Chapter 237: Jars, Crocks, Urns, and Salt

While Doctor An and the other physicians were discussing how to revise the prescription, Liang Manshan made a dash back into the city. He found the pottery shopkeeper’s home, inquired about the prices of large jars, crocks, and urns, and asked how many they had in stock.

Then he hurried back to report the prices to Yan Lao’er.

“Manshan, you’re really quick! All right then—let’s take all of his large jars. As for the crocks and urns, let’s start with thirty each. That shop makes their own pottery, right?”

He made a measuring gesture with his hands. “Do they have any smaller ones, about this big?”

“They don’t have finished ones that size, but I think they could make some. I’ll ask later. But are you sure we can actually sell that many in our village?” Liang Manshan was a bit worried. Just transporting those dozens of large jars would be a hassle. What if no one wanted them after all that trouble?

“Hey! I’m telling you, Manshan, you really don’t know how to live. These big jars are a treasure. You think they’re just for storing water? No way—you can make sauces, pickle vegetables… Over in Guanzhou, every household needs to have some. You pickle autumn vegetables, seal them up tight, and they’ll last you the whole winter.”

Yan Lao’er gave him a disdainful look, then earnestly explained, “You should listen to me and get a few more. Once we’ve harvested the veggies from the fields, I’ll teach you how to pickle them. We’ll store up a dozen jars or so—once we’re holed up for the winter, what’s there to worry about? Sitting by the heated brick bed, eating pickled veg every day… and we’ll stash away some fish and meat too—just imagine how sweet life would be!”

“Ah—almost forgot! While you’re in the city, see if there’s any place selling salt—coarse and fine, both kinds. If the price is right, I’ll stock up. Perfect chance to haul it all back.”

He shifted his seat right onto the ground. “This one’s urgent. I’m completely out of salt at home. Could you make one more run for me, Manshan? I’ll wait here.”

Liang Manshan was still thinking about the pickled vegetables. It all sounded pretty reasonable. Compared to Brother Huai’an, he really wasn’t very good at this whole living thing—or rather, not good at living the Guanzhou way.

Just look at Brother Huai’an—he had adapted so well.

“What do you need that much salt for?” Yan Huaiwen asked.

Yan Lao’er grinned. “Haha! The village kids went to the riverbank reeds to catch wild ducks—not a single duck, but they came back with a load of wild duck eggs. We traded for a bunch. I want to make salted duck eggs.”

“And we netted fish from the river—oh right, you guys don’t know about this. I only found out after I got back. We bought fishing nets in Yongning City, and now they’ve come in handy. Some villagers know how to use them—we provided the nets, they provided the labor, and we split the catch. I got home and—whoa! Fish drying everywhere.”

“Dried fish just left out in the sun and fish that’s salted then dried—completely different flavors.”

“And there’s the pickled veg too—everything needs salt. After setting aside what we’ll use ourselves, I’ll bring some back for the villagers too. Of course I’ve got to buy more.”

Yan Huaiwen nodded.

He’d heard before that winters in Guanzhou were tough. After the autumn harvest, people had to stockpile food to get through the season.

Liang Manshan couldn’t help but admire him. Brother Huai’an really had foresight.

“You’re right, Brother Huai’an—we should buy more of those jars. Just remember, once autumn comes, you promised to teach me how to pickle vegetables.”

Liang Manshan looked serious. He wasn’t just saying it—he genuinely wanted to learn.

“Don’t worry—I’ll make sure you learn.” Yan Lao’er promised.

“We’ve already dug a root cellar at my place, and I spoke to your father about it too. When the time comes, we’ll dig one for your family too, for storing grain and vegetables.”

In high spirits, Liang Manshan headed back to the city for salt.

Yan Huaiwen whispered, “Just get a modest amount. Salt’s cheaper in Changping and Linhai Prefectures.”

Yan Lao’er nodded in understanding.

The closer you got to the sea, the cheaper salt became—though of course, it wasn’t official salt.

Government salt was fixed in price. But out here, far from the imperial court, most of what was sold was a mix of official and private salt.

The authorities turned a blind eye. No one really cracked down.

So even the price of salt could be negotiated.

The physicians soon finalized the new prescription and brought it over.

Yan Lao’er flipped through it—he recognized all the ingredients, which put his mind at ease.

He’d bought these herbs before, so at least he wouldn’t be overcharged.

When Liang Manshan returned, he brought back one shi of coarse salt, along with twenty jin of refined salt.

A shi was a hundred jin, so together he had a total of 120 jin of salt.

He also brought back the large jars Yan Lao’er had wanted.

Liang Manshan grinned. “You take a few back first and start using them. We’ll settle up in a couple of days.”

Yan Lao’er thought, Is there really such a good deal?

Use now, pay later?

But it made sense—it was thanks to Liang Manshan’s reputation. They weren’t worried about not getting paid.

He almost insisted on paying up front—technically, they should’ve put down a deposit for such a big order. But in the end, he held his tongue. Manshan meant well.

On the ox cart, four large jars were securely tied down. Yan Lao’er and Qi Si each cradled a crock, while four urns were wrapped in straw and stuffed into the mouths of the big jars for safe transport.

The 120 jin of salt was packed between the jars, double-bagged several times over.

And he hadn’t forgotten what his daughter had told him over and over again—he’d brought back all the bags the medicine had come in.

They were perfect to stuff between the jars as padding.

Once they got back to the village, Yan Lao’er didn’t rush Sanbao to pull into the yard.

Right there by the big stone, he carefully unloaded one large jar onto the ground, followed by the crocks and urns.

Let the show begin.

The jars were the largest, crocks second, urns smallest.

Laid out side by side, the size difference was easy to see at a glance.

Then he told everyone the price in copper coins. People could place orders based on what they needed.

Yan Lao’er felt a pang of regret that his daughter wasn’t here, nor his eldest nephew or niece. He had to do the bookkeeping himself—until he suddenly spotted Liang Fengnian.

“Fengnian! Come here—help your uncle keep track. Note down who wants what, and how many.”

Liang Fengnian didn’t question it. He cheerfully pulled out his notebook and pen.

A few of the old-timers who always sat by the big stone came over and began to inspect the goods.

“These jars are kind of rough—not as good as the ones made by that craftsman in our town.”

“Your eyes must be getting old—look carefully. It’s not about the craftsmanship; it’s the clay. Not fine enough. Here, touch it if you don’t believe me.”

“You’re right! Still sharp-eyed, I see.”

“It’s a few coins cheaper than what we get back home. Who cares if it’s pretty or not—so long as it does the job.”

“Materials are solid, though.”

“My household needs two—just one won’t be enough.”

“Gotta get a crock too. Let me check if the base is sealed well…” Grandpa Hu lifted the crock and examined the bottom for a long while before saying, “Nice and thick. Shouldn’t crack in the fire.”

He planned to use it for stewing meat—tastes better than in an iron pot.

Hu Dahu and Hu Er, his two grandsons, always had slingshots on them when they went into the mountains. They brought back wild game almost every day. Their family’s meals were among the best in the village.

Grandpa Hu didn’t skimp—he ordered three large jars, four crocks, and four urns.

Village Chief Luo set his eyes on the big jars too and ordered three, plus three crocks.

The old men all jumped in one after another.

No one passing by could resist stopping to join in.

Inside the courtyard, Li Xuemei heard the commotion and came out to have a look. She saw Fengnian busily jotting things down, looking every bit the part.

He seemed to have gotten the hang of it.

He didn’t even need to look up—just glanced around and noted down what was needed without anyone having to report their name.
(End of chapter)