Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Outside, several grown men were dragging a young man, who struggled desperately, yanking the two men holding him off-balance and even tearing his own sleeve.

The other two men watching nearby were clearly startled and reached out to help, but out of nowhere a burly farmer appeared, struck the young man across the face, and started cursing vulgarities.

The young man seemed to have the strength knocked out of him by the slap. He was subdued by several men and his hands were tied. Someone nearby who couldn't stand it asked, "What are you doing? Forcibly kidnapping a young man is against the law."

Though the young man looked tall and strong, he was still a young man, and being bullied like this in the street wasn't right.

One of the older men in the group defended themselves: "We're not kidnapping anyone. This young man's biological father owed a debt he couldn't repay and wanted to sell him to pay it off. The young man ran away halfway, so we had to catch him."

He pointed at the farmer: "See, that's his father. This is a family matter, none of us can interfere. I advise you all not to interfere either."

The commotion had drawn a crowd, and people near the shop were peeking out to watch. Hearing the explanation, those who wanted to step in fell silent, though they looked at the young man with pity.

It was still cold enough for people to be wearing quilted jackets, yet the young man wore only a thin, patched old garment. His sleeves were torn, revealing bruised and frostbitten skin with chapped, purple frostbite marks. He looked pitiful.

The farmer kept cursing the young man for being unfilial, until the young man suddenly headbutted him. No one expected the young man to still have some fight left in him, and he tried to run again while everyone was off guard.

The crowd gasped, but with his hands tied, he didn't get far before being caught. His father, furious, kicked him hard to the ground and was about to kick again when the debt collectors stopped him.

"Enough. Hurry up and deliver him so we can get our silver. If you break his face and no one wants him, how will you repay the debt? By breaking a hand or a foot?"

The young man's face scraped hard against the ground. Hearing this, it seemed to give him an idea, and he recklessly tried to smash his face into the ground.

Just then, a clear, crisp voice interrupted, stopping everyone's actions: "Wait. I'll buy this young man. How much silver?"

Kong He looked sharply toward the speaker, seeing a handsome young man. His fierce, desperate gaze paused, and a confused expression appeared on his face.

The debt collectors were also stunned. Who would step in and take over like this? They looked at Kong He. This young man wasn't good-looking.

But whatever—they just wanted to get paid quickly. Seeing that Zhong Yizhu had come out of a shop and looked well-off, not like someone joking, the leader didn't wait for Kong Dashan to speak: "Originally, a landlord offered eight taels of silver to buy him as a long-term laborer. But then a wealthy man from the west side of town saw him, said the young man was strong and low-maintenance, and offered nine taels to take him as a concubine. We were about to deliver him."

Kong Dashan angrily kicked Kong He again: "Useless thing! Going to a rich family as a concubine is better than working in the fields—I had your best interests at heart. Run again, see where you can go."

The crowd pointed fingers at Kong Dashan. With the young man's looks, no one would deliberately spend money to take him as a concubine. You could buy someone from the slave market for the same price. Likely, the excuse of "sturdy" was false; the real motive was some perverse pleasure in tormenting.

Tsk tsk. Pushing his own son to death—no wonder the young man ran.

But as the debt collectors said, it was a family matter; no one had the right to interfere. So all eyes turned to Zhong Yizhu, who had offered to buy the man.

Zhong Yizhu glanced at the young man without any particular expression. He simply said to the debt collectors: "I need a helper for my shop. I took a liking to this young man. I'll offer nine taels of silver. The young man belongs to me, and you can take the money and settle the matter."

The men exchanged glances, thinking it was a good deal. The young man was too troublesome, too strong. They were exhausted and just wanted to be done. Money was money, and in the end, Kong Dashan wouldn't see a single coin—it all belonged to them.

The debt collectors had no objections. Kong He, who had been despairing, felt a spark of hope at the young man's words, though he was still wary and couldn't fully believe it.

But Kong Dashan wasn't willing.

He had been counting on Kong He to support him after going to a wealthy household. He didn't want to sell Kong He to a mere young man.

Kong He roared in hatred: "If you force me into the Zhang family, I swear I'll go in horizontal tomorrow. If I accidentally injure that old Zhang, don't come crying when his family comes after you!"

His eyes were bloodshot, glaring at Kong Dashan. Every penny he earned had been stripped away by Kong Dashan, who was addicted to gambling, and now, deep in debt, he had sold the fields, the land, and now his son.

Kong He had thought about selling himself, to repay the debt of being raised, to find liberation. He was strong; working as a long-term laborer for the Wang landlord, he had earned the favor of the steward. He had spoken to the steward, who had asked the master and agreed. But Kong Dashan, for an extra tael of silver, insisted on selling him to an old man older than Kong Dashan.

Kong He had never looked like a typical young man; no man liked him. But even so, he would rather die than become the concubine of that old wreck.

The crowd could no longer hold back their curses. Wasn't there a young man willing to buy him? Selling him as a shop helper was far better than being a concubine. How could a father do this?

Besides, selling himself would fetch a lower price. This Boss Zhong was doing a good deed. *Sigh*...

Someone in the crowd had heard of the Zhang family from the west side of town—every two months, a sick maid or young man would be carried out dead. They were family slaves, so no one pursued it. Hearing this, more people cursed Kong Dashan.

The debt collectors, having seen the young man's fierce determination, didn't want to deal with further trouble. They pressured Kong Dashan into agreeing.

Kong Dashan was harsh toward Kong He but groveled before the debt collectors, his sturdy frame shrinking. When their leader shouted at him, he immediately changed his tune, flattering: "You're right, you're right. Sell him, sell him now."

Zhong Yizhu glanced at the young man still on the ground. The young man let go of his resistance and said hoarsely, "I won't run again."

The debt collectors released him. The young man stood up, head down, limping behind Zhong Yizhu. The original contract of sale was unusable, so Zhong Yizhu took it and rewrote the buyer's name and details, then had Kong He press his fingerprint.

He didn't let these people into the shop. He handled everything crisply and decisively from start to finish. The debt collectors, seeing that this young man operated a large shop on his own, didn't dare underestimate him.

The contract was finalized. Zhong Yizhu took out the silver and handed it directly to the debt collectors. Turning, he saw Kong Dashan eyeing the shop greedily. He coldly said, "Get lost."

"That's right, get lost! Filthy-hearted scum, get lost!" The remaining onlookers were shopkeepers and clerks from nearby stores. Zhong Yizhu had good relationships, and many spoke up for him. Kong Dashan, seeing this, had no choice but to slink away.

Kong He stared fixedly at the red fingerprint on the contract. After a long moment, he folded it and tucked it into his chest. He didn't look at Kong Dashan again, only bowed his head nervously, waiting for his new master's orders.

He didn't know what awaited him. He only knew he wasn't worth that much silver. This was his only chance at life. He had to gamble.

"Come in."

Zhong Yizhu entered the shop first. His voice was gentler addressing him than it had been with Kong Dashan. But Kong He didn't dare relax. He followed closely into the shop, not letting his eyes wander, and asked softly, "May I ask what I should do, young master?"

Zhong Yizhu paused. "No need to call me that. Just call me Boss."

"Yes, Boss," Kong He replied quickly.

Zhong Yizhu led him to the back courtyard and had him sit at a table.

Kong He had only worked the fields as a laborer, never served wealthy people, and didn't know any etiquette. He did whatever Zhong Yizhu told him, but his heart was full of fear, and it showed on his face.

Zhong Yizhu brought out a wooden box from a room. Seeing Kong He hurriedly stand up to greet him, he sighed inwardly. According to the contract, Kong He had just turned seventeen—younger than him.

Zhong Yizhu was already tall for a young man, but Kong He was half a head taller, though as skinny as a rail. He probably hadn't had many full meals. It was a wonder where he got so much strength.

Zhong Yizhu placed the box on the table and opened it, revealing various medicines for injuries. He pressed Kong He's shoulder to make him sit and handed him the medicine: "This is for external injuries. My husband says it works well. For places you can't reach, I'll help. The shop is unattended, so I need to mind it. If you're uncomfortable because of your injuries, go into the inner room. Don't skimp on the medicine; there are more of the same kind in the box."

Kong He was still dazed. He tried to process Zhong Yizhu's words, but the more he heard, the more it felt like a fantasy before dying.

Zhong Yizhu briefly explained his situation and the tasks Kong He might be given in the future. Only then did Kong He snap back to reality. A thank-you caught in his throat. He still couldn't believe he had such good fortune.

Zhong Yizhu turned to leave, then a soft voice floated back, gentle but firm:

"Don't be afraid, He Geer. Everything will be fine."

The courtyard door closed. Kong He sat at the table, clutching the medicine bottle in his hand, sobbing uncontrollably.

...

Pei Mu's spices had been mostly sold by noon, thanks in large part to the large order from the Ran family incense shop.

It was nearly noon. The mingled smells of various foods drifted through the air—nearby stall owners buying lunches, or those who had brought their own dry rations and bought hot soup.

He didn't know many people around and didn't trust anyone to watch his stall. Fortunately, he had brought two flatbreads from home to tide him over. He'd eat after packing up later.

Suddenly, the aroma of meat wafted past his nose, and Pei Mu recognized it as his favorite noodle shop. He deliberately didn't look in that direction, so he wouldn't start craving it.

But the scent seemed to grow closer, swirling around him.

At the same time, a young, clear voice rang out.

"Mr. Pei, are you Pei Mu?"

Somewhat surprised, Pei Mu looked up. Before him stood a round-faced young man holding a bowl of noodles, sweat beading on his nose. Pei Mu hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I am Pei Mu."

The young man, relieved he hadn't mistaken the person, smiled and said, "Your husband asked me to buy this bowl of noodles for you, with extra meat. I ran all the way here, so the noodles haven't clumped up. Please eat up."

The young man didn't lower his voice, and instantly, everyone around shot them envious looks.

Pei Mu took the still-steaming bowl, and before even taking a bite, his heart was already warm. A rare smile appeared on his usually cold face. "Thank you."

The young man wiped his sweat. "You're welcome, sir. Just give me the bowl back when you're done, and I'll return it."

Seeing Pei Mu's relaxed expression, the young man added, both as flattery and truthfully, "You and your husband are truly devoted to each other—the envy of everyone around."

Pei Mu just hummed back and lowered his head to eat the noodles in big mouthfuls.

That afternoon, the stall owners around clearly noticed Pei Mu was in a much better mood. In particular, when a difficult customer kept nitpicking and complaining, trying to haggle even after Pei Mu had twice made it clear there was no bargaining, Pei Mu simply said in an unchanged tone, "No bargaining. Go check out another stall."

In the morning, a similar customer was glared away by Pei Mu after the second inquiry! In fact, even when silent, the way Pei Mu carried himself intimidated them, which was why other spice stall owners had never considered sending ruffians to mess with his business.

Everyone had felt Pei Mu's personality was totally unsuited for business, yet somehow his business did pretty well. By afternoon, another spice shop owner came to inspect the goods and placed an order directly with Pei Mu. Since there was no stock on hand, Pei Mu agreed to deliver to the shop the next day, and the deal was done.

By now, the other spice stall owners realized something was off. If Pei Mu had indeed, as they assumed, bought spice materials from Rongyang Prefecture just to prove a point, then selling such large quantities to fellow traders while reducing their costs—while increasing his own shop's costs—would that not be driving his own new shop into a corner? Was Pei Mu really that stupid?

Li Youming stared intently at the remaining spices in Pei Mu's box. He sent someone to buy some, and as soon as he handled them, he noticed the difference between these and the spices from Anchuan Prefecture.

Everyone had been fooled—they had been completely outwitted by Pei Mu's brazen move.

How could he have such guts? Where had he gotten these new spices? Was he really that principled that he'd completely abandon their spices?

The crowd exchanged bewildered looks. Their previous composure had been built on a false understanding of Pei Mu, believing he would eventually destroy himself.

But if Pei Mu could consistently supply such good-quality spices at reasonable prices, would their own businesses still have a future?