"Procurement of palace ceramics?" Qin Sheng frowned upon hearing the news. "Why would Fifth Brother take on such a trivial task?"
"Perhaps he seeks to impress His Majesty?" suggested one advisor.
Another immediately countered: "Unlikely. If Fifth Prince wanted to prove himself, he wouldn't choose something this insignificant."
The room murmured in agreement.
Procuring palace ceramics was typically handled by imperial concubines—or even stewards.
For a prince to involve himself in such menial logistics was... bizarre.
Which circled back to the original question:
"Then why?"
Finally, a theory emerged:
"Could it be... for the Princess Consort? To salvage Taoran Pavilion?"
The speculation wasn't baseless.
Taoran Pavilion's recent struggles were glaring—
If they didn't lower prices, inventory piled up.
If they did, Yun Cizhai always undercut them further.
Others quickly endorsed the idea:
"Fifth Prince has always been close to Prince Li. Helping his consort fits."
"This also explains Taoran Kiln's sudden reopening yesterday."
Indeed—
The kiln's reactivation had initially alarmed Zhou Maoran's faction.
But when Taoran Pavilion merely matched Yun Cizhai's price cuts without further moves—
They'd dismissed it as desperation.
Now, the pieces connected:
The kiln reopened because Gu Yanshu already had a solution.
Zhou Maoran's face darkened to ashen gray.
He'd felt foreboding the moment Qin Hao took the palace assignment—
Now, hearing the advisors confirm his fears, he recalled Qin Sheng's earlier assurance:
"Prince Li won't lift a finger for his consort."
Yet here was Fifth Prince—Prince Li's closest ally—acting unmistakably on Gu Yanshu's behalf.
Without Qin Lu's tacit approval, would Qin Hao intervene?
But voicing such doubts to princes was beyond Zhou Maoran's station.
An advisor, however, voiced the incongruity aloud:
"But Prince Li despises his consort. Why would Fifth Prince help?"
"Not so strange," another countered. "Publicly, they're still wed. Perhaps Prince Li acted to save face—for him, this costs nothing."
Nods of agreement followed.
"Prince Li's motives are ever-unpredictable."
Then came the pivotal question:
"If Fifth Prince secured palace procurement to rescue Taoran Pavilion... what now for Yun Cizhai?"
Silence fell.
The advisors' earlier chatter died abruptly.
A realization dawned:
Taoran Pavilion's crisis was orchestrated by Qin Sheng and Zhou Maoran.
If their conjecture proved true—
The First Prince's entire scheme would collapse.
Glancing surreptitiously at the head of the study, the advisors noted Qin Sheng's expression—
His face was no less stormy than Zhou Maoran's.
Those familiar with the First Prince recognized the warning signs: an eruption was imminent.
The advisors exchanged uneasy looks, none daring to speak—
Fearful of becoming the target of his wrath.
Just as the silence grew unbearable, a newcomer entered, shattering the tension.
Several advisors exhaled in relief—
Until they recognized the man as the spy assigned to monitor Taoran Pavilion.
Precisely the wrong person to appear when Qin Sheng's fury already simmered at its peak.
"Why are you here?" Qin Sheng's voice was icy.
Yet against all expectations, the spy delivered unexpectedly good news:
"Your Highness, Fifth Prince and the Princess Consort just had a public quarrel at Taoran Pavilion."
"What?" Qin Sheng's anger gave way to shock.
The advisors pressed for details:
"A quarrel? Over what?"
"The palace porcelain procurement," the spy explained. "After leaving the palace, Fifth Prince went straight to Taoran Pavilion, where the Princess Consort was present. When asked about the imperial order's quantity, Fifth Prince instead demanded Taoran Pavilion lower prices by another 10%."
This raised immediate questions:
"Why would Fifth Prince ask for further cuts?"
Both shops had already slashed prices to near-cost levels.
Though their competition appeared fierce, recent reductions had dwindled from 10% increments to mere 0.5% adjustments—
A sign they'd hit the profitability threshold.
As Zhou Maoran had explained: Beyond this point, every discount meant losses.
So why would Qin Hao—ostensibly helping Gu Yanshu—make such an unreasonable demand?
The spy's next words clarified everything:
"The Princess Consort refused, but Fifth Prince insisted: 'If you won't lower prices, the palace won't buy from Taoran Pavilion.'"
"Enraged, the Princess Consort threatened to appeal to Prince Li—
"Only for Fifth Prince to reveal the truth: The Emperor himself had intervened."
"His Majesty, aware of this year's unusually low porcelain prices, warned Fifth Prince to 'prioritize frugality over favoritism.'"
"Fifth Prince interpreted this as a mandate to choose the cheapest supplier—
"And since Taoran Pavilion's prices still exceed Yun Cizhai's by 5%, he had no choice but to pressure Gu Yanshu further."
The room collectively grasped the implication:
Even if Fifth Prince controlled procurement—the Emperor's decree overruled him.
Zhou Maoran couldn't contain himself:
"Did the Princess Consort agree to the price cut?"
The answer would determine not just the price war's outcome—
But the survival of Yun Cizhai itself.
What task had Fifth Prince taken on?
The procurement of ceramics for the imperial palace!
In Tianqi, any product bearing the label "Used by the Imperial Household" instantly gained prestige.
A shop supplying the palace naturally elevated itself above competitors.
Zhou Maoran had initially resigned himself to Taoran Pavilion securing this honor—
But the spy's report revealed a sliver of hope.
His heart pounded as he silently prayed:
"Let the Princess Consort remain the fool he's been these past days—
Blind to long-term gains, stubbornly refusing Fifth Prince's demand!"
As if heaven heard him, the spy shook his head:
"No. The Princess Consort accused Fifth Prince of exploitation, dismissed his explanations, and expelled him from Taoran Pavilion."
Zhou Maoran's pulse skyrocketed.
For the first time in his life, he felt genuine gratitude for an opponent's stupidity.
Ideas—chaotic yet singular in purpose—flooded his mind:
"We must ensure Fifth Prince chooses Yun Cizhai!"
He wasn't alone. The advisors buzzed:
"If the Princess Consort won't lower prices, doesn't the contract naturally go to Yun Cizhai?"
"Fifth Prince said it himself—lowest bid wins! Taoran Pavilion's refusal leaves him no choice!"
Zhou Maoran's spirits soared, though he feigned modesty:
"This won't be easy. Fifth Prince took the assignment for Taoran Pavilion—he'll likely favor them."
"Nonsense!" countered an advisor. "With the Emperor's explicit decree, Fifth Prince can't arbitrarily choose."
Another added: "Besides, Fifth Prince is still a imperial descendant. The Princess Consort's insolence must have angered him."
True—regardless of Qin Hao's usual casual demeanor, no prince tolerated public humiliation.
Surely, he now bore resentment toward Gu Yanshu?
At last, Zhou Maoran's lingering doubts dissolved into certainty.
Little did he know—
The Fifth Prince he assumed seethed with resentment was currently bouncing around Prince Li's study like an overexcited puppy:
"Third Brother-in-law! How was my performance just now?"
Qin Hao's eyes sparkled with unmistakable pride, his entire demeanor screaming Praise me!
Not a trace of the "humiliated imperial descendant" Zhou Maoran imagined.
Gu Yanshu indulged him generously:
"Brilliantly executed—even more convincing than Manager Tang!"
To everyone's surprise, Qin Hao—who'd been fishing for compliments—suddenly turned modest:
"You flatter me. Compared to Manager Tang, I'm still an amateur."
"Your Highness underestimates yourself," Manager Tang countered smoothly, his cheerful expression a far cry from the "oppressed, resentful steward" he'd portrayed publicly.
Qin Hao waved dismissively: "No, no—I should be learning from you."
Their mutual admiration society lasted several minutes before curiosity overrode Qin Hao's theatrics:
"Third Brother-in-law, what's next?"
Without hesitation, Gu Yanshu answered:
"Price cuts."
"More* cuts?!"* Qin Hao's eyes bulged.
"Naturally."
Gu Yanshu's lips curled into that infamous fox-like smile:
"Taoran Kiln reopened two days ago. How else will we sell the new batch to the palace?"
Had Qin Hao not been privy to the plan, he might've believed this excuse.
Initially puzzled by Gu Yanshu's delayed timing for the palace procurement request—
He now recognized the genius:
Every public tantrum, every "failed negotiation" had been bait.
The Zhou family and First Prince, oblivious, still thought they held the advantage.
Yet Qin Hao couldn't suppress one concern:
"Will Yun Cizhai truly take the bait?"
"Your Highness needn't worry," Manager Tang interjected, grinning. "Yun Cizhai will dive headfirst into the Princess Consort's trap."
"How can you be so certain?"
"Because what you hold isn't just procurement rights—
It's the golden ticket to imperial prestige."
A lifetime in commerce had taught Tang one truth:
No merchant could resist the allure of supplying the palace.
From the moment Gu Yanshu secured this card, Yun Cizhai's fate was sealed.
Though Qin Hao lacked Tang's business acumen, the steward's confidence was contagious.
With a relaxed chuckle, he settled in for the show.
The next day, just as Zhou Maoran was strategizing how to secure the palace contract—
Disaster struck.
"What? Taoran Pavilion agreed to another price cut?!"
The bearer of bad news was Zhang, manager of Yun Cizhai:
"Yes, Second Young Master—a full 10% reduction."
"But the Princess Consort swore he wouldn't lower prices further!" Zhou Maoran's voice cracked.
"Our spies say Taoran Kiln's overnight production surge forced his hand."
Zhang's expression mirrored Zhou's dismay:
"What do we do now?"
Zhou Maoran didn't hesitate:
"We match it! If they drop 10%, so do we!"
"But at this price, we'll operate at a loss," Zhang warned.
"Compared to supplying the palace, what's a temporary loss?" Zhou Maoran's jaw clenched. "Once our wares enter the imperial household, profits will flood back tenfold!"
With a decisive slap to the table:
"Cut!"
Zhang, convinced by this logic, hurried off to execute the order.
Neither anticipated this would ignite a second, fiercer price war.
Capital residents watched, enthralled, as Taoran Pavilion and Yun Cizhai slashed prices more aggressively than before—
Only for the battle to end abruptly three days later.
Once again, Taoran Pavilion retreated first.
Teahouse gossip erupted:
"Taoran Pavilion folds too easily!"
"Yun Cizhai's clearly the stronger contender."
"Well, it's backed by the Zhou family—what do you expect?"
"But why are they even fighting?"
"Who cares? My ceramics budget's been halved!"
Amidst the chatter, tension thickened in Yun Cizhai's upstairs chamber—
Where Qin Hao finally arrived to formalize the palace contract.
Zhou Maoran rushed over mid-meal, barely believing his luck until the procurement order lay before him.
The document's weight felt like victory.
Even at 50% below cost, securing imperial prestige justified the loss.
He grabbed a brush to sign—
Only for Qin Hao to raise a hand:
"Hold."
"Does Your Highness have concerns?" Zhou's stomach lurched.
Qin Hao's attendant, Yin Feng, stepped forward:
"Certain terms require clarification."
His voice turned icy:
"These ceramics will serve the Imperial Palace. Any delivery delays—"
"—will incur severe consequences," Zhou Maoran finished smoothly. "Yun Cizhai guarantees timely fulfillment."
Satisfied, Yin Feng gestured to the contract.
Zhou Maoran signed in triplicate—shop copy, prince's copy, government archive—
Then nearly wept with relief when Qin Hao handed over the 50% deposit.
But as joy surged, Qin Hao's chuckle froze his blood:
"Second Young Master Zhou?"
Their eyes met—
And Zhou Maoran's gut twisted with inexplicable dread.
Then came the dagger:
"My Third Brother-in-law asked me to convey his... gratitude for your recent... generosity."
Qin Hao's cryptic remark struck Zhou Maoran like a thunderbolt.
He was no fool—
The Fifth Prince's affectionate tone when mentioning "Third Brother-in-law" screamed that their assumptions had been catastrophically wrong.
Zhou Maoran's lips parted to demand answers—
But Qin Hao was already strolling toward the exit, utterly uninterested in enlightening him.
Only Yin Feng paused long enough to deliver a final, glacial warning:
"Second Young Master Zhou—don't forget your promise. Deliver. On. Time."
Then both men vanished, leaving Zhou Maoran grappling with dawning horror.
If he hadn't realized something was amiss now, he'd be an utter imbecile.
"Are they implying Yun Cizhai won't meet the deadline?"
"This... this servant wouldn't know," Manager Zhang stammered.
"Then find out! Do you think they'd say such things without reason?"
(Zhou Maoran couldn't vent at a prince—but a manager? Fair game.)
Zhang scurried off, expecting a labyrinthine investigation—
Only to uncover the truth within minutes.
The moment he opened Yun Cizhai's ledgers, the trap yawned wide:
"Second Young Master... these order quantities... they're wrong."
Since the price cuts began, business had boomed—
Individual buyers snapping up bargains, wealthy households bulk-ordering hundreds of pieces.
Zhang had assumed this was natural demand.
Now, reviewing the orders coldly, the pattern emerged:
Every transaction was priced below cost.
The more they sold, the more they lost.
Zhou Maoran snatched the ledger, his pulse hammering as he flipped pages—
Each entry a deeper plunge into red ink.
Yet these were his approved prices.
Gritting his teeth, he shoved the book back at Zhang:
"Calculate. Exactly how much we'll lose fulfilling these."
"At once!"
Zhang's abacus clacked frenetically—
His hands trembling harder with each tally.
Zhou Maoran watched, veins bulging, as the numbers climbed:
658,421 taels.
And that excluded Qin Hao's palace order...
The room spun.
Darkness swallowed Zhou Maoran whole.