Chapter 53

Chapter 53: Hype-Machine Tactics

Shen Tang blinked. For no reason, the air felt colder.

She shook the feeling off and put on a bright face, handing out the things she’d brought back like she was dividing gifts.

Qi Shan took one look at the round-bellied wine jars, pulled out the cloth stoppers, and sniffed. “Du Kang Wine?”

“Yep,” Shen Tang said. “For you.”

Qi Shan’s eyes narrowed. “You made it with word-spirit again.”

Across from him, Chu Yao finally reacted. His gaze shifted—deeper now, colder—settling on Qi Shan with a weight that made the skin prickle.

Shen Tang bristled. “Why can’t it be something I bought?”

Qi Shan gave a short, humorless laugh. “You have money? Even if you did, where would Xiao City get Du Kang Wine? And if it did exist, why would the jar and stopper be this new?”

He lifted his chin. “So. What line did you waste this time? ‘No joy in office, only Du Kang matters’? Or ‘How can I ease my worries? Only Du Kang Wine’?”

Shen Tang felt her ears heat, guilty and defiant all at once. “Who cares what line it was? If it makes good wine and earns money, it’s a good word-spirit. A person lives for a mouth, don’t they?

“Besides, the commoners in Xiao City love drinking. If I’m idle, I can make a few jars every day and sell them on the street. Money solves itself.”

Qi Shan stared at her like she’d just announced she wanted to raise wolves in the kitchen. “That won’t last.”

Shen Tang scoffed. “How won’t it last? It’s basically pure profit. No rent. No ingredients. No—”

Qi Shan didn’t answer. He simply lifted his eyes and looked toward Chu Yao.

Shen Tang followed the glance, baffled. “Why are you looking at him?”

This time, Chu Yao answered instead of Qi Shan. “Wu Lang, Xiao City is about to turn chaotic. Your business won’t last.”

“Xiao City is going to turn chaotic?” Shen Tang stared.

Qi Shan, meanwhile, stared at her like she’d said something else entirely. “Wu Lang?”

“Oh. Right.” Shen Tang cleared her throat. “My surname is Wu. So I had Sir Wu Hui call me Wu Lang.”

She immediately leaned forward again. “But what do you mean, Xiao City is about to turn chaotic? Didn’t you say the fighting had settled? The streets were lively today. It doesn’t look like war is about to start.”

Qi Shan’s expression tightened. “Surface calm. Underneath, it’s a mess.”

He rubbed his brow, the worry refusing to leave his face. “I just got a piece of news. Xiao City might become a land of trouble. I’m considering leaving for a while, avoiding the storm.”

Shen Tang frowned. She’d known there were hidden dangers—Qi Shan had mentioned the commandery governor was crooked, a Ten Wu spy, and that trouble would come sooner or later. She just hadn’t expected “sooner” to mean now.

“What news?” she pressed. “Did some rebel army show up? Or some ‘righteous force’ from another country coming to punish Zheng Qiao?”

“Neither,” Qi Shan said.

“Then what?”

Chu Yao cut in, voice steady. “A rumor. One that could become the spark.”

“What kind of rumor is that powerful?” Shen Tang looked between them, fed up. “Will one of you just spit it out? Half a sentence from you, half from him—are you trying to choke me?”

Qi Shan laughed under his breath, helpless. Chu Yao’s eyes, on the other hand, said she needed more tempering.

Qi Shan finally sighed and pushed a sheet of paper toward her. “Look.”

Shen Tang recognized it at a glance. It was the same kind of paper the male courtesan had provided for that erotic painting job. On it was a familiar desert sunset painting, and beside it, neat characters.

She read it aloud, slow and incredulous. “A purple star rises in the northwest, preserving unity under heaven?”

Her mind immediately went to one place: What kind of lunatic advertises ambition like that?

If you fail, the slapback will shatter your teeth.

Then she remembered the male courtesan’s room—its screen painted with the same desert sunset—and Sir Gu’s mind reading, and Gong Cheng, who’d been dragged into the mess.

“I saw this painting in that male courtesan’s room,” she said. “Same image. Same vibe. Could this rumor be their doing?”

Otherwise, why insist on that specific painting and paper?

Chu Yao shook his head. “This rumor existed long ago.”

Qi Shan’s mouth twisted. “It’s either Ten Wu or the Northern Desert playing games. The goal is obvious—draw talented people to the northwest, recruit them while the bait is hot. Or build momentum for taking the Central Plains later. Or stir chaos among the northwest states so they can profit in the muddiness.”

He paused, eyes cold. “Zheng Qiao also has motive. His rise wasn’t clean and his ambition is big. But this painting lowers his odds. Geng State has no desert. Ten Wu and the Northern Desert do.”

Shen Tang rubbed her forehead. “So it’s just hype marketing.”

Would anyone actually fall for it? Would anyone really travel thousands of miles into a war zone for a rumor?

Then she thought of Zhai Le and his friend—two idiots who really had wandered from the southeast to the northwest for “travel-study”—and swallowed the rest of her complaint.

Fine. Some people really were that bored.

Qi Shan snorted. “A crane that cannot dance.”

Chu Yao added calmly, “Fish skin with dragon patterns.”

Shen Tang exhaled. “So you’re saying whoever spread it is all flash and no substance.”

Both men looked satisfied with that summary.