Chen Baoxiang’s lips pressed together. She reached out and felt the injuries on her own body, looking small and pitiable.
Even after all those precious medicines had been used, her face was still deathly pale. Curled into the corner of the bed, she looked like a tiny, huddled thing.
Zhang Zhixu glanced at her twice, and felt something he couldn’t quite push away.
It was strange, he thought. He had always believed that each person had their own allotted fate — that birth, ageing, illness, and death all followed their own order — and no matter how wretched a sight he witnessed, he never found himself moved to pity or sympathy.
But with Chen Baoxiang — wherever she was hurt or bruised, he felt as though the pain were in his own body too. His own flesh would involuntarily tighten in response to hers, and his heart would not settle.
He let out a quiet breath: “I’ll have the treasury bring you two golden lotus flowers cast in gold.”
“Ah — what for?”
“No particular use — they’re not medicine and won’t ease the pain.” He pressed his lips together. “But knowing your nature, I think you’d be delighted to see them.”
Chen Baoxiang listened, and her pupils contracted sharply with the force of her shock: “Two gold lotus flowers — just to make me happy?”
“Is that not reasonable?”
How could it be reasonable?
Chen Baoxiang sat in a quiet daze. She had been in Shangjing for many years, living no better than a mouse — injuries and illnesses were no strangers to her, and brushes with death were not unknown. And never once had anyone indulged her like this.
Did she truly deserve to be valued so?
Her wide-open eyes curved slowly into a crescent-moon smile, and the look in Chen Baoxiang’s gaze turned soft: “The Great Immortal is truly, truly the best person in the world.”
He had heard her voice resonating in his ears before — however sweet the sound, it had never felt entirely real. But hearing those words spoken face-to-face, directly in front of him, Zhang Zhixu felt, for once, mildly ill at ease.
“I’m not that good.” He turned his face aside. “All this is just making use of this body’s resources. You don’t need to be thrifty on his behalf — he has more than enough money.”
At that, Chen Baoxiang’s curiosity sparked at once. She leaned her head toward him: “Just how rich is the Zhang family, anyway?”
“That……I’m not entirely sure.”
Zhang Zhixu considered, then called Jiuquan back in. He asked him directly: “How much silver is there in my accounts?”
Jiuquan blinked at the question, startled, and looked up. Two pairs of eyes — both blank and curious — were fixed on him.
He felt somewhat helpless: “Master, are you worried about the cost of Miss Chen’s medicines? Please set your mind at ease — they all come from our own establishments, so there’s no expense involved. Even if the miss were to convalesce here for another year or two, those few medicine shops wouldn’t fold.”
Medicine shops were among the most profitable establishments. A well-situated shop could bring in over ten million coins in a year — and of such shops, Zhang Zhixu had more than a dozen.
“The accounts for this month have just been tallied — shall I report everything together?” He accepted the ledger from a serving boy and crouched beside Zhang Zhixu, reading aloud: “Huitong Exchange supplies two thousand, six hundred and thirty-two liang; Zhaixing Tower dividend income six hundred and thirty liang; Renxin Medicine Shop supplies four hundred and twenty liang……”
“Wait.” Chen Baoxiang raised a hand, visibly shaken. “If I’m not mistaken, he has over two hundred shops?”
“Yes.” Jiuquan inclined his head. “And there are also farm estates, orchards, tea hills, and income from private property rental——”
Chen Baoxiang sucked in a sharp breath, pinched her own philtrum, and gasped: “Quick — quick, go and chip a block of ice!”
Zhang Zhixu couldn’t hold back a laugh: “Pitiful.”
“Master, today the small kitchen took in some full-moon pears and foreign honeydew melons, as well as Javanese grapes.” Jiuquan glanced at the time. “Would you like a small taste?”
Zhang Zhixu had no particular appetite, but he cast a sidelong glance at Chen Baoxiang beside him — eyes wide with longing — and nodded anyway: “All right.”
“Even Javanese grapes?” Chen Baoxiang’s eyes lit up. “I’ve only heard of those from storytellers — they’re terribly expensive.”
Jiuquan received the fruit tray and explained with a smile: “The Zhang family’s fourth branch trades between various nations, so these things aren’t especially rare out there. But to bring them back requires an ice cellar on the ship, and a full month’s voyage before they reach Shangjing — all of that cost added together is what makes them expensive here. The flavour is nothing extraordinary, miss — consider it a novelty.”
Chen Baoxiang piously extended both hands to receive the small piece of grape and tasted it.
Sweet, fragrant, crisp — a flavour entirely unlike anything she had known before.
She ate that one small piece with care and deliberateness, then looked up — only to find the Great Immortal’s expression entirely listless, seeming to have no interest whatsoever.
“You eat the rest.” He placed the entire fruit tray in front of her.
Chen Baoxiang was astonished: “It’s this expensive, and you won’t have even a bite?”
Zhang Zhixu looked genuinely confused: “Does expensive automatically mean it tastes good?”
“When it’s this expensive, how can it not taste good?!”
What kind of logic was this?
Zhang Zhixu let out an amused huff: “No wonder Wanbao Tower does such brisk business. If Shangjing had a few more people as simple-minded as you, the silver in my accounts would probably double.”
Chen Baoxiang puffed out her cheeks in indignation.
She was not simple-minded — she was perfectly clever.
It was just that the Great Immortal was truly extraordinary. Thrown suddenly into Zhang Zhixu’s body, anyone else would have been thrown into panic and moved with hesitation and timidity. The Great Immortal was not.
He had adapted swiftly to this identity — so naturally, it was as though he had always been the man himself.