The morning Lin Wan'er unveiled the Tongbao Fen—"Coin Score"—system dawned with the clatter of abacuses and the scent of ink.
She stood in the heart of Pingkang 坊,the pleasure quarter of Chang'an, where courtesans and scholars mingled beneath willow trees. Her nuxu scholars had spent weeks interviewing merchants, prostitutes, and even imperial concubines, compiling data on their financial histories.
"Tongbao Fen is not just a number," she declared, holding up a lacquered plaque inscribed with a phoenix and a star. "It's a reflection of your worth—a measure of trust in the markets."
The crowd murmured. "How does it work?" a silk merchant asked.
Wan'er activated her calculator. "We analyze your payment history, debt-to-income ratio, and social connections," she said, projecting numbers onto a silk screen. "A score of 800 or above grants access to low-interest loans and premium services. Below 600, and you'll pay higher rates."
A courtesan stepped forward. "What if we have no credit history?"
Wan'er smiled. "Then we'll assign you a 'virgin score'—700, as a gesture of faith. But default, and your score plummets."
The crowd erupted in cheers. For the first time, even the lowest classes had a chance to build financial credibility.
That afternoon, Princess Taiping arrived at the Yanzhi Bank, her crimson cloak trailing like a storm cloud. "So, niece," she said, her voice icy. "You've created a system to judge people's worth."
Wan'er nodded. "It's called credit scoring, Aunt. A way to quantify trust."
Taiping leaned closer. "And what if I want to… adjust someone's score?"
Wan'er met her gaze steadily. "The Tongbao Fen is immutable. Not even the emperor can change it."
The princess smiled thinly. "We'll see about that."
That evening, a man with a scorpion tattoo on his neck—a Tian Xian agent—approached Wan'er's quarters. "I have information about the Tongbao Fen," he said, his voice trembling. "Princess Taiping is bribing your scholars to manipulate the scores."
Before Wan'er could react, the man collapsed, a dart protruding from his neck. She knelt beside him, retrieving a scroll from his sleeve.
It was a ledger detailing payments to her nuxu scholars—including her closest advisor, Cui Shuyi.
Wan'er's blood chilled. Shuyi has betrayed me.
She confronted Shuyi in the bank's vault, the scroll clutched in her hand. "Why?" she demanded.
Shuyi knelt, tears streaming down her face. "The Tian Xian threatened my family. They said they'd kill them if I didn't cooperate."
Wan'er sighed. "I understand. But you must help me fix this."
They spent the night reconstructing the corrupted scores, cross-referencing data with the Mi Zhen Si's secret ledgers. As dawn broke, Wan'er activated the Tongbao Fen update.
"From now on," she announced, "scores will be validated by three separate algorithms—one controlled by the Yanzhi Bank, one by the Mi Zhen Si, and one by Prince Longji's imperial treasurer."
The crowd cheered, but Wan'er's eyes were on Princess Taiping, who watched from the shadows, her face expressionless.
That evening, Wan'er visited Pei Ji in the Mi Zhen Si archives. He lay on a cot, recovering from his injuries, a scroll in his hand.
"I found this in the Tian Xian's Luoyang vaults," he said, handing it to her. "It's a list of their spies in the Yanzhi Bank."
Wan'er scanned the names, her heart sinking. Half my staff are traitors.
She activated her calculator, inputting data on the spies' financial histories. "I'll use their Tongbao Fen against them," she declared. "Lower their scores to 300, making them persona non grata in the markets."
Pei Ji nodded. "But Taiping will retaliate."
Wan'er smiled grimly. "Let her. The Tongbao Fen is now the law of the land. Even she can't break it."
The next morning, the Tongbao Fen update went live. Scores across Chang'an fluctuated as the algorithms corrected the corruption. The Tian Xian spies' scores plummeted, their businesses collapsing overnight.
Princess Taiping stormed into the Yanzhi Bank, her eyes blazing. "You've declared war, niece."
Wan'er met her gaze steadily. "No, Aunt. I've declared financial martial law."
That evening, as Wan'er reviewed the day's transactions, a shadow slipped into her office. She reached for her dagger, but relaxed when she saw Prince Longji.
"Your Highness," she said, bowing. "To what do I owe this honor?"
He handed her a scroll. "I've signed an edict making the Tongbao Fen imperial law. From now on, anyone who defies it will be arrested."
Wan'er's eyes widened. "Thank you, Your Highness."
Longji stepped closer, his voice low. "But there's a price. I want you by my side—advising me on all financial matters."
Wan'er hesitated. Allying with Longji would solidify my power… but it would also make me his pawn.
Before she could respond, he kissed her—a rough, possessive kiss that tasted of ambition and danger. "Say yes," he whispered.
Wan'er pulled away, her heart racing. "I need time to consider."
Longji smiled. "Take all the time you need. But remember—loyalty is rewarded in this court."
As he left, Wan'er stared at the hu fu's star chart, now recognizing the constellation as the Mi Zhen Si's symbol for loyalty.
This is the price of power.
That night, as she walked the palace gardens, a figure emerged from the shadows—Cui Shuyi, her former advisor.
"Your Highness," she said, kneeling. "I've come to beg forgiveness."
Wan'er sighed. "You were coerced. I understand."
Shuyi handed her a vial. "This is the Tian Xian's latest weapon—a poison that causes financial hallucinations. They plan to use it at the Tongbao Fen celebration tomorrow."
Wan'er's blood chilled. "How many know about this?"
"Only me," Shuyi said. "And the Tian Xian assassins."
Before Wan'er could react, Shuyi collapsed, a dagger in her back. She died with a smile on her face.
Wan'er knelt beside her, tears in her eyes. Another casualty in the financial war.
The next morning, the Tongbao Fen celebration proceeded as planned. Courtiers and merchants crowded the palace courtyard, their eyes on the gold ingots displayed on silk-draped tables.
As Wan'er prepared to speak, a commotion erupted. Tian Xian assassins dressed as musicians drew daggers, rushing toward her.
Wan'er activated her calculator, inputting data on crowd movement. "Pei Ji! To the left!" she shouted.
He spun, cutting down an assassin. "Wan'er, behind you!"
She ducked as a dagger whistled past her ear, then drew her own weapon. The battle raged, blood staining the silk banners.
Finally, the last assassin fell. Wan'er stood panting, her dress torn, her dagger dripping blood.
Prince Longji approached, his face pale. "You saved us."
Wan'er nodded. "But the war isn't over."
That evening, as she stared at the hu fu's star chart, a realization dawned: the constellation wasn't just a symbol—it was a map to the Mi Zhen Si's final weapon.
The Tongbao Fen was only the beginning.