For example, ginseng—small roots of just a few years old were far cheaper than ten- or hundred-year-old roots.
Xie Yan, curious, asked, “Where’s it from?”
The vendor grinned. “Of course, the origin makes a difference. Some grow deep in the mountains where even experienced hunters can get lost. Going in to dig ginseng means facing wild beasts and venomous snakes. Just getting lost could cost a life—what’s the value of a human life? And once out of the mountains, there are bandits. People say good ginseng is blood-soaked—it’s no joke.”
This stall only had three ginseng roots. None came from such dangerous places, the oldest was ten years old, so the price was moderate. One root was damaged at the stem and looked unsightly. Its medicinal potency was concentrated in that part, but it couldn’t fetch a proper price.
Lu Yang seized the topic to chat with the vendor about ginseng.
“So this damaged root should be cheap?”
The vendor nodded painfully. “Yes, maybe ten taels of silver. Keep it too long, and it won’t even be worth that.”
Xie Yan asked, “Why not take it to an apothecary? Someone might urgently need it, and if the price’s right, they’d buy it—and get some use out of it early.”
The vendor shook his head. “It’s not expensive, and sending it to a shop doesn’t make me any profit. I’d rather smash it than sell it cheaply.”
Lu Yang remarked, “Leaving it here a day lowers the price every day—you won’t even recover the cost.”
The vendor sighed heavily. “Ah!”
Wu Pingzhi chimed in, “How about this, friend? We’ve had a good talk with you today, and we won’t waste your time. Give us a fair price; we’ll buy this root with silver. You’ll lose one worry, and it counts as us helping your business.”
The vendor hesitated, thinking they had come specifically to buy the root.
Wu Pingzhi reassured him: “Don’t overthink it. My young master here is a scholar preparing for exams. His family runs a cloth shop, and he’s genuinely interested in medicine, which is why he’s chatting with you. You’ve been warm and helpful—we can’t just watch you destroy your stock. We don’t need much, but this ginseng? Take it home, slice it, make tea for the elders—it’ll be good.”
The vendor understood. No wonder he seemed so scholarly.
He set the price at eight and a half taels—anything less, he wouldn’t sell.
Wu Pingzhi glanced at Xie Yan. Xie Yan’s eyes screamed: buy it, buy it, buy it!
He looked at Lu Yang, who shook his head with a smile. “Why look at me? I didn’t bring silver.”
Wu Pingzhi understood and paid.
With the ginseng safely in its wooden box, Xie Yan casually walked a little further, then cradled it like a treasured object, afraid someone would touch it.
Lu Yang’s heart melted at the sight.
Ordinary individual buyers like them were rare at the dock market. Most merchants dealt in dozens or hundreds of pounds, some even in thousands.
Scattered inquiries like theirs were small-scale. Some vendors, if free, might make a small sale. If busy, the stall owners often rolled their eyes, called them paupers, and shooed them away.
Even after being scolded, Lu Yang and Xie Yan were excited. The market was bustling, fully stocked, and a pleasure to browse.
Lu Yang’s current business model was low-profit, high-volume. He knew that once quantities rose, profits would increase significantly.
Before leaving, he wanted to learn how to set up a stall there.
“If tomorrow’s deal falls through, and I have too many mushrooms left, I’ll call Li Feng and the others to come back and set up a stall to clear my stock.”
Wu Pingzhi said, “Test the waters first. I’ll lend you my stall.”
Cloth was always in demand; traveling merchants would buy some wherever they went. Wu Pingzhi’s family had no major backing—they dealt mainly in cotton, avoiding silk. Cotton catered to middle- and lower-class demand, so sales were reliable.
Lu Yang thanked him.
Xie Yan immediately said, “When we return to the county, I’ll start teaching you the provincial exam formats.”
Wu Pingzhi was lucky. Originally scheduled for a makeup exam in July, now it wasn’t needed. His low ranking was upgraded to second-tier, so next year he could take the provincial exam alongside Xie Yan.
The provincial exam format differed from the earlier county-level exams. Xie Yan had told Lu Yang that only the Juren exam was the real test of talent; everything before, including the county-level, tested literary skill.
He was confident in Wu Pingzhi: “For you, the provincial exam format will be easier.”
The subtleties of thought were hard to detect, but once aware, you’d know what to write and what to avoid.
Even if your classical interpretation wasn’t brilliant, as long as you were loyal to the court and the emperor and aligned with contemporary politics, your essay wouldn’t fail.
Later questions tested political sensitivity—Xie Yan believed Wu Pingzhi would handle them well.
These words gave Wu Pingzhi great confidence.
There was nothing more for today. The next day at noon, they went to the High Tower restaurant for a meal.
Wu Pingzhi invited five merchants: two traveling traders, two local dry-goods shop owners, and the restaurant owner.
The High Tower was the largest tavern in the city and supplied dishes to the prefectural office.
When dignitaries visited—inspectors or imperial envoys—the restaurant would often be reserved, sending chefs and ingredients to the designated location.
The city had no mountains, so mountain delicacies were rare.
Ingredients like wild mushrooms were scarce. If missing, the restaurant menu was incomplete.
The tavern owner needed a moderate but stable quantity—three to five hundred pounds annually. He regretted that wild meats were unavailable.
The dry-goods shop owners demanded a bit more, five to eight hundred pounds. Mushrooms were sold by weight, not overpacked—too much would go to waste.
The traveling traders requested less, around two hundred pounds each, to test the market.
Lu Yang had just sat down, dishes hadn’t arrived, and he mentioned they might drink a little. Unexpectedly, the deal went through.
He realized it was Wu Pingzhi’s effort. Previously, Wu Pingzhi hadn’t accompanied him shopping, citing social engagements but keeping the deal in mind to negotiate prices first.
The price included many details: transportation, customs duties, and product quality differences. Mushrooms varied widely; each type Lu Yang wanted commanded a high price—starting at twenty-five coins per pound, up to 150 coins.
The High Tower owner was straightforward and knowledgeable, recognizing quality ingredients.
Dry-goods shop owners, considering price, wanted less. The tavern owner persuaded them: “You do business in the city; take more, it’s fine. If my shipment arrives late, I’ll buy from you to cover the shortage.”
He said, “Fresh mushrooms, well-prepared, become signature dishes. Restaurants specializing in mushroom dishes could flourish. Good mushrooms are rare; this business works.”
Selling high-end mushrooms, who cared about the average customer? The city had plenty of merchants; on the dining table, quality mattered more than price.
Famous dishes earned their reputation. Once the mushrooms arrived, the tavern advertised them; other restaurants would follow suit.
Soon, traveling merchants would want to try the local specialty. Mushrooms would become commonplace. Those who missed out would feel embarrassed.
Lu Yang looked at him in awe. “Yu, that’s brilliant.”
Yu smiled and toasted Xie Yan: “Scholar Xie, with your talent, if you pass the Juren exam next year, bring your family here—I’ll host a feast.”
Xie Yan hadn’t expected to be toasted while negotiating business, and he clinked glasses in surprise. The remaining four merchants also toasted him.
He drank five cups in a row, his face flushing immediately.
Lu Yang finally understood—this deal succeeded thanks to Wu Pingzhi’s goodwill and Xie Yan’s worth.
