Chapter Forty-Three: A Deal? Ha, A Fraud!

The messenger was a stranger from another place, who dropped off the letter and vanished without a trace. The letter itself was abrupt and lacked any preamble; it merely stated the intention to purchase the technology of the new weaving machine for a thousand taels of silver, and demanded that Zhao Hengyi refrain from using or manufacturing the new weaving machine ever again.

Staring at the letter, which bore not even a signature, Zhao Hengyi let out a cold chuckle.

“It must be the Liang family from Jiangling Prefecture. They’re still watching me. I’m nothing but a harbinger of disaster—I’ve brought trouble to my husband,” she said, her voice trembling as she wept and blamed herself.

Seeing Miao Xiaoyu in tears, Zhao Hengyi hurried to comfort her, and only with much effort managed to ease her worries.

Whether it was truly the Liang family remained uncertain—for greed knows no single surname. The writer of the letter must have learned about the weaving workshop’s four-spindle machine currently in use. The true Jenny machine, though Zhang Daniu and his apprentices had forged many metal parts, had not yet been assembled.

Yet even the four-spindle machine, once in the hands of a skilled craftsman, could eventually inspire the creation of machines with eight spindles or more. Once the fundamental principle was grasped—the key being the vertical arrangement of spindles instead of the traditional horizontal—the road to further innovation would naturally unfold.

Zhao Hengyi had no ambition to guard the secret of the new weaving machine for ten or twenty years; he merely wished to use his advantage to secure a place in the weaving industry.

But the letter’s author was far greedier, not only seeking the technology, but demanding that Zhao Hengyi abandon the trade altogether.

“Uncle Wang, don’t rush to sell the cloth from our workshop. Store everything in the warehouse and wait until this matter is resolved,” Zhao Hengyi instructed.

The old village chief, troubled, led his men away.

Clearly, the letter’s author was the one who had commanded the bandits, yet Zhao Hengyi did not feel fear; instead, his eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Wang Erhu was dispatched overnight, and it was not until the following afternoon that he returned, weary and breathless.

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“Master, everyone has gathered; they’re hiding in the woods outside the village, though there are a few more than before.”

Zhao Hengyi had sent Wang Erhu to contact the seventeen old soldiers retired from the Xuan Battalion. Unexpectedly, those veterans had, according to Zhao Hengyi’s previous instructions, brought along a few more former comrades, now totaling twenty-five.

Including the village’s own guard, there were over forty men—enough, with their sharp crossbows, to stand their ground against the ruthless bandits.

As they spoke, Steward Song San arrived at Elm Bay, riding a sturdy gray donkey and accompanied by two household servants.

“Master Zhao, due to preparations for the new merchant company, staff at the villa have been stretched thin. I could only muster thirty household servants,” Steward Song reported, his usual mild demeanor replaced with a hardened look. “But every one of these thirty was personally trained by the lord; they are no less capable than his personal guards!”

That would suffice.

With twenty-five seasoned veterans from the Xuan Battalion and thirty household servants trained by Song Ying’an himself, Zhao Hengyi was confident they could deliver a surprise to the bandits.

The bandits collecting tolls around Elm Bay belonged to the Cliff Mountain gang, who claimed to number several hundred, but the true fighting force was no more than a hundred.

With fifty-five elite men as the spearhead, and the guard and hunting teams to cheer and support, Zhao Hengyi believed he could even seize the bandits’ stronghold.

Before Miao Xiaoyu and the gathered women and children, Zhao Hengyi said little, but he knew in his heart that the letter’s author sought far more than just the new weaving machine’s technology.

And in all likelihood, the one who bribed the bandits and coveted the machine was the Liang family of Jiangling Prefecture—the very same who had destroyed Miao Xiaoyu’s family.

Though the new weaving machines in the workshop were highly efficient, their output was limited by scale and thus not particularly remarkable.

The old village chief led men to sell cloth in the county town, a common practice among nearby villages.

That someone would fix their gaze on Elm Bay and Zhao Hengyi under such inconspicuous circumstances made it obvious, even to a fool, that the target was Miao Xiaoyu.

Few truly knew the details of the Miao family’s tragedy; even Miao Xiaoyu herself understood only fragments, knowing only that her family’s ruin was at the hands of the Liang family.

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When the Liang family plotted against the Miaos, they had already shown enough ruthlessness and shamelessness. Zhao Hengyi had no doubt about their determination to seize the new weaving machine.

The letter’s easy promises—hand over the technology, never produce or use the new machine again, spare your lives, and even reward you with a thousand taels of silver—were nothing but empty words.

If he chose to submit, to settle the matter and hand over the technology, he might receive a thousand taels, but would likely not live to spend them.

Indeed, the thousand taels might well be the final payment to the bandits, and the true transaction would be the slaughter of every last soul in Elm Bay.

Don’t be fooled by the Cliff Mountain bandits’ decade-long adherence to their agreement not to extort Elm Bay; it wasn’t that they were trustworthy, but that Elm Bay was too poor to yield more grain after paying taxes.

Because Elm Bay was so poor, more men from the village had been conscripted into the frontier army, resulting in a higher number of retired veterans than other villages.

Though these veterans were missing limbs and bore scars, when the time came to fight for their lives, these men who had faced battle, grappled with barbarians, and survived seas of corpses and blood, could make even bandits tremble.

For a small, uncertain amount of grain, the bandits would not risk a deadly clash with Elm Bay’s people.

But a thousand taels of gleaming silver was a different matter. In an era where two taels could buy a comely maid, and most people survived on wild greens, grass seeds, and tree bark, even the meek and honest might be tempted to risk everything for such wealth.

Bandits who lived by murder and pillage, upon learning that Elm Bay possessed a thousand taels of silver, what choice would they make?

It must be said, the Liang family had calculated perfectly. Even if word leaked later, they could claim they had merely bought the weaving machine technology for a thousand taels, and whatever befell the sellers was no concern of theirs.

The real reason the Liang family went to such lengths, rather than simply leading the bandits into Elm Bay, was thanks to Zhao Hengyi’s father-in-law, whom he had never met.

Zhao Hengyi’s father-in-law, mocked in the county as the father of the Seven Fairies, had once chosen to burn his hard-won invention rather than let its wealth fall into the Liang family’s hands. This was why the Liang family hesitated.

But this time, the Liang family would not be facing the honest Miao family merchant of the county.

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