Chapter 4: Rege is a two-year-old

Lord Duncan's backer was Rege Grande. This didn't surprise Jian Qiao in the slightest.

In fact, he'd already guessed. It was the second son, eager to fight for the inheritance, who would recklessly seek to amass wealth. Without wealth he was truly good for nothing. After the old duke died, he'd lose everything.

At the same time, his eldest brother would instantly become the richest man in Tortus. Such was the power conferred by primogeniture.

Jian Qiao felt sympathetic, but his eyes watching this great nobleman were as calm as water. He'd known there'd be a showdown when his opponent came over in such a bluster. The fabled Rege wasn't a man of many twists and turns.

Sure enough, Rege stared at him for a long time, then spoke bluntly. "We'll cooperate to open a shop. Split the profit fifty-fifty."

He called it cooperation. In fact, he just wanted to get his hands on Jian Qiao's fragrance making and gemstone processing technology. Still, for a nobleman like Rege, being willing to give up half the profit could be considered extremely generous. If he chose, the knights under his command could level the city of Desolette.

And at that time, he could take away everything Jian Qiao had.

In the last five years, as the city of Desolette gradually became rich, they'd been attacked by the rulers of other cities, but they'd stubbornly survived. It wasn't because their military strength was very formidable. It was because they were surrounded by enemies who were more impoverished and backward than they were.

The Knights of Grande were different. They were the majestic force that helped Charles III build a kingdom. In the face of this powerful army, the wealthy city of Desolette was just a piece of fat that could be snatched away at any time.

The two manservants quickly looked at their master and winked to encourage him to agree.

Jian Qiao opened his thin lips and spat out two short words: "Not possible."

Rege, who already regarded this wealth as his own, raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Jian Qiao said firmly, "I have to get eighty percent of the profit or there's no deal."

An eighty-twenty split, that was his bottom line, because the profits from those shops not only supported the servants and army of the earl's mansion, but also helped build the entire city of Desolette.

The maintenance of widows, orphans, and old people, the placement of abandoned children, the expansion of schools, the establishment of hospitals, the cleaning of streets, the repair of houses, all these huge public expenditures had to be paid out of Jian Qiao's private treasury.

Without eighty percent of the profit, he couldn't help his people lead a peaceful and prosperous life, it was unacceptable.

However, his ideas were truly outrageous in an age when human life was as cheap as weeds, so he made no effort to explain anything to Rege.

Rege stared directly at him and said in a cold voice, "My lord Earl, do you know, I've never been so generous to anyone. Your greed is far beyond my expectation."

Giving away half the profit, Rege had indeed never made such a losing deal. If he wanted something, others would offer it with both hands, that was all.

Jian Qiao nodded slightly and readily accepted this "appreciation".

Rege laughed angrily, raised his chin, and asked, "If you offend me so much aren't you afraid of my revenge?"

The question was to the point. Jian Qiao really wasn't afraid.

He leaned down, leisurely approaching Lord Rege, and said softly, "Although I've never seen you, I've heard of your deeds from the bards. You're a great knight, and you have your principles. Unless someone violates Grande's laws or harms you personally, you won't retaliate. You're different from other nobles—"

He stretched out his long index finger, pointed at Rege's chest, and continued, "There is still light here."

Yes, Rege was rare, a nobleman who still had light in his heart. The man whose arm he'd cut off in the street was a heartless bandit. When he lost his hands, the evil he committed would unquestionably be greatly reduced.

Rege was definitely not the kind of villain who would cruelly injure others for no reason.

Jian Qiao had seen nobles who used human blood to maintain their youth, nobles who made lanterns from human skin, and nobles who slaughtered entire villages just because of a low mood. Even Charles III had come to blows with several bishops at his uncle's funeral over the ownership of a set of golden candlesticks. What wouldn't they do?

The vast majority of nobles in this era were like wild beasts with no moral bottom line. For the sake of their interests they could disregard all decency.

But Rege was different. He had his own principles and knew what could and could not be done. He adhered to a gentleman's style, which was seldom seen in this era. Even when he plotted against others, he always had an open and aboveboard reason.

In Jian Qiao's original world, this was known as waging a just war.

Meanwhile, some city rulers would order their soldiers to kill migrants from other towns for trivial reasons. Many cities were hostile to each other, and merchants who traveled to and fro could lose their lives if they weren't careful.

That was why Jian Qiao dared to open a shop in Grande. If Desolette was the capital of flowers, then Grande was the capital of freedom, and all of it depended on Rege's supervision.

"So why should I be afraid of someone who has light in his heart?" Jian Qiao asked softly.

Rege lowered his head and looked at the slender fingertip hovering over his chest. Obviously there was no skin contact, but he still felt like his heart had been stabbed.

It wasn't a feeling of pain, but itching, numbness, swelling, and heat, making his entire being feel agitated. The early spring drizzle dripped coldly down on Rege, but his nose and forehead were actually soaked with a layer of sweat.

In his chest a fire burned where the Earl of Flowervale was pointing.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't believe he'd forgotten what he wanted to say.

After a while he issued a stern warning. "Don't let me catch your handle, and don't break the laws of Grande, or I'll take away your entire fortune."

He didn't bother to hide his predatory intentions. That's right, he'd come for Jian Qiao's wealth.

Jian Qiao nodded seriously and responded in a gentle tone, "Please rest assured. When I arrive in Grande, I'll stay in the hotel, I won't go out, and I'll leave immediately after the king's banquet."

Rege: "..." He should have been irritated, but the flames of anger in his heart couldn't be ignited at all. He was plainly being provoked, rejected, and offended, and what nobleman could tolerate such humiliation? But not only did he tolerate it, he was also impressed.

Just now, the Earl of Flowervale had touched his soul with only a few words, causing his emotions to fluctuate, and he was disconcerted for quite a while.

Without another word, he glared a dire warning at his opponent, then turned and left.

Jian Qiao poked his head out and courteously inquired, "Are you returning to Grande? I wonder if I might have the honor of giving you a ride?"

Rege waved his hand without looking back. "You don't have the honor."

If he set foot in the Earl of Flowervale's carriage, the Earl wouldn't have to move his carriage to make way. He could avoid a lot of inconvenience and step on Duncan's face.

How cunning!

Rege wiped off the raindrops on his face and coldly issued a command, "Order all your carriages back!"

Lord Duncan, who'd led a group of knights over, smiled triumphantly. Ha, he'd finally won!

Of course Jian Qiao knew Rege wouldn't accept the invitation, but everything must be tried, what if there was a pleasant surprise?

But this world had never once given him a pleasant surprise. There was only the inevitability of submitting to power.

Jian Qiao heaved a sigh. "Give way."

His manservants, coachman, and knights hurriedly removed the horses from their harnesses, then worked together to push the carriages to the side. The road was quite narrow and full of mud. In a very short time, they fell into the mud soup one after the other.

Lord Duncan and his knights watched this scene cheerfully.

Rege grinned as if he were smiling, but his eyes were dim.

Ignoring the footman who tried to persuade him, Jian Qiao got out of the carriage and stood on the side of the road to watch. Everyone else was busy, and he didn't feel justified sitting in the carriage and increasing the weight.

A servant hurriedly opened an umbrella for him.

Jian Qiao took the umbrella handle and murmured, "I'll hold it myself."

"Let me help you, my lord. You just had a serious illness and you've no strength in your hands and feet!" The servant's face was filled with worry.

Jian Qiao squeezed the handle of the umbrella, looked at Rege not far away, and said quietly, "I'll hold it myself, and perhaps avoid a mishap."

"Mishap? What do you mean?" The footman didn't understand this sentence at all.

Jian Qiao shook his head and turned to watch the subordinates struggling in the mud. His expression gradually grew gloomy. Shifting the carriages in such a narrow space was a dirty, tiring and troublesome thing. The actions of that Lord Duncan might not be vicious, but they were very underhanded.

He didn't know how many times they fell, but the knights finally turned the front of the carriages. By that point, the men were completely filthy.

Lord Duncan pointed to the group of people plastered in yellow mud and gloated with his knights.

Rege took no pleasure in the fun at all, and urged impatiently, "Get in the carriage, let's go!"

Thus, after a few hours of confrontation, the victor of this narrow meeting was finally determined. Lord Duncan immediately got into the carriage and laughed with high spirits. He could spread around the story of this incident to his prospective business partners and other aristocrats. When the time came, the Earl of Flowervale would surely be disgraced!

"How about I invite you to take a bath? They say several pretty bath attendants have just arrived in Arian's bathhouse. We can also enjoy a nice dinner there," Lord Duncan proposed enthusiastically.

Rege didn't pay any attention to him at all, he only stared at the man on the side of the road, holding a black umbrella, with black hair and black eyes, wearing a black cloak, as if the whole person of the Earl of Flowervale had merged into the dark night.

Half the man's face was hidden by the umbrella, exposing only a little jaw. The hand holding the umbrella was long and thin, and the skin on the back of the hand was as white as the first snowfall of the winter, the most pristine snow.

He never moved the umbrella to reveal his face, not bothering to watch Rege depart. Even if it was just perfunctory, he ought to have taken a look, then nodded his head to give his regards. Such was the demeanor expected of a gentleman.

This showed the skirmish just now had triggered anger in his heart, it made him forget to be polite.

What was he thinking at that moment? Was he cursing inside?

【Thank goodness, that damned Rege finally left. Thank God I don't have to see his annoying face anymore! Get the hell out of here, you bastard!】

Such was Rege's imagination. He felt the Earl of Flowervale must be grumbling about him in his heart.

And this imagined scenario instantly made him feel annoyed. He rapped hard on the carriage window and ordered the driver, "When you pass the Earl of Flowervale make the horses run faster!"

The more the Earl was fed up with him, the more he wanted to make his presence felt. Was the other party unwilling to look at him? Fine, he'd give this person no choice.

At that moment, Rege didn't realize how awkward and strange he was acting.

The coachman whipped the horses and quickly rushed over. The wheels cut through the mud puddles, splashing lines of thick yellow slurry.

Jian Qiao said quickly, "Look out!" Then he lowered the umbrella in front of him to block the muddy spray.

Obviously, he'd expected this to happen.

His two servants were slow to react. They became two drowned chickens covered in yellow mud.

The trio of master and servants stared at Rege's carriage. Their expressions were very hard to describe.

Although Jian Qiao had kept his upper body dry, his pants and boots were splattered with sludge. He bowed his head, looked at the yellow mud on his legs, and asked in a deep voice, "How old is that Lord Rege this year?"

The red-haired valet recalled, "He should be twenty. My lord, why do you ask?"

"Twenty years old? Are you sure?" Jian Qiao took out a snow-white handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped the rain off his face. With a voice full of sarcasm he said, "I think he's only two."

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