Just a mere ten thousand taels of silver.
He told Xie Yan, “You’re still too poor. If you had the money, you wouldn’t be this overjoyed. And we haven’t even earned a single coin yet.”
Xie Yan’s expression was grave. “You’re right.”
Wu Pingzhi, feeling Xie Yan’s silent pressure, said to Lu Yang, “Don’t get too excited. That’s the ideal scenario. Taxes haven’t been paid, and your herbs and mushrooms all have costs. Big business requires delivery; hiring carriers costs silver. After subtracting costs, transport, and taxes, you’ll probably end up with only two or three thousand taels!”
Lu Yang ignored him. “I can do the math. You two discuss scholarship; I’ll go outside and laugh some more!”
Wu Pingzhi: “……”
He thought for a moment and then said to Xie Yan, “I can call a clerk and a few assistants to help you sell. Li Feng is on guard duty; if others try to draw attention to Hong Chu by messing with your stall, this way it’s safer.”
Xie Yan hesitated, glancing outside. Lu Yang didn’t seem to care about mosquitoes, pacing the open courtyard, occasionally swatting insects and laughing aloud, sometimes covering his mouth.
Xie Yan understood—he was just afraid of biting his tongue while laughing. Truly exhilarated.
Xie Yan politely declined Wu Pingzhi’s offer. “I’ll accompany him in a few days.”
Wu Pingzhi said, “Then I’ll bring two people along.”
Xie Yan refused again. “You don’t need to go. Focus on your studies.”
Wu Pingzhi insisted, “It’s just one day, no trouble. I haven’t been out in a while; a little fresh air will do me good. I’m used to being at business sites. Going to the grand market will restore my energy. These books have drained me dry.”
With curfew approaching, they didn’t discuss scholarship, only catching up on recent happenings.
Xie Yan said, “I’ve made a few classmates at the academy. Jingzhi says they see me as a friend. I get along well but can’t truly open up. Many things can’t be said—usually we discuss scholarship or some trivial dining. It’s not relaxing, unlike being with you.”
Wu Pingzhi leaned back, stretching lazily, sinking into his chair with a drawn-out tone:
“He’s right. If you get along with them, it’s because they accept your personality and are willing to be candid. Opening your heart—very few people aiming for civil service through exams can freely share ambitions and learning. Look at me: after years of business, you’re my only friend. Others despise me.”
Xie Yan said, “My birthday is at the end of the month. I’ll host a banquet, and you must come. I’ll introduce you to them. They have good temperaments and understand business. Feeding the people requires good strategy—either increase production or enrich the populace, in other words, make money. I’ll mention your studies at the private school, not your family business. Does that work?”
Wu Pingzhi lowered his gaze, thought for a while, then said, “Alright. I’ll attend.”
Xie Yan smiled. “No need for gifts this time. Just come for the meal.”
Wu Pingzhi nodded.
They didn’t rush; leaving late at night was fine.
Wu Pingzhi accompanied them to the gate, repeatedly cautioning Lu Yang: “This silver isn’t much. Remember what my father told you, and I’ve told Xie Yan many times: making too much money isn’t meaningful. Don’t let it cloud your mind.”
Lu Yang nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll think carefully.”
The couple bid farewell to Wu Pingzhi and hurried home, finding Lu Liu and Li Feng sitting on the bamboo bed waiting.
Lu Liu had hung up the mosquito net over the bed, waiting for them after Li Feng had returned, calling everyone to eat and wash, then sitting outside again for Lu Yang and Xie Yan.
A lantern sat on the floor, featuring painted portraits of Lu Liu and Li Feng, saved when they moved houses.
Lu Yang told them not to lower the net, but Lu Liu moved swiftly, putting on shoes and rushing over:
“Brother! Have you eaten? I still have hot food; want me to add some?”
Lu Yang had already eaten. Xie Yan called out to his mother from inside, telling her they were home and that Li Feng could handle any matters.
The bamboo bed was narrow, and the alley wasn’t suitable for discussion, so they moved indoors.
Lu Liu served tea and brought a few cucumbers, one for each of them to bite.
Lu Yang briefly recounted the Wu household visit. “As for the business, we’ll plan carefully later. About going to the grand market—you two discuss whether to go. Share your thoughts.”
Xie Yan was concerned about safety. “Can we go? Which day would be best?”
Li Feng couldn’t give a definite answer. “Wait a couple of days. Go on the last day. Some delivery men will come—let a few others accompany you.”
Lu Liu asked, “What if the city shops don’t lend goods?”
Lu Yang said, “Then forget it. Any goods we get are a bonus; the stall is basically free. Unexpected gain.”
They discussed little else that night, deciding to see what the next day brought.
Back home, Lu Yang spoke with his mother, bathed, and then sat at his desk.
Xie Yan wrote homework; Lu Yang looked over his old letters and notes, reflecting. He had recorded many thoughts before, and today Wu Pingzhi had shared much; Xie Yan wrote everything down.
With his perspective widened, Lu Yang’s mind was brimming, yet he dared not rush decisions. He reviewed past actions, reflecting on what he had done and what he hadn’t.
Initially, he wanted to be a great merchant, only to realize that great merchants often become “managers” helping others make money. For a small household without background, small business was best: few people, low expenses, modest wealth—enough to live and save a bit.
Now he reconsidered what “modest wealth” meant.
He had previously thought Wu’s family was very rich; compared to them, earning over a thousand taels a year was sufficient.
But compared to the Hong family, that was clearly inadequate. Considering them, what counted as modest wealth?
He recalled Wu Pingzhi casually mentioning “ten thousand” taels, realizing Wu’s family likely had hidden wealth beneath their cloth business, unassuming yet substantial.
Lu Yang reviewed the day’s conversations, taking a brush and blank paper to organize his thoughts.
His habits from growing up in the marketplace remained: for shops and workshops, he tended to think in terms of full ownership, not just shares. He hadn’t expected to invest in partial ownership.
As for money, he would do what he could with what he had. No funds? Save. No skills? Hire someone. No goods? Partner with someone who had them. He could hold management rights.
Many opportunities lay ahead: investing in workshops. The pros were hands-off, easy; the cons—if mismanaged, he could lose everything.
He considered investing in selected workshops, like weaving and dyeing. If a workshop failed, as a shareholder he could acquire the rest of the shares, gaining priority to purchase.
Regarding household assets—shops and fertile land—these were desirable but slow returns compared to fast money.
He marked a new line in red, reminding himself not to be greedy or hasty.
Family assets were the root—slower, but stable.
He hadn’t considered contracts or transportation yet, focusing for now on the capital.
Gathering everything, he set a number.
One thousand taels wasn’t enough. Hong Chu’s additional stakes were two thousand, totaling over three thousand. His annual earning goal should be at least three thousand—secure three, strive for ten.
With the target set, he reconsidered attending the grand market.
He still wanted to go.
Tomorrow, he would see what Lu Liu and Li Feng decided. Miss this, and the next chance was September.
Whether they could secure a stall in September would depend on Li Feng.
Lu Yang put down the brush, blew on the ink, and looked at Xie Yan, lazily leaning back. Smiling, he said, “I’m settled. As always, if we don’t go this time, it’s fine. Missing it is no regret.”
