The Overachieving Little Husband of the Top Scholar’s Household - Chapter 113: Restructuring the Estate

Chapter 113: Restructuring the Estate

Although he planned to purchase a residence, Qiu Huanian did not immediately set about doing so.

The inner city of the capital was divided into thirty-three wards. Among them, the nine wards encircling the imperial city were known as the Central District.

Of these nine, Dashiyong Ward and Nanxun Ward were the most central, being closest to Chengtian Gate and flanked by the Six Ministries, the Hanlin Academy, the Court of State Ceremonials, and the Five Armies Command.

To exaggerate slightly, anyone who owned a residence in either of these wards had notable status; throw down a signboard, and it would hit three officials.

The property prices there were comparable to Beijing’s Chaoyang District or Shanghai’s Jing’an District in another world—astronomically high.

Due to their proximity to the center of power in the Yu Dynasty, one needed not only wealth but also status to purchase a property there.

When the Zhu family gifted their properties in the capital, they had only offered shops and estates, not residences, precisely because good houses in Dashiyong and Nanxun Wards were almost impossible to buy. Residences in other districts were less practical for the Du family, so it was better to gift them shops instead.

Qiu Huanian’s goal, however, was fixed on these two prime wards from the very beginning. He even wanted to be more precise—ideally, within half an hour’s walk of the Hanlin Academy.

This narrowed his options further, essentially confining him to the southwestern part of Nanxun Ward, increasing the difficulty even more.

The two thousand taels of silver he had brought from Xiangping Prefecture might not be enough.

Thus, Qiu Huanian decided to first clarify the shops and estates in the capital, inventory the assets, and then strive to purchase the best residence within his means.

Property in the capital, barring unforeseen events, was always a stable investment—and likely a lifelong home.

Within the inner city districts: the eastern district housed the Imperial Examination Hall and the Academy of Literary Thought, and the northeast contained the Imperial College and the Confucian Temple, making it relatively scholarly in atmosphere. The western district, by contrast, attracted many merchants—lined with shops, bustling with activity, and filled with rare goods from all over the realm.

It was said: if you could not find an item in the western district of the capital, then it likely did not exist in the world at all.

The Zhu family’s two gifted shops were both in the western district: one in the central West Market and another near Xuanwu Gate, both excellent locations.

After resting for two days, Qiu Huanian set out with Xingmi and Baiquan to inspect the shops.

Baiquan’s former master had been a capital official, and Baiquan’s late father had been the steward of the household. Under his father’s tutelage, Baiquan had become well-versed in the affairs of the capital.

Since Du Yunse was studying at home and required no attendants, Qiu Huanian simply brought Baiquan along as well.

The capital’s thirty-three wards varied in size, but on average each was as large as an ordinary county town. Traveling from the eastern to the western district required passing through several wards, and even by carriage, without traffic, it took over an hour.

Unlike Tang-era wards, Yu Dynasty wards were demarcated by broad main avenues rather than enclosed by ward walls. Along these main roads, foot traffic was heavy, and a myriad of shops, theaters, teahouses, and wine taverns thrived.

While driving the carriage, Baiquan occasionally turned back to brief Qiu Huanian on the wards they passed.

Xingmi, Qiu Huanian’s personal page, was about the same age as Baiquan but far less mature. Unlike Baiquan, who had lost his father early and learned responsibility caring for his younger brother, Xingmi had been pampered by his capable parents, Wuda and Lingque. Though a servant, he retained an innocent disposition.

Qiu Huanian, being gentle-natured, disliked having only copy-and-paste “perfect” servants around him and never forced Xingmi to change.

It was Xingmi’s first time touring the streets of the capital; unable to resist, he lifted the carriage curtain, exclaiming excitedly at the scenery rushing past.

Baiquan’s voice remained calm as he gave more detailed explanations, and Qiu Huanian listened with interest.

As the saying went: “The servant resembles the master.” Xingmi’s curious, lively nature mirrored Qiu Huanian’s own in many ways.

Upon reaching the western district, Qiu Huanian instructed Baiquan to head first to the West Market.

Although shops existed in every ward, the capital had two designated central markets—the East Market and the West Market—dedicated to concentrated trade.

Influenced by the differing cultures of the two districts, the East Market abounded with bookshops and vendors selling writing materials, while the West Market offered a chaotic variety of goods from across the realm, dazzling the eye.

The Zhu family’s gifted shop in the West Market was a large two-story building fronting the street, with a small courtyard behind. It had previously been used to sell the Zhu family’s silks and fabrics.

The shop’s steward and staff had known since last autumn that ownership had changed hands, but because Qiu Huanian had not sent anyone to the capital, no formal handover had occurred.

Following the deed’s directions, Qiu Huanian arrived and dismounted, only to find that the silk shop’s business lagged behind neighboring stores. Through the open doorway, he could see shelves half-empty and the displayed silks lacking luster.

Qiu Huanian’s brows furrowed. Xingmi, quick-witted despite his childishness, immediately understood.

“You watch the carriage,” Xingmi ordered Baiquan pointedly. “I’ll accompany the young master to select fabric.”

Baiquan lowered his head and gave a quiet assent.

Inside the shop, several breaths passed before a clerk approached.

Xingmi seized the opportunity to scold, “Where are your eyes? Didn’t you see my young master enter? Are you even doing business? Call your shopkeeper out!”

The clerk offered a bitter smile and pleaded, “Please spare me, young sir. There’s only me left in the shop these days—I was tallying accounts and didn’t notice. I beg your pardon.”

In the capital, one could not afford to underestimate any customer. The clerk understood this survival rule well.

Qiu Huanian glanced at Xingmi, who caught the signal and pressed on, “How could you be the only one here? Is this shop yours? Clearly, you’re trying to fool me.”

The clerk sighed and explained carefully, “Young sir, you may not know: this shop originally belonged to a wealthy merchant from Liao Prefecture. The former owner had many businesses in the capital, providing mutual support in trade.”

“After the shop changed hands last autumn, the former owner sent word that the new master planned to use the shop for a new venture, so the silk business would cease. The other enterprises would no longer concern us. With no one coming for the handover, the previous stewards lost interest and sought work elsewhere. Only I remained to watch over the shop.”

“The good stock has been sold; everything left in the storeroom is already on the shelves. If anything catches your eye, young sir, the price can be discussed.”

The clerk’s name was Guan Liu. As for why he had not sought another job—it was because he was not a free man; he was part of the property transferred with the shop.

Though merchants could not openly purchase servants, there were always ways for the wealthy to bind someone.

Qiu Huanian nodded, then asked about the remaining silks’ prices and quantities, calculating silently as they spoke.

After gathering the needed information, Qiu Huanian suddenly asked, “From last autumn until now—roughly four months—there should be about five hundred taels’ profit in the accounts. Is it still there?”

“Huh?” Guan Liu froze.

“The Zhu family gifted me this shop, along with all its inventory and staff. The profits of these past four months should rightfully be mine, shouldn’t they?”

Qiu Huanian smiled serenely, while sweat beaded on Guan Liu’s forehead.

He realized: this refined young man must be the new master of the shop.

“T-there are… three hundred and sixty taels in the account,” Guan Liu stammered, heart pounding.

The previous stewards had each taken a share when they left—restrained somewhat by fear of the Zhu family, but still greedy. Guan Liu had assumed the new master would never notice.

Yet this new master had cited the exact figure. Adding what had been stolen, the total indeed matched five hundred taels.

How did he know? Was he some kind of immortal?

Qiu Huanian did not explain. “Where are the stewards who took the money? Any evidence left?”

“They’re still in the West Market, managing other shops. They altered the books when they left, but I copied the original ledger.”

Cautious and meticulous, Guan Liu had prepared a safeguard in case trouble arose—and now it proved invaluable.

Qiu Huanian was pleased. The man had potential: perceptive, careful. With training, he could manage the capital’s operations.

Time to test him further.

Qiu Huanian removed the Xiangjun* medallion from his waist and handed it to Guan Liu.
(*Xiangjun: A noble title roughly equivalent to “Marquis of a township,” often granted for meritorious service or special favor.)

“This is my token. I am the Marquis of Qishu Township—and the new owner of this shop. Find the stewards who took the money. Use any means you wish, but retrieve every tael.”

“You… you are the Marquis of Qishu?” Guan Liu asked in disbelief.

The Zhu family had only said the shop had changed hands; they had not revealed the new master’s identity.

Qiu Huanian chuckled. “What, do I have some fame in the capital already?”

“Perhaps not elsewhere, but in the West Market? Who hasn’t heard of Autumn Ji’s Six Treasures—the oyster sauce, flower dew, cooling balm, and plum blossom ointment?”

Autumn Ji’s products were often sold in limited batches, but over time, some inevitably entered resale markets at multiples of their original price.

“Will our shop also become part of Autumn Ji’s Six Treasures?” Guan Liu asked eagerly.

Everyone in the West Market knew the value of goods bearing that name.

A tiny bottle of oyster sauce sold for three or four taels of silver; the flower dew and plum ointment were similarly priced; even the widely available cooling balm fetched half a tael—and still often sold out.

Opening an Autumn Ji shop in the West Market? Guan Liu could hardly fathom the profits.

He trembled with excitement. Ironically, by being the one forced to stay behind, he had gained the greatest fortune. Those who had left early—and stolen—would regret it bitterly.

They had lost their chance at riches and offended the Marquis of Qishu.

Guan Liu’s heart raced, while Qiu Huanian remained calm.
“No rush. I’ll finish surveying the capital, choose a site for the workshop, then decide how to open the shop.”

Everything was a double-edged sword. The rarer and more lucrative a product, the more it attracted covetous eyes—and trouble.

In a capital teeming with high officials, royal kin, and ennobled families, a township marquis and a mere licentiate like Du Yunse were insignificant.

Especially since Du Yunse bore the stigma of being associated with the Crown Prince’s faction—having, in the past, offended the Second and Third Princes by participating in the investigation of the Zhao Tianyu case in Xiangping Prefecture.

Moreover, the Second Prince still had not grasped the Elementary Mathematics: Equations text and remained confined to the Imperial Library—harboring resentment toward its author, Qiu Huanian.

Until Du Yunse passed the palace examination and secured an official post, Qiu Huanian would not make any ostentatious moves.

“These next few days, tidy up the accounts. Record what neighboring shops sell, how their business fares, and what kind of customers they attract.”

Qiu Huanian painted an enticing picture: “Once Autumn Ji’s Six Treasures opens here, I’ll make you the shopkeeper.”

Buoyed by this vision, Guan Liu swore solemnly to fulfill the task.

Qiu Huanian encouraged him with a few well-placed words, then left the shop’s address, instructing him to send the ledgers and silver with Xingmi later.

The trio then headed to the next property.

The second shop lay near Xuanwu Gate—the southwestern gate of the inner city. Typically, those from the southern outer city used this gate to enter.

Its location was excellent, though not as prime as the first shop’s.

The first shop, in the bustling West Market, had a two-story building and courtyard—ideal for profit-making trade. The second was merely a courtyard house—not great for business, but perfect for receiving messages or resting.

Anyone passing through Xuanwu Gate could spot it at a glance.

Zhu Jingcheng had chosen both shops with great care and foresight.

This courtyard shop had originally operated as a tea stand: the row of street-facing rooms opened outward to sell affordable tea and pastries, while the inner rooms served as simple lodging for Zhu family workers visiting the capital.

Though foot traffic through Xuanwu Gate was heavy, most were commoners from the outer city with little money to spend daily at a tea stand; thus, its revenue was modest.

The stand was managed by a middle-aged couple—honest folk. They handed over sixty taels of profit from the past four months to Qiu Huanian.

For now, Qiu Huanian had no urgent use for the location, so after acknowledging them, he let the couple continue operating as usual.

After completing the handover of the shops, Qiu Huanian spent the next two days inspecting the estates outside the capital.

On the first day, he visited the large estate of sixty mu* gifted by the Zhu family.
(*Mu: A traditional Chinese unit of land area, roughly 1/6 of an acre.)

It lay half a day’s journey from the capital, and because the Zhu family rarely stayed there, the main residence had fallen into disrepair.

Not that Zhu Jingcheng had withheld better properties—country estates near the capital were even scarcer than houses within the city itself, almost entirely held by high-ranking officials and noble families.

Still, this estate boasted sixty mu of fertile fields, several small orchards, and dozens of tenant households—a hundred people in all. It was already quite impressive.

With sharp eyes, Qiu Huanian spotted several issues, sternly admonished the steward and tenants, collected last year’s 150 taels of harvest revenue, and left 20 taels for repairing the residence.

Naturally, he also painted them a “grand vision.”

As the “Marquis of Millet” (his title literally named for grain), he was expected to farm well.

Having conquered cotton cultivation, Qiu Huanian now aimed for new horizons—this time, experimenting with large-scale fruit tree cutting, grafting, and seedling propagation.

“No need to spend a coin on saplings,” he promised. “Within a year, you’ll have an entire orchard; in two, you’ll be harvesting fruit…”

Under his eloquence and charisma, the tenants—though rationally skeptical—couldn’t help but feel excited.

After a long day, Qiu Huanian barely made it back inside the city gates before curfew, most of his time consumed by travel. Once the estate’s residence was repaired, he could stay two or three days at a time without rushing.

At home, Du Yunse had just finished reviewing his studies. Regarding examinations, Qiu Huanian neither worried nor interfered.

He shared chestnut cakes he had bought during the day, and the two chatted over their late-night snack.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go see the thirty mu of land you were awarded after passing the provincial exam,” Qiu Huanian said.

Ordinarily, licentiates were granted fifteen mu in their ancestral home; Du Yunse not only received double, but in the prized suburbs of the capital.

Such imperial favor would spark endless speculation.

“Thirty mu,” Qiu Huanian mused. “If the land is good and contiguous, we could build houses, recruit tenants, and establish a small estate.”

He knew little about the specifics—only that the land lay close to the capital, less than half an hour by carriage from Xuanwu Gate, even faster on horseback.

The next day, upon arriving at the site, Qiu Huanian was stunned by the sight before him.

The land was indeed excellent—fertile soil, crisscrossed irrigation channels, neatly squared plots forming a single stretch.

Only… why did this land lie right beside the Imperial Estate, as if carved directly out of it?