“What kind of benefit? Don’t tell me—you’re planning to jack up the price on the spot?” Song Yiqing asked, curiosity and a little suspicion in his tone.
Bai Zheng smiled faintly. “Saying ‘jack up the price’ sounds a bit crude. Let’s call it—holiday exclusive.”
“Holiday exclusive?”
Neither of the men in the room had ever heard that phrasing before. Feng Linyuan’s eyes lit with interest. “Zheng’er, do you mean limited editions tied to particular seasons? Like apricot blossoms for spring, lotus for midsummer?”
“Exactly.” Bai Zheng wore the look of someone pleased at a pupil’s comprehension and nodded approvingly at him.
“For cosmetics and perfumes, put the remaining stock into a ‘summer exclusive’ line and mark them up accordingly,” she went on. “Tell customers there’ll soon be a cooler, mosquito-repellent summer special perfume, but supply will be limited—preorders only, with delivery notices when stock arrives. As for blue-and-white porcelain, furniture, glazed glass and the dolls, the last of those pieces should be offered to whoever happens to come by…”
Song Yiqing frowned and cut her off. “Offer them to whoever happens to come by? Of course we should cater to our VIP members first! They’re the ones who bring in steady, big money.”
Bai Zheng only smiled and asked in return, “If you were our VIP and came in and liked a set of blue-and-white porcelain, and I told you we could do a bespoke service—put your family name on the pieces, even paint in a scene you want—leave a deposit and an address, wait ten days, and have it delivered to your door…like having a tailor make you clothes—would you still choose to fight a random passerby for the one ready-made set?”
Song Yiqing blinked, then slammed his palm on the table with excitement. “I’d get it custom-made, of course!”
“And you can raise the price again under the pretense of custom work…” Feng Linyuan couldn’t help marveling. “Zheng’er, that’s a clever two-for-one move.”
“It kills two birds with one stone: solves the shortage problem and raises the shop’s turnover.” Song Yiqing gaped at her, scrambling for praise that matched his admiration. Money made his eyes glow with a heat that made Feng Linyuan slightly uncomfortable. He glanced sideways at him and, with a half-laugh, half-scold said, “Now that you know what to do, go on—leave. What are you still doing here?”
Song Yiqing shot him a resentful look. “You heartless thing. I slave away to make you money and you give me attitude!” He said it loudly, snorted as if offended, then rather obligingly rose and left with lighter steps.
As the boisterous Song Yiqing moved out, the room fell quiet. Bai Zheng checked the evening and rose. “It’s late. Let’s go back to our rooms.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Feng Linyuan’s reply was gentle; he smiled and his eyes seemed to hold a field of stars. Bai Zheng’s face flushed and she jabbed him lightly with a balled fist. “Stop talking nonsense.”
The moon climbed higher, and the chamber filled with a tender hush.
The next morning, before dawn truly broke, the five new shops along East Street already had crowds pressed up against their doors waiting for opening. Across the way, in a teahouse, Song Yiqing sat in the same spot he’d held the day before, sipping slowly. When the shutters rolled up, people surged in like a tide.
This time, he was not alone.
Across the table sat Bai Zheng in a dress of deep rose. Song Yiqing’s voice cooled when he spoke. “Not off with your marquis at the mansion enjoying your honeyed new marriage, and here you are—what, suddenly feeling conscience-stricken and come to check on the shops?”
He’d left the Marquis of Dingyuan’s residence the night before and spent most of the night at the shop, hashing out details with the staff. He’d only slept two hours and come here early because he worried about how the shops would fare. Seeing Bai Zheng so at ease—an easy smile and, unusually, a faintly flirtatious tilt to her eye—made him feel unfairly treated.
Bai Zheng bit into a scoop of the snowflake custard Qingzhi had brought and shot him a lazy look. “Isn’t it because I worry you work too hard that I came to help?”
“Thanks ever so much.” He said it sarcastically. After refusing to help last night, she showed up now to enjoy the morning bustle.
She smiled and kept eating. It wasn’t that she’d suddenly been seized by some romantic impulse. Since she’d gone from being the third miss of the Bai household to the mistress of the Marquis’s estate, her list of duties had more than doubled. Besides the shop she wanted to run, every little matter at the Dingyuan residence had landed on her desk. That explained why, on the first day of her marriage, she had spent the day locked away going over ledgers.
She bore it without complaint. Feng Linyuan’s plans of revenge required money—plenty of it. The Dingyuan coffers were deep enough to astonish her, but who ever said no to more silver?
Putting the five most profitable shops under the Song family’s name had already drawn the city’s attention. Opening her own shop now, quietly, would keep things from looking ostentatious. She had no intention of telling the money-minded Song Yiqing any of that.
“This custard is a bit cloying,” she said after three spoons. “Do the people of Yongding like everything so sweet?”
Song Yiqing looked puzzled. “Sweet means a little cloying, right?”
Her eyebrows twitched at his matter-of-factness, then a spark lit in her eyes. “I remember the Song family has business in South Shu, don’t you?”
He nodded, curious.
“Could you help me source something?”
“What?” he asked.
She parted her red lips and said two words: “Lemons.”
Fruit was scarce in this era—transport was slow and storage poor—so fruits in Yongding were rare. But lemons were hardy and kept well; with fast horses their transport was not impossible. She intended to have them brought in quickly.