Chapter Nineteen: Relying on Mountains Will See Them Collapse; Relying on People Means They Will Age

As night fell and the city lights began to glow, a bright moon hid behind the clouds, revealing only a sliver of its face. After a day of bustling activity, Yangzhou gradually quieted down. Once the candles were lit, dishes started to appear one after another in the main courtyard of the Yang residence.

Yang Lin and his father sat opposite each other. Despite Yang Tong’s corpulent physique, he ate sparingly, focusing mainly on serving his son. Yang Lin put down his chopsticks and asked, “Father, tomorrow Cai Jing is hosting a banquet by the river for the illustrious figures of Yangzhou. Do you wish to attend?”

“I won’t be going,” replied Yang Tong. “You’ll represent our family, and I’ll support you from behind the scenes. But Lin’er, hosting a banquet for the entire gentry and notable figures of Yangzhou isn’t a trivial matter. Such grand occasions must be costly. Should we offer Cai Jing some assistance?”

“No need,” Yang Lin answered promptly. “It’s obvious to everyone that Cai Jing’s recent rise to the capital signals his imminent appointment as prime minister. Countless people are already trying to curry favor with him. Do you think he’ll lose money on this banquet? Ha! Father, Cai Jing will profit handsomely this time.

“We supported him before he rose to power, unlike those who are now sending gifts and money. It’s best not to give more at this juncture. Otherwise, what was once genuine friendship will turn into mere flattery—too much of a good thing is harmful. We must distinguish ourselves from those people, so Cai Jing won’t lump us together with them.

“Everyone can carry a flashy bridal sedan chair and add flowers to a brocade—anyone can do that. Cai Jing knows very well who helped him get to the capital, and he understands what kind of allies he’ll need in the court.”

Yang Tong nodded, growing more convinced and easing a lingering doubt in his heart. When Cai Jing was not yet successful, his son frequently visited him, offering money, effort, and strategic advice. Now that Cai Jing was about to soar to great heights, Yang Lin had cooled his enthusiasm, staying indoors to tutor a few unruly children in reading and writing. This, it turned out, was his plan all along.

Unbeknownst to them, Cai Jing was watching Yang Lin closely. This young man had surprised him more than once, yet his motives remained unclear. In the end, Cai Jing could only attribute it to Yang Lin’s character, for Yang Lin’s reputation as a “upright gentleman” was as well-known in Yangzhou as his father’s generous wealth.

After dinner, just as Yang Lin was about to leave, Yang Tong called him back and asked, “Lin’er, do you not wish to rely on Cai Jing as a backing?”

Caught off guard, Yang Lin forced a wry smile. He had underestimated his father’s insight. After all, his father was a self-made man who had fought his way up in Yangzhou’s rough-and-tumble world. A shrewd businessman like him could easily see through people, especially his own son.

“Father, what does it mean to have a backing? If we choose one, it means we must depend on him. If he falls, we will suffer too. Who can guarantee Cai Jing’s everlasting success? I think it’s better to see him as a stepping stone rather than a backing.

“We don’t need a backing; we need a series of steps. That way, we hold our fate in our own hands.

“So, while we can invest money and effort to help Cai Jing become prime minister, there’s no need to go further. Flattering him excessively would be like cutting off all other paths and binding ourselves to him till the end, forced to live by others’ whims.”

Yang Tong sighed deeply. “My son’s ambition is high, and his spirit even higher. I will certainly help you build your own power.”

Yang Lin grinned and left the courtyard.

The Song dynasty was home to many child prodigies; numerous renowned officials were early bloomers. Yan Shu could compose poetry at five and embarked on a swift official career by fourteen. Cai Boxi passed the imperial exam at four and was appointed to the Secretariat, serving as a tutor to Crown Prince Zhao Zhen (later Emperor Renzong). Others, like Kou Zhun, wrote poetry at eight; Huang Tingjian memorized the Five Classics by five and produced poems by seven; Zhen Dexiu began reading at four with an eidetic memory; Kong Wenzhong composed poetry at six or seven; and Yang Yi was eloquent with the manners of an old city at seven.

Yang Tong once envied such talents, but now he saw that his son was even more precocious and insightful.

Fifteen years of nurturing a reputation of noble integrity, starting with top marks in local exams, and forging connections with future prime ministers—indeed, there was no need to rely on Cai Jing. For now, they could borrow momentum to soar, but the future was still open.

Ahead, Jin’er carried a lantern, chattering about household matters—like the quarrel between Yang Tian’ai and Ning’er, Yang Tianci’s ability to eat five bowls of rice at once, and Yang Tianshu’s agility that allowed him to jump over walls in a flash.

Yang Lin remained silent behind her. Today’s heart-to-heart with his father was meant to facilitate their future financial dealings. Fortunately, his father was not like some merchants who hoarded wealth and refused to spend.

In this society, having money but no power made one a fat sheep waiting to be slaughtered.

After Cai Jing became prime minister, he instituted a salt monopoly that bankrupted countless wealthy merchants in the Lianghuai region, many reduced to beggars.

His own path to officialdom was now smooth and broad, ready for him to make his mark in the scholar-official paradise of the Song court. When that time came, he would need vast sums of silver.

Though his father could earn money, he could not stay by his side to manage the accounts forever. It was time to find some clever subordinates to handle the finances.

“Jin’er, how is that Yang San at bookkeeping and accounting?”

Jin’er, bored and ignored by young master, perked up at the question and giggled. “Young master doesn’t know—Yang San is famously silly. He’s caused so many laughs. Once, when sent to buy supplies for the mansion, he miscalculated and spent four strings of cash extra, yet he was proud of himself. In the end, we all had to chip in to cover the loss.”

Yang Lin felt a wave of frustration. Born in the wrong era. Had he been born into a wealthy merchant family in the Ming dynasty, he would have been groomed with the finest talents and beauties—like a “Yangzhou lean mare” by his side, managing accounts by day and other matters by night. Loyal, hardworking, and tireless. The envy was palpable.

Looking back at the silly and talkative maid before him, who couldn’t stop gossiping and laughing at others’ mishaps, he felt the sting of contrast. Clearly, he would have to cultivate his own capable staff. Fortunately, having trained from a young age had its advantages. Back in the future, Yang Lin had self-studied budgeting and accounting for work reasons, and his simple teachings were already quite advanced for the Song era.

The next morning, the inner courtyard of the Yang residence buzzed with activity. Yang Lin gathered the maids and had them sit properly in the courtyard.

These little maids were far from idle; they chattered noisily. Yang Lin cleared his throat, “Quiet down, please. I have a few arithmetic problems for you all. Today, we’ll have a contest—whoever scores the highest will be rewarded with ten taels of silver.”

“Ten taels of silver?”

“I’d do anything for the young master!”

“Come on, you want silver? Can you even count how many noses and eyes you have?”

“Hehe, but that’s still better than you!”