Chapter 217: Planning to Buy Grain

Granny Rong sorted the herbs in the basket, grouping them neatly, then left in high spirits with the wild ginger.

Yan Yu’s gaze followed her and saw her dig a few small holes at the edge of the vegetable patch and bury the ginger.

Natural preservation—brilliant!

The siblings took the tender weeds they’d picked out and went to feed the goats. The three goats ambled over slowly and began to chew with lowered heads.

Two hens clucked their way over, lifting one leg and holding it mid-air before carefully setting it down again. Their bead-like little eyes seemed unsure whether to scrutinize the humans or the goats. After pecking at the tender grass a couple of times to test the waters, they pecked a few more times when they sensed no danger.

Suddenly, one of the rams let out a bleat and charged at them.

The two hens squawked and flapped away in a panic, kicking up a trail of hasty claw prints and a few scattered feathers.

The ram paid them no more mind and went back to grazing.

The two clueless hens clucked their way back in no time, and Yan Yu couldn’t take it anymore.

She waved her little hands to shoo them off.

“Go over there! Why do you keep running around here? Go to the vegetable patch and peck at the bugs!”

The two hens flapped and scattered in all directions but refused to head toward the garden…

Yan Xiangheng rubbed his forehead. If you chase chickens like that, how will they lay eggs? Let them wander if they want to.

“Xiao Er, didn’t you say you had something to discuss?” Yan Xiangheng called her over.

Yan Yu gave up arguing with the chickens and sprinted over.

Without even catching her breath, she said quickly, “Big Brother, let’s start stockpiling grain. There are so many refugees in Guanzhou, and everyone needs to eat. This area only harvests once a year, and after the grain tax and what families need for themselves, there’s not much left. What if they don’t sell us any? Or only a little? How much will the price shoot up then? We shouldn’t wait—let’s buy now.”

Yan Xiangheng fell into serious thought.

Whether they bought grain early or late, they’d still have to bear the price fluctuations.

Guanzhou had taken in so many refugees—so many mouths to feed.

Would there be enough grain to go around?

Whether they made a loss or a profit wasn’t as important as not going hungry.

Bringing the grain back now would give everyone peace of mind.

“I’ll go discuss this with the Village Elders,” Yan Xiangheng said.

“And also, Big Brother, we’ll have eight sacks of finished medicine by tomorrow. Why not send them to Crouching Tiger City and bring back some silver to distribute among the families?”

“I’ll take a trip to Crouching Tiger City tomorrow then,” Yan Xiangheng replied.

“Father bought a fishing net before, hoping to catch more fish from the river. Now that he’s not around, Big Brother, ask around the village to see who knows how to use it. Let’s make time each day to cast the net at the river, okay?”

“Mm, alright.” Yan Xiangheng nodded, finished the meal left for him in a few quick bites, and hurried out.

Village Chief Luo had recently taken to sitting by the big rock, weaving baskets and mats with his old companions.

After lunch, they’d all head out of their homes as if on cue and gather there.

Yan Xiangheng arrived early and had been leaning against the big rock for some time.

When Village Chief Luo spotted him, he quickened his steps and asked, “Heng boy, is something the matter?”

“Yes, Village Chief Grandpa, I have a few things to talk about,” Yan Xiangheng replied, carefully organizing his thoughts before explaining everything.

Before Village Chief Luo could respond, Old Song, who had been listening intently nearby, burst out, “We’ve got to buy grain early and stock up! When the time comes, you can always earn more silver, but if you run out of food, that’s a matter of life and death!”

Village Chief Luo nodded in agreement. “It’s a pressing issue. We’ll need to find out how to get to the surrounding towns. We’ll organize teams to buy from different places.”

A calm and prudent remark—well thought out.

With so many households in the village, even if each bought just a few jin of grain, it would still add up. Given the current situation in Crouching Tiger, and Yongning’s people unable to enter, they’d have to rely on the grain stores in various towns.

Such a large bulk purchase might overwhelm a single grain store. They might even hike the prices. Better to split up the purchases and avoid drawing attention.

As for the matters of casting the net and delivering medicine to Crouching Tiger, the elders hadn’t considered the potential silver they could earn. They were just thinking about Scholar. The moment they heard there were eight sacks of medicine ready, they immediately started organizing manpower to deliver them early the next morning.

After dinner, torches were lit by the big rock.

Village Chief Luo brought up the grain purchase and told each household to report the amount of grain they wanted to Yan Xiangheng. He also reminded everyone to take good care of the village’s mules and donkeys in the coming days.

He took the chance to highlight a few people who had been working especially hard lately, as well as families whose houses were nearly roofed, and gave them special praise.

Finally, he mentioned the fishing net.

He made it clear: the net belonged to the Yan family and couldn’t be used for free. Any fish caught had to be shared with them. He emphasized this point firmly—only those who actually knew how to fish should participate. Anyone who didn’t shouldn’t embarrass themselves.

After a full day’s labor, folks were ready to rest, but the talk of grain buying stirred them up again. Drowsiness vanished. With nearly the whole village gathered, heads clustered together, everyone began discussing it noisily.

Most wanted to know how much others were buying so they could gauge how much to buy themselves.

A few former mountain folk gathered around Uncle An.

“Uncle An, how much grain should we buy?”

Though everyone now belonged to the same village and had accepted Village Chief Luo as the head of their large community, old habits died hard. Especially for those born and raised in the mountains—they still trusted Uncle An, who had watched them grow up.

Uncle An was a cautious man. Aside from actively helping to take down the bandits, he went with the flow in all other matters, never seeking the spotlight, never stirring up trouble. Once in Guanzhou, he quietly followed Scholar Yan’s arrangements.

On the day they registered their new household status, those born and bred in the mountains were overwhelmed with emotion, itching to shout for joy.

But at the time, they were still outside Crouching Tiger City and had to swallow their excitement.

Since arriving here, they’d been busy measuring land, dividing plots, clearing fields, and planting vegetables.

The mountain folk poured all their joy and hope into the land that now belonged to them.

They were a bit slower at building houses, but when it came to clearing land, they were second to none. And as for foraging for herbs in the mountains—well, that was their specialty.

When it came to the Work Points recorded under Physician Cui, these men were all at the top of the list.

Uncle An hesitated.

Mountain folk had few chances to earn real silver.

The silver they’d received before, once it was in their pockets, they could barely bring themselves to spend a single coin.

Just like Yan Yu said—money that might as well be dead.

They still had some left, and with the generous rations granted by the lord, they could scrape by for a few more months if they tightened their belts.

Besides, they had the mountain at their backs—the environment they knew best.

Some had already caught wild hares and pheasants, even hedgehogs and squirrels. Mountain folk weren’t picky; if it was edible, it went in the pot.

And this season, the hills were full of wild greens. They’d already started gathering them with the same care and skill they’d honed over the years.

By their calculations, they didn’t really need to buy grain.

But…

Things weren’t the same anymore.

They no longer lived in the mountains. They had land now, and were building earthen homes at the foot of the hill.

Should they still live the old way?

Or was it time to start learning from others, to begin changing?

A conflicted look surfaced on Uncle An’s face.

The men gathered around him couldn’t make sense of the emotions shifting across his features.

“Buy!” He finally made up his mind.

“However much the others are buying, we’ll buy the same. We’ve got more silver than they do—whatever amount they report, we’ll match it.”

By “the others,” he meant the refugees who had suffered at the hands of the bandits. In the past distributions, those families had received the least.

If even they were willing to spend on grain—

Then surely, grain was worth buying.

The truth was, they longed for a life off the mountain, but didn’t know how to live it well. The only way was to quietly observe and learn from those around them.

Once Uncle An spoke, the others drifted off to hover around Yan Xiangheng, trying to get a sense of how much everyone else was reporting.

And Yan Xiangheng? He was utterly swamped.

What was supposed to be a simple task of grain registration for just over a hundred households made him feel like he was managing three hundred.

One person would finish registering, only to run back moments later asking to change their count.

The next would hear that and ask to change theirs too.

Someone in the middle of registering would suddenly panic, begging him to wait—they needed to go home and discuss it with the family again…

Madam Qi Da found Li Xuemei.

“Sister,” she asked, “how much grain is your family buying? Got it figured out?”

Li Xuemei nodded. “The kids worked it out. I’ll show you.”

She pulled out a sheet of paper, both sides covered in bold characters, with every inch of white space crammed with tiny notes. Even the narrow gaps were filled in with charcoal scribbles.

Li Xuemei read it out loud. The list detailed how much grain they needed to get through the winter.

Fine rice, white flour, coarse grains, wholemeal, assorted beans—everything listed clearly.

Madam Qi Da was dizzy by the end.

Too many categories—she couldn’t keep any of it straight.

“Sister, do you have a total? Just give me a final number,” she whispered, tugging Li Xuemei’s hand. “Mother said we’re not going to rack our brains—we’ll just buy five times what your family’s getting.”

She lowered her voice, embarrassed. “Even then I’m not sure it’ll be enough.”

Li Xuemei paused for a moment.

Then gave her the total.

Madam Qi Da left beaming.

She went and chatted with Old Madam Qi for a while, and they agreed they’d go last to report their count, quietly and discreetly.

Everyone in the village knew the three men in the Qi family were big eaters, but no one knew exactly how much. Better to keep it hidden, just like Mother said—hide their bottomless stomachs, and hide the family’s silver too. No need for everyone to know so clearly.

That night, Yan Xiangheng barely slept.

Partly from excitement—he’d see his father tomorrow.

But mostly from a headache over the village’s wildly fluctuating grain numbers.

Before dawn the next day, Madam Qi Da thought she’d sneak over early to report her family’s count before anyone else arrived.

She hadn’t expected to see a huddle of dark shapes squatting in front of the Yan family’s courtyard.

Good heavens!

Lucky she was bold—someone with a weaker heart might’ve died on the spot.

“What are you all doing squatting out here?” she asked, voice shaky but recovering.

“Qi Da’s wife? Why are you here? Where’s Qi Da?” asked Hu Da.

“He stayed late to burn charcoal yesterday—slept in the woods, hasn’t come back yet,” Madam Qi Da said.

Hu Da nodded, a bit envious that Qi Da and his brothers could work with Yan Lao’er on the charcoal burning project.

The longer they stayed in Guanzhou, the more they realized how valuable charcoal was.

Come winter, if you were willing to work hard, there was still money in charcoal. But not for them—they’d be like Master Lu said, curled up like cats with nothing to do.

“I wanted to change our number. Thought it was too low after sleeping on it.”

The Hu family had already adjusted their number several times. Hu Da and Hu Er had taken the children’s slingshots away, and when they went into the mountains for herbs, anything with fur rarely made it out alive.

With steady meat coming in, their grain consumption dropped.

They’d mixed in wild greens too. Initially, they planned to buy just enough to get by.

But word spread quickly in the village—they heard how much this family was buying, and how that one had increased their count. So they upped theirs too.

Then someone brought up the refugees again, and they started worrying there might not be enough grain to go around. The whole family talked it over deep into the night and decided to stock up while they could.

Unlike most households in the village, the Hu family didn’t need to scrimp on silver. Every time the village had taken down bandits, the brothers had been there. They’d earned more than their share.

With silver came confidence.

Hu Er had said it best—“What are we afraid of? It’s all windfall money. Keeping our bellies full is what matters. This is our first winter in Guanzhou—who knows what it’ll be like? Even if we overstock, we’ll still eat it next year.”

With that, Hu Da made the rounds again.

He visited families they were close with—some from their old village, others among the former mountain folk—men who had fought bandits together and forged unbreakable bonds.

Several families had wanted to revise their grain numbers and couldn’t wait any longer, so they simply came and waited outside the courtyard.

Standing grew tiring, so naturally, they all squatted down.

No one said another word.

Madam Qi Da had gone home and come back again.

By the time a faint light crept over the morning sky, they saw someone approaching quickly from a distance.

As the figure drew near, they saw it was Madam Rong, who worked as a helper in the Yan household.

Madam Rong looked at them, a hint of curiosity on her face.

Madam Qi Da spoke first, “We’re here to talk to Brother Heng about the grain numbers. Don’t worry, we’ll keep our voices down and not disturb anyone.”

Madam Rong nodded and went inside.

Soon, she had the stove lit and breakfast cooking…

Yan Yu felt like a swarm of flies was buzzing at her ears—an endless droning.

She waved her hand aimlessly and rolled over, her face landing squarely on Maomao.

Maomao couldn’t even be bothered to move. He cracked an eye open slightly, then promptly closed it again.

Waking up to a face full of cat—what did it feel like?

Bliss! Pure happiness!

Yan Yu opened her eyes at last and finally made out the source of that maddening hum.

Voices. All voices.

She listened for a few moments, then threw the blanket over her head.

Again?

Still with the grain numbers!

This issue just wouldn’t die.

Never mind everything else—Big Brother had already gone through several sheets of paper.

Just watching from the side made her heart ache.

Suddenly, she threw back the covers and sat up, her little face full of solemn resolve.

This couldn’t go on.

That paper—they weren’t cheap!

After a quick wash, she couldn’t even wait for Big Sister Daya to braid her hair. She just gathered it up roughly herself and ran straight toward the source of the noise.

“Big Brother, let me handle the records,” Yan Yu said.

With that, she rescued Yan Xiangheng from the crowd. With a quick flick of her wrist, she revealed a charcoal pencil.

Clearly, she’d come prepared.

“One at a time. Line up properly.”

The Yan family’s Xiao Er stood tall and serious, looking every bit the part.

If you ignored the messy hair, that is.

Unlike the ever-polite and affable Brother Heng, Yan Yu—having helped with the books and the money distribution more than once—had, without realizing it, given everyone a sense of calm, a feeling that she could be trusted.

Hu Da said, “Line up, everyone. Get in line.”

And naturally, he stepped up to be first.

Grinning, he said, “Xiao Er, revise Uncle Hu Da’s number—add three hundred more jin.”

(End of chapter)