What what what? And what’s that? And this?

He understood every word—but put together, it was a complete mess in his head.

Li Sanshun wanted to ask more, but Steward Dong tugged at his sleeve. “… Don’t ask! When has Jin girl ever said anything you actually understood?”

“Just follow her lead!”

“You won’t miss out on meat and soup, old dog!”

Steward Dong spat the words through gritted teeth, then looked up and instantly switched back to his standard smile. Hands folded neatly over his belly, chest out, he briskly followed behind Xianjin, nodding occasionally and chiming in here and there, looking every bit the loyal and perceptive subordinate.

Li Sanshun scratched his head in fury. You’re the real walking dead dog!

Back when he was transferred from Xuancheng to Jing County, how smug was he over drinks? —”If Third Master doesn’t run things, who does? Isn’t it me? I run Jing County for two years, then I go back and get promoted to Chief Steward. Give it a few more years, and I’ll retire in glory. Among all the Chen family staff, who’s more respectable than me!? Who else!?”

And now?

Li Sanshun looked up.

No one knew what Jin girl had just said, but Steward Dong immediately broke into a smile that was both reserved and enthusiastic. “Yes, yes, yes, Manager, he is absolutely right!”

Li Sanshun took a deep breath.

Spineless! No backbone! Bootlicker! Pah! Pah! Pah!

Men of Jing County, proud and upright—how could they stoop and grovel like this!

Li Sanshun stubbornly turned his head to show his disapproval.

They continued walking until they reached the papermaking workshop. Village Chief Cao had specially arranged for eight seasoned middle-aged craftsmen, dressed only in white undershirts, to wait by the papermaking trough, ready to begin. Their arms and part of their chests were exposed. Chief Cao stole a glance at Xianjin and, seeing no trace of embarrassment or retreat in her expression, felt reassured. He raised his voice to ask for her opinion. “…Shall we begin?”

Xianjin nodded and made a “please proceed” gesture.

The eight craftsmen immediately split into two groups on both sides of the trough. At the lead man’s shout, a rectangular fine bamboo screen was laid onto the frame, pressed down on both sides with measuring sticks. The eight men worked in perfect coordination, dipping the screen into the water and shaking it gently. Then they lifted it out—on the screen lay a thin, evenly wet sheet of “paper,” dripping.

The “paper” rested briefly on the screen. At another shout from the lead craftsman, the process was repeated three times. By the third round, the thickness of the paper was just right. Then came the edge rinsing, edge folding, and edge pressing. Finally, the still-forming sheets were carefully stacked to the side.

Old Village Chief Cao hunched his back and smiled with squinted eyes. “May I ask everyone to step westward?”

Just to the west was the warehouse.

Compared to Chen Paper’s warm-brick warehouse, Little Cao Village’s storage space was far less sophisticated—one might even call it rather slapdash.

Walls smeared with yellow clay, a roof made of mulberry bark, topped with five layers of tiles. Inside, there was no ventilation, insulation, or waterproofing. The four walls were lined with just two thick layers of yellow paper as makeshift barriers.

Stacks of finished Xuan paper lay on the ground as if they cost nothing. The top and bottom layers had already taken on the color of the soil.

Xianjin bent down and touched the topmost damp layer. The texture was noticeably different from Chen Paper’s product—Little Cao Village’s paper carried moisture and raw softness, while Chen Paper’s was dry and velvety. She stood up, arms crossed, and scanned the room with a cold expression, saying nothing.

Village Chief Cao felt a chill under her gaze. He lowered his head and tugged at Steward Dong’s sleeve. “…Your young boss doesn’t like our warehouse?”

His face wrinkled like an old chrysanthemum, clearly troubled. “We’re just a small village—only about twenty households, a little over a hundred people. Two years ago, a flash flood hit Jingde Mountain, and we fled here as a whole village. We hadn’t been settled long when we built this warehouse with everyone’s effort. It’s the sturdiest place we’ve got. You haven’t seen my youngest’s thatched hut—it nearly collapses when the wind blows…”

Steward Dong smiled and gently corrected him. “Our boss.”

Village Chief Cao: “Huh?”

“Not young boss—this is our official, full-fledged boss.” Steward Dong enunciated clearly, his tone unmistakable.

As for the rest of the concerns…

Steward Dong leaned in to carefully observe Xianjin’s expression.

Her face was unchanged. In other words—no visible emotion.

Years of experience had taught Steward Dong never to voice a guess lightly, so he simply smiled and said, “That I couldn’t say. When we sit down to talk in detail later, why not ask our boss directly?”

As if he’d dare ask himself—who the hell wants to risk that? Didn’t he see that when the Chen Paper girl isn’t smiling, her face looks like it’s covered in frost?

Village Chief Cao cursed under his breath and continued leading the group to the village’s second-sturdiest building: the ancestral hall.

Once the Chen Paper team was seated, Village Chief Cao sat directly across from Xianjin, personally poured her a cup of tea, and rubbed his hands together with a squinty smile. “Manager He, do you think this deal can work?”

Xianjin held the cup with both hands, keeping the rim low, but her tone was calm and composed. She lifted her gaze and looked around. “Master Li, would you mind sharing your thoughts—can this work?”

She smiled and introduced him. “This is our master craftsman at Chen Paper, Master Li Sanshun. He comes from a century-old papermaking family, inheritor of the eight-zhang and sixth-zhang techniques. The six-zhang Xuan we’ve recently launched at Chen Paper is made by Master Li and his team.”

Village Chief Cao’s eyes lit up as he looked at the lean old man.

Xianjin smiled again and asked Li Sanshun, “Do you think Little Cao Village’s papermaking is up to standard?”

When it comes to papermaking, Li Sanshun was suddenly wide awake.

“The workshop hands have decent technique. First dip should skim the edges, second dip should break the center. First dip needs sound, second dip needs smoothness… They’ve done well enough. Roughly speaking, I’d say it’s passable.”

During the meeting between the two parties, Li Sanshun didn’t bother with flattery or empty praise—he spoke bluntly and truthfully. “On the way here, I watched your mixing, scooping, pressing, and drying. There’s some method to it. The paper that hasn’t gotten damp feels quite good—soft, resilient, and nicely textured.

“But there’s one thing that’s downright disgraceful!”

Village Chief Cao silently lowered his head.

Xianjin smiled encouragingly. “Please, speak freely.”

“That warehouse of yours—what does it even look like! Just tell me, what does it look like!? The walls are still damp, and when you touch them, it’s all sticky and clammy. Yes, we papermakers rely on water, but water is both our lifeline and our downfall. We build by the water, sure—but when it comes to storing paper, ventilation and dryness are essential. That’s basic training, every papermaker knows this…”

Li Sanshun went on and on.

Village Chief Cao’s face grew redder and redder. Why hadn’t he built a dry, ventilated warehouse? Was it because he didn’t want to? Was it!?

Xianjin took a sip of the tea Village Chief Cao had poured, patted her knee, and, seeing the moment was ripe, gently interrupted Li Sanshun’s tirade with a smile. “Master Li speaks the truth—he’s voiced exactly what we’ve been thinking.”

She turned to Village Chief Cao, her tone sincere and thoughtful. “When buying goods, one must compare three vendors—how much more so when forming a partnership between two? Since our Master Li has pointed out several issues, I must go back and think things over carefully.”

She leaned slightly and asked Steward Dong in a voice just loud enough for the village chief to hear, “Where are we headed next?”

Steward Dong replied respectfully, “To Dingqiao.”

Xianjin nodded, then pulled a small silver ingot from her sleeve and placed it in front of Village Chief Cao, her smile warm and genuine. “Today, we’ve delayed your whole village from transplanting rice seedlings. This is compensation for lost labor and tea time. Please rest easy here in the village. Once Chen Paper has made a decision—whether we proceed or not—we’ll send someone to inform you right away. Does that sound fair to you?”

Village Chief Cao’s face was flushed red. Deep down, he wanted to refuse the silver ingot, but he also needed to give the village’s working men an explanation for the lost labor today. After hesitating for a long while, he finally accepted it.

After bidding farewell to Little Cao Village, Xianjin left Zhou Ergou to drive the mule cart and called both senior managers with three stripes onto the cart.

Master Li Sanshun, the technical expert, had been bottling up his anxiety for a while. Now he finally let it out, chasing her with questions back and forth.

Xianjin smiled and gave a concise explanation to Master Li. “You focus on making the sixth-zhang and eight-zhang papers. As for the rest, we plan to purchase from smaller workshops that don’t have the capacity to sell directly. This solves the sales problem for the surrounding workshops and the supply problem for the Chen family. It’s a win-win for both.”

This was the third advanced form of economic flow—tertiary circulation. First, it stimulates currency exchange. Second, it encourages more refined and specialized production. Third, it boosts local trade prosperity.

Now, Master Li understood. It’s selling dog meat under a lamb sign! How could that be acceptable!

People come to buy paper because of the Chen Paper brand. If it’s not made by Chen Paper, why would they bother? What’s Chen Paper even selling then? Isn’t this just like those middlemen who trade without producing anything themselves!? Craftsmen can’t do this kind of thing!

Li Sanshun instinctively objected. “We can’t do that! That’ll ruin the brand!”

Xianjin was already used to Master Li’s reaction—whenever he encountered a new concept, his first instinct was always: “We can’t do that!”

Sometimes he hadn’t even heard it clearly or understood it—but opposing it first was just his default setting.

Ah, the fiercely opinionated middle-aged man.

Xianjin smiled but said nothing.

Steward Dong, a senior administrator, clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You just said their paper was soft, resilient, and their craftsmanship solid. You saw them making the Jia Tribute paper right there in the workshop. Deep down, you know their skills aren’t inferior to ours at Chen Paper!”

Li Sanshun’s tongue got tangled. Using one’s own spear against one’s own shield—always effective.

Xianjin added with a smile, “I’m the head of Jing County’s shop. How could I not care about protecting our brand? Any paper we purchase from Little Cao Village will go through Chen Paper’s review, quality control, and official stamping before it ever reaches our shelves. If needed, I’ll even send one or two people to guide and supervise their production. And if we discover promising papermaking talent in Little Cao Village, we can promote and bring them into Chen Paper—make them our own…”

She dipped her finger in tea and drew a small circle on the little table in the mule cart, then a larger one. Pointing to the small circle, she said, “This is Chen Paper right now—relying on fewer than ten of us to run the business.”

Then she pointed to the large circle. “This is Little Cao Village. We don’t need to pay for their labor, materials, or even facilities. We just need to buy. We just need to choose the best and buy it. That way, everyone in this small circle can be freed from endless trivial tasks—Master Li, do you really want to spend your whole life making Jia Tribute paper? Don’t you want to make six-zhang Xuan?”

The earlier words, Li Sanshun half understood. But that final question—thunderous. He straightened his back, then quickly shrank again, mumbling, “I do…”

Xianjin nodded with a smile, wiped away both circles with one hand, and turned her gaze to the window.

The old man followed Xianjin’s gaze out the window and exclaimed, “Isn’t this the official road to Dingqiao?”

Xianjin shook her head. “We’re not going to Dingqiao.”

But hadn’t they just said they’d compare three vendors and head to Dingqiao next?

The old man looked at Steward Dong in confusion.

Steward Dong cleared his throat. “We’re not going to Dingqiao. I searched the whole town and only found Little Cao Village to be a suitable workshop. The others are either too far or their craftsmanship is too poor—training them would be a huge hassle.”

Then, why say all that earlier?

Li Sanshun’s openly puzzled expression made Xianjin chuckle.

This old man—aside from papermaking, he really didn’t understand a thing.

Xianjin smiled. “In business, when does a deal ever go through on the first visit? Wouldn’t they ask for sky-high prices? At that point, we’d be at a disadvantage—how could we bargain from there? Naturally, we have to dampen their momentum first, point out their flaws, so we can negotiate the price properly later!”

“So it’s Little Cao Village then?” Li Sanshun asked, still dazed.

Xianjin nodded firmly. “It’s Little Cao Village.”

Then she turned to instruct Steward Dong. “…Later, include in the contract that Chen Paper will allocate thirty taels of silver to renovate the warehouse. For the premium items—Coral Paper, Gold-Sprinkled, Jia Tribute, and Mulberry Bark—cut the purchase price by half. For the less popular items like Jade Plate and White Ze, raise the purchase price by thirty percent.”

Steward Dong bowed his head to take notes, then asked, “Should the thirty taels for warehouse renovation be recorded as a loan from Chen Paper, or offset against the payment for goods?”

Xianjin waved her hand. “Don’t make them repay it.”

Steward Dong was stunned. Their fierce little boss taking a silent loss?

Xianjin continued, “Add one more clause to the contract: all paper produced by Little Cao Village may only be sold to Chen Paper. If they breach this, they must compensate a minimum of three hundred taels of silver, with no upper limit—compensation will be based on Chen Paper’s actual losses.”

So ruthless yet so profitable!

Steward Dong mimicked Xianjin’s posture, gripping his reed pen and scribbling furiously, so excited that the few bald hairs on his head fluttered in the breeze. He asked again, “Then when should we give Little Cao Village the official confirmation?”

Xianjin pondered. “Five days. Three is too short, ten is too long. Too short and they won’t be properly hooked; too long and the momentum fades.”

“In five days, I won’t show up again. I played the ‘red face’ today—so I’ll trouble you, Uncle Dong, to play the ‘white face.’ You bring someone from the magistrate’s office and go to Little Cao Village to finalize the contract.”

Given Chen Zuoniang’s engagement with the current Jing County official, getting someone from the magistrate’s office shouldn’t be difficult.

Xianjin gave a few more instructions, and Steward Dong nodded repeatedly, responding enthusiastically, “Yes, yes, yes, Manager He is absolutely right!”

Li Sanshun quietly turned his face away—he truly couldn’t stand Old Dong’s bootlicking demeanor.

After finishing her instructions, Xianjin smiled and teased Li Sanshun, “When Steward Dong goes to Little Cao Village to sign the contract, you take Brother Gou and go ahead and bring back all the usable paper from their warehouse.”

“Once our own warehouse stops playing the empty-city trick, I’ll invite three to five people to assist you in making the six-zhang Xuan. How does that sound?”

Li Sanshun immediately turned back, his smile sincere. “Good, good, good—Manager He’s arrangements are absolutely spot-on!”