Ties of Hangzhou (3)
It was finally time to return to the Eunhae Merchant Group.
I needed to review the New Year's plans I'd laid out and get them underway.
“Senior brother, are you going home?”
“When will you come back?”
The children grabbed at my clothes, their faces full of reluctance as they whined.
They'd grown fond of me after I'd spent so much time playing with them diligently.
“Does it make you that sad to part with me?”
“Yes.”
The kids nodded at my question.
“I'm sad too. But your senior brother has to work hard to buy you all those tasty treats.”
I grinned and made them a promise.
“I'll come back again.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
I wasn't just saying it.
With business to handle in Hangzhou ahead, I'd have to come back anyway.
Hmm, I should give each of them a little gift before I go.
Honestly, even with the support from Cheongin Pyoguk and the North Sea Ice Palace, raising these kids cost a pretty penny.
Since Master had entrusted me with full authority, I had both the duty and the right to check the finances of Yangyang Martial Hall.
Looking over the ledgers left me impressed.
Everything was managed with meticulous efficiency.
It had to be.
The budget was razor-thin.
Keeping the kids from going hungry was the top priority, so snacks were a rare treat—maybe once or twice a year.
That's why they'd thrown themselves into those games so eagerly when I promised them tanghulu as a reward.
Ah, so that's why Gwanju Yeom was chosen by the previous head.
Someone who could run a household this frugally.
If the forces that wiped out Seolpung Palace learned of Yangyang Martial Hall's existence, this place wouldn't stand a chance.
It was time to lay low, so they'd installed the right person as head.
“And is there anything else you need? If I can buy it before I go, I will.”
“Something we need?”
“Yeah.”
“Can we ask for anything?”
“Let's hear it. If it seems necessary, I'll get it. Otherwise, rejected.”
“Give us a minute to think.”
Then the kids dashed off to the far side of the yard and huddled together, whispering.
They thought they were being quiet, but I could hear every word clearly.
The hall wasn't that big.
But... what they were discussing was a bit odd?
Most kids would ask for toys or snacks, but this?
A moment later, the meeting ended, and the kid who seemed to be the spokesperson stepped forward.
“We've decided. Buy us paper for a gift.”
“...Paper?”
“Yes. We want to write letters to the senior brothers at the escort agency and to Mom at the North Sea Ice Palace.”
Paper wasn't hard to find, but good paper for letters was pricey.
It had to be smooth for writing and thick enough not to bleed ink.
Come to think of it, I'd seen characters scratched into the dirt in the yard now and then. That explained it.
They'd been practicing their letters on the ground because they had no paper.
As someone born into the wealth of a top merchant house, I'd lived in abundance and never considered it.
No paper for practice, no way to send letters.
Having been asked by Investigator to rebuild Seolpung Palace, it was embarrassing that I hadn't noticed such details.
“Got it. I'll buy plenty.”
“Thank you!”
But that was something I should handle anyway—it hardly counted as a gift.
“Anything else?”
“Uh...”
They looked caught off guard.
“Think it over again by tomorrow morning. I'm going to see the gwanju for a bit.”
I told the kids that and headed to the gwanju's office.
“Come in.”
Inside, Gwanju Yeom was buried in work.
Moving two hundred people meant endless preparations.
Administrative tasks alone were a mountain.
“You're busy.”
“Hahaha. A bit, yes. Mind waiting a moment?”
“Should I come back later?”
“No, no. Just a second.”
I sat down, and he quickly finished his papers before coming over.
“What can I do for you?”
“I'm planning to head back to Hubei in a couple of days.”
“Already?”
“Yes. New Year means a lot on my plate.”
“Fair enough. You've got your responsibilities.”
Gwanju Yeom nodded.
“So I'm giving gifts to the kids and the disciples here before I go. They asked for paper.”
“Pardon?”
“To write letters.”
“Ah...”
Gwanju Yeom nodded with a rueful expression.
“Embarrassing. As you know, paper's not cheap...”
“I'll buy it for them before I leave. But is there anything else you need?”
I'd come to ask if there was more the kids required.
“I don't know what would help them most, so I figured...”
Before I could finish, Gwanju Yeom jumped in.
“Then get each child a set of clothes!”
“Clothes...?”
“Yes. Their winter things are threadbare. They have some, but this winter feels like it'll be brutal.”
He caught himself mid-sentence and gave an awkward smile.
Fabric was expensive, after all.
He added hastily,
“Ah, that might be too much to ask. Instead, maybe fuel to keep the fires warmer...”
His earnestness made me smile warmly.
Gwanju Yeom really was a good man.
“Understood.”
.
.
.
Late afternoon, I went to see Branch Manager Wi Jun-deok.
“Young master! What brings you here? You could have just summoned this humble one.”
“Felt like walking.”
“Happens sometimes.”
“I'm heading back to headquarters in a few days. I've got a favor to ask.”
“Of course, speak freely.”
I asked him to procure clothes for the kids, paper, wooden swords for training, and the like.
“Use this money. I'll be back in a few months—if it's short, let me know then.”
He counted the silver and shook his head.
“Short? More than enough!”
“Discuss details with Gwanju Yeom at Yangyang Martial Hall.”
“Got it.”
Having someone reliable to handle things in my absence was reassuring.
“Ah, have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“One of the properties I showed you—a small sect's building?”
“Right, I remember.”
“They've decided not to sell. Staying put.”
“I see.”
Relief, maybe?
Truth be told, when I'd discussed it with the branch manager, I'd sensed movement beyond the wall.
So I'd spoken loudly on purpose, for their ears.
Anyway, good that they'd changed their minds.
“What do you think weakened that sect?”
“Reputation.”
“Reputation... you mean fame?”
“Exactly. No notable figures in decades—the sect's bound to decline.”
Branch Manager Wi clicked his tongue.
“I know a bit about them, and it's a shame. Of the three remaining disciples, one's promising. Could shine at the Dragon-Phoenix Martial Assembly, but they might not last that long.”
If the branch manager said so, she must have real talent.
“If Jong-sam places well at the Dragon-Phoenix...”
I tilted my head.
Jong-sam? I'd heard that name before.
“His name's Jong-sam?”
“Bo Jong-sam. No generation name in their sect.”
Bo Jong-sam? Ah! I remembered.
Leader of one of the groups that opposed the Murim Alliance.
Skilled enough to give them real trouble, as I recalled.
So he was from here.
“With that much talent, why stay in such a small sect?”
“The sect leader tried sending him to a major one. But Jong-sam refused flat out. Wouldn't leave his master behind.”
“Some backstory, then.”
“Yes. To Jong-sam, the sect leader's like a father.”
About a decade ago, the leader had brought back a young boy, he'd explained.
Apparently, the sole survivor from a razed mountain village.
That explains why Bo Jong-sam turned against the Murim Alliance.
As I'd suspected, the Alliance had dangled "aid from the Murim Alliance" to use them.
Bo Jong-sam figured it out later and rebelled.
Worth investing in, then.
Planting a favor with a future martial star.
“Good intel—thanks. Sad story. In that case, I'd like to sponsor enough to keep the hall afloat.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Isn't that why you brought it up?”
“Hahaha. Can't fool you, young master.”
“I know you had my interests in mind.”
He'd mentioned it thinking it could benefit me.
My influence here wasn't strong enough for full operations yet.
“Can you bridge the gap?”
“Gladly.”
I asked him to set up a meeting for tomorrow and headed to West Lake.
To treat Palgap and the guards to a fine meal before leaving.
Might not have time after meeting the sect leader.
I led the group to the tavern I'd had in mind.
Cheongpa House.
A renowned spot—one of the few to survive the great famine five years back.
It endured not just because the owner had savings, but due to its high class.
Many taverns blurred the line with brothels.
But here, the courtesans were truly skilled—elegant entertainers—and the food and drink superb.
That's how it weathered the alcohol ban, on artistry and cuisine.
Reminded me of Yeonhwa House under Eunhae, though that aimed higher.
“Welcome.”
The server greeted us.
“Reservation? Without one, might be tough.”
As expected—packed without a booking.
But there was a way.
“The fifth floor, please.”
“Ah! Right this way.”
“No seats up there either?”
“Not at all! Follow me.”
Naturally, the top floor commanded premium prices.
Few could afford it, so seats stayed open.
We followed the server up.
“Whoaaa!”
Palgap marveled.
“Incredible!”
“Yeah?”
“Yes! Worth serving a rich young master like you.”
I chuckled.
“That's why you serve well.”
“Naturally.”
Smiling, I glanced at the guards. They too stared in awe at West Lake's vista.
Worth bringing them.
Some might say, with money for this, donate to Yangyang or help the needy.
But where does that end?
Before aiding strangers, care for those close by first.
Charity matters, sure.
But those around you come first.
“Ready to order?”
I handed the server silver and replied boldly.
“Special course for six.”
“Right away. Drinks...?”
“Tea for all.”
“Understood.”
“And...”
I slipped him extra coin with a private request. He bowed.
“Got it.”
The juniors deserved a good feed too.
Soon, dishes arrived.
Chilly day, but braziers kept Palgap cozy.
We savored the meal with West Lake's beauty.
Made me miss my parents and brothers.
Next time, with family. If time allows.
.
.
.
We ate our fill and left as dusk fell.
Drunkards' hour—got rowdy then.
Heading to Yangyang, a familiar scent caught my nose.
Hm? This orchid fragrance... I know it.
Recently, too—from the North Sea Ice Palace, meeting Little Palace Lord Bing Hae-rin.
No way?
I followed the trail.
It led to the old Yangyang site.
A woman stood before the gate, looking troubled.
Familiar face.
“By any chance, Lady Bing Hae-rin of the North Sea Ice Palace?”