The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 281: Throwing a Tantrum

Seeing her panicked reaction, Jiang Chen was certain: this ‘Young Master Long’ was indeed Long Xiyao.

Shen Peng’s description had been accurate. She enjoyed cross-dressing and teasing others. But why? Was it boredom? A fetish? Or perhaps a way to navigate spaces where noblewomen were unwelcome?

Regardless, Jiang Chen hadn’t expected their first meeting to take place inside a brothel.

He decided not to expose her completely. It wouldn’t serve him to humiliate a potential business partner too severely.

‘My apologies,’ Jiang Chen said smoothly, feigning embarrassment. ‘I must have mistaken you for someone else. I have a friend who also bears the surname Long.’

Hearing one’s real name spoken by a stranger in a compromising location was enough to rattle anyone. But Long Xiyao was a Foundation Establishment Perfection cultivator; her strength gave her resilience. She quickly composed herself, forcing a nod of agreement.

‘Exactly,’ she said, her voice dropping an octave to maintain the charade. ‘I told you, you have the wrong person.’

She glanced at Yue’er, then back at Jiang Chen, feigning magnanimity. ‘Since you paid first, I’ll let you have her tonight.’

With a swirl of her black robes, she turned and strode out of the Fragrance Pavilion, disappearing into the night before Jiang Chen could say another word.

Jiang Chen watched her go, amused. The rest of the evening passed without interruption.

He spent the night with Yue’er, leaving at the hour of Zi to catch a flower carriage back to the massive Green City Tree.

The next morning.

Jiang Chen had barely stepped out of his inn when his communication talisman buzzed. It was Shen Peng.

‘The usual place. Longing for Spring Teahouse, Third Floor, Room Yi.’

Jiang Chen headed straight for the venue. He was genuinely curious to see how Long Xiyao would react when she realized the ‘ordinary loose cultivator’ she’d clashed with was the business partner she needed to woo.

Inside the private room, Shen Peng and Long Xiyao were already waiting.

A pot of Orchid Mist Tea steamed on the table, filling the air with a delicate, grassy fragrance.

Today, Long Xiyao had shed her male disguise. She wore a stunning ruqun that gradiented from white to deep water-blue. The short upper jacket featured tight cuffs embroidered with white shells, while the high-waisted skirt flowed to the floor, its hem stitched with rippling wave patterns. A semi-transparent gauze shawl draped over her shoulders completed the look.

She looked every inch the noble daughter of a powerful clan.

‘Fellow Daoist Long,’ Shen Peng chuckled, trying to break the ice. ‘You and Fellow Daoist Cai will surely get along. You’re both disciples of Immortal Sects. I foresee a bright future for this cooperation.’

Long Xiyao sipped her tea, her expression cool. ‘Whether we get along depends entirely on his sincerity.’

Mystic Heart City was several times larger than Green City, both in market size and cultivator population. The Long Clan had spent a century building their influence there. If Jiang Chen insisted on the old 7:2:1 profit split, there would be no deal.

In her view, if the Long Clan provided the territory and protection, they deserved the lion’s share.

Knock, knock, knock.

The door creaked open.

Long Xiyao looked up, composing her face into a mask of professional detachment.

Then she froze.

The man walking in was familiar. Painfully familiar.

Jiang Chen stepped into the room, a lazy smile on his face. ‘Good morning, Fellow Daoist Long.’

Long Xiyao shot to her feet, her eyes widening in disbelief. ‘You?! Why are you here?’

Shen Peng blinked, looking between them. ‘You… know each other?’

Jiang Chen’s grin widened. ‘We’ve met. Briefly.’

Shen Peng clapped his hands excitedly. ‘That’s fantastic! Since you’re already acquainted, negotiations should be a breeze.’

Long Xiyao’s face flushed, but she quickly masked it with a scowl. She sat back down, crossing her arms.

‘My stance remains unchanged,’ she said coldly. ‘If you want to open a wine branch in Mystic Heart City, the Long Clan must take the majority of the profits.’

Jiang Chen sat down opposite her. He poured himself a cup of tea, took a slow sip, and asked, ‘And how much is ‘the majority’?’

Long Xiyao raised her chin defiantly. ‘In Mystic Heart City, the Long Clan is second only to the City Lord. If you want our protection and distribution network, you need to show respect. Anything less than sixty percent is non-negotiable.’

Shen Peng choked on his tea. ‘Sixty percent?!’

Jiang Chen nodded slowly. ‘Not bad. That’s actually ten percent less than I expected.’

Long Xiyao blinked, surprised. ‘So you agree?’

Jiang Chen set his cup down with a sharp clack. He leaned forward, his smile vanishing.

‘If I agreed to that, I’d be brain-damaged.’

Long Xiyao bristled. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Fellow Daoist Long, let’s get one thing straight,’ Jiang Chen said, his voice calm but hard. He glanced at the stunned Shen Peng. ‘I am only here out of respect for the Shen family.

‘You seem to be confused about who holds the leverage here. My wine sells itself. The Long Clan should be begging me for the privilege of selling it. You are applying for the distribution rights, not granting me a favor. Please, understand your position.’

The air in the room instantly turned frigid.

Shen Peng, realizing the deal was about to implode, waved his hands frantically. ‘Wait, wait! Fellow Daoist Cai, please don’t be angry! The Long Clan previously agreed to twenty or thirty percent! Sixty percent was never on the table!’

‘Oh?’ Jiang Chen looked at Long Xiyao, a playful glint returning to his eyes. ‘I get it now. You’re trying to take revenge for last night, aren’t you?’

Long Xiyao slammed her hand on the table, abandoning all pretense. ‘So what if I am?!’

Jiang Chen stood up. ‘Then we have nothing to discuss. I’m busy, and I won’t waste time on tantrums.’

‘Hmph!’ Long Xiyao turned her head away, refusing to look at him.

Shen Peng looked like he wanted to cry. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Long Xiyao was the official representative; her word was law unless she recanted. But she was clearly letting personal grievance torch a lucrative deal.

Jiang Chen walked to the door. Hand on the latch, he paused and looked back.

‘Fellow Daoist Long.’

‘What?’ She snapped, still looking away.

Jiang Chen grinned wickedly. ‘You wouldn’t want that little hobby of yours to become public knowledge, would you?’

Long Xiyao went rigid. Her face turned a violent shade of crimson.

Jiang Chen didn’t wait for a response. He opened the door and walked out.

Shen Peng hurried after him, escorting him out of the teahouse. ‘Fellow Daoist Cai,’ he pleaded, wiping sweat from his forehead. ‘I swear on my life, we never discussed a sixty percent split. She’s just…’

‘I believe you,’ Jiang Chen said, patting Shen Peng’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about the Mystic Heart City expansion for now. My production is capped at 3,000 jin a month anyway. Let the Long Clan cool off. We can revisit this later.’

Jiang Chen walked away, humming a tune.

He wasn’t worried. He planned to visit Mystic Heart City himself soon. It was said to be a hub of cultivation far grander than Green City—teeming with loose cultivators, clans, and sects.

Ideally, it would be the perfect place to disappear into a crowd.