He left, he left—he waved his sleeve and took not a single cloud with him, leaving behind only a moon-blue color card.

Sun Shun clutched his tear-soaked left eye. The sharp sting around his eye socket was turning into numbness, and he let out a panicked scream, “Ahhh! I’m blind! I’m blind!”

Howling, he stumbled toward Zhang Wenbo.

Zhang Wenbo quickly tucked the moon-blue card into his chest and sidestepped with precision—Even if your eye’s been punched out, you’re not getting my color card!

Sun Shun lunged and missed, flailing like a headless fly. His lackeys rushed in, clamped a hand over his mouth, pinned his head, and dragged him off in disgrace toward the medical clinic.

By the Wu Stream, the spring breeze resumed its journey from east to west.

The crowd, shaken from the shock of “Top Scholar Qiao” throwing a punch, began to stir. A merchant who had earlier spoken up for Xianjin led the praise: “…He’s both scholarly and martial! Young Master Qiao is truly a rare talent of Jing County!”

Scholarly and martial, my foot.

“Yes, yes, yes! Did you notice how elegant his punching form was? Solid horse stance—you can tell he trained as a child!”

Elegant form, my foot.

“That guy deserved a beating! Even if Young Master Qiao hadn’t stepped in, I was just about to do it myself!”

Too-late bravado, my foot.

Three black lines metaphorically slid across Xianjin’s forehead.

The beaten Sun Shun had fled west. The scholar who threw the punch had strode off east. The crowd gradually quieted.

Xianjin cleared her throat softly, refocused her gaze, and offered a not-quite-standard bow with cupped hands. She spoke loudly: “Thank you all for your support, for closing your shops and homes to come lend strength to Chen Paper. And special thanks to Uncle for stepping in—Little He is deeply grateful. If you come to Chen Paper to buy paper, everything will be priced at eighty percent of the listed rate. The remaining twenty percent is my heartfelt thanks.”

She then turned to face the front, giving this farce its proper framing: “Jing County has long been a hub of commerce, and Southern Zhili is a land of prosperity. Misunderstandings in business are not uncommon.”

“But the student surnamed Sun from Qingcheng Academy spoke with excessive malice—insulting my birth mother, slandering my stepfather. As their daughter, I cannot let this grievance go. Between us, there shall be no reconciliation, no shared sky!”

Xianjin raised three fingers to the heavens and solemnly swore:

“From this day forward, Chen Paper will never again do business with that student Sun. If I break this vow, may heaven and earth strike me down!”

You’re just a customer—not my parent!

He insulted her family to her face. Xianjin had already clenched her fist inside her sleeve. If Qiao Hui hadn’t suddenly charged in, she would’ve landed a punch squarely on Sun Shun’s face herself. These days, filial piety trumps all—if you publicly mock someone’s parents, getting punched is the least you deserve. Even if it went to the magistrate, the county elder would likely just order fifty lashes for each party.

At worst, Sun Shun might get some leniency for being a scholar, and the magistrate would ask her to pay a small fine—but Chen Paper’s reputation would still be protected. After all, who doesn’t have scholars in the family? And Chen’s rising star had far more promise than Sun Shun ever did.

Who could’ve predicted Qiao Hui would jump in first?

Xianjin cast a barely noticeable glance eastward. That direction no longer held Qiao Hui’s silhouette—only a small arched bridge built of white brick.

She pressed her lips together, then turned to the wide-eyed Zhang Wenbo, who was still listening intently. Composing herself, she smiled and said, “Well then—after this little farce, we finally have the first collector of Chen Paper’s inaugural ‘Blind Bag’ Five-Color Card Series. Congratulations to Qingcheng Academy’s very own student, Zhang Wenbo!”

The ever-enthusiastic atmosphere booster, little Wang Suo’er, raised both hands above her head and led the crowd in a round of clapping: “Clap clap clap!”

The bystanders, having no personal stake, clapped along half-heartedly.

Xianjin raised her voice, emphasizing clearly: “After redeeming the corresponding paper with his Five-Color Cards, he will also receive one sheet of Chen Paper’s specially crafted six-zhang Xuan!”

Six-zhang Xuan! Was it really six-zhang Xuan?!

Ever since Master Li of Chen Paper passed away, the dozens of paper workshops across Jing County—large and small—hadn’t produced a single sheet of six-zhang Xuan in three or four years.

In the past two years, some shops still had old stock or leftovers. When the imperial court sent agents to collect tribute paper, they could still offer one or two sheets. But in the last year or two, those reserves had been exhausted. The court had gradually shifted to sourcing premium tribute paper from Fujian and other regions—Jing County, once thriving on its paper industry, had been hit hard by this change.

Now, hearing that six-zhang Xuan had reappeared, the crowd couldn’t help but stir with excitement.

“Has Chen Paper really made six-zhang Xuan again?”

A paper workshop owner in the crowd, there just to watch the spectacle, called out loudly.

Xianjin smiled without answering, then turned to Zhang Wenbo. “Scholar Zhang, would you like to redeem your six-zhang Xuan?”

Zhang Wenbo’s face flushed with excitement. He nodded fiercely. Yes, collecting cards was for joy. But if there’s six-zhang Xuan involved—wouldn’t that joy be doubled?

Receiving his firm answer, Xianjin raised her head and declared loudly, “Chen Paper will soon burn incense, bathe in preparation, and choose an auspicious day to deliver the six-zhang Xuan!”

Zhang Wenbo rubbed his hands together, visibly thrilled.

The crowd gradually dispersed.

Three days later, the old almanac read: “Auspicious for: worship, bathing, dispelling misfortune, seeking medical aid, marriage, and signing contracts”—in short, a day good for everything.

At the crow of the rooster, four strong young men burst out from Chen Paper’s storefront. They wore matching white linen vests, revealing their bronze-toned, muscular arms. Each carried a shoulder pole, which supported a twenty-meter-long wooden plank. On the plank lay a brand-new bamboo mat, covered with gold-flecked red gauze, and tied with several pure red silk ribbons into a large decorative flower knot.

Steward Dong had risen especially early that day. He’d smoothed down the few surviving hairs on his head with pork lard, donned the red silk shirt he’d worn on his wedding day, and stood proudly at Chen Paper’s entrance with a suona horn in hand. Puffing out his cheeks, he blew a long, piercing note!

When the suona plays, all other music fades.

Immediately, two more strapping young men followed with thunderous drumbeats!

All of Shuixi Street was swept up in the excitement. Shopkeepers stood at their doorways, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the commotion at Chen Paper. Soon, they saw the red-clad procession—drums pounding, gongs clanging—marching toward Qingcheng Academy. At the front, Steward Dong stood at the gate and shouted loudly, “Chen Paper respectfully invites Scholar Zhang Wenbo to unveil the banner!”

Behind him, six strapping young men shouted from deep in their bellies, shaking the air: “Chen Paper respectfully invites Scholar Zhang Wenbo to unveil the banner!”

The academy had just finished morning study. Within moments, a dense crowd gathered at the gate. Zhang Wenbo poked his head out curiously, only to be ushered straight to the front!

Steward Dong smiled, tucked the suona into his waistband, and handed Zhang Wenbo a long pole with both hands, respectfully inviting, “Please unveil the banner!”

All eyes were fixed on him.

A flush of pride—born of fulfilled vanity—rose to Zhang Wenbo’s cheeks. His heart raced, his hands trembled. With great effort, he untied the red silk knot, revealing a large sheet of paper: smooth, warm to the touch, finely textured, with a faint yellow hue and soft hemp fibers. It was roughly the size of a standard dormitory bed at the academy.

The crowd let out a collective “Wow!”

The joy of collecting cards, the pride of being honored with such a ceremony by Chen Paper—all of it, in that moment, transformed into something real, something profound: a deep awe and heartfelt admiration for this ancient craft passed down through the centuries.

From the high platform of the academy, Headmaster Qiao stroked his curled beard and murmured: “When the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties began, commerce was born. The merchant walked upon the coin—not to possess it, but to use it. With none, he made do; with some, he prospered. History shows: when commerce thrives, the court and nation flourish; when commerce wanes, the court and nation weaken. This is the original path of trade.”

Whenever one’s own writing is recited aloud in public, there’s always a trace of embarrassment.

Listening to his own father recite the commercial ethics essay he himself had written, Qiao Hui quietly turned his gaze away.

Headmaster Qiao finished the opening lines, then raised one hand and pointed from afar toward Zhang Wenbo, whose face was flushed with excitement at the academy steps. Thinking of the origin of that final color card, he couldn’t help but sigh, “The current manager of Chen Paper is truly very clever.”

Qiao Hui pressed his lips together.

Very clever? She’s alright.

Let’s just say she’s moderately clever.