Chapter 80: Earning a Living, the Bridge’s Ambitions

“What sort of business?” Xiaoqiao’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she asked.

But it was Daqiao beside her who, seeing that Chu Feng had not taken offense, let out a sigh of relief. Though Chu Feng was not stern, caution was always wise—with a ruler, one must tread carefully, for a careless word could mean cold neglect at best, and death at worst. There were too many cautionary tales to ignore.

“Newspapers,” Chu Feng replied in a low voice.

“Brother-in-law, what’s a newspaper?” Xiaoqiao squinted her beautiful eyes into crescent moons, furtively whispering her curiosity.

“It’s… well, never mind. Even if I explained, you wouldn’t really understand.” Chu Feng waved his hand dismissively. This wasn’t just a way to make money—it could also control public opinion. Cultural infiltration, as the saying goes.

The difficulty lay in how few were literate and how little was known of such things; in truth, these would serve only the gentry and noble families. Furthermore, the ruling elites would need to allow it, and the great houses would have to accept it and willingly pay—but that was unlikely.

Damn it, this was no easy feat!

Chu Feng fell into deep thought for a long while, fingers resting on his chin. After pondering, he muttered to himself, “No, I can’t do it this way. I’ll have to wait. Still, there’s more than one path to wealth.”

With that, Chu Feng absentmindedly ate his dumplings, lost in thought. He mused to himself, “What things make money in the future?”

Alcohol for adults, automobiles? Cosmetics and handbags for women? Or perhaps mobile games and novels for students and office workers? Novels, perhaps.

Apart from eating, drinking, and watching dance performances, there was little else to amuse oneself in these times—maybe some archery or pitch-pot, but it was all dreadfully dull. If only there were novels to read. Perhaps he could plagiarize the works of Jin Yong, Gu Long, and others?

Yet, how many noble families were there? How long would it take to amass a fortune this way? Far too slow, and the spread would be limited, with little added value.

“My lord, what weighs so heavily on your mind?” Daqiao asked with concern, seeing Chu Feng so absorbed.

“It’s nothing. You two just eat,” Chu Feng replied with a wave of his hand, about to return to his thoughts when suddenly he remembered the three things most strictly regulated in later times: erotic material, gambling, and narcotics.

The first was unwise—every noble house already had its own diversions; the market was saturated, and there was no room for entry.

As for narcotics, such things already existed in the late Han, though they weren’t yet widespread. Come the Wei and Jin dynasties, indulgence would become rampant, poisoning society as a whole.

But then, Chu Feng thought of something: the new games at the casinos in Macau—card games.

The Three Kingdoms had similar pastimes, but the types were few and lacked excitement. They were nothing compared to the myriad forms of poker in later centuries, let alone pai gow or mahjong.

At this, Chu Feng’s lips curled into a smile.

With the Han’s primitive amusements, how could they compare to the games of the modern era, when even the proliferation of digital entertainment had not managed to put an end to card rooms? If introduced to this entertainment-starved age, what a sensation it would cause!

The key was that these games could not only turn a profit but also serve as a means of intelligence gathering—a double advantage. As for how to organize it, that would require careful planning.

“Yes, this is it!” Chu Feng laughed aloud.

“Brother-in-law, what do you mean, ‘this is it’?” Xiaoqiao asked, ever curious.

Chu Feng had no time to answer her, shoveling dumplings into his mouth as he silently calculated: “Landlord, Golden Flower, Bullfighting, Showdown, Racing, Catch the Egg?”

“And of course, there’s mahjong, pai gow, and high-low, and so on.”

He thought to himself, these were the ones he remembered—common enough, yet a veritable arsenal.

With this in mind, Chu Feng quickly finished eating, tossed out a perfunctory “You all eat,” and made straight for the study.

Inside, Chu Feng took up his brush.

He began jotting down the rules and details of each game, lest he forget any in the future.

As he transcribed, he pondered: the games were excellent, but how to open for business openly, and how to prevent others from copying the ideas?

After all, the rules were fixed—how could one prevent imitation?

“My lord, the night is cold; put on something warm,” Daqiao said as she followed him in, draping a thick robe over his shoulders.

Chu Feng smiled warmly—how thoughtful—and continued his musings.

“My lord, does something trouble you?” Daqiao asked, kneading his shoulders with gentle hands, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“You could say so,” Chu Feng nodded.

“Is it about these things you call mahjong and landlord? What are they? Why have I never heard of them?” Daqiao inquired, still puzzled.

“Well… if I work at it, someday when there are enough of us, I’ll teach you all to play mahjong,” Chu Feng said, a meaningful look in his eyes.

“Play mahjong? Who is Mahjong? And why must we gather a group to play against him?” Daqiao asked, utterly bewildered.

Her expression nearly made Chu Feng laugh out loud. He cleared his throat, “Ahem, it’s difficult to explain in a few words, but mahjong isn’t a person—it’s a game.”

“I want to spread this game among the noble families and profit from it. But there’s a problem—it’s too easy for others to copy. How can I prevent this?”

“Easy to copy?” Daqiao echoed.

“My lord, I don’t quite understand, but it seems to me there are only two ways to avoid being replaced. One is to have an exclusive secret that others cannot imitate.”

“The other is to keep releasing new things until you become famous and your customers develop a habit of returning,” Daqiao suggested, at least as she saw it.

“Keep releasing new things?” Chu Feng’s eyes lit up; suddenly, the answer was clear. With so many games up his sleeve, there was no need to reveal them all at once!

A steady stream—that was a sound strategy!

“My lady, then tell me: if I cannot appear in person, how should I spread these games across the land?” Chu Feng was curious about her ideas.

“If these things can bring profit, then among the noble houses, there will always be those greedy for gain. Send someone to contact them, and let them take charge while you provide the people.”

“I imagine it would be easy enough for these great families to assign some people under their own names. All you’d need to do is share the profits with them.”

“That way, control would remain in your hands,” Daqiao said simply and clearly, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

Chu Feng nodded repeatedly, and when she finished, he clapped his hands and laughed. No wonder she was raised in a wealthy household—she was not only beautiful but insightful as well. Excellent.

He drew her into his arms, about to deepen his affection, when Daqiao pressed her slender finger to his lips and asked anxiously, “My lord, my sister Xiaoqiao is fair and gentle, and she has already come of age.”

“Though I am your principal wife, I have not yet borne you a son, and I am ashamed. If you are willing, why not take Xiaoqiao as your concubine, that you might have more heirs?”

Daqiao bowed her head, appearing pitiful.

She had considered much—Chu Feng was both of the Yuan clan and a feudal lord; in the future, political marriages would be inevitable. Rather than waiting, better to act now.

Otherwise, if the eldest son were born to another, what then? But if it were Xiaoqiao’s, then the sisters would have no reason for division.

Of course, this was also Qiao Rui’s wish.

Qiao Rui, seeing Daqiao’s barrenness, was more anxious than anyone—he regretted not sending Xiaoqiao along in the first place. If he had, he’d have nothing to worry about now!

Chu Feng raised an eyebrow. “Why do you bring this up all of a sudden, my lady?”

At his words, Daqiao quickly knelt to one side, tears glistening as she pleaded, “I have misspoken, my lord—please forgive me! I merely wished to give you many heirs as soon as possible.”

A mother’s status depends on her son’s, and Daqiao was deeply worried.

“Enough, let us speak of this another time,” Chu Feng said with a wave of his hand, his tone tinged with displeasure. He knew well Daqiao’s intentions, but his own status was high—if he took another of the Qiao family, would Qiao Rui not become uncontrollable?

Who then could serve as a check? Who would dare to? Otherwise, the Qiao family would grow too powerful, just as He Jin once did. Would he then not have to cultivate his own faction to counterbalance them, as with the Ten Eunuchs?

In these early days, he could not afford to waste his strength on internal strife.

“Enough, my lady—you may go now.”