On the eighteenth day of the first lunar month, after the Lantern Festival, Old Madam Qu went to visit the shop in Jing County. When she saw the thin and weathered Li Sanshun, she felt deeply saddened—but couldn’t say so outright. With tears in her eyes, she asked Li Sanshun to take her to see his disabled second brother.

Li Ershun was only two years older than Sanshun, but his eyes were misaligned, his nose crooked, and his temples streaked with white. When he saw Old Madam Qu, he waved his hands excitedly, turned his head, and drool trickled down the corner of his mouth.

Old Madam Qu turned away to wipe her tears.

Xianjin’s nose also stung with emotion.

Li Sanshun, supporting his brother, tried to comfort them both: “Don’t worry, Old Madam. Two years ago, Second Brother could only lie in bed. Now he can sit up. Give it a few more days—he might even be able to walk!”

As Old Madam Qu held Li Ershun, the moment she opened her mouth, tears streamed down again.

This was the Chen family’s sin.

“I know of a master acupuncturist in Xuancheng—he used to treat nobles in the palace. When I return, I’ll invite him here. Your brother isn’t even fifty yet—he’s still got many good years ahead! He just needs to push a little harder, take a leap!”

Old Madam Qu then went to pay her respects at the grave of Senior Master Li. Xianjin knelt and bowed three times, each one loud and firm. When Li Sanshun saw the master’s forehead bruised from the bows, his eyes reddened, and he turned away to wipe his tears.

Old Madam Qu reminisced with Li Sanshun about the fine paper his father and elder brother had once made for the Jing County workshop. She also looked over Li Sanshun’s four grandchildren, pointing to each one as she remembered: “The one in the red jacket is the eldest, right? I remember he’s about to get married. When the wedding comes, you must send me an invitation—I want to come and have a drink. The second is your granddaughter—she loves embroidery, and she’s quite skilled. She’s made me many beautiful sachets. The third and fourth are twins. When they were born, they were so tiny—like little mice. I was afraid your daughter-in-law wouldn’t have enough milk to raise them, so I specially sent a wet nurse from Xuancheng to help.”

Li Sanshun was both anxious and humbled. “You still remember all that!”

Old Madam Qu chuckled warmly and handed each child a small gold lock. “I’m not senile yet! I watched these children grow up—if I don’t remember them, who would?”

Xianjin glanced at Old Madam Qu and silently nodded.

This kind of bond between a boss and long-serving, loyal employees is common in family-run businesses, where the line between personal and professional blurs, and everyone ends up living like one big family. That’s how employee loyalty sticks; they rarely jump ship.

In his past life, his father had gone through thick and thin with his most trusted foreman: they’d enlisted together as volunteer soldiers, studied together at adult night school, and—well, sinned together too, frequenting brothels. That last offense earned them another kind of “medal”—they both ended up divorced.

Employees with this kind of deep-rooted loyalty rarely betray their old boss. But if the old boss passes on and the young successor proves weak, things fall apart.

After all, the young boss is someone the old employees watched grow up. Ahem—ask yourself honestly: if you’d seen your boss as a toddler, running around in split pants and peeing wherever he pleased, would you still hold him in awe?

That’s why, when the young master lacks authority, old employees either overpower him or slowly erode the foundation. It’s the chronic ailment of family-style enterprises.

Before leaving, Old Madam Qu left behind twenty silver ingots, gave a few final instructions, shed a few tears, and then boarded a blue canvas mule cart with Xianjin.

To avoid sitting face-to-face and eye-to-eye with his own mother, Chen Fu chose to ride outside, driving the mule himself. He flicked the whip lazily, sometimes hitting the mule’s hind leg. The mule twitched its ears, visibly annoyed.

Mule: So you’re noble, huh? Dodging your mom, and now you take it out on me.

In his mind, Xianjin was still giving voice-over commentary for the mule.

“Jinjie’er.” Old Madam Qu’s slightly hoarse voice pulled him out of his internal monologue. Xianjin turned his head and saw her solemn expression. Instinctively, he straightened his back, held his breath, and braced himself.

“The Jing County workshop is the foundation of our Chen family,” she said quietly. “Paper-making needs water—only with good water can you make good paper. We use the sweet water from Wuxi in Jing County to make our paper: clear, smooth, and lustrous like jade. No other place can compare. For twenty years, I focused on leading the Chen family out of Jing County, toward bigger markets. I left behind my frivolous sixth brother and the exceptionally skilled Master Li Lao Zhang, and took our trusted people to Xuancheng. Who would’ve thought—who could’ve known—we nearly lost Jing County.”

Xianjin nodded. This, too, was a common flaw in family-run businesses: either too aggressive or too conservative. Too aggressive, and you risk losing everything; too conservative, and you stagnate while others soar.

The Chen family leaned toward long-term aggressiveness, with occasional bouts of caution.

Their model was “workshop production + storefront sales,” meaning their costs were already squeezed low. As long as they controlled production quality, they could earn steady profits—even without huge margins. The most critical thing to protect was production quality. And Jing County’s workshop was the dragon’s eye—the vital core.

But this link in the Chen family’s chain was too weak. Despite having access to excellent raw materials, they couldn’t produce top-tier goods. So even after opening three stores in Xuancheng, they couldn’t push Chen Paper Shop to the top of the market.

Old Madam Qu’s thinking aligned perfectly with Xianjin’s: “We must train Li Sanshun well. His father and brother could make paper in lengths of one zhang eight or one zhang six—he must be able to do that. And he must also try to make the ‘three zhang three’ and the rare Jin Su paper that his father and brother couldn’t.”

If the Chen family wanted to rise, they had to produce signature, renowned products.

Old Madam Qu’s gaze grew deep. She lifted the curtain of the cart and looked out at her third son, who was still flicking the whip at the mule. Her voice, frayed like a coarse hemp rope, was filled with irritation: “I don’t expect much from the third son. But you—you’ve made me see you in a new light. Work hard. You must not only know how to sell paper—you must learn how to make it.”

Old Madam Qu withdrew her gaze and added, “I’m not asking you to make paper with your own hands—but you must be able to tell its quality and origin with a single touch. Once you’ve honed that skill, only then will the three shops in Xuancheng truly be yours to command.”

A bit like being sent to the grassroots to gain experience?

Xianjin felt a surge of excitement at the implication behind her words. Just like last time!

When Sixth Master Chen had shown disrespect to Old Madam Qu, what had she said? Oh yes—she’d said, “How will the workshop be managed in the future?” What did that mean? It meant she was ready to hand over the Jing County workshop to her completely.

Xianjin’s eyes gleamed, filled with unhidden ambition and longing.

“Work hard,” Old Madam Qu said softly. “From now on, you are the manager of the Jing County workshop. Your monthly salary will increase from three taels to ten taels. You’ll be assigned a single-entry residence and a blue canvas mule cart. If needed, you may also request two attendants—either young servants or maids.”

Promotion, pay raise, housing, and transportation—was this the beginning of her rise to the top?

The boss just promoted her~ Xianjin’s eyes sparkled.

Old Madam Qu admired the fire in Xianjin’s gaze. Good. Like a wolf starved for days—throw the prey in front of her, and she’ll tear it apart in a few bites.

If only—if only Xianjin’s surname were Chen. Old Madam Qu found herself thinking that, as if bewitched.

If Xianjin bore the surname Chen, then even if she were a girl, even if she were born of a concubine—as long as she was a Chen—Old Madam Qu would have a way to push her to the very top of the Chen family. After her own death, this young woman would naturally become the next wolf king, leading the Chen family forward with ferocity, never looking back.

But alas, alas.

Alas, she does not bear the name Chen.