"My writing might not be up to par!" Kong Chunmiao said slowly.
Zhu Wencong clearly wasn't looking for strong working ability, but rather powerful writing skills, the kind that could swindle someone into becoming a cripple.
Kong Chunmiao had read some books since she was young and been enlightened by a teacher, but all that was arranged by the old madam.
As a seedling of an Oiran, she had to be adept at music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, so she fell behind in scholarly pursuits.
Liu Baofeng felt Kong Chunmiao's gaze; she indeed had some learning, but it was all Confucius's teachings.
Confucius hadn't taught his descendants how to do business. Liu Baofeng's management skills were learned from the previous madam.
"To be honest, this is our first time learning about the stock market, living and developing in a society where merchants reign supreme.
We can definitely bluff, but after all, we have Eastern thinking and don't know if Americans will buy into it.
