Grandfather Cui waved his hand. “I’m old, old… I no longer care for books, only chess.”
Xie Yan had just finished a lively debate, still brimming with energy, and immediately noticed the phrasing “no longer care for books.” Clearly, the elder had once loved reading.
“I’ll play chess with you in the future, and you read with me!” Xie Yan said.
Grandfather Cui settled into his carriage, his son holding up the canopy. “Beating the young one isn’t enough—you still want to beat the old one too?”
Xie Yan laughed. “You can both take me on together.”
He was truly reluctant to let them go; even as the carriage rolled away, he followed a few steps down the street, savoring the moment.
It was exhilarating.
Any scholar from the capital could be formidable. Fortunately, the provincial exam was regional; he didn’t have to face the capital’s top students all at once. Otherwise, how could he manage?
Back at the schoolhouse, still excited, he wrote for over an hour, recording all the arguments from tonight’s discussion—roughly as they happened, to review later.
In the faint morning light, he sat at his desk, penning his current thoughts to share with Lu Yang.
He regretted not having a thicker skin.
The capital was far, and opportunities rare—but he could still write letters, exchange ideas.
If Lu Yang were here, he would not have let the chance slip.
Alas! How could he manage without his husband?
On the sixteenth day of the eighth lunar month, Li Feng set out early, carrying a few gifts, to visit the village chief and discuss partnering on the mushroom business.
The reputation of “relying on the mountains to make a living” had already spread—using the name of Tomb Mountain externally, calling it West Mountain.
This year, starting with mushrooms, he would next collect herbs, securing that trade as well. Anyone diligent in the village could then earn a living with less risk.
They inspected the drying grounds repeatedly. The chief knew the location and simply awaited Li Feng to confirm the arrangements.
Li Feng showed sincerity. Mushroom profits were limited, but he promised to share more of the herb profits with the chief’s family.
The chief, fifty-five, was older now but still spirited. Once a skilled martial man in his youth, he remained capable and alert.
The village had some skilled hunters, with the chief among them.
He asked Li Feng many questions: the tariffs to the prefectural city, how often taxes were collected, and procedures for farmers without formal household registration doing small trade—whether commercial taxes applied.
What additional duties or taxes applied at the docks? How were they calculated between the two places?
If renting shops or warehouses in the prefectural city, along with lodging and meals, how should those costs be accounted for?
Every opportunity for profit had local power brokers—how were protection fees handled?
Li Feng explained everything frankly.
For their type of trade—taking goods to the prefectural city—customs duties went to the county, commercial taxes to the prefectural city.
Opening a shop in the county would require another commercial tax, calculated based on income.
Shops and warehouses not yet set up—living and lodging costs were deducted from profits. Only after these deductions would the share be determined.
As for local power brokers, they only collected rent. As long as Li Feng avoided buying shops impulsively, he could operate small trade safely.
He warned: “Be cautious around the docks. Hidden operations are many and unpredictable. The silver we earn is minor, attracting petty thieves—no major threat. But these secret gates remain active daily; over time, anything could happen.”
The chief understood. In hardship, loyalty was mutual; when money was involved, all bets were off.
Li Feng also mentioned river bandits, “I expect a few fights this year. We won’t engage on water, though we may encounter mountain brigands along the route.”
The chief chuckled. “If they come ashore, just capture them and claim the reward.”
Li Feng planned longer intervals between deliveries later in the year, bringing more men each trip. This gave the chief a clear picture.
This year’s market stalls were set up; the drying grounds still required some investment.
Joining the drying grounds meant Li Feng also contributed silver.
Once the number of partners was fixed, no changes would occur. Additional helpers would be hired laborers, without profit shares.
The route was still uncertain, so the chief advised selecting older hunters to accompany him—experienced men with families capable of handling emergencies.
With that settled, the drying grounds could begin operations.
Li Feng planned to leave Wang Meng to oversee, with help from others as needed.
Chen Jiu’s pregnancy required care, so he wouldn’t bring Wang Meng to the prefectural city this time.
That day, Chen’s father and youngest son were coming to the village for a meal.
Li Feng went to Wang Meng’s home to finalize arrangements and asked him to visit later.
He planned to take the Chen father and son up the mountain, placing them in Da Qiang’s hunting territory for three days.
For two lives, he would accrue merit and have Wang Meng accompany him for oversight.
Once Da Qiang went up the mountain, he could take over.
Wang Meng looked confused. “Ah? Aren’t those your fathers-in-law?”
Li Feng nodded. “They don’t know any better; I’ll teach them a lesson.”
Wang Meng whispered, “Your husband…? He’s still pregnant.”
Li Feng reassured him: “My husband will only be pleased.”
Though Wang Meng appeared simple, he wasn’t foolish.
Both fathers-in-law had been staying at his home, doting on Chen Jiu—bringing meals to the kang, attending to daily needs as if caring for a postpartum mother.
Though the pregnancy was stable, the visits from his elder brother and brother-in-law revealed the fathers-in-law weren’t entirely virtuous.
If not virtuous, they needed a lesson. Delay would make them like Er Tian—requiring a strict correction for peace at home.
Li Feng asked: “How will you take them up the mountain? If they shout, won’t your family’s reputation suffer?”
“Don’t worry about appearances. Serve wine, get them drunk,” Li Feng said.
Carrying them would be difficult. Wang Meng suggested: “I’ll call Er Jun. We can go together later.”
Li Feng left it to him, returning home, then detouring to Da Qiang’s to say he had business in the hunting area.
“Not hunting—just borrowing a safe spot for a few days.”
Da Qiang agreed. “Old shack’s fine. Just don’t ruin my beehives.”
Li Feng thought the Chen father and son wouldn’t dare disturb the hives—good for scaring them.
Once all preparations were complete, he returned home to find Lu Liu tallying accounts at the small shop.
The five brothers shared profits, with the bulk handled by Li Feng. Those bringing mushrooms to him had their goods weighed and money calculated.
Once accounts were settled, mushrooms were sent to San Miao’s or Er Jun’s house.
Having lived in the county for some time, Lu Liu had learned much from his elder brother—faster calculations, organized bookkeeping, daily writing practice.
He could tally with one hand while writing with the other; finish a transaction and immediately call the next—like a true shopkeeper.
Li Feng returned, replacing Shun’er in the task.
Weighing was laborious; home needed a hand.
Chen Jiu couldn’t assist; Wang Meng helped when available, but not daily.
Li Feng decided to call Da Qiang for help.
Da Qiang lived nearby, had joined the business, and had never been deep into the hunting area—good to start with small tasks and earn some wages.
By mid-October, Yao Fulang would have his child. Meanwhile, there was work to be done, and Da Qiang was capable.
Li Feng wasn’t busy every day; freeing Da Qiang to harvest honey in the mountains allowed the couple to divide tasks once the child was born.
