Chapter 8 – The Heihe Trading Company
Master Bai Jiu had a little secret—he liked eating small pastries. But they couldn’t be too sweet or greasy; the best was a small plate after dinner, with four or five plum cakes being just right.
Xie Jing knew how to make them himself. He coaxed Bai Mingyu into “filial piety” and got him to bring ingredients from the main kitchen to make plum cakes. It had been years since he’d done it, and the first few cakes turned out misshapen; only later ones began to look right. After finishing, he picked the best-looking ones and packed them neatly into a small box.
Bai Mingyu reached out, intending to grab one, but Xie Jing quickly shut the lid and said, “These are for the esteemed guest in the East Wing.”
Bai Mingyu frowned. “So I can’t eat any?”
Xie Jing held the box firmly. “I saved some for you, young master. There’s a full plate on the table, with hot tea to go with it.”
Bai Mingyu, a useless dandy who only looked good on the outside, didn’t catch the deeper meaning. Thinking he had more for himself, he happily went to eat. After watching him eat for a while, Xie Jing subtly reminded him several times that he should deliver something to the East Wing. Only after two or three prompts did Bai Mingyu reluctantly go, carrying the pastry box to pay his respects.
Xie Jing followed along but stopped outside the gate of the East Wing, which was heavily guarded. He stood waiting at the entrance.
When Bai Mingyu went in holding the pastry box, Xie Jing couldn’t take his eyes off him, thinking how nice it would be if he could personally deliver them—he might at least catch a glimpse of Master Bai Jiu. There was some regret in his heart, but for now, it could only be done under Bai Mingyu’s name.
He had never seen such a young “Master.”
Back when he had scraped by in the opera troupe, he had caught a distant glimpse of him once—Master Bai Jiu sitting in an upstairs private box, expression cold and detached. It took a long time before they really became acquainted. Counting properly, Master Bai was only a few years older than him; he should be seventeen or eighteen now.
Thinking of that brief encounter earlier that day, Xie Jing smiled faintly, then quickly straightened up, hiding the expression.
After a while, Bai Mingyu came out alone, his footsteps angry and heavy.
Xie Jing stepped forward eagerly. “Master… I mean, the master inside—what did he say?”
Bai Mingyu glared. “What do you think he said? Same as always—just ‘hmm’ and dismissed me!”
Xie Jing was surprised. “He didn’t eat the plum cakes?”
“He did! Took one bite—barely a nibble—and then wiped his mouth with a handkerchief!” The more Bai Mingyu spoke, the angrier he became. Remembering how he’d humbly presented the cakes, only to be brushed off, made his face burn. “I told you—he’s done business all over the country, what hasn’t he eaten? You still made me send those over!”
“That can’t be,” Xie Jing frowned. “I asked around; I made them exactly as he liked.” These were the same pastries he used to make for him before—back then, Master Bai Jiu had always enjoyed them. Once, after eating them in a good mood, he had even given Xie Jing his personal prayer bead bracelet, slipping it onto his wrist himself. How could things have changed now?
When Xie Jing pressed for details, Bai Mingyu huffed, “He gave me two books! Like I’m some beggar!”
Only then did Xie Jing notice the two books tucked under his arm.
So, Master Bai had said nothing about the pastries—just coolly gifted two books as a “reward.”
“That man’s impossible to please! Don’t waste your time!” Bai Mingyu flipped open a few pages, scoffing. “What kind of lousy books are these? Here, you can have them!”
He tossed them at Xie Jing, who caught them carefully like treasure. That night, while on watch duty, he lit a small oil lamp and read every word with full concentration until dawn broke. Only when the lamp was nearly out did he fall asleep with the books in his arms.
After Bai Mingyu’s errand, the East Wing staff’s attitude toward him softened; even Master Bai Jiu, when testing his studies, spoke a bit more gently.
Following Bai Mingyu’s side, Xie Jing managed to enter the East Wing twice and caught distant glimpses of Master Bai Jiu.
This time, he noticed something else—Master Bai’s steps were steady. Even when walking quickly, there was no trace of a limp. Back then, the master had always hated winter—not only because of the cold but because his left leg carried an old injury that often flared up, requiring Xie Jing to massage it half the night before he could sleep.
Now, seeing him well, Xie Jing’s heart ached a little. Two years earlier, and everything was already different.
The one who came to the East Wing most frequently was Bai Mingzhe, the chief steward of the Heihe Trading Company, who managed business along the northern border. Bai Rongjiu was here mainly for that trade.
Bai Mingzhe, being younger than the other stewards, got along better with the master. He was supposed to accompany him to the Heihe branch, but heavy snow had delayed the trip for days.
Under Xie Jing’s encouragement, Bai Mingyu kept delivering small gifts to the East Wing. During each test of his studies, Xie Jing coached him carefully. Somehow, something must have pleased the master—Bai Mingyu was rewarded twice, though it was only inkstones and brushes. He wasn’t thrilled, preferring silver dollars any day.
Still, Master Bai had gone further this time—when mentioning the upcoming trip to Heihe, he casually said to bring the “young master” along to broaden his horizons.
Bai Mingzhe was overjoyed and hurriedly packed his brother’s luggage that night.
He could tell—this was no ordinary invitation. Master Bai Jiu seemed inclined to promote Bai Mingyu.
A new young master always needed capable allies by his side; Bai Mingyu, foolish as he was, had luck on his side.
When preparations were made, a bearded guard read out the names of those traveling. Upon calling “Kou Pei Feng,” he looked directly at Xie Jing. “You’re Kou Pei Feng?”
“Yes,” Xie Jing answered calmly.
The man frowned slightly, gave him a once-over, then nodded for him to join.
Xie Jing discreetly observed him in return—this stranger wasn’t from the Bai household. Listening closely to the steward’s conversation with him, he gathered the man had come from the Heihe branch to escort them.
Bai Mingyu, who had never traveled far, was thrilled. Since he didn’t yet run a shop, his elder brother picked a few clever apprentices to accompany him.
The next morning, when they set out, Xie Jing noticed the real Kou Pei Feng among them. From afar, the young man waved at him cheerfully.
The apprentices divided into small groups. Kou Pei Feng, sitting in a drafty corner, was clearly being ostracized but looked healthy enough.
Xie Jing got in and went straight to him, lowering his voice.
“The person you offended before—was it the eldest young master?”
“…Someone came to you?”
Xie Jing shook his head. “I’m using your name. I’d rather not die without knowing why. If you know something, tell me everything—so I can be prepared.” He paused, voice quieter. “If something happens to me, your third uncle probably won’t escape either.”
Kou Pei Feng shivered. “It can’t be that bad… maybe it’s a good thing?”
After some prodding, Kou Pei Feng finally whispered the truth.
Half a month ago, he and his father had delivered a shipment of coarse cloth to the Bai estate. His father had stomach trouble that day, so he left Kou Pei Feng to watch the goods alone.
After waiting half a day for the steward who never came, Kou Pei Feng saw several men file out of a side gate carrying small wooden crates. The boxes looked heavy, clinking like metal. They moved hurriedly, unaware of his presence.
Curiosity got the better of him. When one box tipped over, he went to set it upright—and saw what was inside.
As the carriage bumped along, Kou Pei Feng, shivering in the cold, pulled a small brass-looking piece from his pocket and showed it secretly. “See? This! The whole box was full of these—bright yellow. I bit one—it’s copper.”
Xie Jing’s pupils contracted. He snatched it up and hid it in his sleeve. Kou Pei Feng didn’t recognize it, but Xie Jing did—it was a Mauser bullet.
“Hey!” Kou Pei Feng protested softly. “That’s mine!”
Xie Jing gripped his wrist. “How many crates did you see? Did anyone come back for them? What did they look like?”
“I’d barely fixed the box when someone came asking questions—just like you now! Of course, I said I hadn’t touched anything,” Kou Pei Feng grumbled. “You’re stronger than you look, you know that? My wrist’s still sore.”
Ignoring him, Xie Jing pressed for details.
“They looked like the eldest young master’s men,” Kou Pei Feng said uncertainly. “The steward was with them. Don’t remember their faces well.”
Xie Jing narrowed his eyes. The boy might not recall them—but clearly, they remembered him. That wasn’t good.
“Those men even said they’d pay me two silver coins to help haul things to the eastern suburbs,” Kou Pei Feng added. “Too bad I had to watch the cloth cart—otherwise I’d have gone.”
Xie Jing gave him a long look. “You’re lucky.”
If he’d gone, he wouldn’t have lived to tell it.
“Hey, you know what they’ve got at the Heihe Trading Company?” Kou Pei Feng whispered conspiratorially. “Lots of foreign stuff! And foreigners like our trinkets too. Brass is valuable—you can trade it for silver mirrors and all that! My father says the eldest young master’s men are rich because they secretly resell foreign goods—liquor, tobacco—you name it. Maybe those crates of brass were meant for that. Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said eagerly, “they move things quietly to hidden places. They asked my name too—maybe they’ll let me in on the money next time!”
Xie Jing: “…”
Kou Pei Feng daydreamed happily for a while before reaching for the “brass” again. Xie Jing flipped it into his inner pocket. “I’ll keep this. Don’t tell anyone what you saw.”
Kou Pei Feng hesitated, then nodded. “Got it. Only you and my dad know.”
“Good.”
The snow was deep, so the journey to Heihe took longer than usual.
Xie Jing stayed silent the whole way, eating only when meals were brought, eyes closed the rest of the time. Kou Pei Feng tried to chat a few times but got no response and eventually dozed off.
By the time they arrived, everyone was exhausted except for Master Bai Jiu’s well-trained men, who still looked sharp.
Bai Mingzhe, as the local manager, directed the unloading and personally led the guests from the provincial government to their quarters.
Bai Mingyu, having rested all the way, was full of energy and wanted to explore.
Xie Jing, walking beside him, glanced toward the provincial convoy. “Young master, aren’t they staying with us?”
“Of course not,” Bai Mingyu yawned. “That ‘Master’ has his own quarters. My father keeps them spotless year-round, just for him, even though he only comes once a year.”
“Only for him?”
“Yup. He’s afraid of the cold, so the place has heated floors, and the windows are made of imported glass! Nowhere else has that.” Bai Mingyu sighed enviously. “I bow to him every day and still can’t even sleep in a room like that.”
Xie Jing murmured, “I’ll avenge you, young master.”
“Huh? What can you do?”
Xie Jing didn’t answer, just followed silently.
Bai Mingyu assumed he was joking—his servants often flattered him like that—and forgot about it.
By the time they settled down, it was dusk. Fires were lit across the compound.
Then came the sudden crash of breaking glass, followed by shouting from the provincial group’s quarters—torches flaring, lanterns lit.
“Who?! Who threw that stone?!” someone yelled furiously.
It didn’t take long to find the culprit in the small back courtyard.
Xie Jing and Bai Mingyu were both brought to the flower hall.
Xie Jing wore a thick cotton robe; Bai Mingyu, in a thin coat under a fur cloak, looked bewildered. “Glass? What glass?”
At the main seat sat Bai Rongjiu, wrapped in fur, coughing lightly while sipping hot ginger tea.
Bai Mingzhe was fuming. “What glass? The one you broke!”
“I didn’t break anything! I swear!” Bai Mingyu protested.
“You didn’t? Then why was your servant caught holding a rock?!” Bai Mingzhe pointed at Xie Jing furiously. “Caught red-handed!”
Bai Mingyu froze, staring at Xie Jing as his brother’s voice echoed in his ears—“I’ll avenge you, young master.”
Xie Jing stood there silently.
He had thought it through on the journey. Whoever those Mauser bullets were meant for, they posed a danger. And of everyone here, the one most in the open—the one most likely to be targeted—was Master Bai Jiu.
He didn’t know exactly what had happened in the past, but if the course of events changed now, the ending surely would too.
Author’s Note:
Xie Jing: “Young master, I’ll avenge you.”
Bai Mingyu: “???”
Elder Brother: “Knew it! You good-for-nothing brat!”
Bai Mingyu: “Don’t talk nonsense—it wasn’t me, really! QAQ!!”
