Buying the casket and returning the pearl.

The situation quickly evolved into a masterclass in modern marketing. As the tea and porcelain canisters were filled and readied, the first shipment made its way along the waterways to Hongdu.

The Tang family lacked deep roots in the south, but they possessed substantial assets. Following Xia Lin’s strategy, they first gifted a batch of tea to local socialites—the great scholars and men of letters. Then, a selection of the finest specimens was presented to officials at every level, from the Prince of Teng and the provincial governor down to the low-level functionaries.

Tea itself was hardly a rarity; the region, stretching from the Wuyi Mountains to Mount Lu, was a tea-producing heartland. However, the porcelain canisters were irresistible. These vessels, with their varied shapes and exquisite artistry, soon became prized collector's items among the local elite.

Smooth, bright, and pristine, they represented the pinnacle of luxury in that era. After about half a month of buzz, Tang Family Tea had established a formidable reputation in Hongdu.

Next, "billboards" began appearing in Hongdu’s high-end restaurants, brothels, and other refined establishments. Each featured a painting of a noblewoman in palace attire, meticulously preparing tea, with a Tang Family tea canister clearly displayed on the table.

In bold, striking calligraphy, the billboards read: "Tang Family Tea, the Choice of the Elite." Beneath it was a verse from the Northern and Southern Dynasties poet Lu Kai: "Nothing in the south to send, save for a sprig of spring."

The prestige was instantaneous. "Tasting Spring" became the new must-have trend for the elite, ranking alongside drinking, composing poetry, playing the zither, watching the rain, and admiring the snow.

Tasting Spring.

Indeed, thanks to that advertising slogan, the once-popular tea-whisking competitions were replaced by the refined pursuit of "tasting spring." If two friends in long robes and carrying folding fans met on the street, they would likely ask, "Brother X, shall we go taste the spring?"

Coincidentally, "tasting spring" was a homophone for "everlasting spring," implying a happy and fulfilling life, which only fueled the craze further.

This "tasting spring" was not a literal seasonal event. Usually, a socialite would invite a few friends to their home or a pavilion. Amidst the autumn wind or rain, gazing at the murmuring streams or the rushing Gan River, the host would order a maid to heat water over a small red clay stove. The host would then produce a canister of Tang Family Tea, carefully using a bamboo scoop to measure the tea into the pot. While waiting for the water to boil, the friends would engage in lively conversation.

The talk would inevitably drift to the tea and the porcelain. Since this was the first time such artistry had appeared on ceramic, the designs were not mere common patterns, but intricate depictions of flowers, birds, fish, insects, noblewomen, and landscapes. Many canisters told a story, often spanning a set of several pieces to complete the narrative.

Consequently, people began collecting these canisters with a frenzy and obsession akin to students collecting trading cards centuries later.

Where there is a collection, there is a secondary market. The canisters were exquisite, often featuring calligraphy and painting, with the bottom stamped "Made in Xinping Township." Dealers used every means possible to acquire them, keeping full sets together.

Within just one month, Xia Lin had achieved a marketing miracle, centuries ahead of his time. The most expensive set, titled "Chronicles of the Eastern Zhou Kingdoms," consisted of seventy-two canisters representing the seventy-two disciples of Confucius. On the Hongdu black market, this single set was bid up to 170,000 taels of silver.

Yes, 170,000 taels.

To put that in perspective, the total value of the tea Miss Tang had transported was only 70,000 taels. A local tycoon bought the set and presented it to Governor Guo.

It sounded absurd, but it was all part of Xia Lin’s calculated operation. There was only one such set of "Chronicles of the Eastern Zhou Kingdoms," and it would never be reproduced. The paintings were hand-drawn by Old Zhang, and the colors were derived from rare minerals Xia Lin had painstakingly selected from thousands of options.

Every line was meticulously traced with liquid gold and fired a second time. Three thousand, seven hundred and twenty cups were fired, but only two hundred were successful, and only one complete set could be assembled. The human effort and resources alone made it a treasure, yet Xia Lin had Miss Tang sell it as a mere tea container.

This was marketing.

As expected, once this sky-high tea set appeared, the entirety of Hongdu and its surrounding areas went mad. The Tang family’s inventory was sold out overnight, with orders backed up until the end of the year. People didn’t even haggle over the price of 50 taels per canister; some would boldly demand three or five thousand canisters at once.

Even Miss Tang found it hard to believe. The tea, which cost 70,000 taels to produce, had generated 630,000 taels in an instant. She didn't even have to negotiate; buyers were frantically scouring the city for more Tang Family Tea.

The tea even became a form of hard currency on the black market—though, of course, they were really after the canisters. Even the most basic canisters saw their black-market value soar to an astonishing 120 taels. High-quality pieces, like those featuring "Peacocks Spreading Their Tails" or "A Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix," could sell for tens of thousands of taels.

Because of this, many people flocked to Xinping Township to investigate. Xia Lin had anticipated this; he had the locals set up a perimeter around the workshop, forbidding any outsiders from entering. The workshop was a collective enterprise—a golden goose for the villagers—and they would defend it fiercely.

The only things the visitors could see were the thick plumes of smoke rising from the riverbank workshop and the ox-carts hauling clay back and forth. Some, unwilling to give up, stayed in the township to uncover the truth. As more people lingered, simple accommodations quickly sprang up, resembling a primitive guesthouse model.

More than a month had passed, but Miss Tang still hadn't left. It wasn't because she couldn't bear to part with Xia Lin, but because she couldn't bear to part with the money. She had learned much from him. Though she knew to keep her distance from an unrelated man, this was business... and the two were now practically inseparable, except when sleeping.

"Now that Tang Family Tea and Xinping Porcelain are deeply intertwined, the next step is to push it nationwide."

"But this tea is so expensive that not everyone can afford it," Miss Tang said, her eyes filled with confusion. "What should we do?"

"Simple. We release another series."

Xia Lin smiled and took a very simple porcelain canister from a box. It was a third smaller than the hit model, with simple, almost sloppy patterns, and the porcelain quality was inferior. He placed it before Miss Tang. "Miss Tang, take a close look."

Miss Tang leaned in obediently. Heaven is my witness, Tang Wanqiu had no intention of seducing him, but her full, curvaceous figure—the hallmark of a mature beauty—meant that the moment she leaned in, Xia Lin couldn't help but catch a whiff of her scent.

It was lecherous, perhaps, but he couldn't resist.

"This canister... it doesn't seem as refined, and the patterns are much simpler."

Xia Lin nodded. "Exactly. This is called an 'affordable alternative.' We sell this one for ten taels and fill it with lower-quality tea."

He chuckled. "Miss Tang, isn't it strange? Everyone arrives into this world naked, yet halfway through life, they insist on dividing themselves into ranks and classes, as if they can't be comfortable otherwise. It’s the same product; change the packaging, and the value changes. It’s pathetic."

Miss Tang smiled lightly and straightened up. "That is the way of the world."

"It’s not the way of the world," Xia Lin sighed. "It’s human nature. By the way, Miss Tang, take a look at this."

Tang Wanqiu looked at Xia Lin with a strange expression, glancing down at her own chest. Xia Lin, missing her look, pulled another item from the box. "This is the ultimate form of our porcelain tea gift."

Tang Wanqiu leaned in again, this time much more cautiously, terrified of revealing more than she intended. Xia Lin noticed, finding it somewhat amusing but saying nothing—after all, she was wrapped so tightly, what could he possibly see?

He was just there for the scent.

The box he produced was a long, rectangular porcelain case kept in a brocade box. The lid slid open, ensuring it was airtight. The shape of the case resembled a coffin, yet it was magnificently crafted, adorned with numerous figures and vibrant colors. It could only be described as breathtaking.

"Rising to prosperity," Xia Lin tapped the box. "The figures on it are the Twelve Beauties of the Red Chamber."

"The Twelve Beauties of the Red Chamber? What is... that?"

Xia Lin laughed. "Miss, please look at the other side of the box."

Tang Wanqiu turned the porcelain box over and saw small inscriptions. She read softly, "Baoyu’s First Experience of Cloud and Rain."

After reading this, she looked at the patterns on the box again. They were exquisite, vivid erotic paintings. Even as strong-willed as Tang Wanqiu was, she was an eighteen or nineteen-year-old woman who had yet to experience such things. In the quiet of the night, she would sometimes let her imagination wander, and now, seeing these lifelike illustrations, her face flushed crimson in an instant.

She was naturally fair—the kind of pale skin that never tanned—so when she blushed, she looked like a steamed shrimp or a drunken Guan Gong, appearing incredibly adorable.

"You..." Tang Wanqiu gave Xia Lin a look that was both angry and amused. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"