Chapter 39

First Volume, Chapter 39: No Cost Too High

The crowd watching the spectacle occasionally let out sighs of envy, jealousy, and resentment.

The shopkeeper finally snapped out of his daze, clutching the silver note to his chest and nodding frantically: "Sold! Young Master Qin, I sell!"

This wine house cost less than five thousand liang of silver to build alone, and with poor business, it had almost no added value—its only real worth lay in its location. But being so close to Zui Xian Lou turned the location into a liability. Even three ten thousand taels, the shopkeeper would have eagerly agreed—let alone ten thousand liang.

With this money, I could buy hundreds of mu of land back home and live as a country gentleman—wouldn't that be sweet?

Seeing the shopkeeper agree, many in the crowd outside pounded their chests and stamped their feet—how could this massive fortune land on this old man's head!

The more they thought about it, the angrier they grew, and their resentment turned toward Qin Feng, murmuring quietly.

"Hmph, no surprise from the Qin Residence wastrel—he's truly a spendthrift, throwing down ten thousand liang without a second thought, as if he's not afraid of going bankrupt!"

"At this rate of spending, even Jinshan Yingshan would be squandered away."

"Even Jinshan Yingshan would be manageable—but the Minister of War's annual salary barely adds up to forty thousand liang; he just burned off a third of it. If I were his father, I'd be furious enough to die."

Hearing the murmurs around him, Qin Feng didn't get angry—he beamed with pride.

What's the problem? I have the means to spend lavishly; you want to spend? You don't even have the means.

I've heard too many flatteries—they're sickening. It's these envious, jealous whispers and cold remarks that truly satisfy Qin Feng's vanity.

Besides, Qin Feng wasn't interested in the wine house itself—he wanted the land.

Ten thousand liang to buy out the land deed—a one-time transaction, enough to last a lifetime.

Qin Feng walked to the door and smiled as he surveyed the crowd.

Moments ago they'd wanted to curse his ancestors; now they all cowered back.

Qin Feng's mind clacked like an abacus—he'd boasted he'd crush Zui Xian Lou in half a month; time was running out, he had to move fast. Otherwise, if he missed the deadline, Liu Hongyan would surely mock him for the rest of his life.

Everything must be simple. Everything must be fast!

"Have you all heard? This Young Master despises Zui Xian Lou's arrogance—what's it but a wine house? Why pretend to be a government office? I'm here to challenge Zui Xian Lou. But as you've seen, Wuhu Da Jiu Lou is in terrible shape and desperately needs renovation. Are there any skilled artisans among you?"

The crowd exchanged glances—no one dared answer.

Who in Jingdu didn't know Zui Xian Lou couldn't be provoked? Messing with Qin Feng might cost you your life—no one would care if you died over a few taels of silver.

Qin Feng had expected this result—he held up three fingers: "Just follow my plans, renovate the entire wine house—labor and materials included—for three ten thousand taels."

The moment he spoke, the previously lifeless crowd erupted.

People couldn't believe their ears—shouts of disbelief rang out.

"What? Did I hear right? Three ten thousand taels? Has Qin Feng really spent his father's coffin money?"

"Wuhu Da Jiu Lou may be large, but labor and materials max out at two thousand taels—he's offering three ten thousand? Doesn't he know the market?"

"Hah, so he's just a paper general—doesn't know a thing and opens a wine house? He'll go bankrupt eventually. But… I'll take this money!"

"Get lost! What's it to you? Look around Jingdu—who has better craftsmanship than my family?"

Among the crowd, craftsmen began arguing fiercely—three ten thousand taels was too tempting. One job like this meant no financial worries for ten or even twenty years.

Common People didn't have the spending power of high officials. In remote Northwest villages, a family of three spent no more than one tael and three qian of silver per year.

As the craftsmen vied for the lucrative contract, Qin Feng added: "Completion deadline: three days."

Those words dropped like a hammer—silencing every craftsman instantly.

The few who'd been certain they'd win now muttered quietly.

"Three days? Are you joking? Even the fastest, this wine house would take at least two months!"

"Exactly! Qin Feng doesn't know the market—or the time needed."

"In short, he doesn't understand two things—this he doesn't know, that he doesn't know either!"

"He's used to silk and fine food—he naturally doesn't understand such mundane matters. This is what they call 'Why not eat meat porridge?'"

Three days was the maximum deadline Qin Feng could offer.

Besides decoration, there's operation to consider—the half-month window was already too tight; otherwise, why would Qin Feng throw so much silver at this?

As the craftsmen shook their heads and declared they couldn't take the job, a ragged, unkempt boy stepped forward from the crowd.

"Young Master Qin, I'll take this job." The boy kept his head down, not daring to meet Qin Feng's eyes—his status was far too inferior to Qin Feng's.

Qin Feng never judged by appearance—but even he thought three days was brutal. Without a large workforce, no matter how skilled one man was, it was impossible.

Before Qin Feng could ask, the crowd burst into laughter—the boy was known among craftsmen.

"Oh? Who's this bold one? It's Lu Ming, the young master of the Zhang Clan Squad."

"Lu Ming? Who's he?"

"You don't know the Zhang Clan Squad? They were famed in Jingdu for their craftsmanship—once even collaborated with the Ministry of Works. But they overreached—built weapons with the Ministry, failed quality control, and got their family destroyed. Now only the young master remains, wandering Jingdu."

"Hah! Dared to collaborate with the Ministry of Works? Foolish to the point of death!"

"Why is the Zhang Clan Squad's young master named Lu?"

"Adopted son. Otherwise, how did he escape this disaster?"

At that moment, a middle-aged man in the crowd spoke up, trying to dissuade him.

"Lu Ming, this job is lucrative, but even we master craftsmen can't handle it—how can you, alone? Give it up."

"Do you know who this young master is? He's the son of the Minister of War—if you offend him, they'll beat you to death on the street and no one will care."

Lu Ming kept his head down, clenching his fists tightly—his eyes filled with unwillingness.

Three ten thousand taels could revive the Zhang Clan Squad.

And Lu Ming was confident—his craftsmanship could meet Qin Feng's demands. The only thing missing was manpower.

This matter was central to Qin Feng's grand plan—he couldn't afford to be careless.

Just as Qin Feng was about to look for another candidate, Lu Ming suddenly shouted: "I can do it! If I fail, no need for Young Master Qin to lift a finger—I'll smash my head against these stone steps myself!"

Qin Feng's gaze, which had already moved away, snapped back to Lu Ming.