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The autumn sun slanted swiftly. In no time at all, the shadow cast by the window stretched from a small patch steadily into the depths of the room.
The long conversation with Fei Qian had not eased Huang Chengyan's mind in the slightest. On the contrary, it only left him more conflicted than before.
The talk had been calm and plain. Fei Qian had not adorned his words with any flowery rhetoric to embellish or conceal. He had held nothing back, and the minerals lying within the wooden box on the table were proof enough of that.
The process had gone smoothly, yet in truth, it had not gone smoothly at all.
Because this matter was of immense consequence. It would even affect the entire future direction of the Huang family clan—the arrangement of the family's economic interests, and even the legacy of the next generation, indeed, the transmission of the family's entire body of learning.
In the Jing-Xiang region, one could say that the Huang family had already firmly planted its feet. But planting one's feet and standing firm was one thing; surpassing the Pang and Cai families was another matter entirely. Unless those two families committed some colossal blunder, it was basically impossible...
The lands of Bingzhou were desolate and barren. Yet it was precisely that kind of place, untouched by any other gentry clan, where, if the Huang family could seize the initiative and occupy it first, it would be no different from bursting forth with renewed, even more vigorous vitality...
Sometimes it was just like this—agonizingly difficult to choose.
Because once this decision was made, it would not merely affect the lives of one or two families...
Huang Yueying stealthily poked half her head out from outside the study window, blinking her large eyes as she peered inside. Then, before her father's gaze could swivel in her direction, she ducked her head back down.
Huang Chengyan sat with his eyes lowered, still as a mountain, not a single muscle moving. Then, out of nowhere, he spoke: "What are you hiding from? Come in."
"Oh..." Huang Yueying emerged from beneath the windowsill and, under her father's watchful eye, inched and shuffled her way into the study. A little perplexed, she asked, "I clearly didn't see you turn your head, Father. How did you know I was there?"
Huang Chengyan gave a soft snort, but did not answer. He merely pointed with his finger at a patch of floor in the center of the room.
Huang Yueying's gaze followed his finger. She saw that the sunlight slanting through the window fell precisely upon that patch of ground...
"Did that brat send you here?" Huang Chengyan asked.
"What do you mean, 'that brat'!" Huang Yueying tossed aside the minor embarrassment of being caught by her father and pressed close to his side. "My husband just mentioned that you seemed to have something weighing on your mind... So I came on my own..."
Huang Chengyan snorted.
Huang Yueying slipped behind him and began kneading and massaging his shoulders and neck. "Oh, come now, what is it? Everyone's being so mysterious..."
Huang Chengyan narrowed his eyes and rocked his head slightly. Only after a long pause did he speak: "That husband of yours... he's no simple man... He's set on emptying this old man's coffers entirely..."
"Ah? Father!" Huang Yueying protested, a touch of displeasure in her voice. "Before, you said he was clever. Now you say he's no simple man. Just what is it you're trying to say?"
Huang Chengyan let out a sigh. "Cleverness is good. But too much cleverness is not good at all!"
He then recounted to Huang Yueying what Fei Qian had told him about the situation in Bingzhou. Stroking the wooden box on the table, his face remained a mask of inner turmoil.
The reason the Huang family could stand on equal footing with clans like the Pang and Cai in Jing-Xiang was, to a large extent, that they controlled a considerable portion of the artisan and manufacturing industries in the region. From construction to everyday household goods, the Huang family had a hand in virtually everything. Although there were still some voices within the family who insisted that craftsmanship had no future and only classical scholarship was the true and proper path, the vast majority knew that without these very artisans, the Huang family's income would not only plummet, but their entire standing in Jing-Xiang would be severely compromised.
Thus, these artisans were essentially the bargaining chips in Huang Chengyan's hand, the treasures in his purse.
And now, Fei Qian had set his sights on these very treasures tucked away in Huang Chengyan's pocket...
Although Fei Qian had not directly stated exactly how many artisans he needed, judging by the description he had given, a worksite of such immense scale—even if Huang Chengyan were to transfer half of the artisans from Jing-Xiang, there would still be room to arrange them all.
It was not that Huang Chengyan was a miser clinging to his wealth, nor was it that he was unwilling to give them to Fei Qian. The problem was that Huang Chengyan needed to calculate whether such an investment was worth it, and precisely how much he should commit...
Huang Chengyan patted Huang Yueying's hand.
Fei Qian had been quite right on one point. This Jing-Xiang region was tangled with far too many factional interests; it was not a place where one could stretch out and act freely. But it was precisely because of this that Huang Chengyan could not extricate himself. Someone had to remain in Jing-Xiang, to keep a watchful eye, to guard against the fools within his own family and ensure they were not sold off by others, still obliviously helping count the money.
He had to constantly monitor the shifting landscape around him, adjusting and adapting according to the situation. This very fact destined that Huang Chengyan could not leave Jing-Xiang and travel to Bingzhou to conduct a personal inspection.
Regarding Fei Qian's development in Bingzhou, Huang Chengyan did hold a measure of confidence. But as for the artisans he would send there, he could not say he had the same degree of faith. It was entirely possible that in three to five years, those artisans would have changed their surname from Huang to Fei...
Yet, if he gave up this opportunity, on one hand, he would have no satisfactory explanation to give Fei Qian. On the other hand, what artisan would not yearn for a place overflowing with mineral resources, backed by official support, where they could finally unshackle their hands and work freely?
The legacy of the Mohist school...
Huang Yueying stood quietly in thought for a moment. Then, she positioned herself directly before Huang Chengyan and said with utter seriousness: "Father... This time, I will go to Bingzhou together with my husband..."
Huang Chengyan shot to his feet, shaking his head. "How can that be! The wind and sand of Bingzhou flay the skin and pierce to the bone! Have you not seen how that boy Fei Ziyuan, after being there for barely any time at all, has already turned nearly as dark as you... er, what I meant was..."
Huang Yueying stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Huang Chengyan. "...I know... I know... I can hardly bear to leave you either, Father... But, is there anyone else in the family who can go? ...Uncle?"
Huang Chengyan gently stroked Huang Yueying's head and sighed.
Huang Yueying pressed her cheek against his chest and said, "...My husband is a man of ideas. We should help him... I know most of the family artisans by name. When I was small, I was always pestering them to make this or that for me. I think those men are still rather close to me..."
Huang Chengyan held Huang Yueying close, and was suddenly struck by the realization that the little girl who once toddled through the halls, calling for her father in her soft, milky voice, had now grown taller than his shoulder...
But how could Huang Chengyan bear to send the daughter he loved as his very heart's blood to eat dust in Bingzhou?! Though, rationally, he knew the living conditions there might not necessarily be terrible, letting his son-in-law endure a bit of hardship—Huang Chengyan felt not the slightest qualm about that. But when it came to his own daughter, it filled him with a thousand pangs of reluctance, ten thousand objections...
His face a mask of agonized conflict, Huang Chengyan murmured, "...Let me think... Let me think it over carefully... very, very carefully..."