Chapter Nineteen: Zhao He Takes Action

A laborer came running back in a panic, his face mottled with bruises, clearly fresh from a fight. Upon questioning, it became clear: while escorting the third batch of Jiangyuebai to the Drunken Immortal Tavern, they were ambushed halfway by a band of masked men clad in black. Without a word, the attackers launched into a fierce assault. In the chaos, several wine jars were smashed, the painstakingly brewed Jiangyuebai spilling across the ground.

Jiang Chen’s expression was grave, yet he asked calmly, “What happened after that? Where are Wu Qingshan and the others?”

“Brother Shan and the rest are still fighting those thugs. He told me to hurry back and get reinforcements,” the man replied.

Without delay, Jiang Chen gathered Gu Jun and all the help he could muster, rushing to the scene. Judging by the attackers’ attire, it was clearly a premeditated strike; they might lose all one hundred jars of Jiangyuebai. The most dire consequence would be a direct loss of two thousand taels of silver, not to mention all the time and effort invested.

Wu Yue could do nothing but stay behind in the house, anxiously worrying. The dumplings in her bowl grew cold as her heart twisted with unease.

When Jiang Chen and his group arrived, they found the carts loaded with Jiangyuebai still undisturbed by the roadside, while Wu Qingshan and his men lay strewn across the ground in disarray—a sight that wrenched at the heart.

“Quick, check on everyone’s injuries! Get the seriously wounded to a doctor immediately!”

Everyone rushed to assess their companions. All seven, including Wu Qingshan, bore wounds; one’s brow was split and bleeding profusely, another’s leg was broken, and any movement drew cries of pain.

Yet, there was a silver lining: despite the severity of the attack, no one’s life was in danger, and most of the Jiangyuebai remained intact—a near miracle.

Jiang Chen was astonished; the worst he had anticipated had not come to pass. He could only wonder what sort of bitter struggle had preserved their cargo in the end.

“Jiang Chen, we… we did our best. More than twenty men suddenly surrounded us—we were simply outmatched!” Wu Qingshan’s face was full of regret. His injuries were worst of all, especially his left arm, which was grotesquely swollen, yet he made no sound of complaint.

“The important thing is that no lives were lost. You did well, protecting our Jiangyuebai,” Jiang Chen said, clapping Wu Qingshan’s shoulder with solemn gratitude.

At that moment, Gu Jun returned with news: “We lost eighteen jars of Jiangyuebai.”

“That’s an acceptable loss. Don’t dwell on it,” Jiang Chen replied, patting Wu Qingshan’s shoulder again. He had expected Zhao He to make a move; had it not been for Wu Qingshan’s men, the losses would have been far greater.

The next day, the Drunken Immortal Tavern was besieged by eager crowds. The moment word spread that Jiangyuebai was available for sale in large quantities, lines began to form at the entrance. For merchants and officials alike, Jiangyuebai had become the most coveted item—not just for its quality, but for the prestige it conferred. Who would not wish to impress guests by presenting a jar of Jiangyuebai, as if offering them nectar from the heavens?

Watching the bustling scene outside, Lin Qingxuan was both elated and anxious. On one hand, he hoped the endless line would never cease; on the other, he worried about running out of stock.

“Jiang Chen, at this rate, the tavern’s inventory will soon be exhausted. Even with what you brought last night, we have little more than five hundred jars in total. What will we do after today?”

Leaning against a second-floor window, Jiang Chen replied coolly, “A new shipment will arrive tonight. There’s no need to sell without restraint. Spread the word—today there’s a limit of five hundred jars, first come, first served.”

“But… with interest running so high, shouldn’t we seize the opportunity to make a fortune?” Though Jiang Chen had explained this before and Lin Qingxuan was nearly convinced, the sight of gleaming silver was hard for anyone to resist, let alone remain calm.

Jiang Chen answered, “I want a steady stream, not fleeting gain. This hunger marketing strategy is working splendidly—it means we should stay the course.”

“Hunger what? What did you call it just now?”

“Never mind, that’s not your concern. Also, spread the word that soon Jiangyuebai will be available in more varieties for everyone’s enjoyment.”

Lin Qingxuan thought Jiang Chen grew more mysterious by the day. The current Jiangyuebai was already flawless—what could these new varieties possibly be?

Jiang Chen descended the stairs at a measured pace. The main hall bustled with excited diners, glasses raised in laughter and cheer. The popularity of Jiangyuebai had revived the once-moribund tavern, with business flourishing overnight.

Ordering a pot of Jiangyuebai, savoring a few dishes, and taking several jars home had become the preferred practice of the city’s wealthy. The daily turnover alone was now enough to fill Lin Qingxuan’s coffers to overflowing, yet he remained unsatisfied. It was only natural; had someone told him a fortnight ago that the Drunken Immortal Tavern would see such prosperity, he would have been content, but now circumstances had changed.

Passing through the hall and out of the crowd, the eager buyers waiting for Jiangyuebai voiced no complaints, but instead boasted to one another.

“Five jars a day isn’t nearly enough. I’ll just come back tomorrow. Five a day for half a month—that’s the way!”

“Oh, how generous of you, Boss He! But I heard you used to be a loyal customer of the Zhao Family Winery. Have you switched allegiances?”

“Who needs Zhao’s wine anymore? After tasting Jiangyuebai, their so-called ‘Second Spring’ is nothing but hot air!”

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Some even declared they would trade five jars of Second Spring just for a single jar of Jiangyuebai.

Their words cut into Zhao He like a thousand knives. The wealthy wine merchant, whose fortune was built on his family’s brew, was grinding his teeth in rage—not that he had come to the Drunken Immortal Tavern to humiliate himself. On the contrary, he had intended to wait for Jiang Chen and Lin Qingxuan to fail from lack of stock, but last night’s hired men had failed.

“Master, what should we do next?” a shifty-eyed man bent low, seeking instructions from inside Zhao He’s sedan chair.

“If once wasn’t enough, we’ll try again. Tonight, we must succeed—or they will pay dearly!”