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With his thighs wrapped in layers of cloth, Fei Qian couldn't sit properly. So, Zhang Liao had several low stools brought in, and everyone sat around the fire pit in the center of the tent, warming themselves while chatting.
Above the fire pit, a few sturdy branches suspended an iron pot, simmering with water, rice, vegetables, and chunks of cured meat, bubbling away.
Under the direction of Fei Qian's and Zhang Liao's soldiers, the clamor outside the tent from the three hundred-plus carriages gradually quieted down.
Fei Qian introduced Ma Yan to Zhang Liao. Upon learning that Ma Yan was a descendant of the General Who Crosses the Frontier, Zhang Liao's expression turned solemn with respect. He formally greeted Ma Yan, inviting him to sit closer. The two soon began chatting animatedly about the Ma family's past and present in Shangjun.
Cui Hou sat to the side, watching Zhang Liao and Ma Yan converse. Lost in thought, he lowered his gaze and let out a soft sigh.
For days, Cui Hou had been running around, coordinating with contacts. Despite his established network, the effort had exhausted him like a dog. Now that they had reached their destination, he could finally relax a bit, but his shoulders and back ached faintly. Twisting slightly, his joints cracked, and he reached back to rub his sore muscles.
"This time, Yongyuan has worked hard. But now that we're here, you can rest for a few days and recover," Fei Qian said with a smile, glancing at Cui Hou.
Cui Hou clasped his hands and replied, "Thank you, my lord. I think I can still manage." Though the work was grueling, handling transactions worth billions was a new pinnacle for Cui Hou, a seasoned merchant. The psychological satisfaction was enough to outweigh his physical fatigue.
Zhang Liao and Ma Yan's conversation paused. While Huang Cheng stirred the pot with a long wooden spoon, Zhang Liao remarked, "Ziyuan, it seems these carriages don't all belong to one family. Are they all rented?"
"Yes, all rented," Fei Qian said, feeling relief as the medicinal oil cooled the burning pain in his thighs. He smiled, "Otherwise, I'm no immortal. I can't conjure up so many carriages and horses…"
Everyone laughed.
Cui Hou, perhaps unnecessarily, added, "My lord's method is quite clever. Using carriages from various families for transport allows us to gather supplies quickly and avoids spending on purchasing vehicles."
Why call it unnecessary? Because everyone in the tent already understood this and its benefits. Cui Hou's explanation didn't spark any sudden revelations.
Fei Qian glanced at Cui Hou, understanding his intent.
Earlier, when Ma Yan and Cui Hou met, it was a brief exchange of courtesies, nothing more. Even when Cui Hou first met Zhang Liao, it was similarly lukewarm.
Seeing no one responded, Cui Hou felt a bit awkward, gave a dry laugh, and lowered his head.
Cui Hou's emotions were complex—a mix of pride and inferiority.
He was proud because he controlled transactions worth billions, a glimmer of hope to join the ranks of the Han dynasty's top tycoons. This wasn't just his dream but his ancestors'. As Fei Qian's plans unfolded step by step, Cui Hou was inching closer to realizing that dream—a monumental achievement to be recorded in the Cui family's history. How could he not feel proud?
Yet, on the other hand, the memory of the Tian clan usurping Qi during the Warring States period and Lü Buwei's "profitable investment" in the Qin dynasty deeply scarred the ruling class. By the Han dynasty, merchants' status had plummeted compared to the Warring States era, with rulers imposing greater restrictions and wariness toward wealthy merchants' political involvement.
Thus, when Cui Lie bought his way into the Three Excellencies, he was lambasted by mainstream scholars. Even his own son, Cui Jun, remarked that his father reeked of copper…
Cui Hou, a commoner, controlled most of Fei Qian's faction's wealth but still wasn't taken seriously by most. He craved recognition but feared rejection, which drove his attempts to insert himself into conversations, hoping to truly become part of Fei Qian's inner circle.
Fei Qian saw this clearly. Such behavior was common in later eras' workplaces, where some people, no matter the topic, tried to chime in with their opinions.
While sometimes annoying, these individuals were also pitiable, often overlooked in their professional circles.
True powerholders didn't need to insert themselves; others would eagerly seek their opinions, pretending to scribble notes—whether they were actually recording or doodling, no one knew…
But that didn't matter. Leaders didn't care what was written, only that the gesture was made.
For those on the margins, no matter how much they said, no one paid attention.
Just like now—aside from Fei Qian, no one seemed interested in engaging with Cui Hou.
Though seated among them, Cui Hou felt like an outsider, distant and detached.
This wasn't a good sign.
Fei Qian knew that allowing a merchant to hold too much power could create a monstrous imbalance, sometimes prioritizing profit over national loyalty—a trend that became glaring in later eras. But excluding Cui Hou like this wasn't ideal either.
Take the Mi family of Xuzhou. They poured their heart and wealth into paving Liu Bei's path, even offering Mi Zhen as his concubine, yet they never gained true acceptance in Liu Bei's circle.
When Guan Yu flooded the seven armies, he declared he'd settle scores with Mi Fang upon his return. Mi Fang, Liu Bei's brother-in-law, was shown no mercy. How could the Mi family bear such humiliation?
Though Cui Hou hadn't voiced any complaints, this was indeed a hidden danger. The question was, how should it be handled?
*****
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