Inside the steamy kiln, many workers, their arms bare, were busy at work. This was the largest ceramic factory in Dingtown, jointly run by the Henderson Family and Victor Fan.
John Chou stood quietly at the doorway, already drenched in sweat. Next to him, the factory manager smiled and spoke.
"Young master, there's nothing much to see with this rough work. Why don't you go over there and rest? We've already prepared some things for you."
John Chou shook his head, silently watching the kiln's operation. Zane Zhuang stood nearby, holding a stack of bamboo slips—these were the factory's accounts that John Chou would review later.
At that moment, Zane Zhuang was still pondering what John Chou had said. It was true—they couldn't keep giving handouts to the Zhuang family forever. If this went on, it would only harm them. While the younger members could still work, it was time to find ways to get them employed.
"Young master, let's go over there to look at the accounts."
John Chou finally moved. The group entered a large room, where he sat down and Zane Zhuang placed the bamboo slips before him. John Chou began to review them.
About an hour later, John Chou stood up. As expected, he found nothing.
"Young master, shall we go to the teacher's house?"
Zane Zhuang asked, and John Chou nodded.
But John Chou stopped abruptly, quietly staring at the fruit on the plate. Then he glanced at Victor Fan, as if something had dawned on him.
"Teacher, are you talking about the root? The root of the Henderson Family?"
Victor Fan nodded in satisfaction, but John Chou was troubled again. He had heard the story of the Henderson Family's origins many times before, and the family had records of it.
The Henderson Family started out as street vendors, but thanks to their ancestors’ cleverness, they gradually became merchants trading goods. After making their fortune, the Hendersons began educating their children for official careers. Over the generations, many scholars and generals emerged from the family, serving kings and nobles. By this generation, the Henderson Family’s foundation was solid and secure.
"Teacher, that’s not saying much—I already know the roots of the Henderson Family."
Victor Fan smiled and sat down.
"Choujian, do you remember what I’ve told you before?"
John Chou stood up helplessly. He still hadn’t found any useful information today. He turned and gazed at the sky.
"I’ll head back once it’s almost time. Teacher, do you want to come with me? There’s a good meal tonight."
Victor Fan shook his head. He knew John Chou had figured something out, but outwardly he pretended to be puzzled. Perhaps in a few days, John Chou would uncover the truth.
Zane Zhuang grew anxious on the side. He desperately wanted to tell John Chou something, but he had to hold back.
John Chou hurried straight toward Henderson Village without stopping.
"Young master, it’s still early. You could take some time to stroll around the city."
"No need, Zane. I think I might know what our family’s real business is. I’m not blind; I’ve seen plenty over the years, and it’s thanks to my teacher’s reminders."
Zane Zhuang stared in surprise, unable to understand what John Chou had figured out.
"Impossible. How could you uncover something so secret so quickly?"
Watching John Chou’s excited profile, Zane Zhuang couldn’t help but sigh. John was indeed much smarter than his father, Ethan Chou. In Zane’s memory, Ethan was clever, but only sharp-witted. Through his interactions with Victor Fan and Sylvia Henderson, Zane realized that truly intelligent people spoke little, never finished their sentences, and were always observing. They never made bold claims without certainty.
The most crucial trait was patience and restraint. Zane saw these qualities in John Chou as well.
At sunset, John Chou returned to Henderson Village, but instead of going home, he visited a large courtyard near the Henderson residence. The place sheltered many orphans—John had been here before. The Henderson Family taught these children to read and write, and even gave them martial arts lessons.
Not just orphans—many local children also attended, making it the Henderson Family’s own school. Everyone praised their generosity. Every child received meals morning and night; most families in the village sent their children here, and even poor families from Dingtown brought their kids. The Hendersons treated them all equally.
All the teachers were Henderson Family members. Some had followed Sylvia Henderson for years and were now old, but their knowledge and martial arts teaching were still excellent.
John Chou didn’t go inside. He quietly watched the children from outside the gate—some reading, some practicing martial arts. Nearly three hundred children attended this school.
"Young master, what brings you here today?"
A martial arts instructor, nearly fifty years old, came out. John Chou had only seen him a few times; he’d moved his whole family here in the last two years.
"Just looking around."
As John Chou spoke, many children in the school noticed him. Some were already whispering about him.
After sunset, John Chou returned to the Henderson residence, waiting for dinner. Sylvia Henderson seemed in great spirits lately, her complexion improving day by day.
"Grandpa, I know what our family’s real business is."
Sylvia Henderson’s eyes widened in disbelief, staring at John Chou. Aunt Gu smiled and nodded, glancing at John.
"Then tell me, what is it that our family does?"
"Isn’t it selling things you can’t see or touch?"
Sylvia Henderson stared at John Chou in disbelief.
"So what exactly are we selling?"
"Intelligence."
Sylvia Henderson smiled bitterly as she asked.
"Choujian, how did you know? Will you tell Grandpa?"
John Chou stood up. Zane Zhuang hurried to shut the door and sent the servants away.
"First, Grandpa, you once told me that our family started out as powerless, penniless merchants, and only rose thanks to our ancestors’ intelligence, right? But in those war-torn times, that was impossible—especially since our ancestors were in the heart of the chaos."
John Chou began his explanation.
A merchant with no power or money—forget building a fortune, surviving in those war-torn years was already a miracle. Transporting goods to another place was nearly impossible unless you could afford guards. Otherwise, most shipments would be stolen.
And with so many corrupt officials, merchants had to pay heavy taxes—and bribes. Even if they succeeded, after paying for guards, expenses, travel, and bribes, there was no profit left.
Sylvia Henderson nodded happily.
"Choujian, how do you know all this?"
"I’ve checked all our family’s accounts—they detail everything. The cost of guards and taxes is huge, while goods and travel are cheap. Bribes to officials take up about a third of the goods’ value. Without those payments, deals wouldn’t go through. So even though we make money now, it’s not much. The farther we trade, the less profit. These days, with fewer wars, there are still bandits and rebel groups everywhere. Long-distance trade is a loss unless you’re at the border of several countries. Otherwise, the Hendersons would’ve gone bankrupt long ago."
Sylvia Henderson nodded, and John Chou continued his explanation.
"The biggest business in the world is war. Whoever controls land controls resources, so nations fight over territory. Winning a war means recouping costs in a few years. The most vital asset in war is intelligence—knowing troop composition, deployment, defenses, and routes. With intelligence, you can turn the tide. That’s why intelligence is the hottest commodity of all."
Sylvia Henderson stood up, deeply moved. He couldn’t believe John Chou had realized the family’s secret so quickly.
"Looks like I didn’t misjudge you, Choujian. You really are the future of the Henderson Family!"
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