Robbery Without Knives
Deep in the night, the guest quarters of Bamboo Forest Manor lay steeped in profound silence.
The detached residence, complete with its own small garden and a modest pavilion, bore the touch of Heo Il-bi's thoughtful care. Seated in the pavilion amid the encircling green bamboo, Ouyang Qiangang sipped his tea slowly under the soft glow of the moon.
His request to his father, Gu-yang Baek, for leave to travel to Nanchang had not been merely an excuse to escape the stifling clan estate and get a breath of fresh air. His mind was filled to the brim with worry over the future of the Ouyang Clan.
We have to cut off Gold Pagoda Mountain Manor's support and achieve complete economic independence. If this family is ever to breathe free of Dong Hyeon-do's influence, that is the first thing we must settle.
The problem, however, was the method. Slipping past Dong Hyeon-do's watchful eyes would require an ingenious way of accumulating wealth that looked perfectly natural and aroused no suspicion whatsoever; a clumsy attempt would only sharpen the old man's vigilance.
He had spent his entire life with eyes only for science and knew precious little about economics. Without Akasha, the superintelligent AI, such deliberation would have been impossible in the first place.
"Doctor, factoring in the Ouyang Clan's current finances and Gold Pagoda Mountain Manor's influence, traditional methods would make not only economic independence but even maintaining the status quo a difficult prospect."
I know. We agreed we need a method that keeps the initial investment to a minimum while delivering the greatest possible returns, didn't we?
"Yes."
Do you think we can find it in Nanchang?
"Whether it is possible or not, we must give it our best effort. That said, considering Nanchang's environment, I believe we can find the seeds of opportunity there."
Nanchang was the foremost metropolis of Jiangxi Province, home to three hundred thousand souls and the beating heart of waterborne commerce, wedged between Poyang Lake and the Yangtze River. In a place where trade thrived so, Ouyang Qiangang was certain a way could be found.
Akasha, economics was never my field. So this part is on you.
"Trust me. As they say, faith brings fortune."
Of course I trust you. If I couldn't trust you, who else is there?
He smacked his lips, savoring the thought, and went on.
Akasha, Dong Hyeon-do's web of surveillance may be far tighter than we imagine. Until our family's bid for independence is firmly on its feet, he must not catch so much as a whiff of it. If he does, he will undoubtedly move to crush the attempt itself.
"I have it firmly in mind. Judging by Dong Hyeon-do's temperament, he is certain to be extremely wary of any powerful variable that lies beyond his control."
Truly, having you beside me puts my mind at ease.
Akasha's reply came in a soft voice.
"What are you saying, Doctor? It is I who am happy, being able to help you."
Had anyone else overheard, the exchange would have been more than enough to set their skin crawling, but the two of them—if two was even the right word for beings who already shared a single body—were entirely oblivious to it.
If only Lady Heo's guidance proves useful...
"She is the daughter of the master of Bamboo Forest Manor, the most esteemed house in Nanchang. There is every likelihood she knows things that I do not."
And if it's something you don't know, what exactly would that be?
"I refer to such things as the unpublicized demands of high society, or the direction in which its fashions flow. So I recommend you do not lightly brush past your conversations with her, or the places she chooses to show you."
Understood. I'll be mindful.
The next morning, Ouyang Qiangang finished his preparations for a day of touring Nanchang with Heo Cho-ryeong. As the two set out from the manor, Hwang Nodae slipped silently along behind them.
Once outside Bamboo Forest Manor, Ouyang Qiangang asked that they visit the market first. Heo Cho-ryeong gave him a puzzled look.
"The market? Nanchang is full of famous scenic sights and beautiful gardens. Why would you want to start with somewhere so crowded and noisy?"
"I've never truly had the chance to see places like that. And I find myself curious about places that smell of ordinary life."
Ouyang Qiangang replied with a faint smile. His true purpose was, of course, another matter entirely—though there was no need to say so.
Tilting her head at his answer, Heo Cho-ryeong nonetheless cheerfully took the lead.
"All right. Then I'll take you to the liveliest market in Nanchang."
She led them first to the central market, said to be the most flourishing in all Nanchang, where bolts of cloth and rare fabrics, glittering ornaments and handicrafts of every hue vied for the eye. From there they wandered on past the butchers and the fishmongers, through a food alley where every manner of street fare tempted the nose, and on to rows of stalls displaying splendid silks and sturdy, practical furniture.
While Ouyang Qiangang strolled about trading light conversation with Heo Cho-ryeong, Akasha busied herself meticulously observing and logging the shops' wares, their prices, their methods of distribution, even the reactions of the customers.
At length, his gaze came to rest on a single bolt of purple silk, its luster exquisite and its color a deep, subtle mystery.
Akasha, about that silk. At that quality and coloring, it can hardly be a common article. Can you analyze where it is produced, how it travels to this market, and whether the price being asked here is a fair one?
"Yes, Doctor. According to the available database, that purple silk is a fabric known as Cloud Brocade, produced in Hangzhou."
Is that so?
"Its dyeing and weaving processes are so exacting that annual output is very small. A portion is set aside as imperial tribute, and only a tiny fraction of what remains ever reaches the open market."
Imperial, you say?
"Yes. On its journey to Nanchang, it appears to pass through the hands of no fewer than four or five great merchant guilds, along with their government permits. As a result, the price asked here is estimated at seven to ten times what it commands at its point of origin."
Aren't they just bandits who forgot their knives?
"That is a perfectly reasonable assessment. The distribution margins are excessive, and thanks to what is in effect a monopolistic supply structure held by a handful of merchant guilds, the price bubble is severe."
Ouyang Qiangang had no interest in producing silk—it lay beyond the Ouyang Clan's present strength in any case. What had caught his interest in Akasha's report was an entirely different field.
A monopolistic supply structure, hm... There are no antitrust regulations here, are there?
"Of course there are not."
Now that is a truly attractive state of affairs.
Ouyang Qiangang nodded inwardly. Akasha's analysis rolled on without pause, and in his mind business ventures and possibilities surfaced and dissolved in endless succession.
Lunchtime had slipped by long before they noticed. Heo Cho-ryeong led him to the Azure Cloud Inn near the Tengwang Pavilion—Nanchang's most celebrated landmark—an establishment famed throughout the city for the finest food to be found.
The moment they moved toward a second-floor window seat overlooking the Tengwang Pavilion, their eyes met those of a party of young men and women dining deeper within. Judging by their splendid dress, they were no sons and daughters of ordinary houses.
One young man among them stood out in particular. Tall and handsome, he seemed to be the center of his company, his expression and lounging posture arrogant to the point of ostentation.
Ouyang Qiangang, wholly indifferent to who the man might be, looked away and took his seat—but the young man felt no such indifference. He sprang up from his place, strode across the room, and, pointedly ignoring Ouyang Qiangang, addressed Heo Cho-ryeong.
"Lady Heo, I never dreamed we would meet in a place like this. It seems today is truly a fortunate day for me."
Heo Cho-ryeong answered with a slight crease of her brow.
"I was wondering who it was. Hwa Do-reung, young master of Hwa Clan Manor."
Ouyang Qiangang understood at once that she was trying to tell him who the man was. Unfortunately, having lost most of his former memories, he had no idea what manner of place Hwa Clan Manor might be.
As Hwa Do-reung turned his head toward him, sparks kindled in the depths of his eyes.
Akasha, why is this fellow glaring at me like that?
"It appears he has leaped to a conclusion."
What conclusion?
"The nature of the relationship between you and Lady Heo, Doctor."
Whoa... he thinks the two of us are courting?
"If not, I fail to see why he would look at you as though he wanted you dead."
Can't argue with that.
Just then, Hwa Do-reung spoke.
"Young Lady Heo, would you not introduce the gentleman beside you? Never once have I seen you walk with a man, yet here he sits at your side—I am quite curious to know which house he belongs to."
Heo Cho-ryeong swallowed an inward sigh.
Hwa Do-reung's family, Hwa Clan Manor, stood renowned enough to be named alongside Bamboo Forest Manor as one of the two great wealthy houses of Nanchang. Where Bamboo Forest Manor had built its fortune on bamboo, bamboo goods, and the grain trade, Hwa Clan Manor had amassed a fortune to match through generations in the medicinal herb business.
The manor's current master, Hwa Seok-dae, however, nursed a particular jealousy of Bamboo Forest Manor. Resenting that his rival's house had distinguished itself not only in commerce and learning but in the martial world as well, he had sent his son to a famous sect in Hubei Province, where Hwa Do-reung had trained in the martial arts for more than a decade.
Having returned to Nanchang several months ago upon completing that training, Hwa Do-reung now coveted Heo Cho-ryeong's beauty and talents—and the backing of Bamboo Forest Manor itself—and had been pressing his suit with tiresome persistence.
Heo Cho-ryeong said, "Gang-je will be leaving Nanchang before long, so I see no need for him to exchange greetings with you, Young Master Hwa."
It was a tactful refusal, and one that made plain she had no intention of introducing him. Hwa Do-reung's eyes smoldered with jealousy.
And small wonder. Though long years of Nine Yin Severed Meridians had left Ouyang Qiangang's frame slender to a fault, his face alone possessed a beauty so arresting it blurred the line between dream and reality. His skin, pale with sickness, was clear to the point of translucence, while his thick, ink-dark brows and high-bridged nose were sharp without losing their refinement. And the whole contour of his face, flowing down into that slender jaw, was like some masterpiece shaped by a master craftsman's devoted hands.
Stung to the quick, Hwa Do-reung spoke.
"If I am not mistaken, Lady Heo is famous for never sparing men so much as a glance, yet the gentleman beside you has such a singular appearance that I can scarcely contain my curiosity. The more I look, the more he seems the very image of a corpse—pray tell, what is he doing at your side instead of in his grave...?"
The words dripped with venom, but Ouyang Qiangang did not so much as twitch an eyebrow. He simply refilled his tea at his leisure, wearing the expression of a man listening to the neighbor's dog bark.
His indifference, however, was more than Heo Cho-ryeong could manage; her fair brow knotted at once.
"Young Master Hwa! That is going too far! Apologize this instant!"
Her usual gentleness had vanished without a trace, and her voice was cold as a winter lake.
Hwa Do-reung seemed briefly wrong-footed by her frosty rebuke, but quickly recovered with an even more barbed tone.
"Apologize, when I have done nothing wrong? If anyone has gone too far here, my lady, I would say it is you."
As Heo Cho-ryeong, out of patience at last, moved to rise, Ouyang Qiangang caught her wrist lightly. His face a blank mask, he addressed Hwa Do-reung.
"My lady, I believe we would do well to find another table. One is under no obligation to answer every dog's bark with a kick."
The tone was gentle, but it brooked no argument. At his words, Hwa Do-reung's face flared a blotchy scarlet.
Heo Cho-ryeong stared at him in surprise for a heartbeat, then grasped his meaning and rose from her seat.
"Let's do that, Gang-je."
Hwa Do-reung's fists clenched tight, but he did not move to stop them. He was not alone in this room. However furious he was—furious enough to set his guts churning—he could hardly thrash the daughter of Bamboo Forest Manor's master and her guest before a roomful of witnesses.
Gritting his teeth, he glared at the pair descending the stairs and muttered inwardly.
Heo Cho-ryeong—and that whelp! Soon enough I'll have you both beating the ground in regret for daring to slight me.
Outside the inn, Heo Cho-ryeong huffed and fumed, her anger not yet fully spent, before turning to Ouyang Qiangang with an apologetic look.
"I'm truly sorry, Gang-je. I let him spoil your day because of me."
Ouyang Qiangang gave an easy smile, as if to say it was nothing.
"Don't give it another thought, my lady. I'm truly quite fine."
And in truth, he minded not in the slightest. His mental age was far too advanced to be shaken by the jealousy-laced provocations of a hotheaded boy of twenty.
Above all, his mind at that moment was far too crowded with weightier matters to spare such trifles a single thought.