I'm Already the Richest Man, Why Did My System Just Arrive?

Zheng Xiu had lived in this world for more than twenty years, and he had come to understand one thing.

Father Zheng died in battle, Mother Zheng fell into depression and later drowned herself, and in the end, all they left Zheng Xiu was an empty Zheng Residence and the hereditary title of "Marquis Zhonglie."

Human nature is cold. For someone like Zheng Xiu—who had no Golden Finger and no heaven-defying Destiny—to try and make a name for himself in the Imperial City by relying on his deceased father’s connections was a fool’s dream. That kind of thing only happened in movies.

Therefore, although Zheng Xiu had memories from a past life and a bit of cleverness, his rise from nothing to become the Richest Person in the Imperial City was not the result of his efforts alone.

Behind this vast commercial empire lay a complex chain of interests.

To put it simply.

Just as every aging Emperor fears the cliché drama of brothers turning on each other, Old Wei, who sat on the throne in the depths of the palace, had fathered seven Princes since his ascension.

For various reasons, only three of those seven Princes remained today.

The Third Prince, Wei Chaohong, had long ago recognized Zheng Xiu’s Talent for business and his many strange and brilliant ideas. In front of Zheng Xiu, he always acted the part of a "bosom buddy."

Of course, Zheng Xiu wasn’t about to devote himself heart and soul to the Third Prince. As his social circles gradually expanded, he also maintained a certain friendly relationship with the other two Princes.

Naturally, as Zheng Xiu’s wealth and cunning became more apparent, all three Princes tried to win him over. Zheng Xiu wanted no part of it. He channeled the spirit of Tai Chi, pushing here and yielding there, making it clear that he was just a law-abiding Merchant obsessed with money and didn’t dare ask about anything else.

His imprisonment was suspicious from the start. The claim of "fifty million in tax evasion" sounded absurd to anyone who heard it. If he, Zheng Xiu, really had the ability to hide fifty million in taxes and get away with it until now, did they really think the Emperor’s men were so useless they couldn’t find out?

Logically, it would make sense if the old Emperor had been letting Zheng Xiu grow strong, like a leek ready for harvest, only to act now. But as for whether he had evaded taxes or not—other people’s words meant nothing. Did Zheng Xiu himself not know how much money he had?

To say nothing of anything else, seventy percent of the shops on Zhengyang Avenue, right in front of the Imperial Palace, were now under Zheng Xiu’s name. Did he really need to evade taxes?

Zheng Xiu idly toyed with a tender green sprout on the golden silk vine.

The more he thought, the clearer it became.

This sudden attack, throwing him into prison without warning, was nothing more than a message for Zheng Xiu to behave himself and not cause trouble.

Zheng Xiu’s action today—having Second Lady bring people into his cell—seemed like an act of extravagant indulgence. But in the eyes of an interested observer, it meant something different. It meant Zheng Xiu was about to make a move.

And so, by evening, Shi Wentong had been sent to deliver a warning.

’If I were them, and I wanted to seize the Zheng Family’s assets, I’d make thorough preparations to finish it in one fell swoop.’

’It seems it’s not that they didn’t think of it, but that some unexpected change occurred, and now it’s too late for them.’

’I just wanted to be an ordinary, law-abiding rich merchant.’

’Why are they forcing my hand?’

’If they really wanted money, they could have just asked. It’s not like I wouldn’t give it to them. Why go to all this trouble?’

Zheng Xiu’s fingers, which had been toying with the green vine, paused. He let out a soft sigh.

’It seems Old Wei is probably on his last legs.’

...

「Nightfall.」

It was now November, deep into autumn. The sun had set behind the western hills and a sliver of a moon had just risen, casting a chill over the city. Yet the young masters, out seeking flowers for the night, gathered in groups of three and five, their lively laughter keeping the atmosphere fiery and festive.

On the canal, the water glittered, giving off a hazy mist. From the Painted Boats flying colorful banners with the character "Zheng," drifted decadent, soft music—at times mournful and pleading, at others a sweet, soft hum that captivated all who heard it.

Although Heaven on Earth was a brothel, the regulars all knew that Boss Zheng referred to his "Heaven on Earth" as a "nightclub."

The entrance to Heaven on Earth was resplendent. The painted murals on the two Pillars flanking the door were particularly elaborate. They depicted a powerfully built man with a hazy, indistinct face, surrounded by veiled beauties in various poses. The scene was so evocative that any man looking at it couldn’t help but put himself in the painted man’s place, his imagination running wild and his blood beginning to race.

Today, Heaven on Earth was open for business as usual, welcoming rich young masters and high-ranking officials.

TING-A-LING... DING-DONG...

It was unclear if today was a special occasion, but some of the Flower Guests noticed that many small bells had been hung at the entrance of Heaven on Earth, each with a red satin ribbon tied below it.

Whenever someone entered, the bells would knock against each other, creating a series of crisp, melodious chimes that rose and fell. If you closed your eyes and listened closely, pairing the sound with the scent of expensive sandalwood wafting from inside, it was as if a peerless beauty was saying "Welcome" in a captivating voice.

"Marvelous!"

The Flower Guests all praised this unique decoration, their excitement growing.

"What kind of punk dares to cause trouble at Heaven on Earth? Seeking pleasure is about mutual affection and consent. If you want to play rough, kindly head out the door, turn right, and visit the establishment next door. They’ll accommodate you. Here? Heh, not a chance!"

"Throw him out."

Just then, several burly Zheng Family guards in black clothes tossed a lavishly dressed young master out as if he were a chick.

The young master landed painfully on his rear but wasn’t about to lose the verbal battle. He shouted that it was just some rundown brothel and that his father, so-and-so, would definitely make the owner pay.

"My father is Li Shuangchui!"

The Zheng Family guards were used to these out-of-towners who didn’t know the rules. "We don’t care if you’re Big Hammer, Double Hammers, Triple Hammers, or Quadruple Hammers! Don’t you know whose territory this is?"

Onlookers gathered for a moment, pointing and snickering, but soon dispersed with a laugh.

Small incidents like someone causing a scene at Heaven on Earth happened every ten days or so. The regulars who came here for pleasure had seen it happen month after month, year after year. They were long tired of the spectacle, and there was nothing exciting left to see. It was far more practical to hurry up and reserve a spot on their favorite girl’s time slot.

Out-of-towners. They just don’t get it.

The young master who had been yelling "My father is Li Shuangchui!" saw the crowd quickly disperse, felt the anticlimax, and left in a huff.

「Inside.」

Uncharacteristically, Heaven on Earth’s famous "stage opera" was not being performed tonight, so the Flower Guests could only focus their attention on the girls beside them.

After three rounds of drinks, the Flower Guests at some tables began to whisper among themselves.

"Have you heard? Did something... happen to Master Zheng?"

One man made a circle with his left hand and poked a finger from his right hand into it. With this gesture, he was alluding to whether Master Zheng had been "put inside."

"I heard the same thing, but that can’t be right. Didn’t they just throw out an arrogant young master? If Master Zheng were really in trouble, would his subordinates have this much backbone?"

Everyone else at the table instantly understood. With a tacit agreement, they all chimed in that it was impossible.

"Exactly!"

"Anyone who says Master Zheng is in trouble is talking utter nonsense!"

"Utter nonsense!"

"Drink!"

"Bottoms up!"

These various interludes didn’t affect the brothel’s business. Soon, as the night deepened and thousands of lanterns cast their festive glow, some arrived full of excitement while others departed with their desires sated. In short, the street was a constant, bustling flow of people coming and going.

Around the time the moon reached its zenith, a shabbily dressed man arrived at the entrance of Heaven on Earth.

He was dressed like a wanderer, wearing straw sandals and a burlap shirt, his rolled-up trouser cuffs spattered with mud. On his back, he carried a tattered straw hat.

When Zizi had arranged the bells outside earlier, she had specifically requested permission from Second Lady to watch the counter tonight.

She spotted the man in the wanderer’s garb from a distance, and her heart skipped a beat. However, she didn’t go out to greet him, instead keeping her head down, pretending to do the accounts.

The clientele of Heaven on Earth were either rich or noble. The entrance of a wandering cart driver drew a great deal of attention.

Some stared intently, some fanned themselves with a faint smile, and others raised their cups for a light sip, all of them waiting for a show.

Zizi, at the counter, showed just the right amount of disdain before quickly plastering on a smile. "A friend from afar, welcome to Heaven on Earth."

The wanderer seemed to be in such a luxurious place for the first time. His expression was shifty, and he trembled slightly.

He took out a cloth pouch and poured out some silver fragments and copper coins.

They began to discuss prices, ask about the rates, and inquire about the girls.

Zizi breathed a sigh of relief; the secret code had been matched. She discreetly took out a crumpled strip of cloth, on which the characters her master had ordered were embroidered in advance.

Zizi nonchalantly found a girl who was a willing seller—older, experienced, and skilled in her craft. The girl took one look at tonight’s Flower Guest and showed her reluctance. Zizi smiled and said, "At his price, he can only get a ’platonic session.’ Don’t worry, sister. You’ll just drink, sing, and have a heart-to-heart talk until dawn. What’s not to like?"

The Flower Guest and the girl went upstairs.

What followed was pleasure behind closed doors, drinking and merrymaking, a scene that left much to the imagination.