The Jiang family announced to the public that their legitimate eldest daughter had died suddenly of an illness.
But a rice shop selling "funeral rice" appeared in the western part of the city.
The proprietor was surnamed Jiang. She had started with thirty-seven taels of silver and sold rice cheaply to the poor for funerals.
Her competitors called her ill-omened. She lifted her eyes and smiled. "The dead can't eat rice. The living still have to live."
Shen Du, the accountant, uncovered a fake account showing a single coin left behind by the previous owner, then tricked the local thugs into paying for the shop's repairs.
"Accounts can deceive, but the balance can't."
On the day the shop opened, Jiang Zhuo pushed open a door of her very own for the first time.
But standing outside was the legitimate son of the Shen family, who should have welcomed her into his household.
He studied her face and slowly spoke. "Miss Jiang seems to have recovered from her illness remarkably quickly."
