Chapter 418 Xian’ge Mountain

Chapter 418: Xiange Mountain

The Luo family, unlike the other three great clans, had their ancestral hall within Lin'an city proper, but their old estate sat at the foot of Xiange Mountain on the city's outskirts. Once clan members married, they registered as separate households, and it was rare to see multiple generations living under one roof.

When Luo Zhan said he was inviting Meng Wan to the Luo residence, he naturally meant the old estate at the foot of Xiange Mountain, not his own home in the city.

The storm that had been building all night finally broke in the early hours of dawn, drenching everyone riding outside, including Luo Zhan, who had given up his carriage.

Raindrops clattered down in sheets. Through the curtain of rain, an imposing yet rustic estate stood quietly at the foot of Xiange Mountain—green tiles, white walls, upturned eaves, and a few faded red lanterns swaying gently in the wind and rain beneath the roofline.

The vermilion gate stood open, revealing a tidy front courtyard. The door knockers were two fierce bronze lions, worn smooth by years of handling yet still exuding a steady, imposing presence. Several stone steps before the gate were polished glossy by the rain, flanked by waist-high stone plinths carved with intricate interlocking lotus patterns—slightly weathered, yet all the more distinguished for it.

The carriage stopped before the gate. The rain was so heavy that when Luo Zhan dismounted, his robes kicked up a spray of water. He wiped the rain from his face and called to the old servant at the gate, "Have the threshold removed. We're receiving an honored guest."

Meng Wan had closed the carriage windows, leaving only a narrow gap, and was reclining on the couch, leaning against Chi Yu, half-asleep.

"Meng Fulang, please step down. We've arrived," the young attendant called from beyond the curtain, raising his voice to be heard over the pounding rain.

Not only Meng Wan heard it—so did everyone waiting in the courtyard.

The attendant parted the curtains, and Meng Wan, already sitting upright, straightened his collar and stepped out with a slight bow. His dark, damp cloak was draped over his arm, revealing a moon-white robe with gold-threaded cuffs and collar beneath. The fabric caught the lamplight with a soft sheen, making his complexion appear even more luminous—his aloof expression made him seem like an immortal untouched by worldly concerns.

Meng Wan descended the carriage step with grace, an oil-paper umbrella held steadily overhead. Luo Zhan, water still dripping from the hair at his temples, said with eager courtesy, "The mountain path is slippery. Mind your step, Meng Fulang."

Chi Yu took the umbrella Luo Zhan offered with his left hand, shooting him a vicious glare.

What a lowlife—his eyes were practically glued to their Fulang.

As the carriage had pulled into the courtyard, several people who had been waiting long in advance surged out from the front hall of the Luo family's five-courtyard estate. Many more stood along the covered walkways—men and women, old and young alike.

Bai Fuling stood rooted to the spot, watching as Luo Zhan, soaked to the bone, took an umbrella and handed it first to the person in the carriage. Even through the curtain of rain, she could see the smile at the corner of his mouth—more fawning than the most obsequious maid in her quarters! The fingers clutching her handkerchief tightened around her palm, her long nails snapping against the embroidered silk. Blood stained the fabric, but the pain couldn't mask her hatred.

They're all despicable!

No one noticed her distress. Several of the Luo clan's leading elders were present, and it wasn't her place to speak. A few venerable elders stepped forward with umbrellas to greet the guests personally—not the ones who had put on airs at Qingxiao Residence. These were the most senior, though none over sixty, mostly in their forties and fifties.

Without needing introductions, Meng Wan had already guessed: these were the Luo family's true powerholders. The Second Uncle Luo had been deliberately placed as a target for Song Tingzhou to strike. Luo Zhan, who handled affairs on the move, was their spokesman. The Luo family's real foundation was buried deep, rarely seen by outsiders.

Today, Meng Wan had not only seen it—he'd seen an entire gathering of them.

Taking the oil-paper umbrella through the rain curtain, Meng Wan smiled without warmth. "So you all figured I'd come and got ready for me in advance?"

A middle-aged man in a dark brocade robe with a refined countenance stepped forward. Of medium build with gentle eyes and a short beard, he exuded quiet authority with a scholarly air. "Please forgive us, Meng Fulang. We had no wish to make an enemy of you—we were left with no choice."

Meng Wan clearly had no patience for their smooth talk, his irritation nearly spilling over. He gave a light scoff. "The Luo family is vast and powerful, practically the overlord of the south. Are you trying to play the poor victim in front of me?"

He was a wealthy merchant with tens of thousands of workers under him, a First-Rank Mingrui Fulang ennobled by the new emperor—someone even the emperor's favorite consorts wouldn't dare cross. Of course he was furious at having been played by the Luo family. Did they think a few sweet words would win him over? Not a chance!

Luo Zhan hurried into the gallery, his bearing more deferential than usual. "Sixth Granduncle, Meng Fulang's had a long ride in the carriage, and the rain outside is heavy. Let's go inside to talk first."

"Zhan'er is right. Meng Fulang, please, after you." The Sixth Granduncle stepped aside with practiced grace, completely unruffled by Meng Wan's sarcasm.

A tough nut to crack.

Meng Wan dropped his gaze, hiding his thoughts, and followed the group through the walkways. As he passed the rain-soaked courtyard, the bluestone beneath his feet was slick from the downpour. Well-dressed men and women stood along the corridors, their gazes drawn to Meng Wan against their will—some admiring, some curious, some sizing him up, and a few with barely hidden wariness.

By now, anyone allowed into the old estate wasn't stupid. They knew the family's survival might hinge on Meng Wan.

The Luo family's old estate had many courtyards, unlike the traditional courtyard homes of Shengjing. Once through the gate, you couldn't tell which courtyard you were in. Meng Wan followed them through several winding corridors until they reached a spacious main hall.

Outside, the autumn rain hammered the roof tiles without letup. Thunder rumbled across the sky, setting the tassels of the hanging palace lanterns swaying. Whether thanks to some special feng shui layout, the hall stayed dry and cool despite the muggy heat outside.

Meng Wan sat in the seat of honor. Massive nanmu beams rose before him, their grain bold, lacquered deep vermilion—still gleaming after a century. Underfoot were golden bricks polished like mirrors, coldly gleaming in the damp air, their seams so tight they rang when tapped.

The hall had a single couch facing south, corner pillars, incense stands, large tables, guest seats along the east and west walls, long tables, vases, and candle holders—all masterpieces of fine craftsmanship. The room was full of refined treasures—not flaunted ostentatiously but naturally accumulated over a century, the deep heritage of generations, far beyond the gaudy gold and jade of the nouveau riche.

Funny enough, the north wall had a boldly inked copy of "A Hundred Scenes of He Mountain"—clearly commissioned by the Luo family to suck up to Meng Wan. The original hung in the imperial palace, and the fact they could have it reproduced was itself a subtle flex of the Luo family's reach and power.

Meng Wan studied it for a while and realized the copyist was likely a true artist at heart. Though it lacked the vivid, lived-in immediacy of Meng Wan's original—born of personal experience—it had been transformed through a bold, unconventional brushwork—eerie and ethereal, following no conventional rules. It was a style all its own.

The hall was dead quiet. Luo Zhan had stepped out to change clothes. Maidservants in plain blue robes and cloth shoes brought in fruit, setting it beside Meng Wan without a sound. After bowing properly, they stood outside the door along the corridor—at a respectful distance, perfectly measured, every move reflecting the discipline of a great clan.

Meng Wan turned to look at the fruit chilled with ice and suddenly smiled. Lychees—and if he wasn't wrong, the Heiye County kind. His mood unexpectedly calmed, and he picked up a plump lychee, turning it in his hand. "You've certainly put some thought into this."

The Sixth Granduncle, though higher in seniority, was actually a dozen years younger than those decoys in the city—and far sharper. "Just small tokens of our respect. We know Meng Fulang is a businessman, and the Luo family are businessmen as well. We don't have to be at each other's throats."

Since the Luo family's hospitality had been decent enough, Meng Wan finally had the patience to talk to them properly. "You all know why my husband came to Lin'an. Some things are out of our hands."

The Luo family could talk in soft, vague pleasantries—couldn't Meng Wan do the same? They were all merchants. At this point, it wasn't about who was smarter, but about who had the stronger hand.

The Luo family of old might not have feared a Second-Rank capital official, but the current Luo family couldn't take that risk. And with Song Tingzhou openly determined to deal with them, they were extremely disadvantaged.

If Meng Wan had been a fool easy to manipulate, the Luo family would have taken a different stance. But clearly he wasn't. From their initial probing to their deeper understanding of his sugar workshops in Lingnan, the Zhen Guan Workshop, and the courier stations—anyone with half a brain could see that this xiaoge was no ordinary person.

In Shengjing, Meng Wan was a fierce husband—a cunning, ruthless, resourceful Mingrui Fulang.

But in Lingnan—Meng Wan was a god.

The Sixth Granduncle exchanged glances with the elders in the hall, as if reaching a consensus. One could see them nod almost imperceptibly.

Again it was the Sixth Granduncle who spoke, this middle-aged man who perfectly embodied the image of a scholarly merchant, delivering in a steady tone a most enticing proposition: "The Luo family will not let Meng Fulang suffer losses. Beyond the equal-field distribution that Zhan'er discussed with you earlier, the Luo family will hand over a number of clan members to Lord Song, to silence the critics and give him something to report upon returning to the capital. Additionally, the Luo family has certain business ventures we can pursue together with Meng Fulang—with annual profits of at least one million taels of silver."

Throughout history, only a few things truly moved people: money, power, beauty.

Money ranked first for good reason. If something fails to move someone, it's only because there isn't enough of it.

Meng Wan nearly lost his composure. It was like thinking yourself a top-tier tycoon in the modern world—buying property anywhere, casually closing deals worth billions—only to have a mysterious ancient family contact you, casually mentioning a hundred billion in annual pure profit.

No wonder honest merchants could never compete with those who took shortcuts. Though the Luo family's money must burn to hold—otherwise, why would they be groveling to bring him into the fold?

Meng Wan steadied himself. The lychee in his hand had lost its chill, so he picked up another to toy with. "The Luo family speaks boldly. One million taels a year—what business?"

Sensing the softening in Meng Wan's tone, the Sixth Granduncle pressed his advantage. "In Lin'an, there is a hidden city..." He drew out the words, then sighed heavily. "When the criminal Prince Wen Xu and Nie Chuan forced the Luo family to supply their army's pay, it was through this hidden city that we provisioned a hundred thousand troops. The wealth that city represents—we need not elaborate. Meng Fulang surely understands."

In any nation, no matter how corrupt, no one dares embezzle military funds.

Take the Yu Kingdom for example: a single cavalryman cost roughly twenty to thirty taels of silver annually, while an infantryman cost ten to fifteen.

Garrisons across the realm fared somewhat better, mostly self-sufficient, but border troops endured harsh conditions and regularly faced the enemy in real combat. They risked their lives to protect the nation's foundations and the people's peace. If they couldn't even eat their fill, that was the beginning of a kingdom's decline.

Not to mention the soldiers themselves—the generals who led them into battle couldn't bear to see their brothers go hungry. Maintaining the army was the court's single greatest financial burden. Kou Wen's heart bled every time he allocated grain and pay across the realm, yet he knew that even if every other expense were cut, the soldiers' rations could never be reduced.

If a great nation struggled to feed its army, what did it say that the Luo family—a single clan—supported a hundred thousand private troops? Their wealth needed no further elaboration. No wonder they hadn't initially taken Meng Wan seriously, sending only figureheads to deal with him.

Had their opponent not been Wen Zhao, with a hundred thousand private soldiers, no one could have stood against Wen Xu.

Rain poured outside the corridor, thunder rumbled dully, and water cascaded from the eaves in dense curtains, battering the courtyard flowers into disarray. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and aged wood.

Meng Wan remained silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the rain-soaked courtyard, lost in thought. Finally, he spoke slowly: "I want to see it with my own eyes before I decide."

Sixth Granduncle seemed to have anticipated Meng Wan's response and agreed immediately, "That is only natural, but the city of Youcheng has its own rules. Even the head of the Luo family must abide by them to enter."

Meng Wan thought his concession had given the Luo family an opening to push their luck and cause trouble, and frowned in confusion, "Since it is a place under the Luo family's jurisdiction, why must you follow such rules? Surely you are not deceiving me?"

The enormous profit had already hooked the shrewd and clever young lord before him. Sixth Granduncle had no intention of revealing more and said meaningfully, "Once Lord Meng enters the city, you will naturally understand the mystery. I regret that I am bound by clan rules and cannot say more."

Meng Wan tossed the lychee back into the plate, wiped his hands with a silk handkerchief, and asked, "When do we go?"

If anyone was anxious, it was the Luo family, not him—otherwise, they would not have been so easily manipulated, a fact both sides knew well. With just a few words, Sixth Granduncle had managed to elevate the Luo family's standing to that of an equal partner in cooperation with Meng Wan, which was no small feat.

"At midnight. A maidservant will awaken you then. For now, you may rest, and whatever you need, simply instruct the staff below." Without further suspense, Sixth Granduncle answered crisply, as if everything had long been arranged.

It seemed he would not be returning to Qingxiao Residence tonight. Meng Wan remained composed, rose, and followed the maidservant summoned by Sixth Granduncle along the corridor toward the north, entering a quiet courtyard.

"Please, my lord. This Qingding Courtyard has been specially prepared for your rest. Should you need anything, simply ring the bell to summon someone, and this servant will wait outside the courtyard." The maidservant bowed respectfully beneath the eaves, her voice as soft as raindrops dripping from the corners of the roof, not uttering a single superfluous word from start to finish.

Meng Wan hummed in acknowledgment and pushed the door open with Chi Yu. After a long, exhausting night, he was both sleepy and hungry. He had Chi Yu scout the area thoroughly before lying down on the bed still in his clothes, closing his eyes to rest.

A quarter of an hour later, just as he was about to drift off, something flew in through the open window and struck Chi Yu, who was leaning against the headboard guarding Meng Wan.

"My lord, wake up and eat something. It was sent by the master."