Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Zhao Xiaobao had no idea her eldest brother was plotting to seize the ginseng rootlets. She remained curled up in the basket, fast asleep, drool dripping down her chin.

The clerk listened attentively and, after considering the shop’s inventory, nodded. “We carry all of those. How much would you like?”

“Could I purchase ten doses of each medicine?” Zhao Dashan asked tentatively.

The clerk glanced at him. “If you have sufficient silver on hand, of course you may.” Still, he felt mildly surprised—unsure whether Zhao Dashan was buying for his immediate family or for the entire village. After all, the quantity was substantial; an ordinary household would struggle to afford such an amount outright.

“Then I’d be most grateful—I’ll take that much. I’ve brought enough silver, so please don’t worry.” Zhao Dashan sighed with relief. He was simply glad the medicines were available. When people are healthy, medicine holds little value—but if illness strikes, one will spend their last coin for treatment. Better to buy more now; better safe than sorry.

Having said this, he hurriedly asked, “Has the clinic raised its prices? Is the cold medicine still seventy-five wen per dose?”

“No need to worry—the clinic hasn’t raised prices; all medicines remain at their original rates.” Hearing this, Zhao Dashan felt even more appreciative. The Ping’an Clinic was truly a clinic of integrity. Nowadays, prices for everything outside had surged—yet this clinic alone maintained its original pricing. Clearly, its owner was no greedy merchant but a man of principle.

Still, the medicine prices remained steep—especially the styptic powder, renowned for its exceptional efficacy: sprinkle it on a wound, and bleeding stops instantly. Each bottle cost one liang and six qian.

The medicinal wine, by contrast, was cheaper. Rub it on injuries—it worked well for reducing swelling, though less effectively for staunching blood. A bottle cost three qian.

All prices were clearly marked. If one fell ill and required a physician’s pulse diagnosis and prescription, the cost depended on the herbs prescribed. While the Ping’an Clinic’s herbs weren’t cheap, its physicians were honest. For instance, astragalus—a qi-boosting herb—was affordable for ordinary families, unlike certain clinics where doctors prescribed a single ginseng rootlet at exorbitant prices beyond common people’s reach.

Common remedies—such as cold and fever-reducing formulas—had been jointly refined and standardized by several physicians. So long as the fever wasn’t caused by some rare ailment, a single dose usually sufficed.

Expensive as they were, these medicines delivered real results.

The clinic wasn’t particularly busy at the moment. The clerk summoned the other two clerks to fetch the medicines while he picked up the abacus and began tallying the total: “Cold medicine—seventy-five wen per dose, ten doses: seven hundred and fifty wen; fever-reducing medicine—seventy-three wen per dose, ten doses: seven hundred and thirty wen; antidiarrheal medicine—sixty-nine wen per dose, ten doses: six hundred and ninety wen; deworming medicine—fifty-four wen per dose, ten doses: five hundred and forty wen; epidemic prevention medicine—eighty-two wen per dose, ten doses: eight hundred and twenty wen. That totals three liang, five qian, and thirty wen.”

Seeing the clerk glance up at him, Zhao Dashan quickly added, “I’d also like five bottles of the premium styptic powder and five bottles of the medicinal wine.”

“Premium styptic powder—eight liang for five bottles at one liang six qian each; medicinal wine—fifteen qian for five bottles at three qian each. That’s nine liang and five qian. Adding the previous sum brings the total to thirteen liang and thirty wen.”

After completing the calculation, he looked at Zhao Dashan again.

Zhao Dashan then withdrew silver from his pouch—three neatly shaped ingots totaling fifteen liang—and counted out fifty wen in copper coins, placing them all on the counter. “Let’s round it off. For the remaining twenty wen, please suggest whatever medicine might make up the difference.”

Seeing he could genuinely produce such a sum, the other two clerks hastened their work.

“Mosquitoes are terrible in summer—how about a bottle of mosquito-bite ointment?” The clerk turned and retrieved a thumb-sized bamboo bottle from beneath the counter. Removing the stopper, he handed it to Zhao Dashan—it was green. “Green ointment—twenty-three wen per bottle. Just three more wen needed.”

He didn’t offer a discount; the price was fixed, and accounts had to balance.

Zhao Dashan hastily produced three wen. The clerk collected all the copper coins and silver. Zhao Dashan watched him carry the silver into the back room. Moments later, he reemerged and handed over two liang.

“This is your change—two liang. Please keep it safe.”

Zhao Dashan quickly reached out to accept it. “Thank you for your help.”

The clerk nodded silently, then picked up the steelyard scale on the table to begin weighing the medicines.

The surroundings instantly fell silent—even the sound of the physician flipping through medical texts became distinctly audible. Weighing, pouring, and packing proceeded smoothly and methodically, the three clerks moving with practiced efficiency.

By the time all medicines were prepared and packed, Zhao Xiaobao—who had been dozing fitfully—was lifted by Zhao Ertian. She opened her eyes, recognized her second brother, and immediately drifted back to sleep, reassured.

The now-empty basket was used to hold the medicines. Fortunately, it was large enough to accommodate everything—just barely. Zhao Dashan handled the powder and medicinal wine with particular care, fearing they might be jostled. These two items were the most valuable; he suspected the high price included the cost of the bottles themselves.

The clerk escorted them to the door. Zhao Dashan felt deeply grateful but struggled to find words. He offered only a final reminder: “The world grows increasingly unstable. Buy more grain and store it at home—if anything happens, you’ll be able to hold out for a while.”

The clerk smiled and waved. “Thanks for the reminder—my family is already prepared.”

Zhao Dashan thanked him once more, then patted the basket his son carried. The family turned and departed.

The clerk stood at the doorway, watching them until they disappeared from sight, then turned back into the clinic.

…

On the street, a country fellow carrying a shoulder pole hurried toward the town gate. The journey back to the village was long—if they didn’t hurry, they’d arrive home in darkness.

They wandered the street briefly but bought nothing else. Shops were already beginning to close, one after another. Town shops couldn’t compare with those in county or prefectural cities—they closed earlier. Business was generally conducted in the morning; afternoon trade was poor.

Zhao Dashan and his family went to the town’s sole inn and rented a single room for fifty wen per night. The room was more spacious than the one at the Yue Lai Inn in the county seat and featured a window. It was also thirty wen cheaper—including a pot of tea and a bucket of water. They merely needed to check out by noon the next day—no rush.

When the inn clerk brought up the tea, Zhao Wu—acting on his father’s silent gesture—tightly shut the doors and windows. Zhao Xiaobao had awakened during their walk. Now, she placed her small hand on the basket, and all the medicines, powders, and medicinal wine inside appeared within the wooden house.

She handled the medicinal wine and powder especially carefully—her eldest brother had specifically warned her not to drop them.

“Remember to place the medicinal wine in the corner—don’t store it with the grain,” Zhao Dashan reminded again, uneasy.

“It’s on the side—it’s not with the grain.” Zhao Xiaobao rubbed her stomach, pouting and murmuring, “Big brother, I’m hungry.”

Zhao Dashan was hungry too. Hearing this, he ruffled her hair. “Xiaobao, have a pastry to tide you over for now. Big brother needs to calculate how much money we have left—we’ll buy grain accordingly tomorrow.”

Zhao Xiaobao obediently nodded, making no fuss. She retrieved a package of pastries from the wooden house and began distributing them. “This is Xiaobao’s.” She first placed one before herself, then continued: “This is big brother’s, this is second brother’s, this is Xiao Wu’s, this is Fengzi’s…”

There were exactly five pastries—one for each person—quickly distributed.

Zhao Dashan returned his portion to the oiled-paper wrapper. “Big brother’s pastry is for Xiaobao. Xiaobao, bring out the steamed buns Mom made for big brother—pastries won’t fill you up.”

Zhao Xiaobao nodded and fetched the wooden basin of steamed buns from the wooden house, setting it on the table.

Zhao Ertian likewise returned his pastry and ate steamed buns alongside his eldest brother, watching him count on his fingers.

Zhao Dashan calculated until sweat beaded on his forehead. Hauling sacks at the dock wasn’t half as exhausting as this—but he had no choice. Otherwise, he’d forget everything after a night’s sleep, and tomorrow he wouldn’t dare declare, “I’ll take as much as you have.” He feared he wouldn’t be able to produce the money.

Had Zhao Sandi been present, he might have wanted to pry open his eldest brother’s skull to see what lay inside. Why go to such painstaking lengths? Couldn’t he simply check how much silver remained?

But Zhao Dashan wasn’t quick-witted enough to think of that. He could only calculate how much he’d purchased, how much he’d spent, and how much remained—this order couldn’t be reversed.

Having just left the clinic, he remembered this bill most clearly. Excluding the ointment, the main cost totaled thirteen liang. Grain and flour were round figures—he remembered those too: twenty liang. Coarse salt: roughly three liang. Brown sugar: five liang. Assorted pastries and candy for Xiaobao: two liang. The half-side of pork was easy to recall—about two liang. Cotton was also a round number: six liang.

He counted on his fingers, removed his shoes and used his toes, calculating back and forth several times—arriving at a figure he couldn’t quite trust: they’d spent approximately fifty liang today.

They’d brought seventy liang this time. When purchasing the pork, he’d given the butcher five liang and received change. Money spent on noodles, the inn stay, and various minor expenses—all the silver fragments and copper coins combined—left roughly nineteen liang.

Less than twenty liang.

This was the silver they could spend tomorrow. They needed to buy nothing else—they could devote it all to grain.

If they succeeded, their food supply for the next five or six years would be secured. They’d no longer need to fear refugee riots, nor soaring prices triggered by global instability disrupting their lives.

Going forward, they simply needed to exercise caution, maintain vigilant watchfulness, avoid leaving the village, and guard against refugees causing trouble.

Zhao Dashan felt warmth surge in his heart. Now, he only wished to swiftly complete all purchases and return home. With grain, salt, medicine, and cotton secured at home, no matter how chaotic the outside world grew, it would have nothing to do with them.

They would live as they always had.

…

Just as before, Zhao Xiaobao took one person into the wooden house to sleep, while the others squeezed onto the inn bed for the night.

This time, the lucky one was Zhao Xiaowu. He won at rock-paper-scissors against Zhao Feng, triumphantly placing his hands on his hips and cackling with laughter. Under his younger brother's resentful glare, he was led by his little aunt to the enchanted place.

Since only one person could be taken at a time, and with grandparents, parents, second uncle, second aunt, third uncle, and third aunt all ahead in line, his turns were few and far between. He had only heard from his father that they had cleared and plowed three acres of land in the enchanted place and even planted rice seedlings, but he had never seen it with his own eyes. Now that his little aunt had brought him in, Zhao Xiaowu forgot all about going to the wooden house to sleep. He immediately dashed toward the fields.

Zhao Xiaobao stomped her feet anxiously on the spot. "Xiao Wu, aren't you going to sleep?"

"Little Aunt, I'm going to see the rice! You sleep first!"

The wooden house was very close to the rice fields. As she spoke, Zhao Xiaowu had already reached the field ridge, standing there dumbfounded, staring ahead as if in a daze.

Zhao Xiaobao huffed and puffed as she caught up, squatting down beside him. Aunt and nephew just remained there, staring blankly at the heavy, drooping rice grains before them.

Zhao Xiaowu wasn't a clueless child. During transplanting and harvesting, he was one of the main laborers in the family. Although, because his father, second uncle, and third uncle were so capable, he didn't have to work in the fields all day like other village children helping their parents, he knew roughly how many pounds of grain a normal acre of rice could yield. He also knew how rice typically grew. The amount of grain on the rice stalks before him was somewhat unbelievable, a bit beyond his understanding.

So heavy, it was almost bending the rice stalks.

Zhao Xiaowu opened his mouth, carefully reaching out to touch the plump grains on the stalk that seemed about to burst through the husk. He mumbled, "L-Little Aunt, pinch me."

Zhao Xiaobao said "Oh," and with two chubby fingers, she pinched the flesh on his arm. Zhao Xiaowu's face twisted slightly, but he didn't cry out in pain. Instead, his face flushed red as he exclaimed, "I'm not dreaming! How did the rice in this field grow so well! It's ready for harvest! Little Aunt, why didn't you tell us?"

"Tell you what?" Zhao Xiaobao cupped her little face in her hands, her teeth clicking together as she spoke, her voice quite crisp.

"Tell us the rice is ripe and ready to harvest!" Zhao Xiaowu said urgently, feeling a frantic panic as if they'd missed a fortune lying on the ground because his little aunt hadn't said a word.

"I didn't know," Zhao Xiaobao said with a huff. She didn't have to tend the family's fields, and her father hadn't told her to watch the fields every day.

Who knew the rice in the fields had secretly ripened?

"You really didn't know?" Zhao Xiaowu gently plucked a grain of rice and popped it into his mouth to chew. This was the taste! The taste of the rice he couldn't afford to eat!

"Hmph." Zhao Xiaobao crossed her arms, turned her head, and gave a light humph, not wanting to talk to her big nephew who doubted her.

Zhao Xiaowu quickly tried to soothe her, making funny faces and repeatedly promising to take her to play in the mountains when they got home. Only then did he manage to get his little aunt to smile again.

The rice ripening was a momentous happy occasion. Zhao Xiaowu had always known that because it was the first time planting in the enchanted place, Grandpa had been very worried. He was afraid that occupying the land might anger the divine beings and also worried that no grain would grow, wasting the rice seeds. Now it was great! Not only could the three acres in the enchanted place produce grain, but they grew even better than the fields meticulously tended by the village's most experienced farmers.

He carefully cradled the grains on the rice stalk, his still-childish, dark-skinned face flushed with excitement, unable to speak.

They were going to strike it rich! Their family was going to strike it rich!

Based on his future experience as a seasoned farmer, this heavy rice, bending the stalks, could yield at least three to four hundred catties per acre, right?

Right?

Could four hundred catties even be hoped for??

That night, Zhao Xiaowu dreamed of bending over in the fields, huffing and puffing as he harvested rice, then threshing it, sun-drying it, collecting it, hulling it, cooking rice, and eating rice. He ate bowl after bowl until his belly was round, drool dripping down his chin. When he was "ejected" from the enchanted place in the morning, he was still smacking his lips and mumbling, "Grandma, I can still eat another bowl of rice!"

His father slapped him awake. "Your old man is still eating coarse rice, and you want to eat white rice? It's daylight, wake up!"

Slapped awake, Zhao Xiaowu was still somewhat disoriented. Opening his eyes and seeing his father, he sprang up from the bed like a carp leaping out of water, shouting excitedly, "Dad! Second Uncle! We can harvest the rice! Little Aunt is unreliable! She didn't even make a peep when the rice ripened! Luckily, I went to take a look last night. Otherwise, if the rice over-ripened and then it rained, and we didn't find out for a long time, what if the grains fell into the water and got moldy!"

Zhao Dashan was stunned. "What? What did you say?"

Zhao Xiaobao's little face flushed red, her eyes darting away, lacking confidence as she loudly protested, "She's reliable! More reliable than Xiao Wu!"

"Dad! Three acres! Ready for harvest!" Zhao Xiaowu was so excited he was dancing around.

"Keep your voice down!" Another slap came to quell his excitement. Zhao Dashan couldn't help but grin, then grin again, and continue grinning. Ha ha ha ha! He also realized what his son was saying. Harvest! The rice in the three acres of the enchanted place was ripe! Ready for harvest!

Lately, he had been too busy and hadn't had time to check on the rice's growth, completely overlooking this matter!

He also couldn't control himself and started jittering with excitement. But at least he remembered they were outside, in an inn with people coming and going. He couldn't get carried away. His lips trembling, he lowered his head and whispered to Zhao Xiaobao, "Xiaobao, is what Xiao Wu said true? Is the rice inside ripe? Can we harvest it?"

Zhao Xiaobao nodded, her two little hands nervously twisting together. "Big Brother, Xiaobao didn't mean to keep it from you. Xiaobao didn't notice either."

"It's not Xiaobao's fault. It's Big Brother who didn't remind you. It's Big Brother's mistake." Getting the confirmed answer, Zhao Dashan and Zhao Ertian were so excited they kept pacing back and forth in the room. Their excitement wasn't just about the three acres of grain ripening and the family's food stores increasing. They were even more excited that they could really farm there, that it could really produce grain! Heaven knew how much psychological torment they had endured from clearing the land and plowing, to channeling water for irrigation, to breeding, leveling the ground, sowing seeds, and transplanting seedlings.

Fortunately, the result was good.

For a moment, Zhao Dashan even had a bold thought: since those three acres could grow grain, could they continue to clear more land and farm in the future?

This thought had just flashed through his mind when he immediately suppressed it, feeling he was getting a bit carried away.

He knew the difference between a worm taking a bite of a peach and a monkey taking a big bite. Like his parents, he held a reverent fear for the divine beings whose existence was uncertain. He didn't dare be too presumptuous and was even more worried about affecting Xiaobao.

But this matter was truly joyous. After checking out of the inn, the two brothers felt like they were walking on air, their feet not quite touching the ground.

"Big Brother, let's hurry and buy the things and go home," Zhao Ertian said, the soles of his feet itching. He really wanted to go home right now and harvest the rice.

"Mm." Zhao Dashan was also a bit anxious. Since the rice could be harvested, he figured they should use the remaining silver to buy flour. They had bought quite a bit of coarse rice before. The grain from the three acres would be kept for the family to eat. Xiao Wu also said the grains looked very good, estimating they could harvest over a thousand catties. Although he thought his son was boasting, this boast hit the mark for him. Until he saw it with his own eyes, he decided not to burst that bubble.

When they arrived at the grain shop, two clerks had just opened. Zhao Dashan handed his little sister to his second brother to hold while he went to talk to the clerk and ask about prices.

Upon asking, he learned that the grain prices in Qinghe Town were the same as in Tongjiang Town: coarse rice at eight wen, coarse flour at twelve wen. It was clear these merchants had private dealings, and perhaps the big boss behind them was even the same person.

"I'd like to buy some coarse flour. I wonder how much stock your shop has?" Zhao Dashan got straight to the point.

The grain shop clerk yawned, using a feather duster to sweep non-existent dust off the counter. Hearing this, he replied somewhat carelessly, "A couple thousand pounds. What, you want it all?" His tone was rather bold.

Having experience buying grain once before, Zhao Dashan didn't need to calculate carefully. He roughly knew how much his money could buy. So he said, "I want one thousand six hundred pounds of coarse flour. Sorry for the trouble, young man." He placed all the silver he had on the counter.

The grain shop clerk hadn't expected him to be serious and actually produce such a large sum of money. His yawning mouth was so shocked it nearly didn't close. He glanced at the tall, imposing man with a stern face before him, took the abacus from the side, turned his head, and shouted toward the curtain behind him, "Li Er, go to the warehouse and bring out one thousand six hundred pounds of coarse flour."

Then, looking back at Zhao Dashan, his smile became much more ingratiating. "Where does the guest live? Would you like us to deliver it for you?"

Zhao Dashan hadn't expected the grain shop in Qinghe Town to offer delivery service. Although it would be very convenient, he declined, shaking his head. "If it's convenient, could I borrow a handcart? I'm willing to leave a deposit and will definitely return it within two hours."

With such a large order and not having to bother with delivery, the clerk was naturally happy to oblige. "Guest, you jest. For any guest living in town, we can help deliver orders over a hundred pounds. You're just borrowing a handcart; no deposit is needed."

Talking didn't interfere with his calculations. His fingers nimbly moved the abacus beads, and in no time, he had it figured out. Immediately, he smiled so widely his eyes disappeared, his attitude becoming even more solicitous. "Coarse flour is twelve wen per pound. One thousand six hundred pounds totals nineteen taels and two mace."

With that, he took the silver from the counter, first taking nineteen taels, then counting out two hundred wen, and finally pushing the remaining small change back. "We have received nineteen taels and two mace from you. Please take back the remaining change."

Zhao Dashan then put all the remaining bits of silver and copper coins into his money pouch, casually stuffed it into his robe, and went with the other clerk to move the coarse flour.

The grain shop was short-handed. The clerk who took the money locked the drawer and went to the backyard to push out the handcart. Zhao Ertian, Zhao Wu, and Zhao Feng carried the coarse flour to the cart, loaded it, carefully tied it down with rope, and finally, under the clerk's cheerful send-off, pushed the cart out of Qinghe Town.

They transported it to an uninhabited place, checked for people in both directions, and then secretly stored the grain.

In the main room of the wooden house, piles of sacks of coarse rice and coarse flour were stacked high. Cotton was scattered about. Bamboo baskets were filled with various medicinal herbs. Medicinal wine was carefully placed in a corner. The table was almost overflowing with brown sugar, coarse salt, and pastries. A bamboo basket held half a pig...

Zhao Xiaobao described the scene she saw to her big brother and second brother. Zhao Dashan and Zhao Ertian were so excited they snorted two puffs of hot air from their noses, plopped down on the ground, feeling the future was full of hope.

Zhao Dashan took out his money pouch, poured the bits of silver and copper coins into his palm, and carefully counted. Only a little over two hundred wen remained.

They had set out with seventy taels and spent it all in two days.

Now, the family's grain supply was enough for four or five years. Once they got home and harvested the grain from the three acres, six years' worth of food rations were secure.

It was currently spring, with plenty of wild vegetables in the mountains. Later, they could gather more and collect things like chestnuts. Eating a little of this and that, even if the Daxing Dynasty were to collapse, their family could live well.

Thinking of this, Zhao Dashan picked up Zhao Xiaobao in one arm and, with his other hand, slapped his son who was sprawled on the ground resting. He scolded, "Dare to say your little aunt is unreliable? You deserve a beating!"