Chapter 4

“Ah!?” Jin Shu froze, then quickly stepped forward. “Not that one—let’s pick another place.”

“Why not?” Li Jin twirled his fan, smiling brightly as he kept walking.

“This… Your Highness…”

“Shh…” He pressed the fan to his lips in a hush gesture. “I’m traveling incognito. Mind your words, Master Jin.”

Jin Shu looked at his handsome, refined profile and bit her lip. “Young Master…”

Seeing how quick-witted she was, Li Jin’s mood lifted, and he continued toward the restaurant.

“Young Master, I have a younger brother to support. My monthly salary is only ten taels—barely enough. Now he’s starting school, and it’s even harder…” She spoke while gazing wistfully at the approaching “Lianxiang Pavilion.” With its upscale decor and reputation, she’d lived in Dingzhou for years and never once stepped inside. She always felt that walking through its doors would bring her one step closer to bankruptcy.

“What about your parents?” Li Jin asked casually, all while surveying the bustling night market.

The streets were lively, but mostly filled with small vendors selling trinkets. So far, he hadn’t seen any goods bound with hemp rope—let alone the rare three-strand kind.

“My parents died in an accident six years ago. Now it’s just me and my little brother.”

Li Jin paused, his gaze settling on Jin Shu’s face. He said nothing for a while.

That complex, scrutinizing look made Jin Shu uneasy.

“With your talent, if you apprenticed under a senior coroner in the capital, your salary wouldn’t be just ten taels. You wouldn’t be struggling like this.”

The implication was clear: he understood her poverty, but they were still going to eat at this very expensive place.

Zhou Zheng glanced at Jin Shu’s despairing expression, his eyes tinged with sympathy. He knew his prince well. Li Jin had clearly taken a liking to Jin Shu’s skills and wanted to recruit her into the Six Gates Bureau in the capital. But his methods were ruthless. Knowing she was short on money, he was pushing her toward financial ruin—then dangling a high salary as bait.

While Jin Shu was still stunned by the words “go to the capital,” Li Jin had already lifted his robe and stepped gracefully into Lianxiang Pavilion.

Watching his nonchalant stride, Jin Shu grimaced and reluctantly followed. She’d already decided—no matter what, she’d find a way to get Lord Liu to reimburse this meal.

He said they were here for fish, but Li Jin ordered a private room and filled the table with fine wine and lavish dishes. He even summoned the pavilion’s singers and dancers.

Music played, beauty danced—it was a lively scene.

Only Jin Shu sat pale-faced, her eye twitching uncontrollably.

“Master Jin, your talent is remarkable. I’m truly impressed today. Allow me to toast you.” Li Jin poured her a cup of wine.

The third prince of Great Wei personally poured her a drink—Jin Shu had plenty of complaints, but she could only swallow them with a forced smile and down the wine in one gulp.

After the performance ended, Li Jin looked at the fish on the table and called over a waiter with a cheerful smile. “Would your manager be available for a brief chat?”

He pulled a gleaming gold ingot from his sleeve and placed it on the table.

With that kind of offering, how could anyone refuse?

The manager of Lianxiang Pavilion rushed over, bowing repeatedly, his face creased with smiles. He wrung his hands and stood respectfully. “Young Master, I’m the manager here. Is there anything you need? I’ll do my utmost to assist!”

Dressed in pale yellow, Li Jin elegantly poured wine for Jin Shu and then himself. His manner, his aura, the quality of his clothing and accessories—all convinced the manager this was a wealthy man worth catering to.

“It’s nothing major,” Li Jin said with a smile. “This fish looks like it came from the Yangtze River. Dingzhou is a hundred miles away—how was it transported here?”

“Ah! You may not know, Young Master,” the manager replied. “The fish comes from a fishery outside Dingzhou. After being caught in the Yangtze, they’re tied with hemp rope and placed in water-filled barrels for transport.”

“Oh? Then they must be dead fish?”

The manager waved his hands frantically. “No, no! They’re all alive!” He gestured animatedly. “Yangtze fish are large. If not tied together in groups, they’d jump right out of the barrels. So the fishermen bind several together—none can escape, and they travel farther.”

Li Jin listened while nibbling peanuts, then asked, “You said hemp rope… but hemp softens in water. How can it hold fish?”

He glanced at Jin Shu, who now wore a look of sudden realization.

So this “idle prince” hadn’t come for fish—he’d come for clues.

“Ordinary hemp rope does soften quickly,” the manager explained, “but Dingzhou’s fishery uses a traditional method. Their handmade rope holds up well—even after soaking for two or three days.”

“Oh?” Li Jin’s gaze sharpened. “Such a magical rope? Might I see it?”

“Ah…” The manager looked troubled. “That’s difficult. After delivery, the fishery takes back all the rope. Not a single strand is left behind—not even to touch.” He sighed. “We’re one of their biggest clients. Once, I tried to get some rope to bind our ledger books. They threw me out without a word. Just one piece of rope—and they treat it like a state secret.”

“This rope must be quite special,” Li Jin said, sipping his wine with amusement. “Is it gold-threaded? Braided into three strands to make it so valuable?”

“Who knows!” the manager grumbled, still bitter about being thrown out. “Definitely no gold—it’s not shiny at all. But now that you mention it, it was indeed a three-strand rope. Very different. Much thicker than regular hemp.”

“Three-strand hemp rope…” Li Jin repeated thoughtfully. Then he noticed Jin Shu—who had been lively moments ago—now sitting alone with a wine bottle, drinking cup after cup.

From her neck to her ears, she was flushed red. Had she gotten drunk already?