Episode : 127

Words : 1538 Updated : Sep 21st, 2025

Chapter 126 of "My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!" begins with suspense: Chapter: 253 “More than that,” Lloyd said. “I need a leader. Someone to build and manage... Don’t stop reading!

Chapter: 253 “More than that,” Lloyd said. “I need a leader. Someone to build and manage our entire sales and distribution network from the ground up. Someone with a deep, intuitive understanding of commerce, of negotiation, of marketing. Someone who can not just sell a product, but create a brand. Someone with a... a merchant’s tongue.” He paused, then fixed the tutor with a direct, challenging gaze. “You are the most knowledgeable man I know in the theories of commerce, Master Elmsworth. Do you know of such a person? Someone sharp, ambitious, trustworthy, and perhaps... available?” Master Elmsworth’s eyes lit up, a slow, proud smile spreading across his thin face. It was as if he had been waiting for this very question. “A merchant’s tongue, Young Lord?” he echoed, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Sharp? Ambitious? The finest young commercial mind I have ever had the pleasure of instructing?” He leaned back in his chair, his expression one of pure, unadulterated, grandfatherly pride. “As a matter of fact, I do. I know precisely the person you need.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “She is not, perhaps, what you might be expecting. She is young. She is... direct. And her methods, while impeccably logical, are sometimes... startlingly aggressive. But her mind... her mind for business is a thing of beauty. A fortress of pragmatic logic and rhetorical brilliance.” “Her?” Lloyd’s eyebrow arched in surprise. “Indeed,” Elmsworth confirmed, his smile widening. “My granddaughter. From my daughter’s family. A girl I have had the distinct pleasure of personally tutoring in advanced business methodology, persuasive rhetoric, and the subtle art of negotiation since she was old enough to count. She has a tongue,” he boasted, his eyes twinkling with affection and pride, “that could sell sand to a desert king. And then sell him a lifetime warranty on it.” He leaned forward again, his expression earnest. “If you are serious about this, Young Lord, if you truly want the best, then allow me to summon her. She currently manages her father’s minor textile interests, a position far beneath her considerable talents. An enterprise like yours... it would be a challenge worthy of her skills. A stage upon which she could truly shine.” He looked at Lloyd, a silent promise in his eyes. “Give me two days. I will send a carriage. I assure you, Lord Ferrum, you will not be disappointed. She is, without a doubt, the sharpest young commercial mind I know.” A granddaughter? Tutored by Elmsworth himself? A tongue that could sell sand to a desert king? Lloyd felt a flicker of intrigued curiosity. It was unexpected. But then, everything about this venture had been unexpected. “Very well, Master Elmsworth,” Lloyd agreed, a slow smile touching his own lips. “Summon your granddaughter. I look forward to... assessing her rhetorical brilliance for myself.” The soap empire, it seemed, was about to get its first, and perhaps most crucial, general. And her name, though he did not yet know it, was Mei Jing. — --- The promise from Master Elmsworth hung in the air, a tantalizing offer of commercial genius wrapped in the slightly dusty package of his own granddaughter. Lloyd, intrigued by the old tutor’s almost fanatical confidence, had readily agreed. The next two days were a blur of activity at the manufactory. The first full run of hard soap bars was deemed sufficiently cured by Alaric’s meticulous standards and were carefully wrapped in simple, unbleached linen by Martha and Pia, then stored in wooden crates. The soft soap, now cooled into a stable, fragrant cream, was carefully decanted into the first batch of newly arrived oak-and-steel dispenser prototypes, each one a small work of functional art. The factory was no longer just producing; it was creating inventory. An arsenal of cleanliness, awaiting its general. On the third day, as promised, a carriage arrived at the main gates of the Ferrum Estate. It wasn’t a grand, heraldic-emblazoned coach of a major noble house, but a smaller, more practical, yet impeccably maintained, traveling carriage, suggesting a family of means but not of ostentatious display. Master Elmsworth, who had been pacing near the entrance with an uncharacteristic, almost fatherly, anxiety, practically scurried forward as the door opened. Lloyd watched from a slight distance, his curiosity piqued. He had been expecting... he wasn't sure what. A younger, female version of Elmsworth, perhaps? Someone sharp and intelligent, yes, but likely bearing the same dry, academic air as her grandfather. The young woman who stepped out of the carriage, however, was a striking, immediate refutation of all his preconceived notions. Chapter: 254 She was not tall and willowy like Riva, nor possessed of the almost supernatural, otherworldly beauty of Rosa or the fiery, dramatic presence of Faria. Her beauty was of a different, more grounded, more intense, kind. She was of average height, her posture straight, economical, radiating a quiet, unwavering confidence. Her features were sharp, intelligent, with high cheekbones and a firm, determined jaw. Her eyes, a dark, almond shape, were the most arresting feature – they were black, not the abyssal, power-infused black of his own transformed eyes, but the deep, polished black of obsidian, and they missed nothing. They swept over the grand facade of the Ferrum estate, the waiting guards, her beaming grandfather, and finally, Lloyd himself, with a cool, swift, appraising gaze. It wasn't the gaze of a guest awed by grandeur; it was the gaze of a merchant assessing a new market, a general surveying a new battlefield. Her hair, as jet-black as her eyes, was pulled back from her face in a severe but incredibly elegant knot, secured with a single, unadorned silver pin. She was dressed not in the flowing, often impractical silks of Riverian noblewomen, but in a tailored ensemble that spoke of a different culture, a different world. A high-collared tunic of deep blue silk, its lines clean and sharp, was worn over wide, practical trousers of a darker material, tucked into soft, sturdy leather boots. It was the attire of a traveler, a professional, someone who valued function and efficiency, yet the quality of the fabric, the precision of the cut, spoke of undeniable wealth and status. She looked, Lloyd thought with a jolt of something that felt almost like... recognition? Like a businesswoman from his Earth life. A CEO. A high-powered executive. Someone who didn't just enter a room, but assessed it, owned it, and immediately began calculating how to optimize it for maximum profit. “Grandfather,” she said, her voice as crisp and confident as her appearance. She offered Elmsworth not a deep, deferential curtsy, but a short, precise bow from the waist, a gesture of respect but also of equality. “You summoned me. I trust the matter is as urgent and... potentially profitable... as your message implied?” “Mei Jing, my dear!” Elmsworth beamed, his usual academic stuffiness dissolving into pure, grandfatherly affection. “You’ve come! Excellent! Yes, yes, the potential is... well, it is revolutionary!” He turned, gesturing eagerly towards Lloyd, who had begun to walk towards them. “Allow me to present our benefactor, our innovator! This, my dear, is Young Lord Lloyd Ferrum, heir to the Arch Duchy.” Mei Jing turned her full attention to Lloyd. Her sharp, obsidian eyes swept over him again, a swift, comprehensive assessment. He saw her take in his simple but well-made tunic, the quiet confidence in his stance, the lingering exhaustion that probably still clung to him from his Galla Forest misadventure. She was cataloging him, judging him, weighing him. She offered him the same precise, respectful bow she had given her grandfather. “Lord Ferrum,” she greeted, her voice cool, clear, utterly devoid of the usual deference or fluttering nervousness he expected from young women of her apparent age. “I am Mei Jing. It is an honor.” The words were polite, standard, but her tone, her direct, unwavering gaze, suggested she was reserving final judgment on whether it was truly an ‘honor’ or not. She wasn't just meeting the Arch Duke’s heir; she was assessing a potential business partner. And he had a distinct, unsettling feeling that he was the one being interviewed. “The honor is mine, Lady Mei Jing,” Lloyd replied, instinctively matching her professional tone, offering a slight bow of his own. He was intrigued. Deeply. This was no timid noblewoman. This was a force. “Your grandfather speaks of you in... glowing terms. He seems to believe you possess a rather remarkable talent for... persuasion.” A faint, almost invisible smile, sharp as a razor’s edge, touched Mei Jing’s lips. “My grandfather is a brilliant theorist, my lord. I am merely a practitioner. I believe in tangible results, not just elegant models.” Her gaze was direct, challenging. “He tells me you have... a product. Something new. Something he believes has the potential to reshape a market.” “I do,” Lloyd confirmed, a slow smile spreading across his own face. He was beginning to enjoy this. She didn't fawn. She didn't flatter. She cut straight to the heart of the matter. Business.

Episode : 127

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