This ebony is already rare, and usually, shipments involve loading large quantities of ebony onto ships together. With these dozens of ships sunk, it means that there will be an extreme shortage of ebony on the market in the future.

Charles Foster's eyes lit up, and an idea popped into his head: stockpiling ebony.

But... what about silver... Even before the price doubled, the price of ebony was already frightening. He squinted and said, "How much silver is left in the household accounts?"

William Carter shivered, looking at Charles Foster in panic: "There shouldn't be much left, at most just a few hundred taels of silver, young... young master, you... you want to..."

Hearing only a few hundred taels, Charles Foster was deflated, but soon, another idea came to him. No silver, but the Fang family has land, if...

He changed his mind—no, no, selling land... This young master has read a lot of history; the thinking of the ancients is different from modern people. In the eyes of the ancients, selling land was something only ruined families and prodigal sons would do, and people would gossip behind your back.

Hmm... prodigal son...

Aren't I the textbook example of a prodigal son? In Beijing, is there anyone more prodigal than me, Charles Foster?

Charles Foster's eyes lit up again, and he shouted, "Call the stewards and the accountant here!"

The authority of the Fang family’s young master was still formidable. In no time, Henry Baker and Edward Clark arrived, both panting, their eyes darting as they looked at Charles Foster.

Charles Foster crossed his legs. Although he was sitting, the two in front of him dared not stand taller than Charles Foster, so they bent over, which made Charles Foster appear even higher and more imposing as he looked down at them, very much in the style of a young master.

Charles Foster asked, "How much land does the household have?"

"The estates outside the city cover two thousand three hundred and seventy mu, and besides that, there are several mountains, occupying several thousand more mu," Henry Baker said, as if seeking credit. He had heard the young master had suffered a brain illness and had been recuperating these days, so he was quite concerned. Now, hearing the young master was better, he stared at him, wanting to see if he had really recovered.

"How much silver could it sell for?" Charles Foster's next question nearly choked Henry Baker.

Henry Baker's first reaction was not worry, but a slight raise of his eyebrows. He exchanged a glance with Edward Clark beside him—ah, the young master’s illness... is truly cured! The Fang family is fortunate!

Just think, the young master is actually thinking of selling land for money. In all of Beijing, besides our Fang family’s young master, who else could so nonchalantly bring up selling land? Our young master is really back!

Seeing the pleased looks on their faces, Charles Foster felt the world had gone mad. He could only tap the table with his fan handle: "I'm asking you a question—how much can be sold? Count it all up for me, send word to the brokers, sell the land, sell every bit that can be sold, not a single mu left!"

Chapter 0003: The Son Sells His Father's Land Without a Care

The joy hadn’t faded when Henry Baker suddenly remembered the young master’s talk of selling land, and the smile on his face froze.

At that moment, someone wailed and rushed toward Charles Foster, hugging his leg and crying, "Young master, young master, you can’t sell the land! Young master, selling your father’s land... this will bring down thunder and lightning upon us! If you sell it, the whole capital will laugh at us, everyone will gossip about the Fang family, and if the lord finds out... wuwu..."

It turned out to be William Carter. William Carter was streaming with tears and snot, clinging to Charles Foster's leg and bawling uncontrollably.

Henry Baker's face also looked terrible. Sell... sell the land... Just now he was thinking, besides our Fang family’s young master, who else would even consider such a shameless thing, and he was actually quite happy—at least the young master’s illness was cured.

But now, he realized—they really were going to sell it.

With a thud, Henry Baker dropped to his knees and said, "Young master, William Carter is right, you can’t sell it! If you do, our Marquis of Nanhe’s household will become the biggest joke in the world. If you’re short on silver, just tell us. Old Liu, Old Liu, how much silver is left in the accounts..."

Edward Clark's eyes were red, clutching his chest as if in pain, and he choked out, "Young master, my family has served the late old master, the master, and you for generations. The Marquis of Nanhe’s household is at least... at least one of the most prominent families in the capital. We can’t sell the land, we can’t! If we sell the land, the family will be ruined!"

It actually made a lot of sense. In this era, people valued land above all else. Selling ancestral property and land was something only fallen sons and prodigals would do. Charles Foster was clearly persuaded: "You’re all right. Selling land is what prodigals do. But go outside the mansion, ask around the neighborhood—in this capital, who is the biggest prodigal?"

Charles Foster puffed out his chest, full of momentum. At this moment, he even felt a bit proud. Being a prodigal is great! For example, selling land—others don’t dare, but I do. How else can money make money? How else can I seize the chance to make a fortune?

"What are you crying for? Anyone who dares to cry, I’ll break his legs. You should be laughing... Don’t you know the rules of the house? I’m my father’s only son, and my father is now leading troops for the court. For now, I’m in charge of this household. Who dares to object?"