The trotters were chopped and simmering in the pot. Du Heng refreshed the yellow beans with warm water, since dried beans that hadn’t been soaked are difficult to soften. He hadn’t planned to stew trotters before leaving, or else he could have soaked the beans earlier.
With some trotters simmering, he lit a fire in another stove to continue brewing the wine.
Boiling water went into a large pot with the mash, the jar placed inside, sealed with lotus leaves, and a cover pot set on top. Cold water was added to the outer pot, and wheat husks were arranged around the edges. A bamboo tube was inserted as a spout, and as the heat increased, the liquid flowing out was the wine.
Simmering gently, clear sorghum wine soon trickled through the bamboo tube. Du Heng collected it in jars, tying a cloth over the opening to filter it, producing a purer liquor.
“Keep your head up, the bamboo’s hot—don’t let it smoke your eyes,” he warned.
Steam rose from the boiling mash, and though the jars were covered, the aroma of the wine was strong, overwhelming even the savory scent of the simmering trotters.
When the water in the top pot started steaming, Du Heng replaced it with cold water. The air wasn’t as hot as midsummer, but spending the time in the kitchen had flushed his pale face.
Homemade wine brewed this way was far stronger than anything sold in stores.
Xiaoman added the soaked beans to the trotter pot, keeping one eye on the wine jar. Seeing it full, he quickly grabbed another jar, eager to taste. A sip of the fresh liquor was strong, slightly pungent, yet smooth in the underlying flavor—a definite improvement over the watery, harsh wines sold in town. If aged longer, the flavor would mellow and deepen further.
“Wow, what a strong wine aroma!”
Squinting, Xiaoman heard voices outside. He went to the courtyard and saw some villagers.
“Uncle Liu, Uncle Xu, what brings you here?”
“You two had a great harvest! We heard you went to the county to arrange for the grain merchant—how were the prices?”
After paying the land taxes, villagers sold the remaining grain to convert it into silver for taxes. Those without carts or horses found it inconvenient to travel to the county, so they asked neighbors who had gone, checking prices before making their own trips.
“The grain prices aren’t high this year. We contacted Yongfa Grain Merchant—corn at 810 wen per dan, rice at 1,000. Of course, lower-quality grain would fetch less.”
Xiaoman didn’t directly reveal the higher price they had negotiated. Since they sold a larger quantity, the merchant offered a better deal. Sharing the top price with neighbors could have backfired, leaving them both dissatisfied.
“Ah, at this price, how much money can that little bit of grain even sell for? After paying the taxes, I’m afraid there won’t be much silver left to get through the New Year.”
“What can you do about it? Grain prices change every year. In the end, we farmers don’t get to decide the price of grain anyway.”
The two old men clasped their hands behind their backs and sighed, then one of them asked, “When Yongfa Grain Shop comes to haul the grain away, how do they calculate the transport fee?”
“We’re selling a bit more, so they charge one hundred wen.”
The old man smacked his lips and sighed again. “Your family really did have a good harvest this year. Everyone else’s was just so-so, nothing special. In the end, it really is you two who know how to farm.”
Qin Xiaoman replied politely, “We just got lucky. Maybe this year the land happened to be productive. Next year might not be the same.”
The old man said, “We’re planning to sell our few shi of grain too, but we haven’t settled on a buyer yet.”
Du Heng came out of the house with an apron tied around his waist. “In two days, when the weather clears, people from Yongfa Grain Shop will be coming. Uncle Liu, Uncle Xu, are you planning to sell to that grain shop? If you are, when they come I can ask for you. A big grain shop is more reliable, and if the volume is larger, the price is easier to negotiate.”
Hearing this, the two old men’s brows relaxed a little. “It would be convenient to sell together, and it saves us from running around the county asking prices. It’s just that we really don’t have much to sell.”
“All together it’s only a bit over ten shi of grain. After paying the land tax, there’ll only be a few shi left. We still have to keep some for seed and for our families to eat. What we can sell is only three to five shi at most.”
Du Heng said, “That’s no problem. Gather up the neighbors who want to sell. One household has three to five shi—add a few households together and it’s more. It’s not from a single family, but it’s all from our village. When the time comes, we can haul it to one household and let the grain shop buy it all at once. The shop won’t be losing out.”
The two old men looked at each other and discussed it briefly. “That’s great. If we can talk the price up a bit, it’s much better than hauling it into the county and selling it bit by bit.”
The Qin family was selling a lot of grain, so naturally they didn’t mind the one hundred wen transport fee. Ordinary families sold less grain and mostly hired their own ox carts to take it to the county.
“All right then. We’ll go back and ask around the nearby neighbors to see who wants to sell grain, and we’ll figure it out and come back. When the time comes, we’ll have to trouble you two to talk to Yongfa Grain Shop for us.”
Du Heng agreed, “We’re all villagers—easy enough to talk about.”
Both old men were smiling now. Catching the scent of alcohol drifting from the courtyard, they craned their necks repeatedly. Once the serious business was done, they started chatting idly. “You two are boiling wine at home? The weather’s still warm—you’re already warming yourselves with wine?”
Qin Xiaoman laughed. “It’s not boiling wine. This year we harvested sorghum, just a shi of grain, but there was quite a bit extra. It wouldn’t sell for much, so we just brewed some wine ourselves.”
“Du Heng can even do that! That’s really something!”
By now, everyone in the village knew that Du Heng could cook and even set up a stall selling food, so they naturally assumed the wine had been brewed by him.
“I’m just trying it out,” Du Heng said. “The skill’s nothing special. It can’t compare to what’s sold outside.”
“Hey, as long as you can brew wine, that’s already great. If everyone knew how to brew, how would the taverns stay in business?”
Qin Xiaoman was in a good mood and generous, so he invited the two old men to sit. He went inside and poured two cups of fresh wine for them to taste.
With the chance to drink, the villagers were naturally delighted. Life was hard for farming households. The Qin family could still grit their teeth and afford to eat something nice once in a while, but poorer families couldn’t bring themselves to spend even if they clenched their teeth to bits.
Wine like this was something you only got to drink at banquets or during the New Year holidays.
“Freshly brewed wine really is fragrant!”
The old man lifted the clear wine in his cup, held it under his nose, and sniffed it first. Many people who loved drinking enjoyed smelling the wine.
The more impatient old man had already taken a sip. “This wine goes down smooth! Wine that hasn’t been watered down really tastes different. I can usually drink eight liang of wine, but with this pure brew, I’m afraid I could only handle two or three liang.”
The two old men laughed as they drank. Seeing Du Heng smiling off to the side, they waved him over. “Du Heng, come have some too. This is good wine!”
Du Heng waved his hand. “I don’t really drink.”
The old man laughed loudly. “Then we can only call Xiaoman over.”
“Xiaoman, your Du Heng really treats you well. He doesn’t drink himself, yet he brews wine specially. He really indulges you completely.”
That comment pleased Qin Xiaoman greatly, and he sat in the courtyard drinking with the two old men for quite a while.
Seeing that it was getting late, and that the two old men were pleasantly full and a little tipsy, they said, “Your family’s wine is good. Did you brew much? After we sell our grain, I’ll come buy some.”
“Don’t water it down. Watering down pure brew just ruins it. Even if you sell it for more, it’s worth the price.”
Qin Xiaoman smiled and saw the two old men out. “All right. This batch isn’t very large, but if you two uncles want to come buy some to take home, there’ll still be some. I’ll give you a fair price.”
“Good, good!”
The two old men nodded repeatedly, then reminded them once more not to forget about the grain shop.
After seeing them off, Qin Xiaoman went back inside. Du Heng had already taken the still apart. Fifty jin of sorghum had yielded fifteen jin of wine, filling three jars.
The yellowed spent mash left in the pot was all grain. People couldn’t really eat it, but it could be used to feed poultry.
The two piglets they had brought home to raise at the beginning of the year had grown quite a bit. When the sweet potatoes matured, mixing some rice bran and fodder in would make the pigs put on flesh fastest. If they grew well, they could slaughter a pig for the New Year.
“Uncle Liu and Uncle Xu said your wine is really good. They’re even thinking of coming to buy some after they sell their grain,” Qin Xiaoman said, cradling the sealed wine jars like treasures. He lightly bumped Du Heng’s wrist. “Your brewing is so good—why don’t we just use all the remaining sorghum at home to brew wine? Wine doesn’t go bad anyway. If neighbors come to buy, we can sell some.”
“What do you think?”
Du Heng raised an eyebrow. “So, do you want to sell it for money, or do you want to drink it yourself?”
“No matter how much I can drink, I’m not going to soak myself in a wine jar all day,” Qin Xiaoman said. “Of course I’m thinking of adding another source of income. Then I can buy you another stack of new paper for writing, too.”
Du Heng thought it over for a moment. “We’ll see when the time comes. There are more than ten jin of wine here already—no small amount. If the neighbors are willing to come and buy some, then after that we can use all the sorghum we have at home to brew wine.”
Qin Xiaoman was so happy he almost jumped. “Deal!”
“Then what price should we sell it at?”
Wine of this quality would sell for over a hundred wen per jin in the county—broken down, that was more than ten wen per liang. Someone who drank wine could easily put away two or three liang in one sitting, which was something poor farming households simply couldn’t afford.
Since they were doing business with their neighbors, selling it cheaper wasn’t a bad idea.
On the market, sorghum sold for about six hundred wen per shi, which came to five wen per jin. One jin of grain yielded about two liang of wine. Calculated purely by the price of grain, the wine would cost two or three wen per liang.
It was easy to see why selling it for fifteen or sixteen wen per liang in the county still brought high profits. Of course, once you factored in labor, shop rent, and other expenses, the actual profit wasn’t much more.
They, on the other hand, were selling in small quantities, storing it in their own cellar with no storefront costs, and using grain they had grown themselves. Selling it for eight wen per liang would earn them only a modest profit, but it would count as a neighborly price, leaving everyone satisfied.
Two days later, the weather cleared, and the grain shop people arrived as agreed.
Four men came together, driving two ox carts.
They wasted no words and went straight into the granary to inspect the quality of the grain.
“To be fair,” one of them said, “your grain has been cleaned up well. The kernels are full, with hardly any chaff. We can pay according to the price we agreed on.”
The grain shop workers had been in this line of work for many years. Every year before the autumn harvest, they went from village to village under the county to haul grain.
Along the way, people selling grain tried every trick in the book—mixing different grains into a single sack, adding stones to increase the weight, or filling a handful of grain with half chaff. It was rare to find sellers who were easy to deal with and didn’t argue.
With a household like this, collecting grain was effortless, and paying out the money was just as straightforward.
While the men loaded the grain onto the carts, the lead buyer settled the payment with Qin Xiaoman, clearing the deposit and transport fee in one go.
Qin Xiaoman handed the money to Du Heng to count and chatted with the grain buyer. “We’re honest people. Our grain is cleaned properly. What you see is what you get—we don’t bother with useless tricks that waste both sides’ time.”
“That’s right,” the man replied. “If you have more grain to sell in the future, just come straight to our Yongfa Grain Shop. Good quality means the price is easier to negotiate. Old sellers get old-seller prices.”
That was exactly the line Qin Xiaoman had been waiting for.
“Speaking of selling grain, quite a few neighbors in our village want to sell too. Does the grain shop still take more?”
“Of course we do! Why wouldn’t we?” the man said. “If there’s a lot, and the grain is good, we can go take a look today. Once this batch is sent back to the city, we can send people out again this afternoon to haul the rest.”
Qin Xiaoman said, “We’re just not sure how the price would be calculated. Everyone wants convenience. They’ve heard Yongfa Grain Shop is reliable, so they all want to sell to you.”
Lowering his voice, the man said, “The price for your batch was negotiated by our manager. Others probably won’t get the same price. But if the grain is good, we can add a bit more.”
“Fair enough, fair enough.”
Qin Xiaoman quickly invited the men to have some of their homemade wine in the courtyard, then hurried off to call the villagers over.
With wine to drink, the men didn’t stand on ceremony and waited in the courtyard for a while.
“Uncle Liu is here,” Qin Xiaoman said. “The grain shop folks have already loaded the grain and were about to leave. I poured them some wine to keep them here.”
“We said we’d come early,” Uncle Liu replied, “but it was your Aunt Kong’s husband’s family—first they wanted to sell, then they didn’t. That held us up.”
Qin Xiaoman didn’t need to be told the rest. Most likely Aunt Kong and her husband had wanted to take advantage of the group sale for convenience, but balked when it meant coming over to their place.
“Then let’s go.”
Several village households who wanted to sell grain gathered together, with Du Heng helping to negotiate. Six households in total wanted to sell. Altogether there were eight shi of corn and seven shi of rice—about the same amount as Qin Xiaoman’s family had sold.
The grain shop offered the current market price for corn, and twenty wen more for rice. If the grain quality was good, they might add another ten wen. The transport fee was also one hundred wen, but unlike Qin Xiaoman’s family, this fee would be split evenly among the households.
Everyone was quite satisfied with the price and quickly invited the grain shop people to inspect the grain.
After checking, the buyers didn’t find the grain exceptional enough to raise the price further. Still, it would have been hard for the villagers to get such a good price selling individually, and with the transport fee split, it was worth it. No one argued, and they all agreed.
The grain shop told everyone to get ready and said they would send people back in the afternoon.
“This really saved us a lot of trouble. Xiaoman, Du Heng, it’s all thanks to you two!”
Du Heng felt he hadn’t done much—just spent a bit of effort talking. Helping fellow villagers when you could was only natural.
Qin Xiaoman, meanwhile, took the opportunity to tell everyone that they had brewed some wine at home and that anyone who wanted some could come buy it.
That afternoon, several households were busy loading grain, and the village was noisy and lively, with plenty of people coming to watch.
Du Heng and Qin Xiaoman didn’t go out. After all, they had just sold their own grain, so there wasn’t anything particularly new to see. Instead, Qin Xiong came by.
“Second Uncle, you’re not selling grain this year?”
“Our harvest was average this year—just over thirty shi, nowhere near as good as yours. Qin Wei just got married, and Zhu Ge’er is about to get married too, so we won’t sell this year. We’ll divide the grain when the family splits.”
Qin Xiaoman said, “Second Uncle’s family doesn’t lack money for taxes anyway. There’s no need to sell grain.”
As soon as he said it, Qin Xiaoman caught on. “Zhu is getting married?”
Qin Xiong answered, but then changed the subject. “I hear Du Heng brewed wine for you. Those old fellows outside are praising it to the skies, yet I haven’t seen you let your second uncle have a taste.”
Qin Xiaoman rolled his eyes. “Du Heng was just saying he’d send you a jin. You weren’t home the other day—if we’d gone over, wouldn’t Auntie have hidden it away? Would you even get to drink it?”
As he spoke, Qin Xiaoman went inside and brought out a cup of wine. Seeing it, Qin Xiong immediately broke into a grin. “You’re still the filial one.”
“So when exactly is Zhu getting married?”
“Li Kai and his father came yesterday to present the betrothal gifts,” Qin Xiong said. “After the autumn harvest will be a good time to hold the wedding. They’ve set the date for the seventh day of next month.”
Qin Xiaoman narrowed his eyes. “Zhu agreed again?”
Qin Xiong smacked his lips over the wine and praised it comfortably. “Good wine!”
Then he craned his neck and said, “Of course he agreed! How could he not? Li Kai is such a good young man. If Zhu still refused, he might as well marry some old widower.”
Qin Xiaoman snorted a laugh. Seeing Qin Xiong’s ruddy complexion, he knew that with one major matter in the family settled, his second uncle was naturally in good spirits.
He teased, “If the tax collectors came a bit later this year, Second Uncle could even pay one less person’s tax.”
Qin Xiong widened his eyes. “Didn’t Du Heng teach you how to count? Your sister-in-law coming into the family added another person, didn’t it?”
“Even so,” Qin Xiaoman said, “Zhu reached marriageable age two years ago. If he hadn’t married out, besides the head tax there’d also be a marriage tax to pay. One person counts as two.”
Qin Xiong answered with a sound and sighed lightly. “That’s true. Your cousin is two months older than you, yet he married a whole year later than you. In the end, you really are the sharper one.”
Uncle and nephew talked for quite a while before Qin Xiong finally left, somewhat reluctant, taking home the wine Du Heng had given him.
Qin Xiaoman chuckled and said to Du Heng, “Next month we’ll have another wedding banquet to drink at. And we won’t even need to go help out at the Li family. That’s really nice.”