chapter 5
Ever since Li Jingzhou became Daoist Master Tongwei, the threshold of the Jing’an Earl Manor was nearly worn flat.
The noble ladies who used to look down their noses at us now turned up with pleading invitations, begging the Master to read their palms or grant them a protective talisman.
I made a snap decision and launched a scarcity marketing campaign.
“The Master is in seclusion, meditating on the Way of Heaven. He’s not receiving visitors.”
I had the gatekeeper turn everyone away, letting out only one piece of information.
The Master came out of seclusion three times a month, and received only one fortunate soul per visit.
As for who counted as a fortunate soul?
Naturally, whoever offered the most incense money.
But that wasn’t enough. Relying on Li Jingzhou alone to sell his face had too little capacity—I’d wear my money tree to death.
What I wanted was a full closed-loop business chain.
I turned my gaze to the talent that hadn’t yet been put to good use.
The poet, Liu Ruyan.
After half a month of copying ledgers in the accounting office, Liu Ruyan had gone somewhat blank.
“Young Madam…” She reflexively started reciting the ledger at the sight of me.
“Stop reciting.”
I slapped a sheet of gold-flecked peach blossom paper on the table. “Your talent shouldn’t be wasted on numbers. Starting today, you’re the manor’s chief copywriter.”
Liu Ruyan was stunned. “Copywriter? What is that?”
“It means writing stories—stories that make people cry, and reach for their money.”
I took out an utterly ordinary jade pendant, bought for five hundred wen from a sundry shop south of the city. Its quality was middling, with a few impurities.
“Write a story for this jade pendant. Say that while Daoist Master Tongwei was cultivating on Kunlun Mountain, he met the Heavenly Maiden of the Nine Heavens, and she, moved by his sincerity, wept and turned her tears into this jade. Whoever wears it will retain eternal youth and enjoy harmony between husband and wife.”
Liu Ruyan’s eyes went wide. “This… this is cheating…”
“This is brand storytelling.”
I corrected her. “The jade itself is only worth five hundred wen. But add your story, add the Master’s blessing, and it’s worth five hundred taels. The difference is the knowledge premium—the value of your talent.”
Liu Ruyan’s scholarly pride wavered before those four words: the value of talent.
She picked up her brush, thought for a moment, and dashed off a piece titled *Dreams of Kunlun*.
I picked it up and read.
Good heavens. She really was a professional.
Lush prose, moving emotions. That kind of haunting beauty, that sense of fate—even a capitalist like me almost believed it.
The next day, the jade pendant was placed on Li Jingzhou’s lectern.
The fortunate soul that day was the wife of the Vice Minister of Revenue—a notoriously sharp-tongued woman who had a strained relationship with her husband.
Following my script, Li Jingzhou recited a few lines of Liu Ruyan’s verse with an inscrutable air, then lightly handed over the jade pendant.
“I perceive from your brow, madam, that while you carry an aura of wealth and honor, you are troubled by a peach blossom curse. This jade…”
Before he could finish, the Vice Minister’s wife was already weeping, and on the spot she pulled out a thousand-tael banknote to take the jade home.
Hidden behind the folding screen, Liu Ruyan watched that thousand-tael banknote, her hands trembling.
“Y… Young Madam, my writing is worth this much?”
I pressed a ten-tael commission into her hand. “This is just the beginning. Next we’ll release the Master’s signature sachets, his personally written fortune characters, his meditation cushions. Every product gets one of your haunting stories.”
“Hong Xiu does the showcasing, you do the storytelling, and Lü Qi plays background music to set the mood.”
“We’re going to make the capital’s noble ladies feel they’re not buying things—they’re buying faith, style, a shortcut to happiness.”