Chapter 0164: Becoming Your Son Xie Zimiao, What Have I Done Now Young Master Jiang?

The firecracker vendor was Sheng Yiren disguised as a man.

When the young master of the Jiang family went to buy firecrackers, he felt this vendor seemed particularly ill-tempered. Not only did the vendor secretly glare at him, but when accepting the banknote, he examined it with obvious disgust before slamming the firecrackers onto the table. “Be careful when setting these off, sir,” he snapped. “Don’t blow yourself up!”

Young Master Jiang: ?

What kind of business attitude was this?

Was he being this arrogant simply because he was the only firecracker vendor around?

But when he glanced around, he saw the vendor smiling and fawning over other customers—a complete contrast to how he treated him.

He couldn’t help but ask his cousin Xie Zimiao, who was accompanying him, “Xiao Miao, is it just me, or does he seem to have it out for me?”

“Of course not! It must be your imagination,” said Xie Zimiao, who knew the whole story, patting his back solemnly. “He’s clearly trying to catch your eye with this behavior, hoping to marry into your family and take over the Jiang fortune. Cousin, you mustn’t fall for it! Stay as far away from him as possible!”

“So that’s it!” Young Master Jiang had an epiphany and felt a chill of fear. “This vendor isn’t bad-looking, but who knew he’d be so scheming! Too bad—I prefer women. Besides, I need heirs to inherit this vast family fortune!”

Though skilled at finding gold, he was mediocre at business. His father had told him he either needed to find a kind-hearted wife with a head for business or father a clever grandson to eventually take over the family enterprise.

“What’s the big deal?” Xie Zimiao lowered his head, feigning shyness. “If you need an heir to inherit the fortune, Cousin, I could always become your son.”

Young Master Jiang: ?

Young Master Jiang: щ(゜ロ゜щ)

Cousin!

After two years apart, how did you become so mischievous?

Which scoundrel corrupted my once innocent and adorable cousin?

The morning’s festivities gave way to the afternoon puck match.

Commoners gathered around the outer edges of the rink—the free viewing area. Though cost-free, the view was far inferior to the seats in the pavilions.

For a clearer view from the pavilions, one had to pay. The better the seat, the higher the price.

For this inaugural Ice Sculpture Festival, Xie Chengze had a clear goal: extract money from the wealthy. Thus, nearly every aspect came with a fee. It might have been somewhat unscrupulous, but the novel attractions proved irresistibly thrilling to aristocrats who had never experienced such excitement.

If not for technological limitations, Xie Chengze would have added bungee jumping and manual drop towers to give these ancients a taste of modern amusement.

When the time came, Emperor Jian ascended the pavilion with his officials.

Li Dongyao also appeared in his official robes, once again explaining the rules of the match. He pointed to the betting stations below the pavilions, noting that wagers could be placed at any time.

After the introductions, drums thundered, and the two teams took to the ice.

This game, reminiscent of cuju, immediately captivated everyone. The two well-trained teams battled fiercely—their clever coordination and agile maneuvers made the match even more thrilling than martial arts contests. Each period left the audience craving more.

The addictive thrill of betting on outcomes and individual scores had the wealthy merchants hooked. They cheered raucously for their chosen players. The pavilions even began selling expensive cheer boards, with clear hints that patrons could sponsor their favorite athletes. The more they invested, the more playing time the athlete would get in the following days.

Moreover, those who donated beyond a certain threshold even got the chance to play alongside their favored athletes.

To better “market” the players, Xie Chengze had crafted dazzling personas for each: “Achieved a 20-Xiongnu kill streak,” “Survived an arrow to the gut,” “Found ten taels of silver in the wasteland—lucky charm.” The merchants were dazzled, their spending fervor rivaling that of splurging on courtesans in pleasure houses.

After three matches, Sheng Yiren, operating two abacuses simultaneously, wept tears of joy. “Money,” she exclaimed, “is the easiest thing in the world to obtain!”

Young Master Jiang, cashing in his winnings, overheard this boast and turned in surprise to find the speaker was none other than that vendor coveting his family fortune.

This vendor was so skilled with the abacus?

Young Master Jiang couldn’t help but view him in a new light.

Actually, he thought, managing the family wealth didn’t necessarily require a wife or children. He could simply hire some honest stewards and shopkeepers to keep the Jiang assets in order.

Then he could focus on hunting for gold mines. Oh, right—he’d heard about the coal mine discovered in Liaozhou. The coal business seemed promising. Perhaps he could help the court locate more mines and secure a small share for himself to earn some extra silver…

Just in case his future wife gave birth to a daughter who wanted to marry the Crown Prince or emperor, he’d need money to buy her a consort position so she could leave the palace and visit him.

As Young Master Jiang mused aimlessly, worrying over a hypothetical daughter who didn’t even exist yet, he noticed from the corner of his eye several children running and playing. One tripped over his own feet and fell.

The child burst into tears.

Just as Young Master Jiang moved to help, someone else was faster. The vendor helped the child up, gently wiping his tears. “Don’t cry now,” he soothed. “The wind will sting your eyes. How about we save our crying for when we get home?”

Young Master Jiang couldn’t help but chuckle.

This person was truly interesting—not forbidding the child to cry, but suggesting he do it in private.

Was he trying to preserve the child’s right to weep?

When Young Master Jiang was taught business as a child, he often cried in frustration when he couldn’t get it right. His father would say, “A real man doesn’t cry,” but his mother retorted, “Why can’t a child cry? You big oaf even cry when you miss your sister.”

So in the Jiang household, children had the right to cry—however they wanted. You could even sob while operating an abacus, and no one would bat an eye.

Considering this, Young Master Jiang’s opinion of the vendor improved even more.

Judging by his accent, the vendor wasn’t from Liaozhou but sounded more like he was from Jingcheng. I wonder if I can recruit him to Yangzhou as a steward or shopkeeper… As Young Master Jiang pondered this, the vendor heard his laughter and looked up.

The previously gentle expression darkened visibly, eyes instantly filling with intense disgust and irritation. “What the hell are you laughing at, you jerk?”

Young Master Jiang: ?

What have I done now?!