Chapter 3: The Heartless Heir Sells Ancestral Land

Before his joy could fully settle, Manager Yang recalled the Young Lord’s mention of selling land, and the smile on his face immediately froze.

Just then, someone let out a loud wail and rushed over to Fang Jifan, clutching his leg while weeping miserably. “Young Lord, Young Lord, you can’t sell the land! Selling ancestral land like this… this is something that would invite divine punishment! If you sell, the whole Capital will laugh and point fingers at the Fang Family’s backbone. If the Earl finds out… wuu…”

It turned out to be Deng Jian. Tears and mucus streaked down Deng Jian’s face as he clung tightly to Fang Jifan’s leg, sobbing uncontrollably.

Manager Yang’s expression also turned grim. Sell… sell land… Earlier, he had thought, aside from our Fang Family Young Lord, who else would think of such a shameful matter? He had felt quite happy then, thinking that at least the Young Lord’s illness had finally improved.

But now he realized it was actually going to happen.

Manager Yang thumped to his knees and said, “Young Lord, Deng Jian is right. We can’t sell! If we sell, our Nanhe Bo Mansion will become the biggest joke. If the Young Lord needs silver, just tell me. Old Liu, Old Liu, how much silver is left in the accounts now…”

Accountant Liu’s eyes reddened. He clutched his chest, feeling a sharp pain, and choked out through tears, “Young Lord, my family has served the late Elder Master, the Master, and now the Young Lord for generations. The Nanhe Bo Mansion is, after all… a household of note in the Capital. We can’t sell the land, we just can’t! Selling land means the family will be ruined!”

It actually made sense. In this era, people often valued land more than the heavens. Selling ancestral property and land was something only destitute heirs and spendthrifts did. Fang Jifan seemed convinced by them. “You all make valid points. Selling land is indeed the deed of a spendthrift. But step outside the mansion and ask around the neighborhood—who is the biggest spendthrift in this Capital?”

Fang Jifan puffed out his chest, radiating confidence. In that moment, he felt a hint of pride. Being a spendthrift wasn’t so bad. For instance, when it came to selling land, others didn’t dare, but he did. How else could money beget money? How else could he seize the chance to make a fortune?

“What are you crying for? Whoever dares to cry will have their legs broken! You should be laughing… Don’t you know the rules of this mansion? I am my father’s only son. Father is currently leading troops to suppress bandits for the imperial court. Right now, I’m the one in charge of this household. Who dares to oppose me?”

Seeing Fang Jifan’s snarling expression, Deng Jian, Manager Yang, and Accountant Liu all gasped sharply.

They knew the Young Lord’s temperament. In the past, when the Young Lord got angry, he could beat people to death. So none of them dared to continue their loud weeping, only sniffling quietly.

“I said we’re selling, so we’re selling. Starting now, sell everything that can be sold. Invite people from the Brokerage Firm. Once we agree on terms, get a guarantor. Go now!”

He must not show any weakness now. If he softened even a little, he wouldn’t be able to control them.

Accountant Liu whimpered, “Young Lord, could we at least inform the Earl first…”

“No need. The house…” Fang Jifan almost said ‘my father,’ but he jolted. No, he shouldn’t say that—he nearly gave himself away. He bared his teeth, putting on a bold front. “Why bother with that old man? I said sell, so we sell!”

The Young Lord’s furious outburst in the mansion sent tremors through the entire Fang Family. The loyal servant Deng Jian had fainted. Accountant Liu, suffering from heart pains, was carried away for medical treatment.

By the next morning, the sun was already high when Fang Jifan dressed with Xiaoxiangxiang’s assistance. Deng Jian’s eyes were swollen like light bulbs—likely he had woken during the night and cried again. Fang Jifan ignored him but worried that the physician might come later for a check-up and he’d be stuck with needles again. He eyed Xiaoxiangxiang sneakily and said, “Xiaoxiangxiang, a day apart and you’ve grown again. Come here, Young Lord…”

Xiaoxiangxiang’s eyes reddened, but she didn’t dare move. Fang Jifan had hoped she would dodge, giving him an excuse to back down, but she stood as still as a wooden stake. He inwardly groaned, shouting in his mind, “Dodge, won’t you?”

Helpless, he extended his wretched, grasping hand and gave Xiaoxiangxiang a squeeze. The softness filled him with both shame and speechlessness. But… it really was that substantial. He was shocked—he wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t touched it. He couldn’t help but marvel: the Fang Family’s rice truly nourished people!

Xiaoxiangxiang, her eyes still red, fastened a sachet onto Fang Jifan. When she lifted her delicate face, it was streaked with tears. Fang Jifan felt another pang of guilt and inwardly cursed the previous Fang Jifan for being a scoundrel. Deng Jian spoke up from the side, “Yo… Young Lord… someone from the Brokerage Firm is here.”

“Good timing.” Fang Jifan seized the chance to escape his embarrassment. He took the Xiangfei Bamboo Fan tied at his waist, opened it with a flourish, and fanned himself. “Let’s go meet him.”

Leading Deng Jian to the main hall, he saw a portly Merchant waiting anxiously. The man seemed to shrink in the Fang residence, his expression uneasy. The moment he spotted Fang Jifan, he hurriedly stood and bowed. “This humble one is Wang Jinyuan, greetings to the Young Lord.”

Fang Jifan plopped down casually, crossed his legs, snapped his fan shut, and slapped it onto the table. “No need for formalities. You know about the land, right? Do you need to go see it?”

“No… no need.” Wang Jinyuan smiled cautiously, trying his best to appear harmless. This young master was notoriously reckless. If he misspoke, who knew if he’d leave on his own two feet today? He beamed ingratiatingly and said, “The Fang Family’s estate—how could I not know? It’s all prime farmland. At market price, one mu is worth at least thirty taels. With over two thousand mu, sixty to seventy thousand taels is certainly achievable. Moreover, this year is particularly good—few are selling land, but many are buying. If the Young Lord is truly willing to sell, I’ll do my best to ensure you don’t lose out.”

Only sixty to seventy thousand…

Fang Jifan felt somewhat disappointed.

But thinking carefully, in this era, one tael of silver was no small amount—equivalent to about two hundred in later times. Sixty to seventy thousand taels amounted to a fortune of several million.

Yet Fang Jifan still wasn’t satisfied. “Only that much?”

Wang Jinyuan kept a smiling face, but inwardly he scorned Fang Jifan. The Nanhe Bo lineage was well-known in the Capital—they were men of iron will who had rendered countless services to the imperial court. How did this generation produce such a character? If this were my son, I’d rather have no descendants than let him live.

Sighing inwardly, Wang Jinyuan forced a dry laugh. “Young Lord, this price is already quite fair.”

Fang Jifan had to let it go. After all, he was playing the spendthrift and couldn’t show any business shrewdness in front of others. He waved a hand grandly. “Fine, it’s settled then. Little Deng Deng, pour some tea for our… our… whatever-his-name-is guest. Haha, I love making friends. Come, come, have a seat.”

Wang Jinyuan was mortified but dared not refuse. He obediently took a seat. While waiting for Deng Jian to fetch tea, he noticed Fang Jifan staying silent, toying with the Xiangfei Bamboo Fan. Wang Jinyuan felt uncomfortable no matter where he looked. His eyes flickered and landed on a painting on the wall. He couldn’t help but remark, “The Nanhe Bo Mansion truly stands apart. This ‘Parting at Qingchuan’ by Zhao Yuan—if an ordinary family acquired it, they’d surely store it away as a treasure. Yet the Bo Mansion hangs it right here in the hall. It truly broadens my humble horizons.”

Hmm?

Wang Jinyuan had intended it as flattery—businessmen always sweet-talk, especially when dealing with such troublemakers. But Fang Jifan narrowed his eyes, suddenly sensing a business opportunity. “What’s the price?”

“Price for what?” Wang Jinyuan was dumbfounded.

Fang Jifan stared at him intently. “Naturally, this painting. How much can it sell for?”

“Probably a few hundred taels. Although it’s a famous work by Zhao Yuan, he hasn’t been gone long and can’t quite compare to the ancient masters yet.”

Fang Jifan’s spirits lifted. He slapped the table. “Sell it.”

“This… this… sell this too…” Wang Jinyuan ‘jolted as if struck,’ staring at Fang Jifan in astonishment.