Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Distillery

For three months now, no wages had been paid, and the workers’ lives had become exceedingly difficult. This was the foremost problem that needed solving.

“Steward Sun, during my inspection just now, I noticed there was still some quality rice left in the storeroom?”

“Reporting to the young master, that is the leftover material from brewing, totaling thirty-six dou and eight sheng of refined rice.”

“Excellent. Distribute all the rice along with these funds to the workers immediately, to ease their urgent needs. As for the remaining wages, settle them all within three days—do not delay a single coin!” While speaking, Li Zhao took out his purse, which held over twenty taels of broken silver, and handed them to Steward Sun.

This silver had all been won at the cockfighting ring. Li Zhao’s keen eye never failed him there; so long as he worked hard, winning three or four hundred strings of cash within three days was no issue. With that, he could pay the workers.

“We all thank you deeply, young master. To be honest, after three months without pay, many workers’ families have gone hungry—wives cry, children wail, life is truly bleak. Now, with these funds, at least everyone can have a few hearty meals; it is all thanks to your benevolence!”

Seeing Li Zhao take the initiative to help, Steward Sun couldn’t help but look at him in a new light. The young master’s abilities were yet to be proven, but his heart was certainly kind. However, settling all wages within three days was hard to believe. The family business was considerable, but Li De and Madam Zheng had seized it all. Li Zhao had been living in a humble shrine, reportedly barely scraping by—how could he raise several hundred strings of cash?

Li Zhao offered no explanation; once the wages were distributed, all doubts would naturally vanish.

…

The second issue was debt. Two thousand strings of cash was no small sum, and Li Zhao could not produce it immediately. However, he could try to buy some time.

“Steward Sun, send word to the merchants that in half a month, I will repay the debt in full. If I fail, use the Li family ancestral home as collateral. That should put their minds at ease.”

“Yes, sir!”

…

The third issue was supply. Over a hundred jars of fine wine had soured, and to brew anew would require vast manpower, materials, and funds—the cost would be enormous.

Fortunately, being a traveler from another world, Li Zhao possessed knowledge far beyond this era. He quickly devised a solution to fix the sour wine at minimum cost. Yet, to put his plan into action, he needed one crucial element—time!

“Steward Sun, how much time remains before the contract’s delivery date for the wine?”

“Reporting to the young master, the deadline is very near.”

“Very near—ten days?”

“Not quite, even closer.”

“Seven or eight days?”

“Even closer!”

“What? Only three or four days left?”

“Please don’t be angry, young master. Actually, today is the final deadline. If we cannot deliver the wine, we’ll be in violation of the contract and must compensate Drunken Immortal Tavern threefold—thirty thousand strings of cash. If we cannot pay, not only will we lose the brewery, but you may also face legal trouble.”

…

“Damn it, what a trap!”

—

After understanding the situation, Li Zhao’s face darkened. He wished he could seize Li De and Madam Zheng, those treacherous pair, and bite them fiercely.

Within a single day, no matter how capable he was, he couldn’t produce five thousand dou of wine or thirty thousand strings of cash. If he failed to fulfill the contract, losing the brewery would be a minor matter; the real issue was facing a lawsuit!

The Tang Code explicitly stated: for debts exceeding the value of one bolt of cloth, breach of contract meant twenty strikes; if unpaid after twenty days, the penalty would increase—sixty strikes. For thirty bolts, the penalty increased two levels; for a hundred bolts, three levels, and so on, until the debt was repaid.

Translated, if the debt equaled a bolt of cloth and was unpaid, twenty blows would follow. If after twenty days it remained unpaid, sixty blows. If after a hundred days, it was no longer just corporal punishment but a year in prison, followed by unpaid labor for the creditor until the debt was cleared.

And that was just for a bolt of cloth. Thirty bolts meant two penalty levels, a hundred bolts three.

Li Zhao owed thirty thousand strings—equivalent to thirty thousand bolts. Even if he had his back flayed and spent his life in prison, working without pay forever, he would still not clear the debt.

What to do? Waiting for punishment and imprisonment was out of the question; he must find a way to save himself.

“Steward Sun, who manages affairs at Drunken Immortal Tavern?”

“Reporting to the young master, it is a manager named Jia.”

“Oh? What is his character? Could he be persuaded to delay the delivery, say, for ten days?”

“Alas, not even for a day. Manager Jia is notorious as a ‘debt collector demon.’ Even if his own parents owed him, he would demand repayment to the last coin on time. If not, he would chase the debtor to the heavens or to the gates of hell, never resting until he got his money!”

Steward Sun shook his head with a sigh. In fact, Li De and Madam Zheng had already tried to negotiate an extension—offering gifts, saying kind words, even enlisting the county magistrate to mediate. It was all useless.

Manager Jia was immune to flattery and showed no leniency. He made it clear: if the wine was not delivered on time, pay thirty thousand strings or go to court; there was no third option.

Li De and Madam Zheng, left with no choice, shifted the disaster to Li Zhao, returning him the ancestral home and brewery so he would bear the brunt.

…

“So, it seems I am doomed this time?”

“Well, there is one way, but it’s so unlikely it’s practically impossible.”

“Oh? Tell me, what is it?”

“Does the young master know of Duke Qi—Cui Riyong?”

“I’ve heard a little.”

Li Zhao nodded. Not that he was particularly knowledgeable, but Cui Riyong was so famous in the Tang dynasty that even children and village women had heard of his legendary stories…

Cui Riyong, from Lingchang in Huazhou, loved books and was talented in both literature and debate, with quick insight—a rare genius. During the reigns of Empress Wu and Emperor Zhongzong, he served influential figures like Zong Chuke, Princess Anle, and Wu Sansi, but was never fully utilized, his ambitions thwarted time and again.

In the first year of Jingyun, already past forty, Cui Riyong finally met someone who recognized his worth—Li Longji, then Prince of Linzi.

The two became fast friends, their conversation heartfelt, like Zhuge Liang meeting Liu Bei, quickly forming a close alliance.

After joining Li Longji, Cui Riyong helped with two major events:

First, the Tanglong coup, which eliminated Empress Wei and Princess Anle, destroyed the Wei faction, forced Li Chongmao’s abdication, and installed Li Longji’s father Li Dan as emperor. Li Longji was rewarded as crown prince for his part in the coup.

—

Second, the Xiantian coup, which eliminated Princess Taiping and her followers, forced Li Dan to relinquish power and retire, allowing Li Longji to take full control of the nation.

Li Longji orchestrated both coups, while Cui Riyong was the mastermind behind the scenes. He was promoted to Grand Herald, Yellow Gate Attendant, Duke Qi, inheritable without limit, later becoming Prime Minister, hailed as the “scheming chancellor.”

In the tenth year of the Kaiyuan era, Cui Riyong passed away, posthumously honored as Grand Commander of Jingzhou, with the posthumous title Zhao. The Duke Qi title was inherited by his only son, Cui Zongzhi, who was betrothed to Princess Jin, the tenth imperial daughter.

But what did the brewery’s predicament have to do with the “scheming chancellor,” who had been dead for more than a decade?

“Young master may not know, but the Qi Duke’s estate owns businesses in Wu’an County, including Drunken Immortal Tavern. The previous owner worked hard to secure a contract with them—hoping to make a great profit and to gain the Qi Duke’s estate as a powerful backer.

But the plan was too rushed; no money was made, no connection established, and instead, the situation became disastrous.

However, I heard that Cui Riyong’s only son, Young Duke Qi—Cui Zongzhi, recently arrived in Wu’an County for leisure, and is staying at Drunken Immortal Inn. If you could ask him to intervene, the matter with Drunken Immortal Tavern would be easily resolved. Yet, his status is so exalted that meeting him is nearly impossible!”

Steward Sun explained the method, but shook his head with a bitter smile. It wasn’t merely difficult—it was as hard as scaling the heavens. Young Duke Qi was not only noble, but famously aloof, rarely socializing or making friends.

When news spread that he was vacationing in Wu’an, all the local scholars and gentry tried to meet him, hoping to befriend him. All were turned away without exception. Li Zhao was but an obscure member of the imperial clan—why would he be an exception?

Even if he managed to meet him, they had no prior connection and their statuses were worlds apart. Why would the young duke help?

…

Meanwhile, Li Zhao’s eyes brightened, murmuring “Cui Zongzhi” repeatedly.

The name was familiar. Who was he?

He remembered.

During the Kaiyuan and Tianbao years of the Tang dynasty, there were eight famous, wine-loving figures, known as the “Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup.” They were: the great writer He Zhizhang, Prince of Ruyang Li Jin, Prime Minister Li Shizhi, Young Duke Qi Cui Zongzhi, scholar Su Jin, the immortal poet Li Bai, the master of cursive script Zhang Xu, and the commoner Jiao Sui.

Among these immortals, Cui Zongzhi ranked fourth.

“Zongzhi, the elegant young man, raises his cup and gazes at the sky, like a jade tree before the wind”—that was him, the famous beautiful youth.

The New Tang History gave little on this young man: Cui Zongzhi, whose real name was Chengfu, son of Riyong, inherited the Qi Duke title, served as Left Department official and censor, was demoted to Jinling… drank and composed poetry with Li Bai, often sailed by moonlight from Caishi to Jinling, leaving a poem.

Only a few dozen words, nothing more.

Yet, Cui Zongzhi, able to drink and compose poetry with Li Bai, and ranked among the Eight Immortals, must have been extraordinary. Such a person, for whatever reason, was worth befriending.

“Steward Sun, prepare the carriage. We shall go to Drunken Immortal Inn to pay our respects to Young Duke Qi.”

“Ah, but—”

“No ‘but.’ Within the four seas, all are brothers; as long as he is human, he can be befriended.”

“Yes, sir!”