had finished did he let out a long breath. The wariness etched into his bones was finally somewhat soothed.

Just as he stepped out of the alley, he nearly collided with an old man carrying a riding crop and muttering curses.

It was his distant maternal uncle from the Weiyuan Escort Agency, Liu Sanjin.

Liu Sanjin was already in a foul mood from losing money gambling. He looked up, saw a well-dressed young gentleman blocking his way, and was about to yell—then froze.

"B-Brother Ping?"

Liu Sanjin rubbed his bleary old eyes, staring at the remarkable young man before him in disbelief.

The news that the Imperial Military Examination results had been posted yesterday had shaken the whole city. Naturally, he had heard that a man named Chen Ping had placed third.

But he couldn't bring himself to connect the poor relative who had once bowed and scraped before him, begging for a cultivation technique, with the lofty scholar now before him.

Only now, looking at Chen Ping's familiar face, was Liu Sanjin struck as if by lightning.

"Oh! My dear nephew!"

Liu Sanjin's old face immediately blossomed into a chrysanthemum of a smile, his back bending lower than a shrimp's.

"I always said our Liu ancestors' graves were wreathed in auspicious smoke. Who would've thought we'd produce a star of literary fortune—no, a star of military fortune like you!"

"Your uncle knew you were no ordinary man from the start. That copy of Longevity of Pine and Crane, your uncle gave you the most treasured thing he had tucked away!"

Watching Liu Sanjin's fawning, obsequious face, Chen Ping could only find it amusing and tedious.

Such was human nature.

The poor man in the bustling market had no visitors; the rich man in the remote mountains had distant relatives galore.

Chen Ping couldn't be bothered to listen to him babble. He casually took out a piece of silver weighing about a tael and tossed it over.

"Take it and buy yourself a jar of wine."

Liu Sanjin scrambled to catch the silver and was about to say something else, but Chen Ping had already hailed a carriage.

"Lin Manor."

Chen Ping climbed into the carriage and dropped the curtain, shutting Liu Sanjin's stunned face out of sight.

The wheels rumbled over the flagstones with a dull clatter.

Chen Ping closed his eyes and gently rubbed the rim of the wine jar in his arms.

All he wanted now was to see Yun Niang as soon as possible.

The foolish woman who had been willing to give him her coffin money when he was at his lowest.

Now he had money. He had status.

The boast he had made and the promise he had given would be fulfilled today.

"Whoa!"

The carriage came to a smooth stop.

The driver's respectful voice came from outside. "Scholar, we've arrived at Lin Manor."

Chen Ping lifted the curtain and jumped down.

Before him stood the two familiar stone lions and the vermilion gate that had once seemed impossibly out of reach.

In the past, he had only been allowed through the side gate. He hadn't even been worthy of looking directly at the main gate.

But now, he stood before it, straight-backed as a pine.

The gatekeeper was about to scold him, but when he saw the silk clothes and the scholar's waist token at Chen Ping's belt, he was so startled that the baton in his hand fell to the ground.

Chen Ping paid no heed to the gatekeeper's panic.

He raised his head and looked at the gilt plaque inscribed with the words "Lin Manor," his expression calm.

At last, he had crossed this threshold and planted it beneath his feet.