Liuliu furrowed his brow. "But Guaizai is buying them."
"Yeah!" Guaizai thought for a moment, then raised one stubby finger: "Auntie, do you only need a little bit? If you only need a little, Guaizai can let you have one bolt."
"I want all of them."
"No way. First come, first served. Uncle, wrap them up for Guaizai."
The maidservant beside Madam Huang ordered coldly: "Xiao Song, wrap them up for the madam."
They often came browsing in the shop, so of course they knew the shop assistant.
Liuliu wouldn't back down: "Guaizai picked these out. You can't do this. Uncle, wrap them up for Guaizai."
The shop assistant was in a difficult spot. He glanced at Madam Huang, then at Guaizai.
The Huang family was a well-known wealthy household in Hezhou—seven out of every ten rice shops in Hezhou belonged to them. They were not to be crossed lightly.
Weighing his options, the shop assistant pretended not to hear Guaizai and bent over to Madam Huang. "Madam, you have excellent taste. I'll wrap these up for you right away."
He reached for the cloth, but Guaizai pressed his hand down on it, refusing to back down. He was no longer the same Guaizai who, as a child, could only stand on tiptoes peering into a peddler's basket, watching enviously as other kids got malt candy—now he had money of his own. But he still loved a good bargain.
"Guaizai is buying these," he said.
"Oh, little young master, why don't you look at something else?"
"Guaizai wants these ones."
The shop assistant lowered his voice and urged, "Little young master, do you know who this lady is? We can't afford to offend her. Look at something else! There are plenty of other good pieces in the shop. I'll give you a discount, alright?"
Guaizai was genuinely upset now. He clutched the cloth tightly. "Guaizai wants these ones."
The patterns and colors on these pieces were beautiful—elegant and understated, unlike the others, which were too flashy. Yi Ger and the others weren't fond of overly bright colors either.
Madam Huang watched them dithering and grew impatient. Her maid immediately snapped, "Xiao Song, hurry up and wrap them for Madam! If you delay her return to the residence, you'll answer for it." Then she turned to Guaizai. "I don't know where you little monkey came from, but you've got some nerve trying to compete with Madam. Get out of here, now."
The shop assistant shoved Guaizai aside. Guaizai staggered but quickly lunged back and grabbed the bolts of cloth, holding them down so the man couldn't wrap them up.
The maid had already spoken. Usually, by this point, people would have tactfully apologized and left. Seeing Guaizai so clueless, she felt provoked—and in her anger, she slapped the back of his hand.
Smack! The sound was sharp, and his hand instantly stung.
Now Guaizai was furious. If it had been a grown man, his little legs would have already swept them off their feet.
Liuliu, sharp-eyed, saw that Guaizai's hand had turned red in an instant.
Guaizai was his best friend!
Liuliu grabbed a bolt of cloth from the side and hurled it at the maid. "You dare hit Guaizai?! I'll hit you! I'll hit you!"
The maid was caught off guard and stunned.
Even beating a dog, you have to consider its master. Madam Huang frowned deeply. "How dare you! Where did you come from, laying hands on my maid?"
Guaizai glared at her. "Why wouldn't I dare? You're the ones being unreasonable. Guaizai doesn't hit women. You'd better leave now—or I'll call for people, and then you won't be able to leave even if you want to."
Madam Huang glanced at him dismissively, refusing to engage further.
She assumed he was just a spoiled child at home, used to getting his way, and hadn't yet learned that the world outside didn't work the same way.
Utterly clueless.
The commotion had drawn the attention of other customers, who were now glancing over. Many secretly thought Madam Huang was being utterly shameless, squabbling with a child.
Feeling the eyes on her, Madam Huang's face flushed. She had glanced at the fabrics earlier and thought they were quite nice—smooth, light, and comfortable for summer wear. They didn't look cheap either. She had planned to buy some to bring back to her family for her sisters on the second of the month.
The new arrivals were too expensive; she was reluctant to spend that much on her half-sisters. These were from last year's stock, but still good quality. Her family wasn't particularly wealthy—only the legitimate children could afford fabrics that cost several taels per chi. Even giving these to her half-sisters was already a generous gift.
The ones Guaizai had passed over didn't look as good—too garish. Though they were the same price, if she gave those, her half-sisters would probably laugh behind her back at her poor taste. And now, at this point, backing out would make her lose face—people would think she was afraid. And of a child, no less—one who dared to defy the Huang family.
The shop assistant was about to say something to placate Madam Huang when the eldest young master of the Huang family walked in from outside.
"Madam, still not done choosing?"
"Husband." Madam Huang went to meet him. Huang Bingzhong noticed she seemed unhappy, asked what was wrong, then narrowed his eyes at Guaizai. "Who's bold enough to fight with you? Buy whatever you want. I'm here—let's see who dares stop you."
His tone was threatening.
But Guaizai wasn't afraid of him. Huang Bingzhong was thin, small, and not very tall. One punch from him would send the man flying.
He gathered all the cloth into his arms. There were a few bolts he couldn't carry, so Liuliu quickly grabbed them too.
They couldn't back down now.
They hadn't done anything wrong.
Guaizai stared at him. "Who do you think you are? You talk bigger than Guaizai does. Leave now, or Guaizai will hit you."
Huang Bingzhong's face darkened. The shop assistant was stuck in a bind.
He didn't dare offend the Huang family and was about to snatch the cloth back when another shop assistant—who had slipped out to the backyard the moment Huang Bingzhong walked in—came back with the owner.
The owner was a portly middle-aged man surnamed Lu. He had been in business for decades and had connections both in Hezhou and beyond. His family wasn't as powerful as the Huang family, but he wasn't intimidated either.
As a cloth merchant, he naturally had a better eye than his shop assistants. Normally, he was straightforward and would reason things out, never blindly taking sides just because one customer was powerful and the other was young. But this time—
He looked at the short-legged little boy in front of him and felt a jolt of alarm.
The boy wasn't wearing any jade pendants, and his outer robe was a dull, dusty color—at first glance, it looked like something a villager might wear, nothing special. But what fabric was that?
He had once seen something similar in the Jiangzhong region—goods that were in high demand and hard to come by. Ordinary people—no, even officials without the right connections—couldn't buy them. A single chi of the plain cloth cost several hundred taels; if it had hidden patterns embroidered on it, it was even more expensive.
Not only that, this fabric was tribute-quality.
Boss Lu rubbed his eyes, afraid he was mistaken. He stepped closer for a better look. Indeed, there were auspicious-cloud patterns embroidered in subtle thread—not very obvious, a masterful technique. Under sunlight, the clouds and designs would shimmer in pale gold, woven from golden silk.
That very craftsmanship, combined with the quality of the fabric, was what made it worthy of being tribute goods. No one else could replicate it.
This was a gift from the Qin family.
Back then Guaizai was still little. No matter how careful he was while eating, oil and sauce would always splatter onto his clothes. And since he was always helping with chores, his clothes were constantly dirty. So Zhao Ge’er asked Aunt Liu to make him several dark-colored bibs, so the stains wouldn't show.
Those bibs had been made back in the village, when they couldn't afford good fabric. Zhao Ger was frugal and, since they weren't worn out, brought them to Yuanzhou. Guaizai hadn't grown much back then, and before Fang Zichen came, he wore the same set of clothes for three years—so tattered that he looked like a little street urchin.
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