The price varied depending on the placement. Being sent to a wealthy household was cheapest, though the prospects depended entirely on the master’s character.
Being sold as a concubine seemed decent at first, but the inner chambers exhausted people, turning the living into ghosts. Who knew how many years of life remained?
As for secretive businesses or towers, luck dictated the outcome. Perhaps one could earn enough to buy freedom before falling ill.
The apprentice system usually provided the first two options; the last was extremely rare. Anyone aiming to be sold into a secretive trade generally wouldn’t go through the apprentice house.
Hai Yazi thought it through. Considering the usual destinations—serving as a household attendant in a wealthy family—Shun Ge’er would cost just over half. Five to eight taels of silver would buy him.
Shun Ge’er’s eyes widened. “What! Why am I so cheap?”
Hai Yazi explained, “Most families don’t want to part with their sons. Young girls and boys are easy to place—many brokers handle this, searching across several villages. Some families sell a child for just three taels. Those buying servants generally don’t expect literacy or accounting skills, only attentive service. That naturally keeps the price low.”
Such household servants should be young, twelve to fourteen, with personalities still forming, making them easier to train.
If Shun Ge’er were younger, he’d be valued at eight taels; older, five taels.
Shun Ge’er fell silent. Since arriving in the city, he hadn’t spent much, and now had eight taels in his pocket—enough to buy someone.
He asked, “If I wanted to buy a young girl, what would the price be?”
Hai Youtian said, “Not for sale.”
Shun Ge’er wanted to buy. Hai Youtian refused.
Then Shun Ge’er’s eyes twinkled. “What if I want to buy a man?”
Hai Youtian nearly died of fright!
He didn’t dare say another word.
No matter what Shun Ge’er asked afterward, Hai Youtian stayed silent.
Lu Liu, trailing behind, wondered, “Why aren’t they talking anymore? Weren’t they chatting just now?”
Li Feng, seeing Shun Ge’er grilling Hai Youtian and getting no response, said, “This kid deserves a beating.”
Lu Liu: “…You don’t even know what they were talking about!”
They reached the eastern part of the city. Hai Youtian scanned the street, asked around, and led Shun Ge’er to Old Ma’s honey stall.
Old Ma sold honey by the ladle—five ladles per jin. One jin cost seventy wen, cheaper than in shops.
The stall carried four items: pure honey, diluted honey water, large blocks of beeswax, and a basin of honey candy.
Once they arrived, it was time to get down to business. Shun Ge’er ignored buying a man and, with Hai Youtian, bought some honey to taste.
The honey candy resembled maltose, stirred into lumps with two small sticks; the bigger the lump, the more expensive.
Shun Ge’er sampled one piece, dark in color, easy to eat, pleasantly sweet without cloying. The honey water tasted similar to homemade honey water, both sweet.
He then bought half a ladle of pure honey. The taste was roughly the same, without combs—it felt like drinking overly sweet syrup. Acceptable, but lacking the honey texture. Each had merits.
Finally came the beeswax, which caught his interest.
When buying candles, he usually chose cheap ones. Expensive candles at home had been for his older brothers’ weddings—red ones, double the price for a different color.
Beeswax, with its “wax” character, should make candles, right?
He asked. Old Ma raised his eyelids, saying, “Buy a piece and try lighting it.”
Who lights fire on the street? And the beeswax came in large blocks, without wicks—how could they light it?
Shun Ge’er glanced at him, then at the wax, hesitating. Hai Youtian reached out, pointing to a piece, asking, “How much for this one?”
Old Ma didn’t weigh it, quoting, “One qian five fen of silver.”
Hai Youtian broke off a smaller piece. “How about this?”
Old Ma, clearly annoyed, said, “One qian!”
Small, yet expected to cost one qian.
Hai Youtian took the smaller piece, paying five fen to Shun Ge’er.
“One whole piece is one qian five, the small one is one qian, this large piece is five fen.”
Old Ma refused to sell and stood, trying to snatch back the wax.
He became aggressive, shouting and cursing, drawing a crowd.
Hai Youtian returned the wax. What nerve!
They had come to learn his craft. Once the crowd dispersed, Shun Ge’er explained their purpose. Old Ma’s eyes gleamed; he stopped worrying about business, could boss people around, and had Hai Youtian move his stall so they could return home and discuss.
Old Ma finally found someone willing to care for him in old age, delighted, even humming as he walked. Though limping, he used his cane skillfully and moved quickly.
Shun Ge’er, seeing the heavy load, didn’t want Hai Youtian to help. He took some small items down himself, whispering, “I haven’t even asked about his skills. Why is he so happy?”
Hai Youtian said, “Maybe because you tried the honey first; he’s confident in his craft.”
They entered Old Ma’s dilapidated house. Li Feng led Lu Liu around outside to peek inside. The front door faced the courtyard directly, unblocked—they couldn’t enter through it.
The courtyard walls were cracked mud bricks, weak. Climbing over would surely collapse them.
No choice—they stood by the side, faintly hearing sounds.
Inside, Shun Ge’er carefully avoided the hanging hives, stiffened at the buzzing bees.
Hai Youtian, experienced from working at honey workshops, laid out the beeswax and opened the honey water, letting the bees scent it and fly toward it.
Old Ma watched them and asked, “Are you two family?”
Hai Youtian shook his head. “I’m from the apprentice house, bringing him to discuss business.”
Old Ma looked puzzled. “Apprentice houses handle this too?”
He didn’t care; not his call, not his reward.
He turned to question Shun Ge’er. Before Shun Ge’er could ask about the craft, Old Ma interrogated him about his age, family members, marriages, residence, house size, whether he was starting with beekeeping, and whether the hives would be in the village or the city.
Shun Ge’er carefully concealed the truth, using their old homestead as a story. He didn’t mention his brothers’ children, sticking to the family situation from a year ago.
“We live in the village. Our house is very large—seven or eight rooms, front and back extensions. Six people live together; one more mouth doesn’t matter. My two older brothers are married, with ten or so acres to farm. Now we added a few hives, but the honey isn’t good. We hope you can help process it, and afterward, we will provide for you.”
Old Ma tallied the family. “Two older brothers? Married? That’s four. You didn’t say married, adding you makes five. Who else?”
Shun Ge’er said, “My mother. The three of us brothers were raised by her.”
Old Ma pondered. “No father, no man—how will you support me? Shall I be your father?”
Shun Ge’er paused.
Hai Youtian reacted quickly. “Nonsense! You’re being taken care of—what father?”
Old Ma had a point: “Raising a child ensures care in old age. If he isn’t my son, why trust him? I won’t be his father—why should I teach him? A whole family is easier to instruct. Isn’t that perfect?”
Shun Ge’er finally understood.
This old fellow not only took advantage of him but even eyed his mother!
Shun Ge’er immediately grew angry. “You old rascal! I think you need a beating!”
Old Ma wasn’t afraid, wielding his cane, calling Shun Ge’er “dutiful child.” “You saw the honey prices. I’ll teach you my craft, and afterward, you’ll hold a golden rice bowl. Call me father—that’s your profit!”
