Chapter 228

Chapter 228

There was a huge ruckus outside, and Old Man Zhao tossed and turned in bed, barely sleeping all night.

Next door, there was wailing and cursing, interrupted by occasional suona playing—a mournful, wailing sound—and an old woman howling for her son, which felt especially eerie in the dead of night.

Normally, this wasn’t the countryside; a whole row of more than a dozen families lived in the lane. It would have been fine to play the suona during the day, but there's no way they should disturb everyone's sleep at night. Yet the Guan family did just that, making a huge racket. The two households that had quarreled and fought with Old Madam Guan earlier had their doors tightly shut, while the other families—either afraid to get involved and risk trouble, or thinking Guan Erlang’s death was unlucky—didn’t even come to offer condolences.

There was probably some fear as well.

Old Man Zhao recalled that when he returned yesterday, he heard people discussing how Guan Erlang had fallen ill after eating rotten meat, and a lot of them looked pretty grim.

Although it wasn’t spoken openly, everyone knew deep down that it wasn’t only Guan Erlang who had eaten the dead meat; they had all eaten some, to varying degrees. Now Guan Erlang was dead, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Guan family seemed healthy without any signs of illness, a whole lot of other people would have been up all night worrying.

But this incident was a wake-up call for him: he couldn’t stay in this lane any longer.

If Guan Erlang truly died from eating livestock fished out of the river, it just meant he ate a lot and got sick fast. But that didn’t mean the Guan family—or even the other families who had fished out dead chickens, ducks, pigs, and sheep from the river—were safe. Epidemics are contagious; some hit fast, others hide and hit later. It's never certain; it's all a gamble.

He didn’t want to bet his family’s lives on it, so he had to get away from potential danger as soon as possible.

Originally, they had rented the place for three days. Early the next morning, before dawn, Old Man Zhao carried his sleepy daughter in his arms, while Zhao Ertian and Zhao Sandi pushed a cart loaded with grain sacks, the four corners tightly bound with tattered cloth. As they passed the woman’s house, Old Man Zhao tossed a key threaded with a dry blade of grass into her courtyard.

Then, the family of four quietly left the place.

They had shopped all day yesterday and bought everything they needed. Pushing the cart made it hard to hang around, and although it wasn’t yet the agreed-upon time, they decided to go ahead.

Zhao Sandi munched on a steamed bun. He'd already had a big bowl of leftover rice soaked in tofu fish stew before leaving, so he wasn't hungry—he just couldn't keep his mouth still, always wanting to eat: “I wonder if things went smoothly. If today’s business doesn’t work out, we’ll have to rent another place.”

Given the situation, they might not find a decent little courtyard in the north of the city. They'd rented the previous place at a high price just for some peace and quiet. The courtyard itself was fine, but the neighbors were troublesome. They had stayed two nights and been disturbed both nights. If not for the divine land, the three men would have had to take turns catching some sleep, and their eyes would be dark by now.

“Let’s go check the situation first.” Old Man Zhao sighed. The wasted rent money still stung; he couldn’t even think about it without his heart aching—one hundred and eighty coins could buy a lot of things.

Familiar with the route, they pushed the cart into that dilapidated, secluded street. The walls and courtyards here were so low they were practically nonexistent; though they hadn’t traveled throughout the entire prefectural city, this area was probably the poorest, dirtiest, and most chaotic part of town.

It was usually quiet, but ever since someone had rented a courtyard here yesterday, people came in waves every half hour, none of them empty-handed. Some carried baskets, others shoulder poles, loaded with bedding and clothes. Families with few members made one trip; those with more made several. When they arrived, they didn’t speak; they just knocked on the door twice—three quick, one slow—and someone would open it.

Once the door was open, they didn’t need instructions. They found a spot on their own, stacked their belongings neatly. Hua Erniang had said that the buyer was very particular. The clothes could be old, but they had to be tidy and clean, because they’d be traded for grain. First impressions mattered. If they arranged their things neatly, it would make the buyer feel more comfortable, wouldn’t it?

And if the buyer was in a good mood, maybe his hand wouldn’t shake, and he might add an extra half bowl or a full bowl of grain to their bag—it wasn’t impossible.

The people coming and going included families close to Hua Erniang, her own relatives and her in-laws, and more often, relatives of relatives or friends of friends.

Old Man Zhao had said at least three hundred jin, ideally four hundred jin. A few households alone couldn’t possibly gather that much. To secure those three hundred jin of grain, she had worked hard. After returning yesterday, she discussed it with her mother-in-law, and the two of them, along with her sister-in-law, didn’t waste a moment. They changed clothes and each headed to their own natal family.

Who didn’t have some old clothes or bedding? In better years, they would even sort out a few pieces and donate to temples or Buddhist monasteries to accumulate merit. But now, every household was short on grain. People didn’t want money; they only wanted these buried items of clothing. To be honest, it was like manna from heaven—they were blown away.

Everyone was overjoyed, and they were extremely grateful to Hua Erniang. This was a huge favor in a time of dire need!

She repeatedly urged them not to spread the word, not to breathe a word to relatives or neighbors. Everyone took it seriously, keeping it under wraps and busily sorting through their things. They knew the seller had

Several old women, bent under the weight of overflowing bamboo baskets on their backs, saw the three tall, sturdy men walking slowly ahead. They didn’t dare urge them on, nor did they dare to cut in front; instead, they dawdled behind.

Following the address Hua Erniang had given them, they grumbled to themselves—why won’t these guys just turn off somewhere? Honestly, what bad luck, heading in the same direction as them.

Still grumbling under their breath, the men suddenly stopped. The women instinctively looked up at the familiar gate, and halted as well.

They stared at each other, eyes wide.

After a long moment, the women blinked, eyes wide as saucers as they glanced repeatedly at the men’s cart. Though it was covered with a piece of tattered cloth, they couldn’t see what was inside, but recalling the purpose of their visit, their hearts began to pound rapidly.

“Brother, are you the ones Erniang talked about? The one exchanging clothes, bedding, farm tools, and such?” One of the women, squinting sideways at Old Man Zhao, craned her neck to look up, since she was bent over. “Why so early? Erniang said it was at a different time. I’ve still got another load at home—what am I gonna do!” Anxious, she hurried to knock, thinking if she could empty her basket quickly, she could still make it back home.

“Which Erniang?” Old Man Zhao asked, then immediately realized—it must be that young woman. “So she’s called Erniang too? Yes, that’s us. Don’t worry, sister, we’re in no rush. Go ahead and fetch your load; we won’t hurry you.”

“Oh! It really is you! And this cart—is that the stuff?” Another woman broke into a smile. When she mentioned grain, she lowered her voice, afraid outsiders might hear, and didn’t say it outright; instead, she pursed her lips and gestured insistently. “We’ve dug out all our old clothes that were packed away. There’s plenty of stuff—hope you have enough of that other thing to exchange.”

“No worries.” Old Man Zhao, holding his daughter, gave a confident smile. “Just bring them. If they catch my eye, you won’t be shorted what’s due. I won’t let your efforts go to waste.”

His straightforward answer, unlike the evasive replies of some merchants, put the women at ease. Having all been cautioned by Hua Erniang, none of them thought to annoy him by asking where the grain came from or what he wanted the old clothes for. They just casually asked if he’d had breakfast, mentioned their homes were far, and explained they knocked because someone was on watch in the yard.

As they spoke, the gate swung open. The group of women, familiar with the place, filed inside. The one in front whispered to the man who opened the door, “Quick, get the threshold out so they can wheel the grain in. Don’t let anyone see!”

Another woman said to Old Man Zhao and his family, “That’s Hua Erniang’s husband. He’s the second son in the family—just call him Liu Erlang, like we all do.”

Liu Erlang was startled to see them so early. He hurried over to help remove the threshold, his eyes fixed on the cart piled high with grain. A wave of relief washed over him.

He had been worried his wife might have been tricked, but the lure of three hundred catties of grain was too strong—no matter what, they had to get things moving. Worst case, they would just offend some people, with no financial loss.

Now that the man had actually come, an eager smile spread across his face. He wanted to lend a hand but couldn’t find anything to do, so he just rubbed his hands together and grinned. “They brought over plenty of clothes and bedding yesterday. All neatly sorted. Erniang and I checked everything carefully—no problems.”

Old Man Zhao followed him toward the main hall. The house was his rental; he had already looked around yesterday and was familiar with the place. But the changes were remarkable. The courtyard and hall had been swept clean. Piles of clothes on the floor were laid on thin cloth, looking like little hillocks, piled high, chaotic yet orderly.

Liu Erlang led the way cautiously, his tone equally careful. “We made sure to avoid any families with sick members. Many hardworking women even washed the quilt covers and starched them overnight. They didn’t dare wash the winter coats—too thick and wouldn’t dry in a day. If some bedding feels a bit damp, please understand—it’s not from being used by a sick person, just not fully dried. Everything is clean.”

“Alright.” Old Man Zhao nodded. Seeing the visible relief on the other man’s face, he felt satisfied.

Hua Erniang had handled things well, taking his requirements to heart. If there was any grain left over after the exchange, he might even sell her an extra hundred catties or so.

And these people…

He picked up a child’s winter coat, felt its thickness, and brought it to his nose. No musty smell, no unpleasant sweat odor. The thickness was adequate—they must have aired it out yesterday. He noted they hadn’t secretly picked at the seams to remove cotton. Nodding with approval, he decided he could be generous when scooping out the grain.

“Is this one acceptable?” Liu Erlang grew nervous as Old Man Zhao held the coat in silence. The coat had two patches and frayed edges—if this didn’t pass, many of the items in the yard would likely fail.

“Acceptable.” Old Man Zhao folded the coat and put it back, smiling. “You and your wife have put a lot of effort into this. Everything looks good. I’m quite satisfied.”

“It’s the least we could do.” Liu Erlang led him to the pile of clothes from their own household, shaking out a padded mattress for inspection. “This is ours. The other families’ items are about this thickness. Take a look, old sir—if this standard is good, then I’ll know what’s expected. There are some poorer ones too. If even this doesn’t pass, I won’t bother showing you those.”

Old Man Zhao set his daughter on the ground, picked up the quilt with both hands, and gave it a few shakes, pinching it here and there. It wasn’t particularly thick or heavy, but it had some substance—not as good as the bedding his family had used in the last two years, but better than their early years’ winter quilts.

“This is fine.”

“And what about this one? It’s a bit worse.”

Old Man Zhao took it. As Liu Erlang said, it was indeed inferior. Standards for old clothes varied from family to family—some would pack away clothes after just two or three years; others would wear them until they were full of patches. Hua Erniang wasn't sure of their exact criteria, so she had everything brought over. They could just set aside what they didn't want—no forced exchanges.

Of course, Old Man Zhao didn’t take everything. He didn’t reject clothes full of patches; he only turned aside those with insufficient cotton filling or cotton that had hardened into lumps and couldn’t keep out the cold.

There were very few of those. After going through the piles, he only set aside two or three garments and one set of bedding. Old Man Zhao was satisfied, thinking these people were honest and had found reliable contacts.

The women found their respective piles and unloaded their baskets with difficulty, carefully laying out the folded clothes they had prepared at home. They were about to say goodbye and head home for another load when they heard the old man say, “Third, bring over a sack of grain.”

Old Man Zhao turned to the women. “Did you bring your grain bags? Since you’re here, don’t leave empty-handed. This pile on the ground—yours, right? Come, let me see how much grain I can give you…”