Chapter 264: Wind in the Face, Headache Incoming

Yan Lao’er had to maneuver several times before he finally managed to wedge his raft into the narrow gap between two boats.

A man on the shore gestured for him to toss over the reins.

Once the man expertly tied them to a mooring post, he turned to inspect the raft in front of him with a discerning eye.

“Not bad, brother. You’ve used solid materials. Two layers of rolling logs on a single raft, and these side panels too… I gotta say, it’s pretty effective.”

He made his living by the water and could tell at a glance what those side panels were for. One look behind the raft confirmed it—no splashing water had gotten in. He knew exactly what was what.

“I’m the dockmaster here at the inner dock. See that boat over there? Remember it. If I’m not around next time, just hand the copper coins to my wife there.”

Yan Lao’er looked reluctant. “I didn’t bring any cargo. Shouldn’t I be counted as running empty? I heard rafts pay less than boats…”

The dockmaster didn’t get upset. He figured this country bumpkin was probably visiting Changping for the first time, and all the information he’d gotten was outdated by years.

“Whoever told you that probably hasn’t been to Changping in ages. That’s old news. These days, we don’t care if it’s a raft or a boat. We look at size and how much you can carry. Look at your raft—wide as it is, it’s not much smaller than that boat next to you.

And don’t try to fool me. I’ve lived and worked at this dock since I was a kid. I can tell what you’re here for with one look.”

Yan Lao’er pointed at himself, confused. “What am I here for?”

The dockmaster gave him a knowing look. “To sell cattle, of course. Why else would you bring it here? Don’t tell me you think the grass in Changping tastes better and brought it here to graze?”

Yan Lao’er was speechless.

He gave up trying to argue.

“Dockmaster, cut me some slack. I’m really not selling the cow. Just count me as running empty,” he pleaded in a low voice.

The man glanced around. Seeing only familiar faces nearby, he lowered his voice too. “I’m saying this for your own good. Pay the copper here and I’ll give you a token. When you enter the city, you won’t have to pay the cow tax again. Just cover the two of you.

Otherwise, the city guards won’t be so easy to deal with.”

“If I’ve got the token, I don’t have to pay the cow tax at the gate?” Yan Lao’er asked.

“The cow’s covered, but you still have to pay for yourselves,” the dockmaster said firmly. He was convinced Yan Lao’er was here to sell the cow and wasn’t about to let that tax slip through the cracks.

He was in charge of this inner dock and had to submit monthly reports. The bigger boats paid more, so those working the inner dock paid less.

Unfortunately, ever since trouble broke out in Gufeng, there hadn’t been much traffic coming through.

“By the way, where are you coming from?” the dockmaster suddenly asked, stepping back warily.

Yan Lao’er knew exactly what he was worried about and quickly replied, “My son and I came from Crouching Tiger.”

“Crouching Tiger City?” The dockmaster was surprised. “That’s not close. Coming here was fine, but getting back’s gonna be a real haul.”

“No choice. We used to go to Gufeng, but the road’s no good now… Didn’t stop anywhere along the way, just came straight to Changping.”

The dockmaster nodded in understanding.

“Brother, let me tell you, selling cattle in Changping is worth it. The road’s long and rough, sure, but you’ll get a better price here than in Gufeng.” He lowered his voice. “Just don’t buy anything you don’t absolutely need. Prices here are steep.”

Yan Lao’er: …

Why are you so sure I’m here to sell the cow?

He figured that was enough arguing and reluctantly handed over the copper coins, putting on a pained expression. In return, he received a token.

One side of the bamboo token was carved with the character for “livestock.” The other side, in smaller script, bore the character for “inner.”

Yan Lao’er repeatedly asked the dockmaster to keep an eye on his raft.

The dockmaster thought, *Who’d want to steal that sorry thing?*

But since he’d taken the man’s money, he promised kindly, “No problem. Leave it to me.”

Father and daughter led the cow away from the dock.

Yan Yu studied the bamboo token for a while and said, “This token’s been used for quite a while, huh? The color doesn’t look like fresh bamboo.”

The ink had started to blur a bit too. Of course, that could’ve been from getting splashed by the river or something similar.

“Looks like it’s been around for a year or two at least,” Yan Lao’er estimated.

“Do you think there’s a place in Changping that sells bamboo?” Yan Yu asked. Her interest in the token had a purpose.

The Northern Rong’s raid on their village had taught them a hard lesson.

Crouching Tiger City’s border defenses had a gap, and that gap lay in the mountain range right behind their village.

Building watchtowers and high walls around the village wasn’t something that could be done overnight.

Until then, they needed something to protect themselves.

The first thing that came to mind was the bamboo crossbow.

Bows were hard to master. Bamboo crossbows were easier to use. In their village, nearly everyone, young and old, knew how to handle one.

Engaging the Northern Rong in direct combat was too dangerous. Those savages were deadly accurate with a bow. Without crossbows of their own, they were at a huge disadvantage.

“We’ll have to ask around properly,” Yan Lao’er said. “Your uncle said the same thing. Once things calm down, we can make more. Letting them sneak into the village like that—it was too close. If we’re careful with how we use them, I doubt he’d object.”

“We can practice both. Use bows normally, and switch to crossbows when needed,” Yan Yu suggested.

Yan Lao’er shook his head. “Hopefully we’ll never need them. But having them ready doesn’t hurt.”

Father and daughter reached an agreement.

They had also arrived outside Changping City.

Changping governed two towns, including Linhai, which boasted two natural harbors.

Two rivers flowed in from the west and south.

Cross the river to the west of the city and you’d reach Yongning.

The southern river connected directly to Gufeng.

It was this river the Yan family had crossed.

They entered the city through the south gate. There weren’t many people coming or going.

It wasn’t long before they reached the front of the line.

The city guard took one look at their Bamboo Token and, as expected, only asked for the head tax.

But the head tax was a bit steep.

Even little Yan Yu was counted as an adult and charged three copper coins.

For the two of them, that came to six coins.

“When we get the chance, we really need to calculate whether it’s better to travel by water or by land,” said Yan Lao’er. “Add in the cost of the raft, Sanbao’s share, ours…”

“Dad! Didn’t we already do the math back home? Water travel is definitely better. We can haul more stuff that way. Even if you save on inn fees by taking the Official Road, you still have to pay at the city gate,” Yan Yu said.

“The boatman already told us—if we don’t pay him, we’ll have to pay here. And if we didn’t bring Sanbao, we’d have to hire a cart to haul our goods back to the dock after shopping… It all adds up the same, Dad.”

Yan Lao’er sighed. “The moment you step out the door, money starts flying out of your pockets.”

He patted the half-root of ginseng tucked in his chest. “Come on, let’s head to the pharmacy first.”

Having done this a few times before, Yan Lao’er quickly narrowed down a few pharmacies and started going in and out of them.

One of the shopkeepers recognized the country bumpkin with the kid and chuckled. “Back again, old fellow? See, the price I offered you was fair. That ginseng of yours is missing a chunk. Wealthy clients only want whole roots. They won’t even consider yours. Only pharmacies like us will take it, slice it up into thin pieces, and sell it bit by bit.”

“It’s just a small piece missing, and you’re cutting the price that much?” Yan Lao’er complained, face full of grievance.

The shopkeeper hadn’t liked him much at first.

What kind of person digs up ginseng and doesn’t sell it right away? Hiding it like a treasure, fine. But treating it like a big white radish from the field and even cutting off a piece to eat?

Such a waste!

But after watching him go from shop to shop, bargaining and hesitating with a face full of conflict and reluctance, the shopkeeper couldn’t help but find it amusing.

His mood improved, and with it, his patience.

“What do you expect me to do? Whole roots sell better, and we don’t have to cut the price. But for your half-root, I have to slice it thin and sell it piece by piece. You think this is a radish, sold by the jin? Ginseng isn’t something just anyone can afford.”

“Here, take a look.” The shopkeeper turned around and pulled out a drawer labeled for ginseng slices, then opened the tightly wrapped box inside.

He held up a few slices, pinched delicately through a cloth, and showed them from a distance.

“Look closely. This thin slice—just one or two of these go into a single prescription. Most formulas don’t even use ginseng.

Now you tell me, how many slices can your half-root make? How long do you think it’ll take me to sell them all?”

Yan Yu thought the shopkeeper made a good point.

That was the time cost of holding inventory.

She looked over at her father.

Yan Lao’er was a merchant himself—how could he not understand?

Well, a small-time merchant was still a merchant.

“Shopkeeper, can’t you go a little higher?” he asked, still unwilling to give up.

The shopkeeper chuckled, eyes narrowing into slits.

Anyone watching would think he was being asked to sell his own flesh, judging by that pained expression.

“Alright, I’ll sweeten the deal a bit. But stop running around to every shop, will you? You look exhausted. Five qian. That’s thirty-five taels and five qian!”

Yan Lao’er’s expression shifted through a storm of emotions before he finally forced out, “Fine. I want silver, not copper.”

Yan Yu barely held back a laugh.

He must’ve learned that trick from that little guy who sold the sheep.

Silver exchanged for copper was more cost-effective.

The shopkeeper grinned. “Sure!”

He hadn’t planned to take advantage of them anyway.

Still, what a waste.

That was a fine root of ginseng, worth over seven taels. With the missing piece, it was still close to eight.

If it had been whole, he would’ve taken it for fifty taels, maybe even more if they haggled.

Thinking of that, the shopkeeper added a word of advice. “Next time you get ginseng this good, don’t ruin it. Once it’s aged, even a single root hair is worth silver. If you really need to use ginseng, just buy slices. Do the math yourself and see how much you’re losing.”

Yan Lao’er couldn’t agree more and nodded repeatedly.

He also asked about the price of ginseng slices.

The shopkeeper gave him what he called a fair price.

Yan Lao’er: …

Judging by Changping’s local prices, it might be fair. But compared to Prefectural City Yongning, everything here was sky-high.

Everything was expensive!

That was the conclusion the father and daughter reached after leaving the pharmacy and wandering through several more streets.

“Medicine’s expensive, grain’s expensive, salt’s expensive, paper’s expensive, cloth’s expensive… There’s nothing that isn’t expensive,” Yan Lao’er grumbled. “Sure, you can sell at a higher price here, but you end up spending even more. When you tally it all up, you’re still on the losing end.”

“They say it’s because the lord of Changping set high taxes,” Yan Yu said, glancing toward the direction of the government office.

Word around town was that the lord wasn’t in the office right now. He’d gone to the seaport in Pinglang Town.

The townsfolk were gossiping that he’d gone to receive someone—apparently a relative of Prince Ying.

A relative of Prince Ying…

That meant either royalty, or someone from his mother’s or wife’s family.

Only those could be called the prince’s kin.

But for common folk like them, it was just idle gossip. They had no clue who this big shot was or what kind of connection he had with Prince Ying.

Didn’t matter to them anyway.

“Do you think Linhai will be cheaper, or about the same?” Yan Lao’er asked his daughter.

Yan Yu replied, “Depends on whether Linhai had the storms and floods Uncle mentioned this year. If not, it’s definitely cheaper than Changping. Prices here are even higher than in Yongning. It’s ridiculous.”

As the Prefectural City of Guanzhou, Yongning was supposed to represent the highest standard of political and economic development in the region.

So what if Changping had access to the river and Linhai boasted thriving water transport?

This was Guanzhou, not the prosperous South.

The local people simply couldn’t afford that level of consumption. Forcing it only made things worse.

Everything was overpriced, and the shops were all eerily quiet.

The fewer the customers, the higher the prices. The merchants were trying to squeeze out every last coin they could. This wasn’t boosting the economy—it was killing the golden goose.

“If we go to Linhai and find the prices are just as high, we’ll have to pay again just to get back into the city,” Yan Lao’er grumbled. He wasn’t one to waste money.

“That’s easy,” Yan Yu replied. “We just need to ask around about Linhai’s weather this year. If it’s been smooth sailing with good harvests, then it’s worth the trip.”

Truth be told, Yan Yu didn’t want to make the journey either. Traveling by boat could be pleasant if your mind was at ease. But with so many worries weighing on them, even the scenic riverbanks had started to feel repetitive and dull.

They just wanted to go home.

The father and daughter found a small tavern.

It wasn’t just a place to drink. They served food too—stir-fried dishes to go with liquor, marinated meats, braised snacks. You could get a bowl of noodles or even have them make you a flatbread.

They hadn’t chosen the place for its charm. It was a matter of necessity.

To gather information, you needed people. And not just any people—you needed idle ones.

Those with proper jobs were too busy working and making money to sit around chatting.

Plus, places like this were frequented by traveling merchants.

They couldn’t afford the fancy restaurants. A humble tavern like this was the perfect choice.

A couple of small drinks, a few plates of snacks, a sip here, a bite there, and some casual banter—it was the recipe for a good time, relaxed and satisfying.

Not many brought children to places like this, so when Yan Lao’er walked in with Yan Yu, they drew a few curious glances.

He didn’t care. He walked straight to a table in the middle and sat down with his daughter.

They ordered a flatbread, a bowl of noodles, a plate of peanuts, and—get this—a whole roast chicken.

The moment the waiter called out the dishes, the entire tavern fell silent.

Roast chicken? Seriously?

Everyone turned to look at them.

Could it be they were hiding their wealth under those shabby clothes?

People who frequented taverns usually enjoyed a drink or two. Drinkers came in two types: the quiet ones who drank alone in peace, and the chatty ones who loved to talk before, during, and after drinking.

The latter had a special trait—they made friends fast.

“Hey, brother, did you forget something? How come you didn’t order any wine? Or are you so used to the good stuff you can’t stomach the cheap kind anymore?”

What he really meant was—if you’re ordering something as rich as roast chicken, you’ve got to pair it with a jug of wine. Otherwise, what a waste of that bird.

“It’s not that,” Yan Lao’er replied in perfect Guanzhou dialect. “We’ve got to pole the boat this afternoon. I’m worried if I drink, I’ll get lightheaded and the wind’ll give me a headache.”

His down-to-earth tone and local accent immediately won the crowd over.

(End of Chapter)