For example, he—originally just browsing—couldn’t help but notice the array of shops and had to duck in for a closer look.
He couldn’t accompany Xie Yan for his birthday, but wanted to pick out a gift. After circling the shop, nothing seemed quite right.
Ironically, it was Wang Meng who ended up buying a small inkstone.
As for brushes and ink, Lu Yang could buy those back in the county. An inkstone was durable, and the prefecture city offered more variety, so he picked one for Chen Jiu.
He poked fun at his scholar husband: “Jiu is practicing calligraphy at home too. He learned the method from Da Feng Fu Lang, often asking me to consult Old Tong Sheng, copying characters down. He mumbles to himself at home but hasn’t memorized many yet.”
Lu Yang asked, “Expensive?”
Wang Meng rubbed his nose: “Very. I bargained with Old Tong Sheng for ages—settled on 30 wen per hundred characters. If I misread and he couldn’t match it, we’d have to redo, costing another ten wen. Sometimes he’d purposely write wrong—I wanted to hit him once, then he stopped.”
Lu Yang shook his head: “Why bother?”
Wang Meng shrugged: “That’s his nature.”
San Miao, hearing that both Da Feng Fu Lang and Wang Meng Fu Lang were learning to read characters, felt his own shouldn’t fall behind—but he didn’t have enough money for an inkstone. His eyes stared at it blankly, a little dumbfounded: “Why didn’t you bring my little He along?”
Wang Meng replied: “How could I? One lives down the mountain, one in the new village. If your family moved to the new village and the old house is gone, how could we gather?”
San Miao muttered under his breath. They left the old home because the new house was bigger and cost more. They hadn’t split households, so didn’t need both properties.
He glanced back at the inkstone, tempted.
Lu Yang said, “We’ll come to the prefecture city again. When you return home, ask your husband if he wants to learn to read and keep accounts. I suggest he does—even if he learns a few characters. In future business with our families, at least he should understand the ledgers and supervise bookkeeping.”
Men busy in the fields rarely had time. San Miao nodded, no longer looking back.
After visiting Ding’s knife shop, they returned to the inn, planning to revisit later.
Meanwhile, Li Feng wandered the bustling prefecture streets with the young assistant, Erjun and Si Hou’s eyes widening with each step. Initially puzzled, then increasingly so, and finally astonished at the sheer number of shops, the thriving business, and the assistant’s explanations. It felt like money was lying on the streets.
If that was the case, mountain products could also sell well.
Li Feng remarked, “One day, we could have five shops on a single street, one per person—it would look festive.”
All could earn money, none would starve. Saving steadily for five to eight years could make that a reality.
Li Feng bought food for his brothers—donkey meat buns.
Using donkey meat, a rare treat in the county, they found it less tasty than large meat buns.
The young assistant chatted: “You often hunt in the mountains; you must have eaten plenty of meat.”
They nodded eagerly. Who isn’t tempted by meat? Previously, they even traded deer meat for beef, just to taste something different.
Hearing their descriptions of flavor and texture—from mountain to city, even how wealthy patrons ate—it made his mouth water.
“If we could transport these products, it would be profitable,” Li Feng mused.
In the mountains, they smoked and air-dried game for preservation. All wild meat had buyers; if mushrooms were plentiful, any empty cart space could carry extra goods to test the market.
After walking the streets, they returned to the inn around mealtime. Seven men gathered at two joined tables.
Lu Yang had them order dishes and share impressions of the day. Spirits were high—though they played the humble visitor, no one picked a fight, and the day had been enjoyable.
Their minds, however, focused on the remaining 500 jin of mushrooms. They wanted to get them to the docks quickly. They also asked whether Lu Yang had secured the knife shop and if the business lead from Boss Ding would succeed.
Lu Yang instructed the waiter to bring wine and peanuts first, then said: “We found the shop. Tomorrow we’ll visit. Over the next two days, we’ll continue exploring the city. We need to understand it thoroughly. Doing business isn’t just about the docks. Learn which areas are busy, where merchants congregate, the distribution of shops, local power players, major events, festivals, customs… Some details we might not use immediately, but we must know them. The assistant knows some, but we need firsthand experience. Observe, record, and widen your perspective. Once you’re familiar, we can return to the docks.”
For five mountain hunters, this was simple.
They treated the prefecture city like a giant forest, mapping districts and shop locations.
Local powers were treated like dangerous beasts, events and festivals like wild animal habits.
Using familiar analogies, they could chart streets they had walked.
After dinner, Lu Yang said: “Descending isn’t difficult. Think of the county and prefecture as different terrains. Learn to hunt in the city: observe, hide, map your targets, strike when ready. Work together, set traps, act offensively or defensively. Don’t rush—mastering city hunting takes time. Understanding people and circumstances also takes time. Use each other’s strengths; support one another. Muddy pits and puddles are no obstacle.”
Teaching a group of hunters to do business was challenging—but reframing it made it achievable.
The plan was to eventually grow the business in the prefecture city, giving them ample time to adapt.
Lu Yang would not elevate everyone indiscriminately; here, he intended to bring his younger brother’s family. In the county, he’d see who could make a name. The rest would stay in the mountains, handling wild products honestly.
The head of the family didn’t need to travel constantly; once stability was achieved, deliveries could be outsourced.
These details, for now, were kept private, like bread eaten quietly—revealing them prematurely could disrupt unity.
That night, nothing more was said. Lu Yang washed, obediently took medicine, rinsed with tea.
He typically used coarse tea, sipped Maofeng leaves in his mouth briefly, then spat. Coarse tea was bitter, fine tea lingering.
If it were daytime, after rinsing he would stay busy, let the medicine settle, then drink a couple cups for taste. At night, he avoided staying up late, rinsed, and slept.
The inn’s bedding was damp; he was restless. Exhausted, unable to sleep, he lay quietly, eyes closed.
He held a warm thought before sleep, not worries, and soon drifted off.
The next day, after visiting Boss Ding’s knife shop, seeing the county’s letter, exchanging greetings, and noting they couldn’t do business yet, Lu Yang bowed and departed.
When delivering goods, he brought ten jin of mushrooms, packed into two new small baskets. Mountain delicacies—good quality, fragrant, visually appealing—could be judged at a glance.
