The morning sunlight filtered softly through the paper windows of the county inn, brushing across the wooden floor and illuminating dust motes that drifted lazily in the warm air. Li Rong lay propped against the headboard, arms folded over his chest, eyes fixed on Wen as he meticulously arranged coins, ledgers, and parchment across the table. Each of Wen's movements was precise—calculated, deliberate, yet curiously domestic—and Li Rong found himself caught between admiration and quiet envy.
How does he do it? Li Rong wondered, tracing the edge of a coin with his fingertip. Outside, the county stirred with merchants haggling, carts rattling along cobbled streets, and distant shouts echoing from the markets. Bandits lurked in the forests, rumors of campaigns swirled in hushed tones, and alliances shifted like sand, yet here in this small inn, Wen created order from nothing. And in that order, Li Rong felt a dangerous sense of peace.
"Li Rong, you're staring again," Wen said softly, voice calm yet edged with a quiet authority. "Are you planning to help, or just judge?"
Li Rong's cheeks flushed. "I'm… observing," he muttered, looking away. Observing, yes, but also imagining the hidden battles Wen had fought, the ghosts in his eyes that never rested. He traced the rim of the coin again, picturing it as a battlefield: skirmishes over prices, shipments, influence. Even here, strategy pulsed beneath the surface.
Before he could dwell further, a sharp knock echoed from the door. Ji'an strode in, his grin wide, sleeves slightly frayed from some minor scuffle, a small stack of parchments sealed with red wax in hand. He tossed them onto the table with a flourish.
"Morning, geniuses," Ji'an said, grinning. "I hope neither of you planned to sleep through your own profits today."
Wen's expression remained calm, almost unreadable, yet the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at amusement. Li Rong suppressed a laugh—there was something absurdly domestic about this scene, as if the world outside had vanished, leaving only three men and their ledgers.
"Let's start with the contracts," Wen said, voice flat but commanding. "Merchant Zhao's caravan requires adjustments, and the herb supplier from Nanzhou raised his prices unexpectedly."
Ji'an leaned over the table, tapping the parchments. "You could pay him in advance—saves negotiating time. Or threaten a small pest outbreak among his fields—hypothetical, of course."
Li Rong blinked. Threaten? Hypothetical? His mind wandered to lessons from his previous life, where intimidation and strategy were tools as valid as coins and contracts.
"Li Rong, you're staring again," Ji'an remarked with a smirk. "Either you're plotting ways to rob him blind, or you're trying to remember that secret recipe of yours."
Li Rong's heart thudded. No, I can't let them see… He shook his head, forcing his mind back to the present. "I just… want to understand how you make these decisions so fast."
Wen offered a half-smile. "Experience, observation, and a touch of intuition. You'll learn in time."
---
By noon, the inn buzzed with activity. Merchants argued over prices, scribes tallied coins, and the scent of fresh bread and stewed vegetables mingled with the faint aroma of herbs from Wen's shipments. Li Rong quietly absorbed it all, memorizing trade routes, identifying which merchants held influence, noting the cost of goods, and imagining potential allies. Every detail was a small piece of a larger puzzle—the foundation for the Wen family soldiers, whose strength would come not just from swords but from careful planning, wealth, and leverage.
Lunch arrived: a simple tray of steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and a modest carafe of local wine. Li Rong paused, lifting the cup, inhaling the faintly sweet, earthy aroma. The wine was humble, yet its simplicity sparked ideas. Medicinal wine, fruit wine, jams—the very staples of the era could be transformed.
Medicinal wine… A few local herbs—ginseng, goji berries, chrysanthemum—could create tonics to boost stamina and recovery for soldiers. Fruit wines… plums, wild berries, pears, lightly sweetened with honey or sugarcane, preserved for both flavor and nutrition. And jams—simple preserves with herbal infusions—could extend the shelf life of fresh fruits, providing both sustenance and a covert funding source.
Li Rong's mind raced, sketching mental recipes:
Fruit Wine: Plums blended with wild berries, infused with a hint of cinnamon and honey for sweetness. Stored in earthen jars to age gently.
Medicinal Wine: Herbs carefully combined to aid recovery and energy, stored in sealed bottles to preserve potency.
Jam & Preserves: Lightly cooked berries or plums, sweetened moderately, infused with subtle herbs for flavor and novelty.
Each jar, each bottle, was more than sustenance. It was strategy: energy for soldiers, morale for allies, and income for hidden operations. Simple tools, subtle yet powerful.
Wen watched him over the rim of a cup. "You're plotting again, aren't you?"
Li Rong's cheeks heated. "I… I'm thinking of how to expand our resources. Medicinal wine, fruit wine, jams… simple things, but they could help fund the soldiers."
Wen's half-smile deepened. "Funding soldiers through fruit preserves? You do think in ways no one else would."
Ji'an snorted. "Terrifying. One plots empires, the other sells berries."
Li Rong rolled his eyes, though a grin tugged at his lips. "Small steps can have big consequences," he muttered, imagining warehouses of preserved goods flowing into hidden military stores, soldiers fueled by his subtle ingenuity.
---
The afternoon passed in a flurry of calculations and mental mapping. Li Rong sketched layouts for distilleries, storage barrels, jars for jams, and potential fermentation rooms. Ingredient availability, seasonal crops, and market demand intertwined in his mind. Who would buy first—the villagers, local restaurants, or, with the right introductions, nobility? How could he ensure a constant supply of herbs while maintaining secrecy for the soldiers? Each consideration felt like another layer in a delicate, invisible web.
As Li Rong worked, Wen tallied coins and notes with calm efficiency. Occasionally, he would glance at Li Rong, eyes softening, as though aware of the storm of ideas brewing in the other man's mind. There was a quiet intimacy in the shared focus, a rhythm that felt almost like domestic life despite the weight of larger conflicts looming outside.
Small gestures punctuated the afternoon. Wen passed Li Rong a fresh cup of water without a word, the touch of their fingers brushing briefly. Li Rong's pulse quickened. Even such a simple act, mundane in another world, carried meaning here—trust, presence, and a subtle promise of protection.
---
By evening, the last merchant had departed. Lanterns cast a golden glow across the room, flickering softly against the walls. Li Rong approached Wen, who was arranging ledgers with quiet care. The moment felt intimate, charged with the weight of unspoken words and shared history.
"I want to ask you something," Li Rong said, voice trembling.
Wen's pen paused. "Go on," he said calmly, steady and grounding, giving Li Rong the courage to continue.
Li Rong's hands shook. Thoughts spiraled: What if we can't win? What if something happens to you? What if all our efforts— The words choked him. Tears pricked his eyes.
The room fell silent except for the crackle of the lantern. Wen set the pen down, kneeling beside him. Without hesitation, he wrapped Li Rong in a firm, unwavering embrace.
"Li Rong," Wen said, voice low, steady, yet soft. "Think positive. All that matters is that you are here. With me. Now. Nothing bad will happen."
Li Rong buried his face in Wen's shoulder, trembling. The weight of past worlds, fear, and uncertainty lifted, replaced by warmth, trust, and the unspoken promise of safety. Words were unnecessary; the embrace itself healed, a bridge between old scars and new beginnings.
(…intimate scene here…)
By the time the candle burned low, Li Rong lifted his head, breathing steadier, heart calmer. Gratitude and love swirled in his gaze.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Wen's soft smile met him. "I've never left anyone I care about. I will never leave you."
Outside, the wind stirred, rustling leaves and carrying the faint scent of autumn. Somewhere in the distance, the emblem that haunted Li Rong's dreams glimmered faintly in his mind—a reminder that past and future were intertwined, and that courage and trust were constants amid chaos.
Li Rong settled into the quiet night, dreaming not just of fruit wines and jam, but of warehouses filled with strategy, nourishment, and subtle power. Soldiers fortified by his creations, warriors sustained by his ingenuity, and a future shaped not only by swords but by thought and subtle craft. For the first time in a long while, he felt ready—not just to survive, but to lead, protect, and innovate.
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