Chapter 3: The Elder Sister Steals the Formula

The main hall fell into a deathly silence, the air thick with a choking, frozen tension. The food box slipped from Su Jinyuan’s hands and hit the floor with a dull thud. The round medicinal pellets rolled out, bouncing toward Pei Yan’s feet before skidding away. The sharp crack they made echoed like snapping bones, amplified a hundredfold by the silence. Her face drained of color. The mask of careful civility she’d worn for so long finally shattered, revealing a flash of malice and disbelief beneath her eyes. “Commissioner Pei, that’s a load of rubbish! That was a calming incense blend I specifically prepared for my mother. It contains only a trace amount of musk, designed to guide the qi back to its origin. There’s absolutely no intention of driving her mad!”

Pei Yan didn’t even bother looking at her directly. He simply waved his sleeve in a casual, dismissive gesture, as if swatting away a stubborn fly. “A trace? Your formula is forty percent musk, and it’s old, low-grade stink. If this stuff got into the inner court, His Majesty wouldn’t last a minute before your ‘Orchid Heart and Noble Character’ perfumery made him bleed from his seven orifices. Is this the standard of the Su Family brand?”

Behind the curtain, Gu Yurong kept her face hidden, but her fingers twisted the handkerchief in her grip so hard her knuckles turned white. She was running the numbers in her head. Now that Pei Yan was attacking, even if Su Jinyuan could talk her way out of it with silver-tongued eloquence, her reputation was already ruined. She no longer stood a chance of winning the crucial procurement quota for the Perfume and Medicines Bureau.

Su Jinyuan gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing with venom as they snapped sideways to Su Wanxiang. In a moment of desperate ingenuity, she forced a sycophantic yet cunning smile onto her face. “Little Sister has a kind heart. Since you’re saying Senior Sister’s formula is no good, why not demonstrate ‘Spring Tidings in Snow’ in front of everyone? If you can’t make it work either, then Senior Sister will withdraw her claim. But if it’s good, then it just proves Senior Sister was so busy caring for the family that she botched the ratios. Surely Little Sister can fill in those gaps for us.”

It was a carefully laid trap. Su Wanxiang offered a faint, neutral smile. She didn’t take the bait. Instead, she raised her hand and inserted the unburnt end of a stick of line incense into the ash of the burner. The smoke rose in a straight, perfect column. The scent of pine waves mingled with a crisp, non-cloying citrus note, feeling utterly out of place amid the tense, frantic atmosphere in the room.

“Good.” Pei Yan’s two words landed like an ice hammer striking stone, vibrating with a chill that made the room flinch.

Su Wanxiang pointed at the thin blue smoke rising from the censer. Her tone was smooth and level. “Senior Sister wants to compete? Let’s Compound Incense while we’re hot. ‘Spring Tidings in Snow’ is a complex formula. If the blending goes well, Senior Sister is right. If it fails... this batch of incense belongs to Su's Perfumery. We’ll catalog it and store it.”

Su Jinyuan’s heart leaped with joy. The panic in her eyes instantly melted into greed. She calculated that public Compounding Incense was the bane of the trade; one wrong move and you’d ruin the entire batch and expose your incompetence. But the real value lay in the excuse. She could blame a “nervous slip” for changing the formula, then sob about needing her mother’s guidance, throwing the blame for Su Wanxiang’s earlier “residual taste” complaints entirely onto Su Wanxiang’s shoulders.

“If Little Sister says so, then Senior Sister will follow your lead.” Su Jinyuan wiped a fake tear and hurried to the counter, her steps shaky and laced with undeniable urgency.

Shopkeeper Zhou Chongshan sat hunched over, rubbing a pair of walnuts between his hands, his eyes cloudy and dull. He watched Su Jinyuan fumble with the spice cabinets, his brow knitting slightly, but he stayed silent. The old man saw right through it: Su Jinyuan’s hands were shaking so hard it wasn’t just nervousness. It was sheer guilt.

“Baizhi, Fusclang, Lingxiang, Bingpian, Longnao...” Su Jinyuan chanted the ingredients as she grabbed raw materials. Her movements were frantic, as if she was terrified Pei Yan would object to even a single word.

Su Wanxiang stood quietly to the side, her nostrils flaring slightly. In her mind, the *Compendium of Ten Thousand Perfumes* automatically opened, golden characters flowing through her consciousness:

【Recipe: Spring Tidings in Snow (Restored from Fragment)】

【Ingredients: Baizhi (three-year aged) three qian, Fusclang (dried) two qian, Lingxiang (root) one and a half qian, Bingpian (natural plum flakes) two fen, Longnao (bud flakes) one fen, bound with licorice juice.】

【Key Points: Bingpian must be added last. Longnao must be ground into fine powder. Maintain a constant temperature during Compounding Incense; avoid open flame or rapid burning.】

Su Wanxiang assessed the measured amounts. Su Jinyuan had taken one qian too much Baizhi. And she had grabbed five qian of Bingpian!

Five qian of Bingpian? Su Wanxiang scoffed inwardly. Su Jinyuan clearly didn’t understand the basics of aromatic chemistry. Bingpian is pungent, acrid, and volatile; its scent is piercing. Five qian would turn the incense burner into a noxious, drug-like stench. At low temperatures, it would subliminate, shattering the incense cake into fragments.

Su Jinyuan poured the raw ingredients into a stone mortar, grinding them with brutal, unrefined strokes. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto the wooden counter, splashing into small, dark stains. “Little Sister, look. Senior Sister’s hands are a bit rusty... Mother always says making incense is like raising a child. You can’t rush it.”

“Can’t rush it?” Zhou Chongshan’s voice was raspy, but it cut through the room with terrifying clarity. “If you were pounding medicine, that rough technique might save a life. But for incense? This is pounding it into ash.”

Su Jinyuan’s face flushed bright red. She forced a defensive explanation. “Shopkeeper Zhou worries too much. I’m just shaky.”

Pei Yan watched in cold silence, his gaze like a blade. Su Wanxiang stepped forward and placed a small porcelain bottle on the table near Su Jinyuan’s hand. “Senior Sister, Bingpian is cold in nature. If you pound it into the mortar with the rest first, the scent scatters and the body of the incense becomes brittle as dried bone. You need to let the main blend form and cool, then embed the Bingpian powder into the center. If Senior Sister doesn’t believe me, she is welcome to try.”

Ruthlessness flickered in Su Jinyuan’s eyes. If she listened to Su Wanxiang, her earlier panic would look like a total joke. If she ignored her, she had a gamble to play. She pushed the bottle of Bingpian away, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Thanks for the tip. Senior Sister is dim-witted. I just remember the recipe but forget the steps. It’s all about intuition. If the intent is right, the scent follows.”

She forcefully mixed the ingredients with water. Su Wanxiang closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

【Compounding Incense Simulation Initiated】:

【Predicted Result: Top notes are bitter. Middle notes smell of scorched rubber. Base notes are gritty, like ice shards in the teeth. Overall Effect: Splitting headache. Wake-up call (the bad kind).】

Ten seconds later, Su Wanxiuan opened her eyes. Her smile deepened, her eyes as calm and cold as still water.

Su Jinyuan placed the finished incense cakes into the burner and lit the charcoal. At first, the warm, thick scent of Baizhi and the spicy kick of Fusclang rose up. The noble ladies in the room nodded approvingly, whispering that despite Su Jinyuan’s clumsiness, she still had a good base. But as the temperature rose, a sudden, violent wave of pungent, icy fumes shot into the air, followed by an indescribable, charred bitterness. It smelled like burning plastic mixed with chewed grass.

“Cough! Cough!” The noble women in the front row covered their noses and recoiled, their faces turning pale. They cast looks of utter disgust at the source.

Pei Yan’s eyes sharpened. He stared at the warped, deforming incense cake and commanded in a low, heavy voice: “Extinguish the fire.”

Su Jinyuan panicked. The Bingpian had been added too early and in too large a quantity. The heat had caused it to evaporate instantly, mixing with the charred smog to create a disaster. Her hands trembled as she reached out to adjust the charcoal, but Pei Yan’s finger pressed lightly against the back of her hand. The force wasn’t heavy, but it felt unmovable, as if he had pinned her soul in place.

“Your formula has five qian of Bingpian and one fen of Longnao. The ratio is inverted. The Bingpian stole the qi; the Longnao lost its voice. Add your impatience and uneven heat, and the structural stress inside the incense body caused it to explode.” Pei Yan’s voice had zero inflection, like a surgical analysis. “This is your ‘Orchid Heart and Noble Character’? Bitter taste, violent nature. It hurts people.”

The room fell dead silent. Su Jinyuan’s legs gave out. She stumbled, almost dropping to her knees. She glared venomously at Su Wanxiang. The blue smoke from that stick of line incense was glaringly bright in the sunlight, mocking her humiliation.

Su Wanxiang stood in silence. No words were needed. This batch of charred incense was the most powerful legal document of accusation.

Gu Yurong finally emerged from behind the curtain, descending the steps. Beneath her compassionate smile, her eyes were as cold as a winter ice cellar. “Jinyuan, you look exhausted. Go rest. I’m afraid this incense cannot be kept.”

Su Jinyuan clutched her heart, staggering into the rear courtyard. She didn’t dare look back. Her hunched silhouette looked like a beaten dog.

Zhou Chongshan sighed, ordering the staff to remove the burner. They also took out a gift to appease Pei Yan’s pride. Pei Yan didn’t thank them. He glanced deeply at Su Wanxiang one last time, then turned and left. His back was straight, his steps steady.

Su Wanxiang waited until Pei Yan’s figure disappeared before she slowly exhaled. She turned to Gu Yurong and curtsied. “Mother.”

Gu Yurong pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper and handed it over. “Take this. It’s a record of Jinyuan’s formula from earlier. We’ll send someone to Su's Perfumery tomorrow. Since Jinyuan clearly doesn’t understand incense making, you need to complete it. For the signature...” She paused, her meaning heavy. “Write Su Jinyuan’s name. After all, it’s her intent. If anyone at the shop asks, just say your sister commissioned you to make it on her behalf. Wanxiang, do you understand?”

Su Wanxiang took the paper. Her fingertips brushed the rough texture. A chill ran through her heart. This was putting her on the grill.

If she refused, it would be seen as insolent and unfilial defiance toward her full-blooded mother. It would tarnish the reputation of Su's Perfumery, and Zhou Chongshan would never agree. If she accepted, tomorrow a new formula bearing Su Jinyuan’s name would be posted at the shop. If people tested it and realized Su Wanxiang had actually formulated the blend, it would be theft of her half-sister’s credit. If the test failed and it smelled burnt, it would mean the Su Family’s craft was sloppy. Every thread would point back to Su Wanxiang.

It was a dead end. Gu Yurong manipulated her prayer beads. Each click sounded like a hammer on Su Wanxiang’s heart.

Su Wanxiang lowered her eyes and tucked the paper into her sleeve. She replied lightly and obediently, “Your daughter obeys your command.”

Gu Yurong left, satisfied. Su Wanxiang waited until her mother’s shadow vanished into the far end of the corridor. The instant she turned away, the obedience evaporated, replaced by a cold, sharp smile.

She unfolded the paper and held it up to the daylight to read the handwriting. It wasn’t Su Jinyuan’s. It was the bookkeeper’s hand—cold, calculated, and sharp as frost.

Su Wanxiang leaned in and sniffed the paper. It carried the faint scent of ink, and a trace, barely detectable, of “Purifying Heart Paste,” the cream Gu Yurong used daily.

“Stealing a formula, huh.” Su Wanxiang murmured, ice flashing in her eyes.

If they wanted to steal it, let them.

Su Wanxiang pulled the last, brand-new stick of line incense from her storage and gripped it tight in her palm. It felt like a blade not yet drawn from its sheath.

That night, the lamps at Su's Perfumery stayed lit until dawn.

Zhou Chongshan guarded the counter. As the lights of the surrounding city slowly went out, he spoke to his dozing old partner. “Old Li, pack up the Sachet stall in the back alley. We’ve got a big order waiting tomorrow morning.”

Old Li looked up, half-asleep. “Boss, we didn’t have an order booked.”

Zhou Chongshan chuckled, a glint of cunning in his eyes. “That concubine daughter of the Su Family owes us an answer. That pot of burnt incense today cost us how much face? Tomorrow, we’ll recover it with real gold and silver.”

The night deepened. Under the moonlight in the rear courtyard, the faint glow of the 【Scent Lead】 Su Wanxiang had just cultivated slowly merged into her dantian. The single formula was complete; the complex one was on its way. The recipe Gu Yurong sent was just the appetizer.

Su Wanxiang looked up at the towering main hall, shrouded in thick smoke. The corner of her mouth curved upward. “Gu Yurong, Su Jinyuan. You think you stole just a formula? No. You stole your own lifeline.”

A cold wind blew through the night. The spirit of that unburnt incense swirled in the breeze before finally dropping into the depths of Su Wanxiang’s sleeve, becoming a point of faint blue starlight, and vanishing into the dark.