These past two nights, Xianjin had been sleeping with a stack of eight-zhang xuan paper as her pillow. Others sleep with peace of mind—she slept with peace of paper. The scent of fine xuan lulled her into sweet dreams, and she slept soundly, except the stack was so tall she woke up with a crick in her neck.

The result? The next day, she tilted her head at people with a cocky, unruly air.

So when Old Madam Qu glanced at her twice during lunch, she summoned Xianjin to the main hall for a long-prepared, heart-to-heart ideological education.

It was Xianjin’s first time stepping into the Chen family’s ancestral hall.

Wind swept through all sides. Four red lacquered arch pillars supported carved wooden beams. The walls were lined with blank xuan paper of various sizes and types. At the center, a yellowed but lustrous scroll lay under a full glass cover—clearly treasured.

Xianjin tilted her head to look. The scroll was speckled with irregular water stains, like raindrops blooming into faint yellow patches. Even thieves wouldn’t know which piece to steal.

Old Madam Qu looked up and saw Xianjin staring boldly at the sacred Jin Su Mountain Sutra Paper, her posture brash, her gaze defiant.

Old Madam Qu choked up. Such a well-behaved child—after just a few days working with that scoundrel Chen Fu, she’d picked up all his bad habits!

Thinking of her youngest son’s foolish ways, she suddenly felt sympathy for Xianjin, so young and forced to work with a fool. She spoke with heartfelt gravity: “…On the 28th of the twelfth month, that lawsuit with Old Sixth—it was his foul mouth that started it. You were innocent. I know that.”

When subordinates clash, the worst mistake a leader can make is failing to distinguish right from wrong. Even if one doesn’t take sides publicly, one must privately support loyal allies and suppress troublemakers. Otherwise, the loyal become liabilities and the troublemakers grow into thorns—leaving the leader surrounded and powerless.

Xianjin, head tilted like a quail, waited for Old Madam Qu to finish before replying: “Not entirely innocent. We swindled him out of 800 taels when we first arrived, then tricked Manager Zhu into an early grave. Old Sixth lost both troops and face—it’s only natural he resents me.”

Second Madam Qu swallowed hard. No need to be so blunt…

Old Madam Qu paused. Of course, she knew all this. Xianjin had played her cards well—undermining Old Sixth, selling off long-hoarded stock at high prices, balancing the books and winning favor. Now, everyone in Jing County praised the young bookkeeper Miss He for her boldness and integrity.

Satisfied, Old Madam Qu pulled out a small brocade box and pushed it toward Xianjin. “You’re still in mourning, so no gold or silver on your person. I had a small gold ingot melted down for you—it’s modest, but reassuring.”

Year-end bonus from the boss!

Xianjin leaned forward to peek. Gold dazzled the eyes. A small lump, maybe one or two taels, looked delicious—she’d heard ancient gold was soft enough to leave a bite mark, unlike modern gold, which was harder than her backbone. She pulled back her longing gaze and tried to reach for it—but her neck was so stiff, even her elbow wouldn’t move. She strained to straighten her head, but the pain twisted her neck even further.

To Old Madam Qu, it looked like Xianjin was disdainfully turning away from wealth—head tilted, eyes closed, utterly unimpressed.

The old lady silently praised her: so young, yet so untempted by riches!

Old Madam Qu pushed the box closer, her tone gentler. “It’s yours now.” Then sighed. “Sixth Uncle is erratic. Fighting him isn’t easy.”

“Many elders in the clan have written to me, saying his behavior has tarnished the family name and the Chen Paper Shop. They want me to rein him in.”

She gripped her cane, voice heavy. “Rein him in? How? Is the Chen family mine alone? Third Brother’s father died early. When the elders tried to seize the workshop, it was Fifth and Sixth Uncles who protected it. For that loyalty, I’ve tolerated Sixth Uncle—as long as he didn’t commit unforgivable sins.”

“He did.” Xianjin blinked.

Old Madam Qu turned to her.

Xianjin stood firm, expression unchanged. “Senior Master Li’s death, Master Li Ershun’s disability—both were his doing. Manager Zhu may not have been a good man, but he didn’t deserve death. Sixth Master sacrificed lives to protect himself. Even the bark-and-straw collection farms are steeped in cruelty—the overseers take money but forget they’re human. That’s a direct result of Sixth Master’s poor leadership.”

These were blood debts.

“And he secretly ‘fed the enemy,’ smuggling Master Li’s eight-zhang xuan to Anyang, helping Furong Paper Shop gain imperial merchant status.”

These were deep betrayals. Blood debts must be repaid in blood. But how does one settle such hatred?

Old Madam Qu’s pupils dilated, then contracted in disbelief. She knew Sixth Master was corrupt—but she’d thought it was petty mischief!

“No… don’t speak nonsense!” She leaned forward, voice low.

Xianjin quietly pulled out a familiar ledger and handed it to her.
“…Manager Zhu’s records. Every detail is written clearly. If you don’t believe me…”

“I can vouch for it. The ledger is real, and the events are true.” A figure in moon-white robes strode in from the corridor.

Chen Jianfang bowed to Old Madam Qu, then glanced at Xianjin with a complicated expression. He’d thought she was bluffing with the ledger to force Sixth Master’s hand—but now realized she’d waited for the right moment. He’d been watching her these past few days.

The Chen family wasn’t a grand household. The inner and outer courtyards weren’t strictly separated, and Xianjin lived among the servants—easy to observe. When he heard his grandmother had summoned her, he rushed to the hall. The old servant outside didn’t dare stop him, so he entered just in time to hear her present the ledger. He feared she’d blurt out the truth—that the ledger was stolen in the dark. That would ruin her.

Even if the ledger was real, even if Sixth Master deserved punishment, if the ledger was stolen, she’d be branded a thief. How would his grandmother react? How would the Chen family? How would anyone who knew—or would come to know?

“Stealing” was too heavy a word. She was just a girl. She couldn’t bear it.

“You… how can you prove it?” Old Madam Qu had already flipped through the ledger. Her gaze toward her grandson was sharp as a hawk’s.

Because I went with her.

Xianjin answered silently. It was true—but she feared it would make Old Madam Qu cough blood.

Chen Jianfang remained calm. “On the 28th, we had just arrived in Jing County. Second Uncle was drinking in the courtyard. Sixth Master rushed out, visibly anxious. I followed him and saw Manager Zhu’s widow demanding silver… After a scuffle, Sixth Master gave her money. Once he left, Miss He and I approached the widow and tricked the ledger out of her.”

Mostly true—with a dash of fiction.

Xianjin lowered her head slightly. A story nine parts true, one part false—and that one part was impossible to verify. Would Old Madam Qu summon the widow to confirm the ledger’s existence? Or whether she’d extorted Sixth Master? Not likely. For the Chen family’s reputation, they’d quietly deal with Sixth Master—perhaps even claim he was “ill” or “frail” to justify his downfall.

With a few well-placed words, Chen Jianfang had “whitewashed” the ledger’s origin—and their midnight raid on a private home.

Xianjin clicked her tongue. Since her rebirth, she’d often looked down on the past with modern arrogance. But now she realized: a scholar who could carve a path through rigid tradition was terrifyingly clever.