Xiao Ning’er’s gaze lingered on the scroll, her fingers resting lightly against the table as if weighing its worth through touch alone.

"You want a share in our wine production... in exchange for this teleportation formation?" she asked again, her tone calm but edged with scrutiny.

Across from her, Hong Yiting inclined her head, her expression composed.

"Yes. We don’t require silver this time," she said softly. "A share in the wine trade will suffice."

Silence settled between them as Xiao Ning’er lowered her gaze to the scroll once more.

This was an opportunity, one that could forge a strong and lasting partnership with the Silverwing Merchants.

But she didn’t rush to make the deal.

Following her instructions from the previous day, Gu Xin had already run an investigation into the Silverwing Merchants and the results he found were unsettling.

There were no records of their activities anywhere. It was as if they had appeared out of thin air.

Which made the truth feel all the more obvious.

They were behind the scarcity all along...

Creating chaos and then arrive as saviors.

Xiao Ning’er almost smiled at the thought, her eyes shifting toward Hong Yiting, whose expression remained calm and unreadable.

Once the bandit blockade was cleared, everything would return to normal. And if things turned sour... they would start to be rivals.

Her gaze sharpened slightly.

And this... doesn’t even look entirely authentic.

She drew in a slow breath, steadying her thoughts before looking up again, her expression polite but distant.

"Miss Hong," she said, her voice measured, "would it be alright if we take a week to consider?"

A week should be enough, she thought. By then, the bandits should be dealt with and trade will return to normal.

For a fleeting moment, something dimmed in Hong Yiting’s eyes.

She had expected this.

From the very beginning, Xiao Ning’er had shown little real interest in the formation.

This wasn’t a negotiation for the winery as well, it was just a courtesy delay.

Hong Yiting exhaled quietly, smoothing over her disappointment with a gentle smile.

"Of course, Miss Xiao," she replied. "We simply hoped to expand our reach."

With practiced ease, she took the scroll and shifted the conversation.

"How was the last shipment?"

Xiao Ning’er didn’t linger on the earlier topic.

"It was more than sufficient," she said. "Those ten thousand bags of grain... it was as if the shortage never existed."

She paused, then added with a faint frown, "Though because our shop was the only supplier. The queues were... excessive."

Hong Yiting nodded, unsurprised.

"That’s Good.our owner was quite pleased with the additional silver and gold you included," she said. "In fact, he wishes to return the favor."

Xiao Ning’er’s eyes lifted, interest flickering.

Without hesitation, she spoke.

"I want information about Dai Peak."

Hong Yiting gave a small nod. "That can be arranged."

From there, the conversation drifted into lighter matters—trade routes, town gossip, small observations.

Unlike the day before, Xiao Ning’er carried herself with quiet confidence, her words steady, her posture assured.

The difference was subtle... but unmistakable.

She now knew she wasn’t standing alone.

By the time the sun dipped low, casting amber light across the streets, the two women parted ways.

The Silverwing caravan, having sold its remaining grain, stood ready to depart—its wagons lighter, its purpose fulfilled.

Hong Yiting glanced at the empty carts and let out a soft, amused breath.

"If we were an ordinary merchant group," she murmured to herself, "we’d be loading up on local specialties right about now."

A quiet chuckle escaped her.

Up ahead, He Jie and Gao Yuanyuan approached. The latter waved a skewer of roasted chicken with a grin.

"Want some?"

Hong Yiting shook her head with a faint smile.

"No, thank you. Let’s head back first."

The group gathered but just as they were about to set off.

"Wait."

An elderly voice called out.

An old man stepped into their path, his robes simple but his presence steady, eyes sharp beneath heavy brows.

"Are you... the Silverwing Merchant Group?" he asked.

Hong Yiting moved forward without hesitation, her posture straight, her tone courteous.

"Yes, we are. Is there a problem?"

The elder shook his head.

"No problem," he said. His gaze flickered briefly to the caravan, then back to her.

"We’ve heard rumors," he continued slowly, "that you are selling a teleportation formation."

"Would you be willing... to sell it to us?"

"That," Hong Yiting said, her gaze steady as she met the elder’s eyes, "depends on what you’re willing to offer."

The old man didn’t hesitate, not even for a breath.

"One hundred thousand mid-grade spirit stones."

"And," he added, as though it were a trivial detail, "we would require your people to set up the formation."

Hong Yiting’s lashes lowered slightly, masking the flicker in her eyes.

Does he mean... the benefactor himself? Do you perhaps got a dead wish?

Her thoughts sharpened, but her expression remained composed. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"I’m afraid silver or spirit stones won’t suffice," she replied evenly. "What we seek... is a stake in wine production."

For the first time, the elder’s expression shifted. A crease formed between his brows, confusion plain in his gaze.

"A stake... in wine?" he repeated, as if testing the words.

Then, just as quickly, his face smoothed out.

"That can be arranged."

He gestured lightly with one hand, his tone easing, turning almost welcoming.

"Such matters are better discussed properly," he said. "If you don’t mind, would you honor us with a visit? Our residence is not far more comfortable than speaking in the street."

Hong Yiting studied him for a brief moment, fhen she smiled.

"Since Elder has extended such courtesy," she said, dipping her head slightly, "it would be rude of us to decline."

The old man nodded, satisfied.

"Good. Then please, follow me."

The caravan shifted course.

Instead of turning toward the city gates, they followed the elder deeper within, wheels creaking softly against stone-paved roads.

The surroundings gradually changed.

Bustling market streets gave way to quieter avenues.

The buildings grew larger, more refined, courtyards hidden behind high walls, guards stationed at heavy gates.

They were heading south.

By the time they reached the southern district, the air itself seemed calmer, carrying a faint trace of incense and aged wood.

At last, they stopped.

Before them stood a grand estate—its entrance marked by tall gates of dark timber, engraved with intricate patterns.

Above it hung a plaque, bold characters etched deep into polished wood.

The Yi Family.