Chapter 330: Buying Bamboo

Village Chief Luo’s eyes lit up, and he stepped forward to push the crowd aside.

“Make some space! Which family’s man is this? Step forward.”

Li Xuemei followed the sound and looked over.

The crowd parted like flowing water to both sides.

An old man with a hunched back appeared before everyone.

He was one of the exiles^[1] sent by the lord to help them work.

Despite being watched by so many people, the old man didn’t seem uncomfortable at all.

With his head lowered, he was unremarkable.

But when he lifted his gaze, Li Xuemei was startled to catch a glint of sharpness in those cloudy eyes.

“You can do it?” Village Chief Luo asked.

The old man replied, “Let me see it.”

A woman beside him anxiously tugged at his sleeve.

His withered hand patted her gently twice, signaling her to relax.

She withdrew her hand, gathered a few children close, and stepped aside, shielding them with her thin frame.

Village Chief Luo placed the mold in the old man’s hands.

The old man weighed it first, then leaned in for a closer look at the materials, and finally glanced at the neatly lined holes.

He spat out two words: “I can.”

…

Li Xuemei brought the man to her house.

The village elders followed too, eager to find out whether he really could do it or was just bluffing.

Yan Xiangheng stepped up to host everyone.

Just from the old man’s mannerisms, Li Xuemei could tell he was someone of status in his past life.

But that wasn’t surprising. Ordinary folks wouldn’t end up exiled, and everyone hauled to Crouching Tiger’s quarry came with a background.

“Sir, how would you modify it?” Li Xuemei asked.

The old man had been sizing up Yan Xiangheng. Startled by her voice, he turned his gaze to her and studied her for a moment before replying, “Make the nail longer and the arrowhead shorter. Split the mold in two, then with precise craftsmanship, carve the inner shape to match what the master wants. Pour molten iron, and you’ll get your form.”

His shout outside earlier had been in native Guanzhou dialect.

But now, after speaking more, traces of a southern accent^[2] surfaced.

Li Xuemei took note. This man was from the south.

“After the mold is split, with suitable materials, the top part can be sealed and reused. It can cast both nails and arrowheads,” the old man added.

He still addressed Li Xuemei directly.

“If you need any tools, we’ll try our best to find them. We just need this done quickly,” Li Xuemei said decisively.

The old man thought to himself that his judgment had been right—this woman knew how to handle things.

“Most of what I need won’t be found here. Your village has a carpenter, right? I’ll go find anything useful myself,” he said, then added, “What type of arrowhead do you want to make? Do you have a sample? If not, even a rough sketch will do.”

He didn’t doubt someone in the village could draw it.

Those Arrow Towers and the village’s surrounding walls had all been built from blueprints—he had seen them from afar.

The villagers’ Bamboo Crossbows were all modeled after her family’s Iron Crossbows.

The arrows were nearly the same length.

A steel arrow to copy would be ideal, but she couldn’t bring one out.

“Heng’er, take him over to the Qi Family and see what might be useful. Ask your Fifth Uncle Qi to lend a hand when needed,” said Li Xuemei.

The old man raised an eyebrow. This woman was cautious.

Yan Xiangheng headed out with him.

Old Man Song couldn’t hold back and asked, “Second Yan’s wife^[3], what do you think? Can he really do it?”

“Uncle Song, I think he’s got some skill. He doesn’t seem like the type to talk big,” Li Xuemei replied.

Village Chief Luo was puzzled. “He was trying to make a deal with us just a moment ago. Why hasn’t he said a word now?”

Grandpa Hu said, “It’s better this way. Let him do the work first. If he manages it, we won’t short him. They’re all criminals exiled here—he probably doesn’t dare ask for anything outrageous. Most likely it’s just some food, or maybe housing. I noticed earlier, he and an old woman are together, taking care of a bunch of kids—some older, some younger, not a small group.”

Li Xuemei thought to herself, for someone exiled to Guanzhou to keep that many people alive—young and old both—was no small feat.

She couldn’t help but become more hopeful about his ability to produce arrowhead molds.

…

It took a lot of effort to finally split the mold.

The old man was exhausted.

He hadn’t done the heavy lifting, but he had to hold the mold in place the entire time and constantly adjust its alignment.

They managed to split it this fast thanks to the strength of the Qi brothers.

He couldn’t help giving them a few extra glances.

Old Mother Qi couldn’t see, but she could hear the sawing stop.

She told her oldest granddaughter to boil the noodles, and her second granddaughter to call everyone over to rest.

She wasn’t worried about her sons—this bit of labor wouldn’t wear them out.

But when she heard that the old man who said he could fix the mold was already up in age, she couldn’t help but worry. What if he wore himself out and ended up delaying things instead?

Just from the way he walked—those few unsteady steps—she could tell that his body was worn down, not strong at all.

The old man looked at the steaming bowl of noodles placed in front of him and swallowed hard.

Turning to glance outside the courtyard, he saw his wife wandering around with several children.

Everyone in Xiao’an Village was busy, working through the night until dawn.

Only the old, weak, sick, and handicapped were shown mercy, told to take a rest.

But those people had been scared witless by the hardships they’d endured. Who would dare stop now? They stayed up too, doing what little they could.

His wife was among them, shuffling and lifting things while constantly sneaking glances toward him.

Madam Qi was sharper than her dull-headed husband, Qi Da.

She chatted with Old Mother Qi, who quickly told her to bring the woman inside.

“Sister, where are you folks from?” Old Mother Qi asked, holding the woman’s hand.

“We’re from Yuzhou^[4],” the woman replied in a soft, gentle voice, clearly from the south.

“From the south, huh? It must be hard getting used to living here in Guanzhou.”

…

After just a few exchanged words, Old Mother Qi had already figured out a few things.

The old man’s family name was Kang. He used to enjoy a comfortable life, living at home like a proper elder. But then his son got into trouble, and the entire family was implicated^[5] and exiled to Guanzhou.

They’d been living here for two years now, barely hanging on.

The old couple had two sons, both working in the Quarry.

Their daughters-in-law had gone back to their parents’ homes and didn’t come with them.

They had five grandchildren—two girls and three boys.

The oldest was fifteen, the youngest just three years old.

Madam Qi listened from the side, glancing curiously at the children.

Which one was fifteen? They all looked like scrawny little kitten cubs.

But after looking at the elderly couple’s height… she started to understand.

The old man took his time eating that bowl of noodles, slowly and deliberately, and eventually found the chance to sneak a few bites to his grandchildren.

The Qi Family pretended not to notice.

…

Yan Lao’er and Yan Yu arrived in Guiyuan Town and didn’t dare waste a moment.

They went straight to the bamboo seller they had visited last time.

The man sold bamboo only in passing, as his main business was handmade bamboo wares.

Upon hearing they wanted to buy up all his bamboo, not only did he not feel happy, but instead grew wary. He insisted Yan Lao’er tell him exactly why they needed so much bamboo. If they couldn’t give a good explanation, he wouldn’t sell.

Yan Lao’er: …

“We’re using it to make paper^[6]!” Yan Yu jumped in to smooth things over.

Yan Lao’er reacted quickly and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, laughing awkwardly at the vendor.

Children’s innocent words were always more believable.

The man finally relaxed. So they weren’t competitors after all.

He agreed to sell.

(End of chapter)