đź›’Chapter 40: Smoke Signals to the World
🌍 August 1st, 97 BCE — High Summer 🔥
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With the stone wall sealed, the portcullis in place, the watchtowers whispering signals across the valley, and the militia drilling like a private army, the village was no longer just hidden. It was fortified.
And Junjie? He figured if they were strong enough to defend themselves, they were strong enough to show a few cards—carefully.
The council (a fancy word for a half-dozen elders and a few loud young craftsmen) agreed to test the waters. No parades, no big caravans. Just a small, low-key trade venture to the nearby city.
The Gull of the Mountain would fly them there. Early in the morning, a couple of hours before dawn, the ship lifted silently from the hidden village. Its single deck, sails, and modest mask made it look like a riverboat to anyone in the city who might glimpse it from a distance. By the time first light touched the town, the Gull had already landed on the river, docked as if it had simply arrived from some remote outpost upriver.
Three wagons of goods would be unloaded and carried into the city. Ten militia, disguised as merchants and assistants, accompanied them to ensure both safety and order. Junjie spent hours with Nano forging merchant tags and border licenses, stitching together a background story: a frontier village in the hills, settled by refugees after the last war. Vague enough to explain rough edges, believable enough not to raise alarms.
đź›’Â What to Sell?
The village workshops had been producing surplus through spring and summer—well beyond what 400 people could use. Some of it was everyday stuff: smoked meats, dried herbs, fine wool cloth. But Junjie wanted to make an impression. Luxury sold best, and they had just enough of it.
Goods selected for trade:
Refined salt – Pale, fine-grained, snow-white. Thanks to Nano's refining tricks, it looked like it had come from a king's table.
Handblown glassware – Light, colorful, and decorative. Tiny flaws gave it "rustic charm."
Apothecary tinctures and potions – Herbal concentrates, painkillers, burn balms, a few with mild healing effects (nothing too magic-looking). Branded in ceramic and glass bottles sealed with wax.
Tiger and bear hides – Junjie's hunting trophies. Exotic, rare, and guaranteed to make someone's manor look cooler.
The slaver gold they still had—hidden, untouched—would grease the wheels. Bribes, investments, startup funds. Nobody had to know where it came from.
They needed a front. Not a traveling peddler, not a ragtag wagon sale. A shop—permanent, respectable, and just mysterious enough to attract curiosity.
They called it "The Gilded Valley."
It sat two streets off the main market square in the city, nestled between a spice trader and a scribe's house. Clean wood sign, stylized mountain-and-eye logo, and windows full of strange glass and labeled potions.
🏪Junjie Coaches the Shopkeeper
Before the shop even opened, Junjie Ruibo hired a town merchant to run it. Corvin, wiry and sharp-eyed, had a gift for chatter and a careful manner that made him ideal.
Inside the rented shop, Junjie sat him down. The scent of wood polish, herbs, and newly unpacked goods filled the air—a room meant to feel ordinary, but perfect for private instruction. "Everything you say must fit the story. Frontier village. Simple, hardworking craftsmen. Nothing more."
Corvin swallowed. "And... if someone asks where you come from?"
Junjie smiled faintly. "You don't reveal anything. Mountains only for mystique. Herbs, salt, and crafted goods—your knowledge ends there."
Nano's voice buzzed in Junjie's ear, thick with snark.
"Really, Ruibo? Just keep him competent and curious, not suspicious. Don't make the man feel like he's being lectured by a prophet."
Junjie nodded. "Right. Keep it natural. Let them ask questions, but answer vaguely. You're selling goods, not stories."
"And if he slips up?" Nano snorted. "Just keep calm. A little hesitation is fine—it makes him human. Also, smile sometimes. Humans respond well to that."
Corvin's nervous grin twisted. "I... think I can manage that."
Junjie leaned closer. "Confidence. Speak as though you're capable, but humble enough to stay believable. Every question, answer with purpose. Silence is your ally. Curiosity is theirs."
Nano chimed in again, mockingly.
"And remember, Ruibo, you're the one giving subtle guidance, not the center of attention. Let the merchant feel in charge. It's better for the illusion."
By the end of the session, Corvin left, repeating his lines aloud, practicing gestures, and nodding to himself. From the outside, it looked as if Junjie had provided competent guidance. The truth—Nano feeding encyclopedic detail, Junjie coaching tone and timing—remained invisible.
đź’°A Two-Way Street
The real win wasn't just profit. Once the shop was set up, Junjie tasked Corvin with a second mission: build a network.
• Source exotic seeds and rare books
• Watch for changes in the slaver trade routes
• Buy cloth that the village couldn't make
• Ask subtle questions about regional politics
• Listen to gossip in the taverns
In return, Junjie kept the Gull flying. Two trips per month, pre-dawn flights, staggered routes. The villagers sent finished goods out... and quietly welcomed useful imports in.
To the townspeople, the Gilded Valley was just trade. But behind the scenes, Junjie kept the lines tight:
• Only trusted runners knew the shop's real link to the village.
• Letters were coded, smuggled inside cheese wheels or tucked into false-bottom crates.
• If the shop was compromised? It would vanish in a night. The shopkeeper had a backup plan, a safehouse, and enough coin to disappear.
No names. No maps. No mention of the valley.
By midsummer, the shop was already turning a profit. Word spread. "Have you seen those triangle-eye potions?" "That salt? From some mountain cult village or something." "I swear that potion cured my headache."
Coin flowed into the valley like a new river.
Junjie used the silver and gold to improve the forges, stock the apothecary, and bribe a few mountain guides into redrawing old maps—intentionally wrong, of course.
And maybe, just maybe... they could fund something bigger next year. A secret university? A weapons lab? A trading syndicate?
The valley had roots now. But it was growing branches—and Junjie had no plans to stop.