Chapter 47: Startled Horse

"Thirty fans in seven days? That’s too tight a deadline, and the price is slashed so low—even if you make them, the quality won’t be good..." The shopkeeper complained listlessly.

Wang Yang smiled easily: "What if I told you that by the seventh day, each fan will earn you a thousand coins? What do you say?"

"How much?!" The shopkeeper’s eyes widened, doubting his ears.

"The young master said a thousand coins!" Little Ah Wu held up one finger.

Wang Yang smiled but said nothing.

"Are you here to mock me?" The shopkeeper’s face darkened.

"Do you think I have nothing better to do? Thirty fans: ten with black handles, twenty with natural wood handles.

Seven days from now, sell the black-handled fans first, each at ten thousand coins.

The other twenty with natural wood handles, only bring them out after the black ones are sold out—each at eight thousand, no discounts.

I have a way to sell all thirty fans.

For every black-handled fan sold, you keep one thousand coins from the ten thousand. For every natural wood-handled fan sold, you keep eight hundred.

What do you say? Will you make money or not?"

The shopkeeper was stunned. Had he not seen Wang Yang dressed like a scholar-official, he’d have thought him mad! A useless scrap of paper fan, selling for ten thousand coins? Where would he find so many fools?!

But then he thought again: let the young master go mad—it wouldn’t cost him anything if the fans didn’t sell. So he put on a smile and said:

"Then thank you, young master. But this is a small business—thirty fans cost twelve hundred coins total. Will you pay in cash, or—"

Wang Yang casually pulled out a hundred coins and placed them down:

"No need for change. Make one first and bring it to the County Academy on Sima Street by tomorrow night. Say you’re looking for Young Master Wang. Remember: money is no issue—quality comes first. If you do well, I’ll order another thirty from you. If you do poorly, this deal is off."

The shopkeeper, delighted by Wang Yang’s generosity, bowed repeatedly in thanks—never realizing the scholar-official couldn’t even afford the fan’s cost.

Wang Yang gave further detailed instructions on the desired effect of the folding fan, and the shopkeeper nodded, memorizing every word.

After leaving the shop, Little Ah Wu asked, puzzled: "They cost forty coins to buy—why did you give him so much?"

"You must save where you can, but when you must spend, don’t hold back—otherwise you risk failure. Take these folding fans: no one’s ever made them before, no one knows how. If the shopkeeper resents it, how can he give his all? So you must offer a sweetener—make him happy and hopeful for the future, so he’ll be motivated."

Little Ah Wu pondered, then said: "Then I was wrong—not to mention the forty coins."

"You weren’t wrong. The price must be pushed down—if not, the shopkeeper thinks we’re fools. For example, if you’d quoted a hundred coins right away, even if he agreed, he’d still be unsatisfied—might even think he got too little. But if you first lock in forty, then give him a hundred, he’ll be overjoyed. Same amount given, completely different effect."

"I sort of get it... but what’s the principle behind this?"

"Human nature. Have you heard the story of ‘Three in the Morning, Four at Night’?"

Ah Wu shook his head.

"Once, a man kept monkeys. He told them: ‘From now on, you’ll get three chestnuts in the morning and four at night.’ The monkeys were unhappy. He immediately changed it: ‘Alright, then three at night and four in the morning.’ The monkeys were delighted. Ah Wu, what lesson does this story teach?"

"Uh... Young Master, could we... buy a bag of chestnuts..."

Wang Yang: -_-||

"That’s not even a full bag! You promised a full bag!"

"Not enough! Fill it more!"

"Even more!"

Little Ah Wu stared intently at the vendor’s hands, urging him repeatedly.

The vendor’s “shaky-hand trick” had no room to work against Ah Wu—the chestnuts were packed so full that the top few rolled onto the ground.

Ah Wu hurried to pick them up.

The vendor grumbled: "See? I told you it wouldn’t fit!"

Wang Yang laughed: "Ah Wu, come back—these are enough."

"Move aside!"

A shout rang out!

Hooves thundered!

A man galloped toward them on a fast horse!!

Ah Wu had just picked up two chestnuts when she felt wind behind her head—she turned and saw two massive horse hooves charging toward her!

"Ah Wu!"

Wang Yang’s soul nearly fled—he couldn’t reach her in time!

Everyone thought the girl would be crushed beneath the hooves in the next instant—

But suddenly, a green shadow leapt from the roadside, swift as wind and lightning, snatched up Ah Wu, and rolled away!

In that split second, the green-clad figure executed a forward roll, drawing a black scabbard sideways—CRACK!—it struck the hooves with a sharp sound!

The horse reared, neighing piercingly!

The rider yanked the reins hard—the startled horse slammed headfirst into the stone wall of the opposite shop.

On the other side, the green-clad figure landed beside the road, bracing herself with one hand to stop.

She had worn a wide-brimmed hat, but the roll had knocked it off—revealing a cascade of black hair, flowing freely in the wind.

It was a beautiful woman!

Such a beautiful woman had such swift, agile skill?!

The crowd on the roadside burst into applause.

"Ah Wu! Are you alright? Hurt at all?"

Wang Yang rushed over, taking Ah Wu from the woman’s arms, checking her front and back.

Little Ah Wu was stunned—she flung herself into Wang Yang’s arms, holding back tears to preserve her dignity.

Wang Yang patted her head, soothing her repeatedly.

The green-clad woman stood up. Wang Yang rose quickly and bowed: "Thank you for your righteous intervention! I am deeply grateful!"

The woman nodded: "It’s nothing."

Her voice was clear and cold, radiating an invisible air of distance.

She dressed in male attire—tall, slender, with long, elegant legs—like Xie Xinghan, she lacked the usual coyness of women of her time.

But Xie Xinghan’s poise came from intelligence and refined upbringing—a calm, lively grace.

This woman was solitary, cold, and stern; her high, refined nose and sharp, icy brows added a touch of stubborn sharpness and detached aloofness.

As if no noise, no accident could disturb her—like the near-disaster just now, to her it was merely a trivial matter, leaving not a ripple in her clear, cool eyes.

"Who dares hurt my horse?!"

"Clear the way! All of you, move!"

A young man with a blue-tinged beard pushed through the crowd, striding forward. He wore light-blue trousers and tunic, no armor, but leather bracers on his wrists.

“Kuzhe” — also called “kuxie” — was a popular outfit in the Northern and Southern Dynasties: short upper garment, long trousers. Light and practical, it became standard military wear, worn by soldiers and officers alike.

When the man saw the green-clad woman’s face, his fury instantly melted into eager charm: "Are you alright? Not hurt, are you?"

The woman ignored him, walking straight ahead. The man smiled, bowing politely, continuing: "I am—"

But the woman’s eyes showed no sign he existed—she passed him without a glance.

The man’s smile froze. He explained: "Lady, I only meant to check if you were hurt—no other intent."

The woman walked to the center of the road, bent down, and picked up her hat.

The crowd, watching the man’s awkwardness, snickered behind their hands.

The man’s smile slowly faded: "I’m speaking to you. Can’t you hear me?"

The woman brushed dust off her hat, not looking at him.

The man’s voice rose: "Is it that you can’t hear—or that you can’t speak?"

Just as tension mounted, a man’s voice cut in:

"You talk well enough—but you don’t speak human words."