The air in the chamber grew heavy as Major General Robert leaned back in his chair, his calculating gaze fixed on the young merchant before him. Fang Ming's words had struck first, a bold move that the seasoned general had not anticipated.
The boy had casually mentioned a commission—an unspoken truth that no officer of Robert's ilk could openly admit to desiring. If Robert had intended to delicately broach the subject during a later negotiation, that plan was now moot. Fang Ming had set the stage, leaving no room for pretense.
Robert's lips curled into a thin smile, his tone feigning civility. "If the quality fails to meet our standards, I'll have no choice but to terminate the contract. And unless you can outbid the merchants we're already working with, there's little reason to pursue this arrangement."
The mention of commission had tempered his earlier hostility. Even the most prejudiced of men softened when money entered the equation.
Fang Ming responded with a disarming laugh, his words sharp and purposeful. "Oh, General Robert, how many times must I say it? Your only concern should be the Empire's benefit.
Isn't that the hallmark of a true soldier? It's admirable how you've considered the plight of local merchants, but surely you'd agree they're little more than parasites. Isn't it your duty to cut away anything that feeds off the honor of your soldiers?"
The general's eyes flickered with intrigue.
He's right, Robert mused. Why should the Empire play the fool? If this boy can supply the same goods for less, the difference is mine to keep. Report it as a minor savings to the Crown, and no one will question it.
Ultimately, the military cared little for who supplied its needs. The focus was always on the "what" and the "how much."
The general leaned forward, his voice laced with a thinly veiled threat. "Fine. But understand this: if even one promise is broken, the contract will be nullified immediately, and you'll face penalties that I assure you won't be pleasant. The British Army has never been kind to traitors."
His words dripped with menace, but his abrupt exit signaled more than his displeasure—it was tacit approval. The deal was as good as done.
The room was left to the junior officers, who sat in stunned silence. They had borne witness to the unexpected turn of events—a negotiation that ended before it had truly begun. These officers, handpicked from Robert's circle, were well-versed in the art of military graft. The speed and audacity of the exchange left them unmoored.
"Well then," Ming said, breaking the silence with a smile, "shall we continue with the finer details?"
The officers hesitated, their uncertainty plain. What just happened? Is this a mistake? Or is this boy truly as sharp as they say?
One by one, they retrieved their ledgers, their hands moving almost on instinct. When in doubt, sign the papers.
At worst, the general takes the fall.
Hours passed before the final terms were set.
The agreement was simple yet audacious: Ming would supply goods at a lower cost than any existing merchant, with a ten-percent commission guaranteed to the officers involved.
The deal would begin with the garrison in Zhaodong City. If successful, Ming's operation would expand to supply other nearby bases, including those in Hong Kong.
The timeline? Two months. Success meant soaring heights; failure meant a plunge to ruin.
No middle ground existed.
As Fang Ming walked home that evening, the enormity of the deal weighed on him. If I fail, I'll lose everything.
Maybe fleeing to America wouldn't be the worst idea. Play the stock market until the crash. Who knows?
The prospect of failure loomed like a storm, but Fang Ming's resolve remained steadfast.
He knew the stakes were high—not just for himself, but for the employees and family who depended on him.
When he arrived home, he found his father poring over the detailed plans Fang Ming had drawn up. The older man's face was a mixture of admiration and concern.
"Son," his father began, placing the papers gently on the table, "is this truly possible? I've never seen a company attempt something like this before."
Fang Ming grinned, masking his own apprehension. "Father, trust me. There's no way this can fail. Even the name inspires confidence."
The elder Fang chuckled softly, though the worry in his eyes remained. "You're serious about this, aren't you? This one chance will decide everything."
His father's voice carried a gravity that Fang Ming had rarely heard. He glanced down at the document on the table, its title bold and clear:
Fang Ming's smile faltered for the briefest of moments. Inside, he felt the pressure mounting. But on the surface, he remained the picture of confidence.
"Yes," he said finally. "This is the beginning of something no one's ever seen before."
The future stood before him, vast and uncertain, like a mountain shrouded in mist.
For Fang Ming, there was only one way forward: climb higher, or fall and lose everything.
"Greetings. I am Siu Lin. Sent by Master Liu Feng to assist you, sir."
As the door creaked open, a composed woman stood in the doorway. Her attire was pristine and professional, though her face captured all attention—exquisite to a degree that would not seem out of place even in the modern era, a true beauty by any standard.
Unlike the traditional women of this time, she wore a tailored suit, her posture exuding confidence and authority. It was as though she had crafted herself into a figure who defied the conventions of her era, a silhouette cut from the cloth of both elegance and power.
Her attire seemed almost a declaration, a protest against being judged by her gender.
"Well, I must say, news travels fast. You show up the moment I secure a contract. Doesn't it strike you as impolite to visit so early in the morning?"
In truth, he hadn't even eaten breakfast yet, but he already felt like he might get indigestion.
"From a practical standpoint, considering the interest accruing daily, it's better to act swiftly," Siu Lin replied with unflinching composure. "After all, a single day's interest for Master Liu Feng costs more than a week's wages for an average laborer. Sending me away would change nothing—I have a job to do."
Introducing herself as Siu Lin, the woman displayed an unyielding confidence, preempting his words as if she could anticipate his thoughts. Her sentences poured out in rapid succession, then she would fall silent, waiting with a calculated patience. Her tone was polite, her posture respectful, yet there was a faint sense of disregard that left him feeling slightly insulted.
"That man behind you—is he with you?" he asked, nodding toward a figure in the shadows.
"He's my companion and protector. He can also assist with work if needed," she replied.
"Ha… fine," he sighed. "At least take this message back to Liu Feng for me—"
"That won't be possible," Siu Lin interrupted firmly. "Consider me your assistant, someone here to support your endeavors. Whether or not it's inconvenient, I'll be working alongside you. Though I may be a woman, I assure you I can contribute significantly to your business."
Her defiance solidified, Siu Lin seemed prepared to hold her ground, unwavering against any attempt to send her away.