Then he heard Fan Sizhe say proudly, "This is just a small amount of money. After I've earned this much, I'll write another 70 or 80 chapters. I can't sell them all, I'll have to edit them carefully and make a rare edition. Then I'll auction them all off in private. Whoever wants to see the end first, whoever wants to see whether or not Miss Duo is married to Second Master Bao, will have to pay up first."
Fan Xian twisted his ear and scolded him, "What does Miss Duo have to do with Second Master Bao? You've never even read a book, and you want to sell it! "
Fan Sizhe felt wronged. "The one you bought on the street yesterday, I asked my sister to read it when I got home, but … after reading a few dozen words, I felt it was boring, so I fell asleep." This young master of Fan Manor, who only cared about money, really didn't understand why the women in the capital were crazy about this tasteless book.
"Fine, I won't argue with you about this," Fan Xian said helplessly. "But these things are complicated, and you're just a little kid who has to go to school. You don't have time for these things. Let's wait a few years."
"A few years? The safflower would be cold by then, "Fan Sizhe shrieked.
"What else can we do? You're a son of Fan Manor, after all. If you really go into business, how can you hide it from Lady Liu and father? Be careful, or they'll tear your skin off. "
Fan Sizhe said painfully, "Yes, so I've decided to borrow a shopkeeper from Qingyu Hall, and I'll have to hide behind the scenes."
Fan Xian was very surprised. Aside from being rude and unreasonable, this young man in front of him was also very talented in business. He had actually thought of becoming a professional manager. In his excitement, Fan Xian had inadvertently left out the words "Qingyu Hall."
Seeing that the boy had made up his mind, he sighed and took out the banknotes he had accumulated over the years, plus the money his sister had given him, and handed them over. He told him to take it slow, and to first discuss things with the servants in the manor. It wasn't a good idea to feed those people without using them.
Fan Sizhe beamed and counted the money. He found that this brother of his had a lot of money, and with the money he had saved up, he should have enough for his first start-up capital.
Fan Xian didn't say anything else. He only carefully reminded him, "If you want to use the connections of the upper class to suppress the good people of the lower class, other than relying on your father's name, you also have to promise other people some benefits."
"What are you talking about, big brother?" Fan Sizhe said fiercely, "Of course we have to bribe them. If you become a high-ranking official in the future, there will be a day when they will spit it back out."
Fan Xian almost fainted. He quickly pushed the door open and left. In the past, he had always felt that banknotes had a peculiar fragrance. Today, he realized that the stench of money really was overwhelming.
— —
It was noon, and the sun was blazing fiercely. The trees on both sides of the road drooped lifelessly, unable to provide any comfort or shelter to the pitiful pedestrians.
Fan Xian picked up a bowl of sour plum soup by the side of the road and took small sips. He knew that drinking too quickly wouldn't quench his thirst, and his stomach wouldn't be able to take it. He listened to the sounds of "cicadas, cicadas" in the trees next to him and was very puzzled. What month was it? Spring hadn't even passed yet, so why was summer already here?
In the distance, the Temple of Qing looked particularly solemn under the sun. It had dried up some of its original elegance, and its black, round eaves reflected the sunlight. The scene was very sacred.
Today, the Temple of Qing was more lively than yesterday. From time to time, people would go in to pray. Fan Xian was a little curious. Why had it been so quiet when he had gone yesterday? Of course, he didn't know that when the nobleman had stolen half a day's rest, both sides of the road had already been guarded. The reason he had been able to walk to the door and exchange blows with the master was all because of someone's secret indulgence.
Wu Zhu had indeed indulged him, indulging him in drinking and fooling around. Even when he wanted to go to the temple, Wu Zhu would knock out so many guards for such a small matter.
Fan Xian didn't know how much trouble he had gotten himself into yesterday. He was still sitting on the bench, drinking sour plum soup, and waiting for the girl with his legs crossed.
In a room very close to the Temple of Qing, the sunlight couldn't penetrate the room, so it was a little dark and cool. Gong Dian sat coldly on a chair, adjusting his internal energy so that he could enter into peak condition.
Last night he had been on duty, but this morning he hadn't returned home. Instead, he had come to the Temple of Qing. Because no matter how he thought about it, he felt that there was something strange about the appearance of that young man yesterday. All of his subordinates had been knocked out by a grandmaster at the same time. What was the connection between that and that young man entering the Temple of Qing?
For some reason, Gong Dian felt that the young man would definitely come here again today. Perhaps that mysterious master would also come here.
This was the intuition of a master. Although it wasn't necessarily accurate, it was worth a gamble. But that damned Eunuch Hong didn't believe his judgment at all. He just kept investigating among the guards, so Fan Xian had to come alone.
Gong Dian sat quietly in the room. His gaze passed through the narrow crack in the window, coldly looking at the entrance of the Temple of Qing.
Outside, Fan Xian finally couldn't stand the scorching sun anymore. He drank the soup in one gulp, undid the two buttons on his shirt, and walked toward the Temple of Qing with his tongue out.
Fan Xian's footsteps drew closer and closer to the Temple of Qing.
Gong Dian seemed to hear something and frowned slightly.
…
…
Under the sky full of sunlight, Fan Xian's feet felt hot when they landed on the stone floor. He seemed to hate this feeling and pulled his feet back.
Then, he fastened the buttons on his chest and turned around with a smile. He returned to the stall selling sour plum soup and asked for another bowl. He slowly drank it, then walked away from the Temple of Qing with leisurely steps. It wasn't until he got into the waiting carriage at the end of the street that he exhaled and shouted, "Return to the manor quickly!"
Teng Zijing looked at him curiously and found that the young master's face was expressionless.
Sitting in the carriage, Fan Xian turned his head and lifted the rear curtain to look in the direction of the Temple of Qing. He frowned, not knowing why Wu Zhu had told him to leave, and even less knowing who was waiting for him there.
— — —
Gong Dian's face was cold as he looked in front of him. When he heard the footsteps heading back, his eyes lit up and he prepared to stand up. Unexpectedly, he felt a gust of cold wind blowing from behind him and his neck felt cold.
It was late spring, and the weather was hot, but Gong Dian broke out in a cold sweat.
His hands rested steadily on his knees. His fingernails were well-manicured, and the simple but incomparably sharp knife rested three inches in front of his hands.
But he didn't dare to draw it.
He could feel that the person behind him was stronger and faster than him.
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