Chapter 2: I Am the Prodigal Son
Chapter 2: I Am the Prodigal Son
With Xiaoxiangxiang’s help, Fang Jifan rinsed his mouth and had just finished breakfast when the famous doctor came.
The doctor’s face was glowing with pride. Hearing that the Young Lord’s Brain Illness was getting better, everyone in the mansion called him a miracle doctor. Though he spoke modestly, his heart bloomed with joy.
As usual, he carried his medical bag and came forward with a smile to greet Fang Jifan. “Greetings, Young Lord Fang. You look much better. Let me check your pulse first.”
Fang Jifan felt a bit of instinctive fear toward this doctor. But then he thought again, turned his nose up, crossed his legs, and said, “I am completely recovered. What pulse? You old dog, get out of here!”
“Heh… heh…” The doctor forced a laugh. Being called an old dog was truly insulting for a doctor, but despite his slight unhappiness, he showed a relieved smile and said with emotion, “Yes, Young Lord, your illness is indeed much better. I am very… very…”
“Get out!” Fang Jifan finally understood his way of survival. The more arrogant and rude he was, the happier and more relieved people became. This truly was a… god-like world.
“Alright, alright.” The doctor wasn’t angry at all but turned to Deng Jian and advised, “If the Young Lord shows any signs of illness again, be sure to report it promptly. Young Lord… I take my leave, farewell.”
Seeing the doctor leave happily, Fang Jifan breathed a sigh of relief.
Having just escaped one ordeal, Fang Jifan felt empty and lonely again. Did he have to pretend to be a scoundrel for the rest of his life?
No, that would be a pointless way to live. He had to accomplish something great. But at the moment…
Fang Jifan stood up and said, “Little Deng Deng…”
“Little Deng Deng” was Deng Jian’s exclusive nickname, but clearly, Deng Jian didn’t like Fang Jifan calling him that. He responded with a pained face, “What does Young Lord wish?”
Fang Jifan grinned and said, “Come, accompany me for a walk around the mansion.”
“Of course.” Deng Jian hurriedly fetched a Xiangfei Bamboo Fan and a flashy sachet. Presenting them proudly, he said, “Young Lord always loves to carry these when going out…”
Fang Jifan’s face darkened. Did the original owner of this body have such tastes? He chuckled and skillfully had Xiaoxiangxiang tie the sachet to his waist. He played with the Xiangfei Bamboo Fan, opening and closing it. There was a poem on the fan. Fang Jifan glanced at it and saw the words: ‘I urge you not to cherish your golden robes, but to cherish the time of your youth. When flowers bloom, you should pick them; do not wait until the branches are bare.’
The poem’s meaning was good, but Fang Jifan knew the malicious interpretation the fan’s owner had of it. He cursed inwardly, “Ugh, you disgusting creep.”
Though he felt contempt, life still had to go on.
Gathering his spirits, he followed Deng Jian out of the bedroom. Now that he truly saw the Nanhe Bo Mansion, Fang Jifan was amazed.
The mansion covered an enormous area—at least fifty acres. Rows upon rows of rooftops stretched out, with three main sections and three courtyards. There were dozens of rooms: the main hall, front hall, backyard, side rooms, and firewood rooms. Fang Jifan felt quite satisfied, unconsciously waving the Xiangfei Bamboo Fan. The only flaw was that the house… was a bit old. It had to be at least a hundred years old, looking very worn.
He couldn’t help but say, “This house needs repairs.”
“Re…repairs…” Deng Jian exclaimed in surprise.
Fang Jifan smacked him on the head. “You dog-like thing! I must have gotten sick because this mansion is too old. Renovate it, understand?”
Deng Jian smiled again and said, “Young Lord is right. Are you saying the mansion has heavy negative energy? I understand. But… renovating the mansion costs a lot of silver.”
Fang Jifan raised an eyebrow. “The prestigious Nanhe Bo Mansion lacks silver?”
“Yes!” Deng Jian’s answer left Fang Jifan stunned. “Young Lord usually doesn’t manage affairs. The estate has thousands of acres of good farmland in the suburbs, but after all, it produces grain. Though the Earl receives a stipend and rewards, there isn’t much actual silver—it’s all in Great Ming’s Treasure Notes.”
Treasure Notes… Fang Jifan understood. These were the Great Ming’s unique paper money. Unfortunately, the imperial court printed too many, so they weren’t worth much.
He suddenly remembered that this era’s economic characteristics were like this. Although land was valuable, most wealthy families rented it out to villagers for farming and collected grain. This grain was stored in granaries and could be sold for money, but the Nanhe Bo Mansion had such a large estate and many expenses. Naturally, he couldn’t expect much cash on the books.
Continuing to act crazy and foolish wasn’t a solution. He had to become independent. Only when a person was independent—for example, when they had money—would they not be controlled and subjected to things like acupuncture needles.
Besides, did he really want to be a prodigal son for life?
No! Fang Jifan felt that in his previous life, he was at least a top student and a model youth. He had to strive for self-improvement and self-reliance.
But what could he do without silver?
Fang Jifan narrowed his eyes and suddenly grew excited.
There was a way to make money!
It was now the 17th day of the third month in the 11th Year of the Hongzhi Era.
Half a month later, Fang Jifan vaguely remembered reading in the local records of Tongzhou that dozens of ships carrying Ebony had sunk in North Tongzhou. Additionally, Ebony was increasingly favored by nobles during the Hongzhi period, so its price kept rising. Fang Jifan recalled that the price of Ebony soared to unprecedented heights.
Ebony was already rare, and shipments usually carried large quantities together. With dozens of ships sinking, it meant the market would face a severe shortage of Ebony.
Fang Jifan’s eyes lit up. An idea came to his mind: hoard Ebony.
But… what about silver? Even before the price doubled, Ebony was frighteningly expensive. He narrowed his eyes and said, “How much silver is left in the mansion’s accounts?”
Deng Jian trembled and looked at Fang Jifan in panic. “There shouldn’t be much. At most, a few hundred taels of actual silver. Yo… Young Lord, you… you want to…”
Hearing “a few hundred taels,” Fang Jifan felt disheartened. But soon, another idea came to him. There was no silver, but the Fang Family had land. What if…
He pondered again. No, no, selling land… He had studied history well. The thinking of ancient people was different from modern people. In the eyes of ancients, selling land was something only ruined families and prodigal sons did. It would make people point fingers in scorn.
Hey… prodigal son…
Wasn’t he the textbook example of a prodigal son? In Beijing City, was there anyone more prodigal than him, Fang Jifan?
Fang Jifan’s eyes lit up, and he shouted loudly, “Summon Manager Yang and Accountant Liu!”
The power of the Fang Family’s Young Lord was still strong. In no time, Manager Yang and Accountant Liu arrived, panting and looking nervously at Fang Jifan.
Fang Jifan sat with his legs crossed. Though he was seated, the two men didn’t dare stand taller than him, so they bent over. This made Fang Jifan, even while seated, appear taller than them. Looking down on them gave him a real sense of being the Young Lord.
Fang Jifan said, “How much land does the mansion have?”
“Outside the city, the estate has 2,370 acres. Besides that, there are several mountains covering thousands of acres,” Manager Yang said proudly. He had heard the Young Lord had a Brain Illness and had been undergoing treatment. He was quite concerned. Now that he heard the Young Lord was better, he stared intently, wanting to see if the Young Lord had truly recovered.
“How much silver can it sell for?” Fang Jifan’s next words nearly choked Manager Yang.
Manager Yang’s first reaction wasn’t worry but a slight raise of his eyebrows. He exchanged a look with Accountant Liu beside him. Ah, the Young Lord’s illness… really was much better! The Fang Family was fortunate!
Just think—the Young Lord could actually think of selling land for money. In all of Beijing City, besides our Fang Family’s Young Lord, who else could so casually say such words? Our Young Lord was truly back!
Seeing the pleased expressions on their faces, Fang Jifan felt this world had gone mad. He could only tap the table with his fan handle. “I asked you a question. How much can it sell for? Take stock of everything and spread the word to the Brokerage Firm. Sell the land—sell every bit of it. Not a single acre should remain.”