Chapter 950

The government office runners forcibly sealed the door with official strips and drove out the shopkeeper and all the clerks, threatening: "Breaking the seal means prison—someone will be watching this place constantly. Unlike outside the city, if you've got guts, tear it off!"

How could the shopkeeper dare tear it?

Besides, the government office runners had sealed the shop right on the street—this matter had become too big. Even if they secretly peeled off the seal, they wouldn't dare open the door to do business.

A silk shop is different from a dye house. In a dye house, once someone slips in and shuts the door, work can proceed—whether the seal is peeled or not makes no difference.

But a silk shop is a place that operates with its doors open.

The shopkeeper stamped his foot. As soon as the government office runners left, he asked the clerks: "Have you informed the owner?"

"The owner is inspecting the estate. The young master is currently in charge at the mansion."

The shopkeeper: "Where's the young master?"

The clerk: "The mansion says the young master was at Wan Chun Pavilion last night, drunk and hasn't returned yet."

The shopkeeper and Pan Yun both looked up at the sun's position—one fell silent, the other clucked.

Pan Yun quickened her eating pace and said to Seeing Miao Zhen and Miao He: "We won't get to see the show—after this, let's go shopping."

Seeing Miao Zhen: "Buy what?"

"Food, daily necessities," Pan Yun said. "Tomorrow Wang Cong and I are going to see Pu Min—we can't go empty-handed."

Seeing Miao Zhen was surprised: "You're going to give them gifts?"

This wasn't like the little uncle or the big brother at all.

Just as they were about to leave, several men rushed over carrying a sedan chair, which slammed down in front of them with a sharp crack.

Before the chair even steadied, a young man with dark circles under his eyes and weak legs burst out—likely dizzy from the jostling, he staggered left and right, then tripped over his own feet and crashed face-first onto the ground before Pan Yun and the others with a thud.

Pan Yun bit back a laugh, wanting to help but not daring to reach out—she merely waved her hands repeatedly: "No need for formalities, no need."

The shopkeeper and clerks who hadn't left immediately rushed forward to lift him up: "Young master, are you alright?"

Chen Dongrong shoved the shopkeeper aside, gripped his waist, and looked up at his silk shop—seeing the official seal on the door, he flew into a rage: "Wu Cunwen is pushing too far! Just for a few copper coins, he dares seal my silk shop? Tear it off! Tear it!"

The shopkeeper's face twisted in distress: "Young master, this morning the Prefect himself summoned us about this matter—he specifically named our shop. This seal doesn't just represent County Magistrate Wu—it represents Prefect Lu. We can't tear it!"

Chen Dongrong kicked the sedan chair beside him in fury and cursed the shopkeeper: "What good are you? You can't even handle this small matter. If they won't tear it, it's just because the money isn't enough."

The shopkeeper choked on his words, paused a long while, then stepped forward and urged Chen Dongrong to lower his voice: "Young master, instead of spending money on them, why not settle the workers' wages? It's not much…"

"No! I'd rather throw the money into the water just to hear the splash—I won't give them a single coin!"

The shopkeeper couldn't help stamping his foot: "Young master, why are you doing this? You're alienating your people and angering the Prefect and County Magistrate!"

Chen Dongrong sneered: "What do you know? A bunch of lowlife peasants—they think they've found an escape route and dare to ride over my head? Look at the mud on their feet—have they even wiped it clean?"

"Before, they clung to my family for meals, knelt outside our gate, whimpering like dogs just to work in our dye house. We used to delay their wages for a whole year—no one dared say a word!" Chen Dongrong's anger grew: "Now they dare say Zhang's pays more, demand raises, and after only five months of delayed wages, they go to the government office to sue me! If I don't teach them a lesson now, won't they rise up and overthrow me?"

The shopkeeper: "Times have changed. Right now, Quanzhou is short of labor—wages really are rising…"

Chen Dongrong narrowed his eyes and questioned: "What, Zhou Shancai, do you want a raise too?"

The shopkeeper froze, opened his mouth, then spoke haltingly: "Young master, I didn't mean that."

"You'd better not!" Chen Dongrong's face darkened. "Don't forget—you're where you are today only because of my grandfather. If my grandfather hadn't pitied you back then and taken you on as a clerk, would you have anything now?"

Before the shopkeeper could reply, Chen Dongrong spat at the seal again: "A bunch of lowlifes—you think suing me means I have to pay you? I'd rather throw the money at County Magistrate Wu and Prefect Lu—I won't give you a single coin!"

The shopkeeper, exhausted, said quietly: "Young master, it's just over four hundred taels. Why get so angry over this? It's barely the cost of two days at Wan Chun Pavilion. But if this silk shop stays sealed, you lose daily income—and your reputation will suffer. It'll be hard to recover later."

"No one in the world doesn't love money. Throw money at County Magistrate Wu and Prefect Lu—they won't relent just because the sum isn't large enough."

The shopkeeper stared at him helplessly.

Chen Dongrong returned his gaze with contempt: "Don't be stingy with money. Once they take our money, the connection is made. Future problems won't be just this one. It's all spending—better to spend it on opening pathways, the path to heaven, than waste it on these disobedient lowlifes."

Chen Dongrong felt triumphant, convinced his idea was brilliant.

The shopkeeper fell silent.

The conversation behind them dropped to a whisper, but the three people sitting nearby weren't ordinary—they had sharp ears and keen eyes. Pretending not to hear was impossible.

Pan Yun raised an eyebrow and looked at the two.

The shopkeeper helped Chen Dongrong into the sedan chair, then stood with clasped hands, watching him leave.

Though he stood sideways, Pan Yun still caught the quick flash of disgust and irritation in his eyes.

Pan Yun became instantly interested. As the shopkeeper turned to leave, she called out to him, waving: "You've been busy all day—you must be hungry. Come, have a bowl of wonton."

The shopkeeper paused, studied her carefully, realized she was a stranger—but seeing her smiling face, he hesitated, then smiled and walked toward her.

It was instinct: business meant being kind to people. No matter what had just happened, the next moment you faced a stranger, you had to smile.

Pan Yun's smile widened. As soon as the shopkeeper sat, she told the stall owner to bring another bowl of wonton.

While waiting for the wonton, Pan Yun asked: "May I ask your name, sir?"

The shopkeeper replied: "I am Zhou Shancai, shopkeeper of Chen's Silk Shop."

Pan Yun praised: "What a fine name!"

Zhou Shancai smiled—he'd been kept on as a runner by the old owner of Chen's precisely because of this name, and it had changed his life.

"And may I ask your honorable name, guest?"

Pan Yun smiled faintly: "I am a Daoist priest of the Pan surname."

Zhou Shancai's eyes flickered—female Daoist priest of the Pan surname?

In the Great Ming, there was an extremely powerful Daoist Pan, the Imperial Preceptor;

In Fujian, there was another Daoist Pan, renowned far and wide—every old man of eighty and every five-year-old child hailed him as a hero: Pan Sanzhu, who was the Imperial Preceptor.

Rumor said the Imperial Preceptor was young, only in his teens.

Before Zhou Shancai could finish thinking, Pan Yun had already sized him up and sighed: "Zhou shopkeeper, I have fate with you. Just now, I rashly divined your fortune—you lost your parents young, were raised on charity, and until age twelve, you met the old owner of Chen's, who took you on as a laborer. After years of hard work, you finally ate well and wore decent clothes."

Zhou Shancai nodded: "True. The old owner showed me great kindness."

"You and he—one is metal, one is water. Metal generates water. Thus you strengthen the Chen family, and the Chen family reciprocates. You complement each other, mutually elevate. But," Pan Yun shook her head, gazing at his features, "but…"

Zhou Shancai's heart tightened—he hurriedly asked: "But what?"