Chapter 77: Bargaining

Baixiaosheng was not a person—it was a trade.
Life holds every shape: thrones and palaces, rivers and common folk. Among the thirty-six trades and seventy-two crafts are men of the floating world—hardly respectable in name, yet with paths and uses of their own. Sometimes the thin thread between court and jianghu is maintained by exactly such people.
Baixiaosheng was one of those trades.
As the name suggests, it resembled the informant's craft. Over centuries of transmission it appeared rarely; ordinary folk might never have heard of it. Where it was, who belonged to it—unknown. Unknown did not mean absent. In Dingjing, Fengxian Pawnshop was Ming Qi's Baixiaosheng today.
The woman in red grew solemn as she looked at Shen Miao—puzzling Mo Qing and the others. They had soldiered and wandered the rivers, yet none knew what Baixiaosheng meant.
Naturally. Whether Fengxian or Baixiaosheng—ordinary people did not know. Those who came were always prepared.
"Miss—you are…" the woman tested.
"I've come for a transaction."
At that her expression shifted again. Before the stunned clerk she smiled at Shen Miao. "What you carry must be costly. Please—come to the back to talk."
Mo Qing and the others moved to follow; the woman in red stopped them. "These need not come."
"Mistress…" Jingzhe worried—alone inside, accident might happen.
"Stay," Shen Miao said. "When the deal is done, I'll return."
After Shen Miao and the woman in red left, Mo Qing waited in the outer hall. One of Shen Qiu's guards asked Mo Qing: "Brother Mo—what is the miss doing here?" Men who had killed smelled danger by instinct. The woman's face, the talk between her and Shen Miao—none of it felt simple.
"I don't know either." Mo Qing smiled bitterly and shook his head, looking down the inner corridor. "The miss knows her own mind."
The woman in red led Shen Miao through a long corridor. At its end stood a square wooden pavilion—six stories, gauze draped over the upper floors, interiors unclear—but the repair was exquisite. Even the pillars were thousand-gold evening-incense wood.
Outsiders said Fengxian's master was fabulously rich—otherwise how could a mediocre pawn business survive so long on Dingjing's busiest ground, buying so much land and spending more than it earned? Not everyone could afford that.
Shen Miao knew better. Fengxian's wealth did not come from pawning—it came from a business with no capital cost. Profit without principal.
The woman in red brought her to the pavilion's ground floor and into a tea room. Redwood table and chairs were carved with mountain-and-water scenes, lifelike—fine craftsman, fine price.
"I'm Hongling," the woman said with a smile. When she smiled, even the corners of her eyes seemed to drip charm—as if allurement were carved into bone. "And you, miss?"
"Shen," Shen Miao said.
While Shen Miao studied her, Hongling studied Shen Miao. At first she had thought some rich girl come to make trouble—then "Baixiaosheng" from the girl's mouth told her this was an insider, and she brought her inside. Yet in all Hongling's years at Fengxian she had never met a client so young. She could not tell how much the girl knew—perhaps a first deal—and wondered whether to brush her off.
"Miss Shen, then." Hongling smiled. "At Fengxian—are you buying or selling?"
"Both."
Buy and sell at once—Hongling paused despite herself. Several green-clad girls serving nearby had never seen Hongling lose composure; they stole glances at Shen Miao.
Collecting herself, Hongling smiled on. "Then what is this transaction worth?"
Shen Miao shook her head.
Hongling did not understand. "Miss Shen—"
Shen Miao's voice was perfectly calm. "I said at the front—this business is too large for him to appraise, and for you. If you wish to talk, send your master."
Hongling's throat tightened. All these years she had danced through deals with grace; those who knew Baixiaosheng's trade were polite to her. Never had anyone addressed her so bluntly. Anger rose by instinct—then she looked up into Shen Miao's eyes and paused.
The girl did not look old. Her eyes were clear as water—yet when she looked at you, cool stars seemed to crack open. Calm on the surface, yet somehow commanding. Hongling felt no fear in that gaze—only a plain look down from above.
A chill ran through Hongling; irritation vanished. She read people well—and this girl's bearing was startling. What background could produce it? Unease touched her.
"Miss Shen—I am the manager here. Business is done with me." Though Shen Miao was no ordinary guest, Hongling was not easily frightened. Her smile grew brighter. "I've seen silver enough."
"This isn't about silver," Shen Miao smiled faintly. "I said—you cannot decide this deal." She glanced around. "I came in good faith; you show none. Baixiaosheng is only this much?"
Hongling had never met anyone so rude. Her smile cooled three parts. "I rather think Miss Shen isn't here in earnest. Since you don't trust me, I can do nothing."
Shen Miao stared at her. After a long moment: "Very well—I'll sell you one piece of news first."
Hongling stiffened. The girl across from her spoke calmly and dropped one sentence: "The Chen sisters of Yuzhou in Jiangnan—vanished without trace. I'll sell you that. If you think it valuable, have your shopkeeper meet me—and we'll talk about what I mean to buy."
Hongling's body jolted; shock filled her face. After a moment she straightened. "Please wait a moment, Miss Shen. Hongling withdraws first."
Hongling left in haste. The green-clad girls in the tea room looked at Shen Miao curiously—they did not know why those words had sent Hongling running.
Shen Miao looked at the cup in her hand—fine Junshan Silver Needle, rich aroma on the tongue. Light incense in the room eased the heart; clearly the master here knew how to live.
Baixiaosheng traded in jianghu intelligence—buying and selling. Buyer met seller through the middleman; the deal closed. Baixiaosheng was like a beacon relay on the battlefield—connecting those who wanted news with those who had it.
What Shen Miao meant to sell was a case that had shaken Ming Qi years ago. The Chen house of Yuzhou, Jiangnan's richest, had two daughters of devastating beauty—beauty that in the palace might have won a consort's seat. They say beauty is painted skin, all bones in the end—but true beauty is like finest jade; one extra look feels like sacrilege.
Great wealth and such daughters were not always blessing. Beauty without matching power to guard it brought disaster. Fortunately the Chens were not only Jiangnan's wealthiest—they held standing in jianghu, wide friendship among green-forest men; the Chen patriarch owed a sect leader favor. They had backing.
Even so, at sixteen, on Lantern Festival, the sisters vanished under watchful eyes. The family searched long without success. Three years had passed. They still spent men and money seeking the girls—knowing hope was thin, never stopping. They had even found Baixiaosheng and paid heavily for word.
Nothing came.
Now, after three years, someone offered to sell—how could Hongling not be stunned? The Chen payment must be enormous; Baixiaosheng's cut alone would be a fortune.
Businessmen spoke in silver. Shen Miao did not believe she could fail to reach the master behind the curtain.
……
The pavilion inside Fengxian was called Linjiang Immortal. Trade happened on the first floor; floors two through six were the master's private use.
Now in the sixth-floor tea room three men sat.
"Yushu—you're here so fast?" Gao Yang frowned at the man opposite. "Not even a greeting."
Opposite sat a youth of seventeen or eighteen—cute where Xie Jingxing burned like noon and Gao Yang flowed gentle as water. This one looked like the boy next door, oddly approachable in lake-green robes, grinning. "Heard plans in Dingjing changed. Knew you two would need a capable hand like me—came back to help."
"Heh." Gao Yang's only answer was a cold laugh.
"Ah—but Third Brother Xie!" The youth called Yushu turned to him. "Young Lady Shao of Yicui Tower has been cold to me again—deeply frightened. Third Brother, girls always like you—teach me?"
This friendly harmless-looking youth was an old hand in flower lanes.
Xie Jingxing did not glance at him. "Look at your face."
"What—Third Brother thinks I'm not handsome?" The boy's face flushed with outrage. "Back when I was… also a flower, ten thousand admirers—is this jealousy?"
Gao Yang had enough. He turned Yushu's head aside. "Ji Yushu—talk like that again and go home."
"Ahem." Yushu sat straight at once. "Third Brother—let's discuss the plan."
Before he finished, a woman in red climbed from below—seductive, but she did not enter. Through the gauze curtain she called from afar: "Master."
"Hongling." Yushu coaxed as if teaching a child—though he had said it many times: "Pretty as you are, when my brothers talk, best not come up. I favor you—but know your place." He looked young and innocent; his words were old rogue's—only Hongling as his subordinate bore it. Any ordinary girl might blush to the roots.
"Master—there's a big deal. The client insists on seeing you."
"Heh." Yushu waved. "Which brat's so arrogant? Fengxian lacks silver? Who needs his business? No deal—go go go. Wants to see me? Not a chance!"
"But Master—the deal isn't ordinary—"
"Said no. Fengxian doesn't serve those people." Yushu pinched a pastry from the table.
Hongling was troubled but helpless, about to withdraw—when the purple-clad youth who had been silent asked: "What deal?"
Hongling paused and looked at Yushu. She knew these two were close to the master—but secrets were secrets; to speak openly… Yushu saw her hesitation and slapped his thigh. "Say it when I tell you. Both are our own—Fengxian's shopkeepers. Their word is my word. When I'm gone, they're in charge."
Before the words ended Gao Yang "heh" again.
Hongling relaxed and smiled. "Selling news—the Chen sisters case from Jiangnan Yuzhou, three years ago."
At once Gao Yang exclaimed: "The Chen case—after three years there's word? That's big."
"Indeed." Xie Jingxing spoke too. "The Chens' reach in Jiangnan is wide. Take this deal—beyond silver, the gain is greater."
"So you all want to do it." Yushu scratched his head. "Fine—I'll go look. Let's see which brat dares toy with me. One meeting with me is expensive."
Hongling laughed despite herself. "Not a brat—a young lady."
"Lady?" Yushu's face changed; joy spread. "Pretty?"
"Very. Looks refined and bookish."
Yushu shot to his feet, brushed his robe, bowed to Xie Jingxing and Gao Yang with folded hands. "Brothers—little brother takes leave." He turned urgently to Hongling. "Where? Let's go—Hongling why didn't you say sooner—"
After they left, Gao Yang sighed and looked at Xie Jingxing with exasperation. "I thought him useless in Dingjing. Send him back."
"Good to have a target," Xie Jingxing said lightly.
……
Shen Miao sat in the tea room, head lowered, watching tea leaves rise and fall in the cup.
Footsteps at the door; the gauze curtain lifted. Hongling entered, bowed slightly, and ushered in the man behind her.
Shen Miao looked up.
The newcomer was a youth of seventeen or eighteen with rare innocence—lake-green robe embroidered with deer. Clothes show character; this one seemed cheerful, fitting his age. Yet Shen Miao looked deeper. To run Fengxian and hold Baixiaosheng's lifeline was no small thing. This youth was certainly not as simple as he looked.
"I am Ji Yushu." He sat opposite, smiling, and bowed with folded hands.
"Shopkeeper Ji."
"May I ask Miss Shen's age?" He opened with an unrelated question.
Shen Miao paused slightly. "Fourteen."
"Ah—the very bloom of youth." He rubbed his hands; heat entered his eyes. "Betrothed? Sisters at home?" Pure posture of a rouge teasing an honest girl.
Hongling's mouth twitched; she turned away, unwilling to watch her master's shamelessness.
Shen Miao laughed softly. "Shopkeeper Ji doesn't seem here for business." She made to rise.
"Hey!" Yushu jumped. "Talk calmly, Miss Shen—don't go—we'll discuss business now."
Shen Miao stopped.
Yushu muttered: "Looks gentle—why so fierce…" One glance at her clear cold eyes and he sat straight. "Miss Shen wants to sell the Jiangnan Chen news—allow one question. Three years ago you were eleven. How do you know such things?"
"True or false, seller and buyer must meet in the end. They decide if the news is real—what worries Shopkeeper Ji?"
Hongling and Yushu paused together; their looks at Shen Miao grew weighted. From her tone she knew every link in the chain—yet Hongling and Yushu were certain she had never been here before. A stranger.
"Ahem… still—how did Miss Shen learn Fengxian's trade?" Yushu asked again.
"Heard by chance—came to try." Eight words, watertight—Yushu's affected smile stiffened.
Yushu's eyes turned; he changed subject. "Then how much silver for this news?"
Buyers paid—part to seller, part to Baixiaosheng. The sum was fixed beforehand.
"After that I must buy news too. If Shopkeeper Ji can sell what I want to buy—I take no silver from the Jiangnan Chens. I'll pay you instead."
Yushu sucked in a breath.
Honestly, in all Fengxian's years Yushu had left most affairs to Hongling—figurehead master. Profit without capital, simple business—built on floating-world connections, not brains. Today's talk with Shen Miao wound and turned until he could barely follow. This moment was something he could not parse.
Still he remembered he was a businessman. "What news does Miss Shen want to buy? From the look of it, no small matter. If it can't be found, silver may wait years—I don't call that wise."
"If Shopkeeper Ji is willing—not years. Now."
"What has that to do with my willingness? I'm not the seller."
"The news I buy: Prince Yu's mansion plots rebellion. Not for myself—for the Ming Qi throne. Does Shopkeeper Ji understand?"
Yushu nearly fell backward at the words, staring at Shen Miao as at a madwoman. Hongling's eyes widened too—watching the girl speak treason calmly, Hongling's head spun.
The tea room was silent until half the incense had burned. Then Yushu said: "Hongling—take them out."
Hongling hurried the girls away. At the door she glanced at Shen Miao—who lifted her cup, eyes still as a pool.
"Miss Shen," Yushu said, "you're not buying news. You're making news."
No one told an intermediary straight out. Shen Miao's deal was less for outsiders than aimed at Baixiaosheng itself—using the trade's mouth to spread rumor, rumor that would "accidentally" reach the throne.
Baixiaosheng's web in the floating world ran deep—men slippery as eels who could vanish into crowds, clean as clean, source untraceable.
Spreading rumor—ordinary house or official family, Shen Miao feared nothing. Touch the throne and she could not risk the Shen name. That was her calculation.
"Buy or make—fortune favors the bold," Shen Miao smiled faintly. "Shopkeeper Ji dare not take this business?"
Yushu scratched his head like a troubled boy. "Your terms tempt me—but Fengxian isn't decoration or a gambling chip. If my greed brings disaster on the shop, I'd fail our founders." Hands pressed together. "Baixiaosheng is rare now—for their sake I cannot risk it. Forgive me, Miss Shen." He stood and bowed. "Fengxian won't make your news. If you still want to sell the earlier news, I'll record it—when Jiangnan Chen responds, we'll notify you. Where—come to the shop in ten days."
With that he smiled apologetically and turned to go. As his foot crossed the threshold, Shen Miao's voice came from behind: "Shopkeeper Ji—if the stake isn't enough, add the mighty General Shen house of Dingjing. Will you take it then?"
Yushu paused and turned.
The girl in purple looked down at her teacup as if flowers might bloom there. Her voice was calm—yet heavy tension made the room feel cramped.
"If you agree to this business—the Shen house of the mighty general in Dingjing becomes part of Baixiaosheng's network from this day."
……
Upstairs Gao Yang and Xie Jingxing still drank tea when an urgent voice cried: "Brothers—disaster!" They looked up—Yushu burst in recklessly.
He flung aside the bead curtain, dropped into a seat, grabbed the cup he had left, poured full, and gulped before gasping: "Scared me to death!"
"What happened?" Gao Yang teased. "Weren't you rushing down to see a beauty? Not pretty?"
"Pretty—very pretty."
"Strange then." Gao Yang rubbed his chin. "Beauty too fierce—you angered her?"
Men like Yushu got chased everywhere. Shy girls were one thing; older women mocked him with delight.
"Fierce doesn't cover it!" Yushu said with lingering fear. "A demon! I've done Baixiaosheng for years—never met a client like this."
"Just the Jiangnan Chen case? She asked too much silver?" Gao Yang asked.
"More than lion's mouth—a bottomless pit!"
"What then?" Xie Jingxing glanced at him. "Speak properly or I'll throw you out."
"Ahem—this client sells the Chen news for no silver—uses it to pay for news she wants to buy. Know what she wants? News for the throne—Prince Yu's mansion plots rebellion! Damn!" Yushu cursed. "She wants Fengxian as her raft—to manufacture rumor!"
Gao Yang and Xie Jingxing grew grave. Yushu played and might not grasp the danger—they did.
This client's method was brutal indeed.
Yushu still grumbled: "Why should my fine Fengxian be someone else's raft? When trouble comes she runs—I suffer. Think I'm stupid?"
"Then refuse," Gao Yang said.
"Heh." Yushu suddenly dropped outrage and laughed twice. "Good thing I bargain hard—forced her to add a big price. Guess what?"
"What?" Xie Jingxing asked lazily.
"The mighty General Shen house in Dingjing! Close the deal and the Shens join Baixiaosheng's network. Just back and already did you a huge favor—thank me!" Yushu laughed wildly.
The Shen house?
Xie Jingxing stared at him and spoke slowly: "Who came?"
"A young girl—quite pretty, surname Shen, probably Shen family. Fierce—ignored my charm completely." Yushu scratched his head.