Xie Yan said, “I won’t be a teacher anymore.”
This doesn’t make any money.
Lu Yang was momentarily speechless.
How to put it? He had hoped Wu Pingzhi would teach Xie Yan something, but how could he teach him to be so mercenary? He measured the work of teaching and educating by silver coins.
Lu Yang opened his mouth several times but found no words of persuasion.
It sounded so impoverished. What hope could there be in such a life?
He tentatively asked, “Then what will you do?”
Xie Yan replied, “A private study is quite profitable. Even a scholar-official like Jin can support an entire family with his study. Once I pass the provincial exams, we’ll open our own.”
He could publish many books, earn a fortune, and let Lu Yang count money at leisure. Wouldn’t that be far more satisfying than worrying?
Lu Yang blinked and pressed deeper, “Aren’t you going to keep taking the exams?”
Xie Yan intended to continue studying; passing the provincial exams was no big deal.
But passing them would definitely allow him to open a private academy.
Lu Yang suddenly smiled.
Alright then, opening a private academy sounded pretty good.
His little top scholar had developed worldly ambitions—they were a well-matched pair of ordinary folk.
After seeing him off at the private school gate, Lu Yang said, “Come to me when you have your day off in a few days.”
Xie Yan desperately wanted to accept, but reason prevailed.
“I’m not a child. I’ll walk back myself. Wu Pingzhi has a carriage. Don’t tire yourself out. I’ll have him send me.”
Lu Yang whispered a warning, “Be polite to the God of Wealth.”
Xie Yan pursed his lips. “He told me to scold him. He said being too polite might make him overlook problems.”
Lu Yang: “…”
Young Master Wu really is no ordinary man.
Fine.
He didn’t understand scholarly matters and wouldn’t meddle.
“Go ahead. I’ll head back too.”
Lu Yang waved and turned before Xie Yan.
After running an errand, he felt drowsy that afternoon. He dozed off by the stove while leisurely shelling walnuts.
He’d heard walnuts were good for the brain. Next time Xie Yan came home, he’d make him some walnut cakes.
Earlier that day, before Xie Yan’s day off, Lu Liu and Li Feng had arrived.
…………………………….
A truckload of mushroom paste arrived at the shop. The tasting stall could finally be set up.
Lu Liu entered through the back door today, arriving with Li Feng and Wang Meng instead of using the front entrance.
Lu Yang only arrived while they were unloading the goods.
His timing was perfect. Lu Yang had already calculated the accounts, pulling out the ledger from previous deliveries to report the figures to them. Once Li Feng confirmed them, the payment could be settled.
The newly delivered mushroom sauce would be sold first, payment to follow. The silver in his ledger was barely enough to look at; he needed to keep some cash on hand for emergencies.
Today they also brought seven male rabbits for sale. Four were Wang Meng’s rabbits, the remaining three were hunted by Li Feng. Lu Liu kept one plump rabbit for Lu Yang to nourish his body, so the two families had a total of six rabbits to sell.
Lu Yang could settle this payment first, weighing them separately and clearing both accounts. He sent Zhang Tie to shout out on the nearby streets, announcing fresh rabbits had arrived at the shop and urging hungry customers to come early.
Neighbor Ding the butcher isn’t buying game right now—his family’s had too much mutton lately and are sick of it. They’ve even stopped buying steamed buns; now they just get flower rolls for breakfast. Those rolls with mutton soup have given him a healthy glow.
Ding heard about the fresh rabbits and guessed Lu Yang’s brother and brother-in-law from Li Village had come to visit. He stopped by to chat with Li Feng about something.
Ye, the oil shop owner and his close friend, had welcomed a son just before the New Year. As a late blessing, Ye planned to fulfill a vow. He’d already asked Li Feng for a wild boar head for the ritual.
Ye would weep before his ancestors’ tablets—that was the essence of ancestor worship. Li Feng aimed to hunt one down and deliver it before Qingming Festival.
Arriving at Lu Yang’s shop backyard, he saw Li Feng and Wang Meng unloading firewood. His appetite stirred, and he struck up a conversation with Lu Yang: “Mr. Lu, what’s the price for this firewood?”
Firewood had a market rate—ninety cash per cartload.
The firewood Li Feng had brought for Lu Yang was more abundant and denser, all fine timber with no small twigs.
He had already split it all, each piece neatly trimmed and ready to be fed into the stove.
Lu Yang smiled. “Unsplit firewood goes for the market rate—ninety cash per cart. This split firewood, however, is one hundred twenty cash per cart.”
That’s thirty coins more. Hiring someone for a day’s work costs about that much.
Chopping wood is hard labor; this price isn’t steep.
Mr. Ding asked, “If I buy firewood, will I get a cart this full too?”
Lu Yang called out, “Li, someone wants firewood!”
Lu Liu heard and called out too: “Da Feng, Boss Ding wants firewood!”
Boss Ding watched the two brothers with amusement: “They really do look alike. I’ve never seen anyone so identical.”
Lu Liu chuckled: “We’re brothers, heh heh.”
Lu Yang asked him: “Hungry? I’ll get you a steamed bun.”
Lu Liu declined—meat buns were too expensive.
They’d both eaten breakfast before leaving and still carried some flatbreads in their bags.
Li Feng heard the commotion and approached to ask Mr. Ding how much firewood he needed.
The courtyard was small, and when Lu Yang quoted the price earlier, he’d deliberately raised his voice—Li Feng had overheard.
Mr. Ding said, “If you’re all this generous, I could take five cartloads a month.”
The distillery needed firewood, and so did his household.
The shop also needed firewood for cooking over the stove.
Li Feng asked again, “Do you want it chopped?”
Mr. Ding shook his head. “No, no need to chop it.”
He had many workers at the distillery and hired hands at the shop, all paid wages. He didn’t want to spend extra money on pre-split firewood.
Li Feng said, “Then it’s still a full cart, ninety coins per cart.”
Firewood wasn’t cheap, and each cart was packed full—consider it a little extra.
Mr. Ding nodded in agreement, gave Li Feng the distillery’s location, and told him to deliver the firewood there next time.
The shop used less firewood, so they’d go pick it up from the distillery themselves. Besides, the distillery delivered wine to the shop every few days anyway.
Now about the wild boar.
Qingming Festival was just over a fortnight after the Spring Equinox. The day was drawing near. He wondered if Li Feng would take on this job.
Li Feng had already confirmed the wild boar’s location with Daqiang. The round trip, plus hunting time, would take about half a month.
He planned to enter the mountains three to five days early to prepare for tracking.
With this matter settled, Boss Ding was pleased.
He’d been entrusted by Lu Yang to negotiate prices with several old acquaintances. Getting a favor done for a friend meant future reciprocity—making future dealings smoother.
After seeing him off, Lu Yang took Lu Liu to release the rabbits.
He’d handle the rabbits himself, saving them for later. They’d wait until Xie Yan returned home to prepare them.
The other rabbits would be sent to market.
Lu Liu still hesitated to meet Lu Lin directly, so Lu Yang took him there himself.
With the weather warming, Lu Liu no longer wore a scarf around his neck. Instead, he held a small face towel to cover half his face.
He’d been to the shop several times before, but Lu Lin hadn’t really looked at him. Last time, he’d noticed Lu Liu’s eyes and brows resembled Lu Yang’s. Seeing him again, he took a closer look.
Lu Liu covered half his face, but the exposed eyes, brow ridge, and faintly discernible cheekbones were identical to Lu Yang’s.
Lu Lin was truly baffled.
The mushroom paste had been unloaded. The large jars were placed in the shop, arranged beneath the long counter for easy access by walk-in customers.
The smaller jars were lighter and easier for them to carry, so they weren’t placed up front to save space.
This batch totaled just over 150 pounds of paste: three 25-pound jars, two 30-pound jars, and eight 2-pound jars.
Lu Yang opened a small jar. After tasting it, he detected subtle differences but found the overall quality acceptable.
Lu Liu explained to him, “The coarse soy sauce we buy is cheaper. I tried it several times at first, but the flavor came out too bland when stir-fried. It wasn’t noticeable when stewing vegetables, but eating it plain felt too light. So I simmered the coarse sauce again with salt and soy sauce. Using only the stewed paste for stir-frying was too costly—even at twelve coins per pound, it wouldn’t cover expenses. So I blended both types in a measured ratio, and the flavor turned out quite good.”
He had a knack for seasoning, honed since childhood through frugality. By adulthood, it had become instinct. Though new to stir-frying paste, he followed his method, adapting to the available ingredients. With minimal cost, he produced excellent paste.
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