The morning mist in the Capital was thick, tasting of coal smoke and the promise of a long winter. Lin Xi adjusted the straps of her heavy wooden crate, the glass bottles inside clinking with a rhythmic, metallic sound. This was her "Secret Spicy Sauce"—a blend of fermented beans, charred chilies, and a proprietary mix of thirteen spices that she had spent the last three nights perfecting in the dim light of her shop's kitchen.
"You really think the State-Run Department Store will just put these on the shelf?" Xiao Wang asked, his voice skeptical as he helped her wheel her bicycle toward the Dongdan Commercial District. "Manager Sun is a 'Red Expert.' He's been running that store since the fifties. He hates anything that smells like 'private enterprise'."
"He doesn't have to like me, Xiao Wang," Lin Xi said, her eyes fixed on the grand, gray stone building ahead. "He just has to like money. And right now, the State-Run stores are losing customers to the black market because their shelves are filled with nothing but salt and vinegar. They're starving for a 'Hit'."
They reached the office of Manager Sun on the third floor. The hallway smelled of old paper and stale tea. When they entered, the manager didn't even look up from his newspaper. He was a man in his late fifties with thick glasses and a sour mouth that looked like it had never tasted anything more exciting than boiled cabbage.
"We don't take walk-ins," Manager Sun grunted, flipping a page. "If you want to sell produce, go to the procurement office in the basement. This office is for policy and planning."
Lin Xi didn't go to the basement. Instead, she walked straight to his desk and set a single, clear glass bottle down on his newspaper. The sauce inside was a deep, vibrant red, with golden oil shimmering at the top and bits of visible aromatics settled at the bottom. It looked like a jewel in the drab, gray office.
"This is 'Xi Garden's Signature Red'," Lin Xi said, her voice calm and professional. "In the last week, I've sold five hundred servings of it at the Textile Factory. The workers aren't just eating it; they're asking to buy the jars to take home. I'm giving the State-Run Store the first right of refusal for a distribution contract."
Manager Sun finally looked up, his eyes narrowing behind his lenses. He let out a short, mocking laugh. "A distribution contract? Little girl, do you know how many state factories produce sauce? We have 'Red Star,' we have 'Great Wall.' Why would I put a nameless bottle from a private kitchen on my shelves? It's a safety risk. It's... irregular."
"It's a 'safety risk' to let your revenue drop by fifteen percent this quarter, isn't it?" Lin Xi countered, leaning forward. "I walked through your aisles on the way up. Your 'Red Star' sauce is dusty. The seals are leaking. People are tired of the same old taste. They want something that makes a bowl of plain rice taste like a banquet."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, wrapped bundle of warm mantou (steamed buns). She broke one open, dipped it deep into the jar, and held it out. "Taste it. If you don't think this will sell out in three hours, I'll walk out and take my bottles to the 'Friendship Store' instead."
The mention of the Friendship Store—the elite shop for foreigners and high-ranking officials, made Sun's jaw twitch. If the rival store got a hit product, his year-end bonus would be non-existent.
With a look of pure reluctance, Sun took the bun. He bit into it, his expression ready to be disgusted.
Then, his eyes widened.
The heat was the first thing, a sharp, clean kick that woke up his palate. Then came the savory depth of the fermented beans, followed by a surprising, citrusy brightness that lingered on the tongue. It was addictive. It made his mouth water, demanding another bite.
He chewed slowly, his mind racing. He was a bureaucrat, but he wasn't a fool. "The labeling... it's too modern," he muttered, trying to find a flaw. "And the price? How much?"
"Fifty fen a bottle," Lin Xi said. "You sell it for eighty. You keep thirty percent. I handle the production; you handle the shelf space."
"Thirty percent?" Sun's eyes gleamed. Usually, state factories only gave them a five percent margin. "But the 'Sanitation Certificate'... where is it?"
"Right here," Lin Xi said, pulling out the Grade-A certificate she had won. "And I have a letter of recommendation from the Northern Command's logistics department."
She wasn't just using Gu Shaozheng's name; she was using the fact that her food was already 'Military Approved.'
Sun looked at the bottle, then at the girl. She wasn't just a cook; she was a strategist. Just as he was about to reach for a pen to sign a trial agreement, the office door swung open.
"Manager Sun! You can't sign that!"
Lin Jiaojiao stepped into the room, her face flushed with a mixture of anger and desperation. Behind her stood a man in a sharp cadre suit—the Deputy Director of the Commerce Bureau, a man who owed her father a favor.
"This girl is under investigation!" Lin Jiaojiao pointed a trembling finger at Lin Xi. "She's using the military's name to bully honest businessmen. My father, the Secretary, has received reports that this 'sauce' is made in an unsanitary home kitchen. If you put this in a state store, you'll be responsible for a public health crisis!"
Manager Sun froze, his hand hovering over the paper. The Deputy Director stepped forward, his voice heavy with authority. "Old Sun, be careful. The wind is changing. You don't want to be caught supporting a 'capitalist element' right before the regional evaluations."
Lin Xi felt the air in the room grow cold. This was the Business Struggle at its peak: the "Old Guard" and the "Privileged Heroine" joining forces to block her ascent.
She looked at the Deputy Director, then at Lin Jiaojiao, who was wearing a smug, triumphant smile.
"Unsanitary?" Lin Xi picked up the jar of sauce. "Deputy Director, if you're so concerned about health, perhaps you should explain why the 'Red Star' factory—which your brother-in-law manages—was cited for rodent problems last month? I have the report right here, courtesy of a friend in the inspection office."
The Deputy Director's face turned from white to a deep, bruised purple.
Lin Xi turned back to Manager Sun. "The 'wind' isn't changing, Manager Sun. It's already moved. You can either be the man who brought the Capital's favorite sauce to the people, or the man who went down with a corrupt Secretary. Choose."
The room was silent, the only sound the ticking of the old clock on the wall. Lin Xi's heart hammered against her ribs, but her hand was steady as she held out the pen.
She couldn't just win; she had to build a network that the Secretary couldn't touch.
"I'll take twenty crates for a trial," Sun finally barked, snatching the pen. "But if a single person gets a stomach ache, Lin Xi, I'll personally call the police."
"They won't get a stomach ache, Manager," Lin Xi said, her eyes flashing at Lin Jiaojiao. "They'll just get an appetite for more."
As Lin Xi walked out of the store, she saw Gu Shaozheng leaning against his Jeep across the street. He didn't come over; he just raised a hand in a silent salute. He knew she had won this round on her own.
But as he watched her, his brow furrowed. In his hand was a telegram from the South.
The "Southern King" has boarded the train. He is not coming for the debt. He is coming for the Map.
The secret of the tobacco tin was about to explode, and Lin Xi's business empire was now officially in the line of fire…