KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
If the pile of silver on the counter was the sound of victory, those three knocks on the door were the beat of a war drum.
The euphoria Lin Qing had just felt—that drunken sensation from thirty-one glittering silver pieces—vanished in an instant. It was as if someone had doused her with a bucket of ice water.
The street outside should have been quiet. The sun was almost set. The noblewomen had left in their carriages. Regular customers wouldn't be coming to a closed shop.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
There it was again. Slow, heavy, and measured. It wasn't the impatient knock of a customer. It was the knock of someone who knew they were inside. Someone who wouldn't be leaving.
"I don't have an appointment. But my Master... Bos Tie... heard you were selling miracles in a jar."
That voice. It was low, raspy, and full of a 'smile' that didn't reach the eyes.
Lin Qing froze. All the blood drained from her face, leaving her as pale as rice paper.
Bos Tie.
The name hit her harder than Young Master Zhao's eviction notice. Zhao was an arrogant bully; he operated in the sunlight with his twisted 'law'. Bos Tie was a viper who operated in the shadows. He was the law in the shadows.
This was all Ye Feng's fault. The fighting pit. The thirty pieces of blood money he had buried in the backyard. He had attracted the devil's attention, and now the devil had come to collect.
Lin Qing's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a panicked whimper. Her eyes darted to Ye Feng, pleading. What do we do?
Ye Feng didn't look panicked. He didn't look scared. He didn't even look surprised. He just... listened.
The Immortal Emperor tilted his head slightly, as if he were analyzing the rhythm of the knock. He raised a single finger to his lips, signaling for her to be silent.
Lin Qing held her breath.
Ye Feng closed his eyes for a moment. He could hear the man's breathing on the other side of the door. One person. No sound of other footsteps nearby. No clinking of weapons from a gang of thugs. At least, not at the door.
"He's alone," Ye Feng whispered, so quietly it was barely audible. "Smart. He didn't come to intimidate. He came to... do business."
"Business?" Lin Qing whispered hysterically. "We don't do business with Bos Tie! Don't open it! Tell him we're sold out! Tell him..."
Ye Feng walked past her. He didn't reach for the pestle to defend himself. He didn't brace for a fight. He simply straightened the sleeves of his herb-stained robe.
He walked to the door.
"Ye Feng, don't!" Lin Qing hissed.
Ye Feng ignored her. He lifted the wooden bar and pulled the door open.
The man standing on the doorstep was not Bos Tie. He was not a massive, scarred thug. He... looked ordinary.
He was a middle-aged man, perhaps in his fifties. He was thin, wearing a simple, clean grey cotton robe—far cleaner than Ye Feng's. He had a neatly trimmed thin mustache and hair that was just beginning to grey at the temples.
And he was smiling. A pleasant, neighborly smile, like an uncle who had come to visit.
But his eyes... his eyes were dead. As deep and still as a dark, old well.
"Good evening," the man said, that same raspy, smiling voice now clear. "So sorry to bother you. A lovely shop. May I come in?"
Lin Qing, hiding behind the counter, could only tremble.
Ye Feng didn't move. He didn't invite him in. "We're closed."
The man chuckled softly. "Of course. Of course. But I see it has been a very... profitable day."
His eyes weren't looking at Ye Feng. They were looking past Ye Feng, at the pile of silver still glittering on the counter in the lamplight.
"I am an envoy," the man said, finally shifting his dead-fish gaze to Ye Feng. "People call me 'Smiling Tiger'. My master, Bos Tie, sent me."
"What does he want?" Ye Feng asked, his tone flat.
Smiling Tiger's grin widened. "Ah, straight to the point. I like that." He stepped over the threshold, uninvited. Ye Feng let him. The man moved with a fluid grace, not like a thug, but like a scholar or a dancer.
He walked into the center of the shop. He took a deep breath. "Hmm. Silver Moon Flower, a hint of Morning Mist Leaf, and... something else. Something... extraordinary." He looked at Ye Feng with new curiosity. "A much finer scent than the blood in the arena, wouldn't you agree... Master Ye Feng?"
A chill ran down Lin Qing's spine. He knew Ye Feng's name. He knew about the arena. He knew everything.
"My master," Smiling Tiger continued, "is a collector. He collects rare things. Fighters who can knock out The Mad Bull with a single tap..." (He gave Ye Feng a sharp look) "...and, apparently, miracle ointments that can make the magistrate's wife act like a starving fish."
He laughed again. "News travels fast among the rich, Master Ye. Much faster than among the poor. Madam Wei went straight home and showed her husband. Magistrate Wei, naturally, thought it was witchcraft. And who does he go to when he's afraid of 'witchcraft'?"
"Bos Tie," Lin Qing whispered in horror.
"Precisely, Miss Lin," said Smiling Tiger. "Bos Tie calmed him down. He said he would... investigate." He turned back to Ye Feng. "So, here I am. Investigating."
Ye Feng stood silently, blocking the path between the man and Lin Qing. "What do you want?" he repeated.
"My master is not a greedy man," Smiling Tiger said. "He is an investor. He invests in... talent." He walked to the counter, so close that Lin Qing could smell the faint scent of oolong tea on his breath. He looked at the pile of thirty-one silver pieces.
"This... is a fine starting capital," he said. "But it's not enough. Not enough to fight the Zhao Family, is it?"
Lin Qing gasped.
"Oh, don't be shocked, Miss Lin," Smiling Tiger said. "My master knows everything that happens in this city. The eviction notice. The seven-day deadline. Young Master Zhao's foolish casino plan. We have been watching... your little war... with great interest."
He tapped the pile of silver with one finger. "And it seems... we have found a new horse to bet on."
Ye Feng's eyes narrowed. "We don't need your help."
"Don't you?" Smiling Tiger smiled. "You think Young Master Zhao, after his mother goes home and tells him that Miss Lin is now richer than he is, will sit still? He will send more than just thugs. He will send the city guard. He will have this place burned to the ground tonight. You have money, yes. But you do not have power."
"My master," he continued, "has power."
"What do you want?" Ye Feng pressed.
"My master has... a 'friend'. A very important woman in the Provincial Capital. Her birthday is coming. This woman... cares very much about her appearance. My master wishes to give her an unforgettable gift. A gift that will make my master look very... powerful."
"He wants the ointment," Lin Qing said, finally finding her voice.
"He wants the miracle in the jar," Smiling Tiger corrected. "He wants two pots." "Why two?" Ye Feng asked. The smile returned. "One for the gift. And one... for 'research'. My master has his own alchemists. He is very curious about your formula."
To steal their recipe. Of course.
"We're sold out," Ye Feng said. "The ingredients are rare." "Indeed," Smiling Tiger agreed. "Which is why my master is willing to pay a premium. He is not like those chattering women. He will not haggle."
"Twenty silver pieces," Ye Feng said suddenly.
Lin Qing nearly fainted. TWENTY SILVER? FOR ONE POT? He... he was challenging a crime boss? Ye Feng was trying to get them both killed!
The smile on Smiling Tiger's face froze. Just for a second. The silence in the room became so thick it could be cut with a knife. The man stared at Ye Feng. He was no longer looking at a menial worker. He was looking at something else. Something... equal.
Then, he laughed. A dry, rasping laugh. "Twenty silver," he said, shaking his head. "Young man... you are either the bravest man I have ever met. Or the most foolish. Bos Tie paid you thirty silver for nearly killing his best fighter. And now you're asking him for twenty silver for... face cream?"
Ye Feng didn't flinch. "This cream is rarer than a fighter. The Mad Bull can be replaced. This," he pointed to the purple-stained stone mortar on the table, "cannot."
This was Ye Feng's first true negotiation. He wasn't using power. He wasn't using threats. He was using the new law of business he had just understood: Scarcity dictates Value. And he, at this moment, had a monopoly on miracles.
Smiling Tiger studied him for a long time. He saw the calm, fearless eyes. "Very well," he said. "Twenty silver. For one pot." He paused. "But my master wants two pots."
"Forty silver," Ye Feng said instantly.
"No," Smiling Tiger said. "Two pots. Thirty silver. That is my master's final offer."
Ye Feng was silent. Lin Qing held her breath.
"Thirty silver," Smiling Tiger continued softly, "And an... understanding." "An understanding?" Ye Feng asked.
"An understanding," Smiling Tiger said, "that my master is now... your client. A very special client. He likes his special clients to be treated well. And in return... he makes sure his special clients aren't bothered by... 'other problems'."
There it was. The offer. Protection. From Young Master Zhao. Protection money.
A deal with the devil.
Lin Qing stared at Ye Feng, her eyes pleading. Don't. Don't take it. I'd rather be evicted.
Ye Feng looked at Smiling Tiger. He didn't see a devil. He saw... a bigger merchant. A merchant who traded in a different commodity: fear.
Ye Feng, the Emperor, knew everything about fear.
"We don't need your protection," Ye Feng said. Smiling Tiger's face hardened. His smile vanished. "Young man. That is..." "But," Ye Feng cut in. "We will accept you as a client. Thirty silver for two pots. That is a fair price."
He had refused the protection, but accepted the business. He was walking a very thin line.
Smiling Tiger stared at him for a long time. Then, slowly, the smile returned. "You... are very interesting, Master Ye." He had used the 'Master' honorific on purpose. "Thirty silver for two pots. I will wait."
He gestured to the bench where the noblewomen had sat. He sat down. Calm. Patient. Like a spider in its web.
"Ye Feng..." Lin Qing whispered, trembling. "Make it," Ye Feng said quietly. "Do exactly what I did this morning."
Lin Qing's hands were shaking violently. To make the ointment under the dead-eyed gaze of Smiling Tiger was torture. But she had no choice. She picked up the mortar. "The flowers," she said to Ye Feng, her voice barely audible. Ye Feng handed her a small handful of the fresh Silver Moon Flowers.
For the next fifteen minutes, the only sound in the shop was the rhythmic grinding of the pestle in the stone mortar. Three slow circles, one fast. The heavenly scent once again filled the room, but this time it was mixed with the cold aura of Smiling Tiger.
Lin Qing worked. Her hands, which had been shaking, slowly steadied. Anger was replacing her fear. She was being forced to do this. The purple powder glowed. The honey dripped. The beeswax melted.
Two small, beautiful pots were finally finished. Lin Qing pushed them roughly across the counter.
Smiling Tiger stood up. He didn't inspect them. He simply placed a very heavy leather pouch on the table. It was far heavier than the pile of silver coins. It landed with a soft, solid THUD.
"Thirty silver pieces," he said. "In larger denominations. My master doesn't like loose change." He picked up the two pots. "A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Lin. Master Ye." He bowed slightly—a gesture more terrifying than any threat.
He walked to the door. Just before he stepped out, he paused. "Ah, one more thing," he said, looking back, his smile returning. "My master bid me to tell you. That fight in the arena... My master has not forgotten it. He is looking forward to your next match. Don't make him wait too long."
The door closed. He was gone.
Silence.
Lin Qing didn't move for ten seconds. Then, her legs gave out. She slumped onto the stool behind the counter, her head falling into her hands. She began to shake violently.
"Ye Feng... what have you done... WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" her voice was muffled by the table. She wasn't crying. She was too scared to cry. "We just... we just made a deal with the devil! He offered 'protection'! That means extortion! He knows we have money! And he... he still wants you... in that arena!"
She lifted her head, her eyes wild with panic. "We have to run! We have to take this money and run away from the city tonight!"
"No," Ye Feng said.
He walked to the counter. He picked up the heavy leather pouch from Bos Tie. He opened it. Inside were not regular silver coins. They were small, boat-shaped silver ingots. Sycee. Worth much more. He poured them into the drawer, joining the thirty-one silver pieces from the noblewomen.
The drawer was full now. Full of silver. "Sixty-one silver pieces," Ye Feng said quietly.
"It's meaningless if we're dead!" Lin Qing shouted.
"He won't kill us," Ye Feng said. "He's a merchant. We are... his new asset. His new racehorse." He closed the cash drawer with a firm CLACK. "You're wrong," he said, looking at Lin Qing. "He's not the devil. He's just a bigger merchant. And he just gave us two things."
"He gave us a death threat!"
"He gave us capital," Ye Feng said, tapping the drawer. "Sixty-one silver. With this, we no longer need to sell one pot at a time. We can... think bigger."
"And second," Ye Feng continued, his eyes turning cold and analytical, "he gave us information." "What information? That we're in big trouble?"
"No. He said: 'He'll protect us from... other problems'. That means he knows we have other problems. He knows about Zhao. And," Ye Feng paused, "he doesn't like Zhao. He called Zhao's casino plan 'foolish'. He's not stopping Zhao, but he's not helping him either."
Ye Feng began to pace, like a general planning an assault. "This is no longer us versus Zhao. This is now a three-way game. Zhao, Bos Tie, and us. We are in the middle."
"That's... that's even worse!" Lin Qing said.
"It's better," Ye Feng said. "It means they are now both watching each other. Zhao can't burn this shop down tonight. That would be seen as an attack on Bos Tie's new 'asset'. And Bos Tie can't extort us too hard, or he'll lose the 'racehorse' that produces the money."
He stopped pacing. He looked at Lin Qing. "We just bought... time."
Lin Qing stared at her menial worker. The man she had fed gruel. The man who walked up walls. The man who had just gone toe-to-toe with the right-hand man of the city's most dangerous crime boss.
"Who... who are you, Ye Feng?" she whispered.
Ye Feng looked at her. He saw the fear in her eyes, but also... awe. He reverted to his menial worker mode.
"Me?" he said, picking up a rag. "I'm your menial worker. And the floor... is very dirty."
He pointed to the pile of silver in the drawer. "Day One is over. We have our capital. Sixty-one silver." He looked at Lin Qing seriously. "Day Two... tomorrow. We will need more than just ointment. We will need... a plan to spend this money."