Branch Shop Number One, Part 2

It’s only natural that some people couldn’t sit still. A person has just one mouth and one stomach—after drinking tea from one shop, they’re unlikely to crave another’s.

Thus, Honey Spirit Tea’s booming success inevitably meant losses for others. The hardest hit were the Chen family’s nearby teahouses: Drunk Tea Studio, Idly Cloud Elegant Abode, and Spring Breeze Teahouse. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

In Su Qing’s view, it wasn’t exactly a loss—just less profit.

Honey Spirit Tea didn’t operate like traditional teahouses, competing head-on for customers. It created a new demand, making spiritual tea-drinking as habitual as modern milk tea. Its target wasn’t just tea enthusiasts but ordinary people beyond them.

These people might not be wealthy, with little spare cash or time to visit a teahouse, sit down, and order a pot of tea with snacks.

In contrast, Honey Spirit Tea kept prices low, with most items sold to-go, perfect for drinking on the move. This was convenient and novel.

Moreover, its flavors avoided the bitter astringency of traditional tea, emphasizing sweetness and taking a mass-market approach distinct from refined tea culture.

Su Qing was strict about quality control, using genuine ingredients. The spiritual tea contained real spiritual qi—enough for customers to feel it upon tasting. Though mortals couldn’t fully absorb it, repeated exposure improved their physique.

It sounded odd, like a shady modern scam, but here, Su Qing could honestly say: drinking spiritual tea was good for you.

Customers weren’t fools. They flocked to what was tasty and affordable. Combined with modern business tactics, Honey Spirit Tea’s success was no fluke.

Chen Mao, the Chen family patriarch, explained this to his grandchildren, pointing at the Tianque City tabloid. “Ah Liang, look how sharp young people are today. If your father had a third of this kid’s brains, our family wealth might’ve grown tenfold by now.”

Ah Liang, perched on Chen Mao’s knee, stared at the paper with grape-like eyes. At two years old, he understood nothing, only reaching with his gold-braceleted chubby hand to tear at it.

Chen Shi knew the words were aimed at him. The old man loved speaking in circles as he aged—was this the time for that?

He stomped. “Father! The accountant reported yesterday—our teahouses’ revenue dropped thirty percent! How are you so calm?”

Chen Mao, cooing at his grandson, raised a brow. “You’re anxious? What’ve you done about it?”

Chen Shi lowered his hands, mumbling incoherently.

Chen Mao, seeing his son’s timidity, understood instantly. He snorted, handed Ah Liang to a servant, and wiped his hands with a towel. “You won’t talk? I will.”

“With your limited wits, you must’ve gone hard first, then soft. You sent Thunderwind Hall to intimidate them, didn’t you? Threaten and extort, and if that failed, hire some rogues to claim their food made them sick, publicly demanding answers to smear their business!”

Tossing the towel, Chen Mao’s gaze pierced Chen Shi, stern and knowing. “Am I even slightly wrong?”

A father knows his son—not a word was off.

Chen Shi had indeed sent Thunderwind Hall to coerce them, but the shop’s owner, with some martial skill and Sword Sect backing, proved untouchable.

So he hired a notorious village rogue—a gambler and drunkard who’d driven off his wife, leaving a child and elderly mother to torment. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

The rogue, with his child and mother, caused a scene, insisting the tea caused unbearable stomach pain, demanding justice.

The tactic was shameless but effective. Chen Shi had crushed competitors this way, but he didn’t expect the shop’s male worker to be so sharp-tongued, shutting the rogue down before he could escalate.

When the rogue, true to his paid word, tried rolling on the ground in a tantrum, a female worker grabbed his collar, forced him up, and swept him out with a broom.

Though the rogue was ousted, his child and mother stayed. The child wailed, the mother looked frail and collapsed. The fierce female worker, unable to stand by, gave them each a large cup of spiritual tea and food in the back.

Soon, they perked up, no longer complaining of stomach pain. There was no pain to begin with.

Not only did this fail to harm Honey Spirit Tea, it boosted their reputation. When Chen Shi tried the same trick again, the crowd didn’t buy it, insisting the shop’s kind owner served good, fairly priced tea their kids loved, with no issues. Someone must be sabotaging them.

And who’d sabotage without reason? A competitor, obviously!

Within a mile, it was clear who.

This pointed straight at the Chen family.

Chen Shi’s plan backfired, leaving him with a loss he couldn’t voice. His men reported the rogue was now hounding him, demanding his mother and child back.

After the tea shop’s workers stood up for them, the rogue’s mother took initiative. One night, while he was drunk, she fled with the child to a distant Tianque City relative. She worked there, occasionally helping at the tea shop for free. Her diligence and the shop’s busyness led to a paid job with decent wages.

With this income, she rented a room in a small courtyard. The child stayed with the relative by day, and she picked them up after work. The old woman and child were starting to build a life.

The rogue, initially furious, coveted her wages and tried sneaking into the courtyard to take them, only to be beaten and tossed out—twice, brutally. He’d never been thrashed so badly.

Causing trouble at the shop was impossible; he couldn’t even handle the fierce female worker. Eventually, he gave up, instead harassing the middleman who hired him, threatening to expose their deal unless compensated.

Chen Shi, though vicious and petty, wasn’t a murderer. He had the rogue beaten and paid him off.

In the end, he’d spent money to benefit others, infuriating him further.

“Father!” he cried. “Are we to let them strut around, lording over us? I can’t stand their smugness!”

“You can’t stand anything!” Chen Mao snorted but, as it was his son, sighed. “What did Ah Xia say?”

Ah Xia, Chen Shi’s wife, came from humble origins. Chen Mao had worn himself out securing that match.

Chen Shi muttered, “Ah Xia said, since it’s come to this, either apologize with money or tell the Song family to have the Li family cut their supply.”

Chen Mao knew his son would never apologize. He’d chosen to cut the supply. Expressionless, he said, “You’ve made your choice, so do it. Why come to me now? Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it? Out with it—no good news, I bet.”

“The Song family… they refused!” Chen Shi gritted his teeth, angry, aggrieved, and baffled. “Nearly half our goods come from them. With our ties, they won’t even do this? It’s maddening!”

This was interesting.

Chen Mao’s eyes sparkled, as if he were young again. “What did they say?”

“They said they’re focused on bigger things and can’t bother with this triviality. They even told me not to fixate on small gains!” Chen Shi’s voice rose, but his father burst into laughter.

Chen Shi’s heart sank. Had his father lost it?

Chen Mao clapped. “Interesting, interesting! She thought one step ahead. At her age, that’s no small feat. To dare act and convince the Song family? Remarkable!”

“Chen Shi!” he asked seriously. “If it were me, not you, what would I do?”

Before Chen Shi could answer, Chen Mao said, “I’d invite her to open a shop next to Drunk Tea Studio or Idly Cloud Elegant Abode! Is tea our only business?”

“But tea’s our brand!” Chen Shi protested.

Chen Mao had long given up on his dim son, hoping only that Ah Xia’s blood would make Ah Liang sharper. He waved dismissively. “No use arguing with you. Ask your wife!” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

On the same street, shops were interconnected—one’s success lifted all. If she thrived, they’d benefit too. Why not?

…

After dealing with Thunderwind Hall, Su Qing visited the Li family.

The Li family supplied Honey Spirit Tea but were more distributors, backed by the Song family.

With smart people, she was direct. “I want to meet the Song family. You’ll introduce me.”

The Li family wasn’t quick to agree, as Su Qing expected. She pressed, “I know you think my business is small, lacking weight. But in two years, I opened another shop, and it’s thriving. It’ll only grow faster. Have you considered if my orders doubled, quadrupled, or even octupled?”

With merchants, profit talks.

Soon, the Li family relented.

Two weeks later, they called her back. She met a Song family representative.

Without much talk, she handed over a prepared booklet. The representative, initially dismissive, widened their eyes after flipping through it, reviewing it several times before agreeing: she could run her shop, and regardless of the Chen family’s actions, the Song family wouldn’t interfere.

“Not interfering isn’t enough,” Su Qing said. “My shop’s success benefits you too. You should support me.”

She tapped the booklet. “I’ll handle this.”

The Song family agreed.

Thus, Honey Spirit Tea’s branch was secured.

Su Qing hadn’t been certain she’d succeed, but as things unfolded as planned, she didn’t feel the expected relief.

Instead, she felt a fiery, grounded strength from deep within, and she was proud of it.

The booklet was a detailed business plan.

It centered on the influx of cultivators to Tianque City for the secret realm’s opening in a year.

More people meant business opportunities, especially with wealthy, big-spending sect cultivators arriving. Shops were already scheming to profit, preparing since the news broke.

In this massive opportunity, a petty teahouse feud was trivial.

But recognizing this wasn’t enough to sway the Song family. Su Qing’s real pitch was a Tianque City punch-card strategy, ensuring every incoming cultivator got one.

This guide to must-visit attractions and shopping naturally featured Song family businesses—and, of course, Honey Spirit Tea.

The cost of producing it? She’d recoup from the businesses listed.

She wasn’t promoting them for free, after all.

How to execute it? Simple—hire student part-timers, allocate a budget. What couldn’t be done?

Ahem, Su Qing meant she’d leverage her Sword Sect connections, using flyers, posters, confession wall ads, city newspaper placements, and tea giveaways with guides—high-sounding but utterly practical methods to make it happen.

As for how she thought of the guide idea? Her mind was consumed with making money.

“A water-repelling pearl for 200 spirit stones? Why not rob me!” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

She flipped through her procurement list, growing increasingly desperate. That despair turned to numbness, then erupted into anger.

“Why so many things? Where’s the money for this? Will it rain spirit stones?!”

She wasn’t overreacting—her low cultivation meant she needed extensive, expensive preparations for the secret realm.

A bottle of twelve Foundation Establishment pills cost 20 spirit stones, enough for a year. Three years meant 60 spirit stones.

A notorious directionally challenged person, she struggled with maps. Relying on stargazing for navigation was less likely than banking on the Earth’s roundness to loop back. Compasses, star charts, and hourglasses for the realm’s altered time flow cost 200 spirit stones.

One water-repelling pearl was 200 spirit stones. Unable to swim, she needed at least two—400 spirit stones.

Sea winds made sword-flying difficult, so a basic spirit boat was 1,200 spirit stones.

Her storage bracelet lacked space, making a storage bag essential. A ten-square-meter one cost 2,000 spirit stones.

…

Plus, talismans, pills, herbs, cooking gear, clothing, daily necessities, and six months’ worth of Manqing Sword’s food.

Page after page, Su Qing was illiterate to all but one word: money.

Money, money, her money!

Earning it was hard; spending it was too easy.

She was terrible at most things but excelled at spending.

Muttering, “My wallet’s shrinking too fast. I’ve got to make it back from them.”