Harris Ma spent the entire day happily house-hunting with Xiao Song. By the time they returned to their new residence at dusk, the blue-brick courtyard had already been completely dug up.
Circling around to inspect the site, Harris stepped into the main courtyard.
"Darren Chang, you're fast! Already started the work?"
Finding no one outside, he went straight into the kitchen, where Darren was hacking at a pile of meat and bones with a cleaver.
"So quick—everything all right on your end?" Darren asked, tossing the chopped bones into a pot.
"Not quite!" Harris squatted down to tend the fire. "Someone's trying to play tricks on us—pretty capable fellow too. The brokerage was unusually obedient, but that firm's a small one. Tell me, could it be that man surnamed Yin?"
He spat to the side in frustration.
"Doesn't seem like it. If the Yin family could sway a brokerage, this property would've never been released for sale."
Darren tied a thick bundle of scallions, crushed a generous slab of ginger, and threw both into the pot.
"I ran into trouble too," he said. "I went to hire men to tamp the earth—thought it was settled—but someone stole the job halfway through. I offered ten percent more, and he still took it."
"Ha! Damn it! Taking advantage while the boss is away, huh? How much did you give him then? Ten percent? Twenty? Thirty?"
"One hundred."
Harris hissed through his teeth, eyes wide. He raised a thumb toward Darren. "Lord Chang indeed!"
"The price was worth it," Darren chuckled darkly. "Can't just tamp the main yard—might as well reinforce every inch of this place."
Harris laughed, then frowned again, his teeth clicking.
"Easy for you to profit from that. But what about me? I can't just let this opportunity slip by, can I?"
Darren cast him a sidelong glance and said nothing.
That afternoon, Gavin Shea was in the Privy Council reviewing year-end military rewards when William Chen's servant, Bai Cheng, arrived drenched in sweat.
Gavin waved him in immediately. "What's the matter?"
"Prince Heir, sir…" Bai Cheng's eyes darted around the room full of council officials. He fell silent.
Gavin rose and stepped outside. "Speak."
"Your Highness, Lord Chang of Chaomi Alley has filed a case at the yamen. Says one of the laborers tamping his courtyard soil stole his silver notes. My master sent me to seek your instruction."
Gavin's brow arched.
The men hired for that job were most likely from the Yongning Marquis's household. Silver notes, stolen? Hardly. They must be searching for something they thought useful.
"Jixiang," Gavin called to his aide, "go tell Fourth Master to look into it."
Then, to Bai Cheng, he added, "Go with him, then report back to your master."
Bai Cheng bowed and hurried off, dispatching another servant to relay the news before running to find Simon Wen.
Upon receiving orders, Simon rode quickly to the county office. By the time he arrived, a large crowd had already gathered outside—the people of Castleton never missed a spectacle.
He dismounted a short distance away, squeezed into the throng with Bai Cheng and two attendants, craning his neck to peer inside.
For the theft of a few silver notes, the county magistrate himself need not appear. Seated on the dais was Assistant Judge Qiao.
Four men knelt in the center of the hall—three shoulder to shoulder on one side, and Darren Chang alone opposite them. His broad frame took up nearly as much space as the three combined.
The trio kowtowed, swore their innocence, and begged to be searched.
They truly hadn't stolen anything.
Judge Qiao rubbed his temples in exasperation. When they finished pleading, he turned to Darren.
"You accuse them of theft—have you any evidence or witnesses? Such claims can't rest on your word alone."
"I do, Your Honor," Darren rumbled. "My boss says I'm too clumsy to guard the money, so he crushed a stink bug and made me dab the notes with it every day. Whoever stole them would reek of the bug. Let someone smell them—one sniff will tell."
The man in the middle froze, eyes bulging. Before the judge could speak, he blurted out, "I—I squashed a stink bug this morning! My hands already stank before I went to work at his house!"
"It's midwinter," Darren retorted flatly. "Where'd you find a stink bug?"
"Go smell," Judge Qiao ordered with amused curiosity.
Several bailiffs stepped forward, grabbing the men's hands, grimacing as they caught the foul odor.
"Your Honor, I swear I didn't steal anything!" the man cried.
"Then tell us," said Judge Qiao coolly, "why do your hands stink?"
"I… I didn't steal, sir, truly…" The man's tongue twisted as he stammered. He hadn't taken the notes at all—he'd been searching for something else entirely. But how could he possibly explain?
At that moment, a middle-aged steward in broker's garb pushed through the crowd and knelt before the bench.
"Your Honor, I'm the steward of the brokerage. By my master's order, I must confess—this man was newly hired, seemed skilled, but we had no idea he was dishonest. The fault is ours. Whatever amount Lord Chang has lost, our firm will repay it in full. Please forgive us, my lord, and you, Your Honor."
Judge Qiao's expression softened. Stroking his beard, he nodded approvingly.
"Very well. How many notes were lost? And of what value? Speak truthfully—it can be verified."
"Three notes," Darren replied at once. "Ten thousand each. All from the Four Seas Bank, stamped with the red-gold seal."
Judge Qiao nearly jumped. "Thirty thousand? Are you sure?"
"Thirty thousand," Darren said firmly. "Earned by risking our necks as escorts." He raised three thick fingers for emphasis.
Judge Qiao turned to the steward. "You heard that? Thirty thousand."
"Yes, Your Honor," the steward answered through clenched teeth.
The judge's brows lifted high. He looked from one man to the other, then struck the bench sharply with his wooden block.
"Since you admit fault, let it be settled. Bring thirty thousand taels in notes—red-sealed from Four Seas Bank—and hand them over to Lord Chang before this court. Case closed."
"Yes, sir!" Darren barked, his deep voice echoing through the hall.
Simon Wen watched as the steward reluctantly handed over three red-stamped notes to Darren Chang. Only then did he slip away to report back to Gavin Shea.
That night, when Gavin returned to Prince Rui's residence, he was already laughing before he reached his own courtyard. William Chen came forward, and they both burst into laughter the moment their eyes met.
Inside, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Gavin said, "You told me last time he paid less than a tenth of the labor costs for that courtyard, didn't you?"
"Yes. Zhihé was already astonished by how ruthlessly he'd bargained. But this—" William spread his hands, laughing again.
"See? A fool like that—that's the real Yongping Marquis's household. The attack on me back then was far too clever for their kind."
William fell silent for a long moment, then murmured, "Prince Qin once said—it's best not to dwell on it."
"My elder brother urged me to step back—to divide Prince Rui's residence just as it is now, into two," Gavin said quietly.
"Second Prince is weak and indecisive. When His Majesty passes, and Prince Qin becomes regent—you, bound by the Wen family's influence—if you also hold Rui Prince's estate…"
William's words trailed off into a sigh. "Your position would be too powerful. His Majesty's concern is understandable. If Lady Shen were empress and Madam Shinn controlled Rui Prince's household, at least the court wouldn't fall under one family's dominance."
"You think I should yield, too?" Gavin's gaze cut sharply toward him.
William met his eyes but said nothing.
"I won't," Gavin said, lifting his chin.
"Those who live must learn to endure," William murmured, his voice shadowed. "What we wish for, or wish against—how many of those desires are ever granted?"
Gavin placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't torment yourself over Ninghe. That matter wasn't your fault. Let it rest."