After sprucing up, Lin Wanrong and Old Dong each tucked dozens of booklets under their arms and hit the recruitment site to gauge the vibe. Lin Wanrong, ever the show-off, dubbed it "test marketing"—then had to waste more breath explaining "marketing" to the eager Qiqiao.
Today was the last day to sign up as a Xiao family servant; tomorrow, the real selection kicked off. Talents from all over—literate or not—flocked in from every corner.
Not just locals from Jinling—scholars from Hangzhou, Suzhou, Yangzhou, and Zhenjiang swarmed the place, packing it three layers deep inside and out, a total logjam.
Same as yesterday: wannabe servants and talents split into two lines, signing up separately, clear as day, no crossover. Order held decently—no cutting in line. Guess everyone was "civilized."
Drawing this many talents? Eldest Miss Xiao's charm was unreal—though the real draw was likely the fat estate behind her.
The Xiao family had to know about this talent flood. Yet they neither cheered nor stopped it—what game were they playing? Talents, servants, or both?
The bigger their fuss, the better for Lin Wanrong. He was here to fish in muddy waters and rake in the dough.
His targets? These fancy talents—dressed to the nines, all prim and proper. Five taels felt cheap for them.
The servant hopefuls? Brothers, it's not that I look down on you—society's just harsh. Wanna chase skirts? Stack cash first.
Spotting a clean-faced talent, Lin Wanrong sidled up, whispering, "Buddy, want a killer book?"
He flashed the booklet, letting the guy catch a glimpse of Eldest Miss Xiao's stunning face on the cover, then stuffed it back in his coat quick.
Sure enough, the pale talent's eyes lit up. He glanced around warily, then leaned in. "Got a color version?"
Color version? Lin Wanrong froze, then got it—this punk thought he was peddling porn rags.
Fury flared. Your grandma! He was a dashing, suave stud—how dare this guy peg him as a smut hawker? Sure, he'd stashed plenty of Playboy and Penthouse back in the day, but live off that? This pasty turtle had some nerve—probably no saint himself.
Still, with his coat bulging, he did look like those disc-peddling hustlers at Zhongguancun's tech market.
Depressed as hell, he itched to sock the guy. But Old Dong was watching from afar, studying his "marketing." First shot had to pop.
Gritting his teeth, he hissed, "Buddy, that stuff? We'll chat private later. Got palace-grade color prints, even imported Japanese rarities—father-daughter, mother-son, three-gen combos. Poses, expressions—tsk, you've never seen the like."
Pale-face flushed, hands rubbing, eyes gleaming. If he wasn't a perv, no one was.
"But right now, I'm proudly pitching this one-of-a-kind gem straight from the Xiao clan's inner circle—check it!"
Lin Wanrong whipped out the booklet again. The cover's Eldest Miss Xiao hooked the perv's gaze. "This is—" he gasped, joy sparking, then clammed up after a quick scan, delight plain as day.
"You got it—Eldest Miss Xiao! My mid-tier servant pal snagged this for a fortune. Look—" Lin Wanrong shook the booklet, pages rustling. Pale-face finally tore his eyes from her face to the text.
"Eldest Miss Secrets"—five bold words, short and sweet. Below: "Hosted by the Xiao Servant Committee, Printed by XX Press." Top right, in tiny black: "Top Secret."
Seeing the guy's eyes glow, Lin Wanrong knew he had him. "Look at this portrait—so refined. I'll swear on my honor: this is her first leaked image. You're the first besides me to see it. Peek inside—pure, true scoop, no scams. We're fated today, and I'm strapped for cash, so I'll let this treasure go cheap."
The guy skimmed, spotting "Eldest Miss Xiao's Mate Standards," and his eyes turned green. Lin Wanrong snapped it shut, cutting him off.
Pale-face relented. "Name your price."
"Ten taels—won't budge a wen," Lin Wanrong said, fish hooked, heart steady. Plus, this jerk had pissed him off—time to jack the price double.
No big shock like he'd expected. The guy just frowned. "Steep—can you cut it?"
Lin Wanrong beamed inside—rare goods ruled. He had him.
Shaking his head firmly, he said, "Friend, this is Xiao clan insider gold—priceless stuff. I paid big to get it. Ten taels is rock bottom. You know once it's gone, it's a free-for-all."
The guy wavered. Lin Wanrong sighed "helplessly," turned, and walked off.
"Friend, wait!" Dong Qiqiao, dressed as a talent, "perfectly" timed her call, eyeing the booklet with "gleam"—another "connoisseur."
Pale-face didn't clock the trap. Seeing a rival, he panicked, chasing Lin Wanrong. "I was first! I'll take it—ten taels, here, keep it safe!"
Lin Wanrong and Dong Qiqiao traded looks, eyes dancing with mirth. He pocketed the silver; she flashed a sneaky thumbs-up.
Dong Qiqiao "regretfully" left. A chubby talent, eyeing them for ages, grabbed Lin Wanrong. "Friend, what'd you just sell Li?"
Lin Wanrong played coy. "You are—?"
Chubby rushed, "Li's my classmate—"
Lin Wanrong got it—school buddies, now rivals over Eldest Miss Xiao, neither wanting the other to shine.
Rehashing his pitch, Chubby bit, but haggled hard—ten taels chopped to five.
Hell no. If he couldn't get ten, he'd take the guy's name. Lin Wanrong didn't even negotiate—just walked.
"Friend—" Chubby called, frantic.
Ten taels, done.
Noticing more talents clocking his moves, Lin Wanrong grinned inside, jogging to Old Dong, wiping sweat. "Damn, I underestimated their wallets. Uncle Dong, we're hiking it—ten taels flat."