Lu Xiangheng narrowed his eyes slightly, studying the soldier whose face was glowing with unconcealed excitement, and he found it faintly ridiculous that a hardened border soldier who had likely faced cavalry charges without blinking was now smiling like a child promised sweets.
"A merchant arrives," Lu Xiangheng said calmly, "and you look as if reinforcements from heaven have descended. What makes this man so special?"
The soldier grinned wider.
"Every time Tie Patron comes, he brings food, clothing, supplies. More than the court sends."
Lu Xiangheng said nothing.
"The court rarely pays us," the soldier added bluntly. "We live off Tie Patron now."
That sentence lingered in the air like a quiet accusation aimed not at Lu Xiangheng personally, but at the entire structure of the late Ming state, which prided itself on ritual precision while quietly defaulting on its own army's wages.
Lu Xiangheng felt genuine astonishment rise within him, not the theatrical kind used in court, but the kind that comes when reality becomes stranger than rumor.
A merchant sustaining border armies.
Absurd.
Yet the soldier continued without irony.
"When Governor Yang Sichang was here, he hired laborers to build roads, open mines, fortify cities, train troops. He spent enormous sums. Most of it came from Tie Patron."
Lu Xiangheng's brows lifted again, this time not in surprise alone but in recalculation, because that meant this merchant was not merely charitable but deeply embedded in frontier infrastructure.
Yang Sichang had relied on him.
Now Xuan-Da relied on him.
And the court, officially supreme, had become a distant rumor.
Soon enough, Tie Niaofei entered.
He moved with the relaxed confidence of a man accustomed to entering military yamen without being treated as an outsider, and as soon as he saw Lu Xiangheng, he clasped his hands respectfully.
"Master Lu. I have long admired your reputation."
"I have done nothing worth mentioning."
"You are too modest."
Tie Niaofei's smile was warm but measured.
"When you governed Yunyang, your Tianxiong Army became renowned. You suppressed bandits efficiently and cared for the people. The region prospered."
Compliments from merchants were never free of calculation, but Lu Xiangheng had been praised before and did not let it sway him easily.
He gestured for Tie Niaofei to sit.
"I hear you have long supported the border armies," Lu Xiangheng began directly. "Even Yang Sichang relied on your funds."
"Every loyal subject should contribute to the Great Ming," Tie Niaofei replied smoothly. "I have no special talents. I only know how to earn some money."
Lu Xiangheng could not help but exhale softly.
"Providing funds in such times is no small matter."
Tie Niaofei leaned forward slightly.
"Master Lu, you are newly appointed. You must have ambitions. If you face difficulties implementing your policies, please speak freely."
It was an open offer.
Silver.
Supplies.
Support.
Lu Xiangheng felt an uncomfortable tightening in his chest, because he was not naïve enough to believe that money flowed without direction, and accepting assistance from someone one barely knew was never a trivial choice.
No reward without reason.
No silver without expectation.
He hesitated.
Then Tie Niaofei casually brushed a speck of dust from his own chest, a small, almost unconscious gesture, and smiled.
"Do not be shy. We are practically old friends."
Lu Xiangheng's gaze followed that motion.
On Tie Niaofei's chest, embroidered in gold thread, was a familiar celestial figure, serene and otherworldly.
Dao Xuan Tianzun.
Recognition struck like lightning.
He had seen that emblem before.
Luo Xi of Shangnan County wore it.
Zheng Gouzi wore it.
Flat Rabbit wore it.
They all spoke of a mysterious benefactor known as Li Patron.
Suddenly everything aligned.
"You," Lu Xiangheng said slowly, "are connected to Li Patron?"
Tie Niaofei smiled.
"That is why I said we are old friends."
Emotion surged unexpectedly within Lu Xiangheng, not merely gratitude but something close to awe, because Li Patron had funded Shangnan, supported Yunyang during his own tenure, assisted in suppressing bandits, and now sustained the border armies as well.
"How," Lu Xiangheng murmured, "could such a person remain unknown for so long?"
"Better that way," Tie Niaofei replied quietly. "Good deeds do not require fame."
Those words struck deeply.
Lu Xiangheng understood the wisdom in remaining unseen, especially in turbulent times when visibility could attract suspicion as easily as praise.
"In that case," Lu Xiangheng said at last, "I will not refuse."
He had already accepted Li Patron's support in Yunyang. Accepting again here merely continued an existing thread.
"I plan to establish a horse market at Humakou," he continued. "To trade with the Mongols. I also intend to develop agricultural military colonies extensively so that Xuanfu and Datong troops can sustain themselves instead of starving whenever the court fails to send pay."
"I understand," Tie Niaofei nodded. "You need funds for land reclamation, tools, seeds, oxen. And you need goods to trade for warhorses."
"Exactly."
"I can provide both."
Tie Niaofei stepped outside briefly and returned with an iron box from one of the carts.
He set it down and opened the lid.
A sweet aroma drifted out immediately.
Lu Xiangheng blinked.
"What is this?"
"It is called an Egg Yolk Pie."
"It smells like an egg pastry."
"It is more than that."
Tie Niaofei's eyes gleamed faintly.
"The Mongols love it. They crave it daily. If we stock these in large quantities at Humakou, they will come eagerly to trade."
Lu Xiangheng stared at the pastries, struggling to reconcile the image of hardened steppe riders with a weakness for sweet baked goods, and although something about the entire proposition felt faintly absurd, the logic of demand and supply was difficult to refute.
If war could be influenced by appetite, then perhaps history itself had a sweet tooth.
"We will try," he said finally.
Meanwhile, far from Xuan-Da, in Taiyuan of Shanxi, another quiet transition was unfolding.
San Shier had packed his belongings and stood before Wu Shen, Governor of Shanxi, bowing respectfully.
"Governor Wu, Shanxi now runs smoothly. I can no longer contribute much here. Dao Xuan Tianzun has summoned me to Sichuan. I must depart."
Wu Shen's reluctance was genuine, because although San Shier often spoke in peculiar idioms that hovered dangerously close to impropriety, his administrative ability was undeniable, and Shanxi under his coordination had become remarkably efficient.
"If you leave," Wu Shen sighed, "I must hire a private secretary. An ordinary one would never match you. I would constantly fear deception or corruption."
San Shier smiled calmly.
"The personnel who came with me from Gao Family Village will remain. They were trained in modern management methods. They understand systems and accountability."
"You are confident?"
"Very."
Wu Shen looked at him for a long moment, aware that men like San Shier did not simply appear in every generation, and that beneath his strange phrases lay a disciplined mind shaped by influences far beyond traditional bureaucracy.
The world was shifting quietly.
Merchants funded armies.
Egg pastries courted Mongols.
Frontier commands survived on unseen patronage.
And somewhere behind the curtain of events, Li Patron continued to move without seeking applause.