He is nothing but a despicable scoundrel.

Strolling leisurely, at ease and content, this was precisely the state of mind Le Qingbo found himself in. He hadn’t truly wanted to come to Yizhou, despite its reputation as the Little Ink Capital, but he could not resist the earnest entreaties of his friend Mo Geyi, so he came ahead to scout the place for him.

The coachman had already gone ahead to arrange lodgings. By Le Qingbo’s side was only a maid, whose beauty was striking. As they walked, Le Qingbo spoke softly to her, “Fengyue, did you see? Yizhou seems quite nice, and I hear the Eastern Market is even livelier.”

The maid, Fengyue, covered her mouth and chuckled, casting a sidelong glance at her young master. “Young master, why do you jest? Staying in the capital was perfectly comfortable, yet you insisted on coming to Yizhou. If the old lady learns of it, she’ll surely worry herself sick over you.”

Le Qingbo shook his head, the silver tassels of his jade coronet swaying with the motion. His robes, with their wide sleeves, fluttered as he walked, lending him the air of a refined scholar—arrogant yet elegant.

“Not so, not so,” Le Qingbo’s clear brows arched as he gazed at the bustling crowd, marveling at the lively scene. “All people, whether poor or noble, whether wealthy or exalted, live the same sort of days—birth, aging, illness, and death—always equal. So why should I not come to Yizhou?”

Fengyue, being just a girl, understood little of such philosophy. She merely laughed quietly, offering no answer.

Le Qingbo expected nothing profound from her; he found joy in observing others’ happiness, content in his own amusement.

“Master Le?”

He had barely walked a few steps when someone called out to him.

Turning, he saw a handsome gentleman, as refined as the moon, approaching. Le Qingbo scrutinized his features, then smiled and replied, “Mo Yuhua of the Little Ink Family in Yizhou?”

Mo Yuhua returned a gentle, cultured smile, offering a respectful salute. “Indeed, it is I. Word from the capital was that Master Le would arrive in Yizhou within these few days, so I made early preparations for your stay. I hope you will honor us.”

Le Qingbo’s smile remained unchanged. He turned to his maid, “Fengyue, has Ada already found an inn?”

Fengyue shook her head. “Not yet, I believe.”

Mo Yuhua flicked his folding fan. “That’s perfect, then. Mo Geyi from the capital specifically instructed us to treat Master Le well. Besides, I’ve long admired your skills—not only are you from a renowned family of pen makers, but your mastery of ink is equally exceptional. I have hoped to meet you for some time.”

Le Qingbo laughed aloud; the gentleman’s courteous humility pleased him, so he agreed, “Let’s go, then.”

Delight shone on Mo Yuhua’s face. He gestured for Le Qingbo to lead the way, then followed, softly introducing the customs and people of Yizhou.

Mo Yuhua was undeniably skilled in conversation, and their ages were close. In no time, they were chatting as if old friends.

They spoke of the history of Great Yin, the current affairs of Great Yin, Yunli, and Southern Qi, and from pen-making to ink-crafting, nothing was off-limits. Le Qingbo felt a growing sense of regret that they had not met sooner.

Halfway through their stroll, the pleasant atmosphere was unexpectedly interrupted.

Le Qingbo’s expression remained calm as he regarded the burly middle-aged man blocking their path. The man, with a black beard and face, his eyes slanted, smiled obsequiously and said, “Master Le, I am Wang Huaiyuan, the current president of the Yizhou Ink Merchants Association. I have prepared food and wine at the Dragon Phoenix Pavilion to welcome you and wash away the dust of your travels.”

Mo Yuhua frowned. Wang Huaiyuan was indeed the association’s president, but decisions were always made by the five Ink Envoys. Calling the president a puppet would not be far from the truth.

Today, with Le Qingbo’s visit, those five envoys—priding themselves on their virtue and status—would never lower themselves to such flattery. But Wang Huaiyuan was different; a merchant by trade, he clung on like a persistent fly when others kept their distance.

Le Qingbo quietly took note of Mo Yuhua’s reaction, and his impression of Wang Huaiyuan soured. His voice grew cold. “No need for the trouble, President Wang. The Little Ink Family has made all arrangements.”

Wang Huaiyuan was about to speak further, but Le Qingbo turned to Mo Yuhua. “Were you not going to show me around the Eastern Market? How much farther is it?”

Mo Yuhua hesitated, then quickly replied, “Not far—just around the corner.”

Le Qingbo nodded to Wang Huaiyuan, then headed for the Eastern Market.

Mo Yuhua followed closely, and only after a moment did Wang Huaiyuan recover and shout, “Wait, I’ll come along with you.”

Despite not shaking him off, Le Qingbo’s mood remained unaffected. He entered the Eastern Market, observing as he walked; Mo Yuhua continued to explain, and for a time, Wang Huaiyuan was all but forgotten.

Passing by the Gu Family’s shop, Le Qingbo noticed its doors crowded with customers, while the Little Ink Family’s shop across the street was nearly deserted, as were the others. He was taken aback. “Brother Mo, why is this? Why is business so good at that shop?”

Mo Yuhua gave a bitter smile, his gaze complex as he watched the constant flow of guests at the Gu Family’s shop, his tone tinged with a sourness he himself could sense. “You may not know, Brother Le, but recently Yizhou has produced a fragrant ink—the ink balls emit a subtle, temple-like sandalwood aroma, making them highly sought after. Many scholars and gentlemen take pride in owning such ink, which is why all other shops struggle, while this one thrives.”

Le Qingbo pondered, staring at the Gu Family’s sign for a long while before shaking his head. “I always thought the Little Ink Family held the lead in Yizhou.”

“It used to be so, but no longer. The Gu Family is the new power,” Mo Yuhua replied, withdrawing his gaze.

Wang Huaiyuan, standing nearby, let out a couple of sly laughs. “Why should Master Mo be modest? All Yizhou knows that in October you and the Gu Family’s eldest daughter are to marry. When that happens, won’t the recipe for the fragrant ink belong to both families?”

His words were laced with unpleasant sarcasm. Mo Yuhua’s face grew unhappy, and Le Qingbo shot Wang Huaiyuan a displeased glance.

But Wang Huaiyuan seemed pleased with himself, continuing, “Master Le, you may not know—the Ink Merchants Association holds half the recipe for this fragrant ink, but unfortunately, its owner, having received the title of Ink Envoy, has given no further news.”

Mo Yuhua knew the matter well; he was keenly aware it was a scheme by Gu Fei to pressure Gu Zhong. Le Qingbo, however, was unfamiliar with the details and felt a stir of curiosity about the recipe’s owner. “Why is there no further news?”

Wang Huaiyuan considered the relationship between Le Qingbo and the Little Ink Family, as well as the current ties between the Little Ink Family and the Gu Family. He knew some of the rumors and eagerly fanned the flames. “That person is a despicable character—offered half the recipe merely to gain the title of Ink Envoy. Look, the Gu Family now monopolizes all business in Yizhou, leaving no room for others. Take the Little Ink Family, for instance. Once, Master Mo and the Gu Family’s young lady were a perfect match, but the recipe’s owner ruined it with underhanded tactics. I hear the Gu Family’s patriarch forbids Master Mo from visiting.”

He turned to Mo Yuhua, asking, “Master Mo, is this true? Don’t worry, I still have some rapport with the Gu patriarch. One day, I’ll visit and speak up for you.”

Mo Yuhua’s face chilled instantly; he snorted and strode ahead.

Le Qingbo waved a hand, signaling Wang Huaiyuan to stop probing old wounds. “President Wang, I have agreed to visit the Little Ink Family. Would it be acceptable to call on the association another day?”

Wang Huaiyuan, satisfied with this promise, smiled and saluted. “Master Le, you must come. I’ll be waiting for your esteemed arrival.”

Le Qingbo nodded, eager for the man to leave.

Once Wang Huaiyuan was dismissed, Le Qingbo hurried a few steps to catch up with Mo Yuhua, glanced at his expression, and considered how to ask, “Brother Mo, are you alright? A fine man need not fear lacking a wife—why trouble yourself over romance?”

Mo Yuhua looked at him, hesitated, then finally sighed, letting go of the urge to explain. He knew Gu Fei’s identity could not be revealed to too many people. Even if she no longer acknowledged him, he hoped she would live free of calamity, peaceful and happy.

To Le Qingbo, Mo Yuhua seemed burdened with unspoken troubles. Though they had only just met, he already thought well of Mo Yuhua. He beckoned to his maid and whispered a few words in her ear.

Having lost the mood for idle wanderings, Mo Yuhua led Le Qingbo straight to the Little Ink Family home. Along the way, Le Qingbo steered the conversation to other topics, shaking off the earlier unpleasantness.

That evening, Ada returned to report everything he’d learned about the Gu Family.

His account matched Wang Huaiyuan’s in most respects, but concerning the owner of the fragrant ink recipe, he knew little—only that she was a half-adopted daughter brought back by the Gu Family, and since her arrival, their household had known no peace.

Just days ago, the management of the Gu Family’s shop had abruptly shifted from the eldest son, Gu Zhong, to the second son, Gu Jiang—a sudden and striking change. Le Qingbo suspected the shadow of the adopted daughter manipulating events.

Recently, some had seen her alone with Mo Yuhua, clearly with questionable intentions.

Le Qingbo hesitated; he was unsure whether he ought to intervene.

Ada, sensing his master’s thoughts, offered advice. “Master, the Little Ink Family and the Capital Ink Family are branches and main lineage. When Master Mo Geyi arrives, even if you wish to stay out of it, he will not tolerate another family surpassing the Ink Family in ink-making. Even if it’s only the branch, the Gu Family’s fate will likely be dire.”

Le Qingbo recognized the reasoning. Mo Geyi was proud and had always been treated as the favored son of heaven; if he acted, the Gu Family would face disaster.

He pondered for a quarter of an hour, then instructed Ada, “Tomorrow, go to the Gu Family shop and make some trouble—just enough to suppress them. As for the adopted daughter and Mo Yuhua, we have no business interfering.”

Ada accepted the order, then reported, “Master, I have already delivered the batch of ink balls that Master Mo Geyi instructed to bring, and handed them to the Little Ink Family’s head, Mo Yan. They were counted, and there was no discrepancy.”

Le Qingbo nodded; this was precisely why Mo Geyi had sent him ahead. After all, the ink balls were meant to bolster the Little Ink Family, to shine at the September Merchants Association grand ceremony.

ps:
Next chapter, first update at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.