Chapter Thirty: Angel's Wheel

Chapter Thirty: The Angel Round

“Take care, Young Lord!” Ren Cong and Guo Nu, relieved, quickly cupped their hands to bid farewell to the “plague god.” Duan Huaijian’s presence had weighed heavily on them, making them feel powerless to act despite their capabilities. Yet as soon as his figure disappeared beyond the main hall’s door, the pair returned to their former liveliness. They exchanged glances, wordlessly agreeing on who should speak first.

“Brother Zhang, you promised to provide the formula. Shall the three of us partner for a trial production? Later, if others wish to buy in, we’ll double our original capital before transferring shares, letting them profit alongside us. But the control over the elixir must never be transferred, correct?” Ren Cong’s demands were minimal, so he had priority. His questions were also straightforward.

“Of course. Otherwise, why would I have assured Second Young Lord Guo earlier that he could come to me for more after using it?” Zhang Qian smiled amiably, nodding at him. “As for the future, it might not be just a doubling; it will depend on preliminary sales. If sales are good, we might multiply the shares several times, even dozens of times, and there’ll still be no shortage of investors. As for control, you’re absolutely right—it will never be relinquished. The three of us must work together to prevent it from falling into others’ hands.”

Even in business, the plump Zhang Qian was more generous than most. So he willingly offered more guidance.

“Immortal Master, for this first round, how much do you think each of us should invest?” Guo Nu, who had only met him that day, asked bluntly, lacking any camaraderie. “And after investing, how should the shares be divided?”

“Don’t call me Immortal Master!” Zhang Qian laughed, raising his voice as he followed what he’d learned of Tang customs. “I should be thirteenth in the family. Second Brother, you can call me Zhang Thirteen, or Thirteenth Young Lord. As for investment, I’ll provide the formula and the venue, while Little Five Ren and Second Brother each send ten trustworthy hands to help, and take charge of the first batch’s sales. For purchasing ingredients and crafting equipment, let’s estimate three hundred strings of coins—each of us puts in one hundred. Afterward, for the first round of shares, I take sixty percent; the remaining forty is split equally between you and Brother Ren.”

He feared they might misunderstand, so he quickly added, “The reason I take sixty percent isn’t because I think the formula and venue are worth so much, but because you two come from great families—this little business may not get your attention in the future. I just acquired a manor, and I need an enterprise to win over my people. Also, when the second round of investment comes, the specifics will be up to me to plan thoroughly. With a larger share, I’ll have more say.”

If Ren Cong and Guo Nu were sons of officials or nobles, Zhang Qian would never bargain so bluntly. But since both were the offspring of wealthy merchants, inheriting their fathers’ business acumen, Zhang Qian preferred to keep matters strictly business, avoiding the hassle of forced intimacy.

After all, they were mere acquaintances, even if they got along, not so well as to forego boundaries. In business, even if every penny is contested, as long as it’s not outrageous, all parties can accept it, and friendships last longer.

As expected, as soon as he finished speaking, Ren Cong and Guo Nu voiced strong objections. The former felt his twenty percent was too much, while the latter thought he contributed too little in the first round.

Zhang Qian haggled, and after a lively but amicable “negotiation,” the three reached consensus: three hundred strings of copper coins, Ren Cong and Guo Nu each contributed one hundred fifty, while Zhang Qian didn’t need to put in a single coin. For the initial share distribution, Zhang Qian would take fifty-two percent for ease of leadership, while Ren Cong and Guo Nu each took twenty-four percent. As for how much to accept in the second round, how many shares each would offer for transfer, and the price per share, these would be decided unanimously after deliberation.

“Just as well, with Imperial Physician Sun here, let’s have him witness and draw up the contract now!” Ren Cong, unable to change his boisterous nature, pressed for immediate action once the oral agreement was made.

“Yes, I’ll go bathe first. Little Five Ren, you prepare the contract. Once I finish, as Thirteenth Young Lord instructs, I’ll use the potion, and we’ll draw up the contract in the main hall!” Guo Nu, seeing great prospects for profit and fearing delays, chimed in loudly. “Once the contract is signed, I’ll immediately send people to purchase ingredients and craft the necessary equipment. Sharpening the knife doesn’t delay chopping wood. Once Thirteenth Young Lord is registered and settled in his new manor, we can try producing the first batch of ‘elixir’!”

Page (1/3)

“As you wish, the contract can be signed this afternoon!” Zhang Qian had originally brought up essential balm to win Guo Nu’s trust and better integrate himself into Tang society. He did not hesitate, smiling and nodding. “But the required ingredients, equipment, and procedure are quite complex. I’ll need at least a night to write everything down clearly.”

He tapped his head quickly. “It’s all in here. Young Master, please provide me paper and pen. Tonight, aside from Zi Juan, let no one disturb me!”

“Don’t worry, tonight, Little Five and I will personally stand guard!” Guo Nu, thinking he feared the secret of the formula leaking, readily agreed.

“Brother Zhang, proceed freely. Tonight, within thirty paces of the guest room, not even a fly will get in!” Ren Cong, supposing he was about to use some secret family technique, answered resolutely.

“Then I’ll rely on you both!” Zhang Qian, thoroughly satisfied, cupped his hands with a smile.

Now he could safely and boldly consult the contents of his phone. Though he had no internet access nor the use of certain untrustworthy search engines, his phone’s memory held a vast trove of academic papers.

Zhang Qian remembered clearly that among them was a paper confirming that essential balm was a variant of cooling ointment, first appearing around 1870 in Southeast Asia, with its main ingredients and original method detailed. Mint, wintergreen leaves, and other ingredients could surely be found in any herbal shop. As for the volatile component, alcohol could easily substitute.

The equipment for distilling alcohol was even simpler. Guo Nu and Ren Cong shared one great advantage: money was no object. By having them finance the crafting of a large pure copper kettle, with a long copper spout coiled into a spiral and cooled through a vat of water, a self-cooling distillation tower could be made.

When needed, they could buy the strongest Tang wine, fill the copper kettle, and heat it slowly over a fire. Using the lower evaporation point of alcohol compared to water, alcohol would drip from the spout’s end.

If the purity wasn’t enough the first time, they could repeat the process as many times as needed.

After all, this was an angel round investment, with people eager to vie for the A round later—there was plenty of money to waste!

However, the notion of casually squandering resources faded that evening as he sketched the distillation tower, drowned out by the sound of counting coins behind him.

“…Nine hundred twenty-three, nine hundred twenty-four, nine hundred twenty-five…” Zi Juan, after stringing together the Kaiyuan Tongbao coins, opened each string again, counting them one by one, fearful that Ren’s servants might have slipped in inferior coins or intentionally shorted a string or two.

“Go to sleep. There won’t be any missing. Forty strings—if you count each coin, you’ll be at it till dawn!” Setting aside his homemade charcoal pencil, Zhang Qian turned, gently commanding.

The young girl was clearly traumatized by poverty, possessing an almost obsessive love for counting money. Though her eyes were red from exhaustion, she stubbornly shook her head. “Young Lord hasn’t slept; how could I? Young Lord is kind, so I must watch over things for him, lest anyone tries to deceive you.”

Page (2/3)

“If they wanted to cheat me, it wouldn’t be over these forty strings!” Unable to understand Zi Juan’s childish reasoning, yet touched nonetheless, Zhang Qian smiled and continued in a low voice, “See that ledger? The main sums are recorded there. If they delay payment for a few days, the interest alone is worth hundreds of coins—far more than any petty shortfall now!”

“What’s interest? Will they use Young Lord’s money to lend?” Zi Juan’s eyes suddenly brightened, instantly alert. “Young Lord, we can’t let them do that. Once we reach the manor, you must send someone to recover all the funds!”

“So much money—where would you keep it? You’d watch over it?” Amused by her vigilant look, Zhang Qian surveyed her thin, frail frame and teased.

“Dig a cellar and store it there! Exchange the copper for silver—it won’t take as much space!” Zi Juan replied without hesitation, “The cellar should be under my room, covered with planks. I’ll work there by day, sleep on the floor at night. Anyone wanting to steal Young Lord’s money would have to step over my corpse!”

“What nonsense—your life isn’t worth such filthy lucre!” Alarmed by Zi Juan’s readiness to die for him, Zhang Qian shook his head gently. “Enough, go to bed early! Matters can be settled later. This money isn’t worth your hardship!”

Yawning lazily, he turned back to his sketches, picking up his charcoal pencil to resume drawing.

“It’s not hard, truly not hard!” Zi Juan’s voice suddenly became choked, as if suffering a great grievance.

“What now?” Zhang Qian, puzzled, set his pencil down again, a bit impatient.

Before he could turn to see what was wrong, Zi Juan threw her arms tightly around his waist from behind. “It’s nothing, Young Lord, please don’t be angry at Zi Juan. I didn’t mean to cry or upset you. I, I…sob…”

“All right, don’t cry. I’m not angry with you!” Feeling the washboard-like body trembling against his back, Zhang Qian’s irritation melted away. He patted her hand gently, coaxing her in a low voice.

“Mm, I won’t cry, I’ll stop soon. Young Lord, I just never expected that, in your eyes, my life could be so valuable!” Zi Juan tried to stifle her tears, explaining softly, but sobbed even harder. “I was bought by the manor lord for five strings of coins. They all said he paid too much. I, I…sob…sob…”

Page (3/3)