WSMTATMC C102

Chapter 102

Wang Ying set Yuanbao down and rose to open the door.

“Qingyun, why are you still up so late?”

Chen Qingyun hesitated, then pulled a sachet from her bosom and handed it to him. “This jade was a gift from my maternal grandfather—said to be quite valuable. We’re away from home now, and everything for food, clothing, and daily needs falls on Sister-in-law. I can’t help much; if money runs short, pawn this.”

“No need—we’re nowhere near the point of empty pots. Keep it for now; if we truly fall short, I’ll ask you then.”

But Qingyun pushed the sachet into his hands and fled.

Wang Ying opened it. The jade’s texture and luster screamed expense. He couldn’t help feeling moved—Qingyun had considered matters so thoroughly. The girl had grown up.

He dared not be careless with such a precious item and immediately stowed it in the experimental field.

Now that they were settled, he would take time tomorrow to write several letters to family. Who knew how the county fared? He would have to send word to Fourth Uncle and to Qingyan’s uncle. In a disaster like this, moving suddenly without a word might convince kin they’d been drowned.

Tomorrow he also needed to scout shopfronts. It was already mid-august; once the wheat in the field finished harvesting, he would plant seasonal vegetables. By the tenth month, the first batch could hit the market—time to secure a storefront.

He blew out the candle and, with an arm around his son, slept till dawn.

—

Meanwhile, Chen Rong’s party reached the county seat with her son-in-law.

Longquan County’s outskirts had been hit so badly that there were fewer refugees than expected—because many were dead.

At the city gate, they saw that the corpses outside had been mostly burned—leaving mounds of blackened earth.

“What did they burn out here?” Chen Rong asked.

“Corpses,” Lin Qiu murmured.

“Corpses?”

“When we left, it was all corpses outside the wall—swept there by the flood, packed tight enough to raise gooseflesh just to look.”

Chen Rong blanched; hearing it sent a cold sweat down her back.

Inside the walls, there were few pedestrians. Those they saw hurried along nervously. Compared to the days when they’d left, the atmosphere was entirely different. Something had changed.

Cao Kun hurried the carriage home. At the gate, three men loitered, furtive in their movements.

“What do you think you’re doing!” he shouted, and the men ran.

“What were they doing at our door?” Lin Qiu asked, peeking out.

“Nothing good.” Cao Kun unlocked the door. The lock showed pry marks. Those men had likely been trying to break in and steal, but they’d arrived just in time.

They drove the carriage into the courtyard and checked the rooms. Nothing seemed ransacked—perhaps they hadn’t gotten in.

“Qiu’er, settle Mother and Little Brother. I’ll take the horse and swing by my mother’s.”

“Go—be careful.”

He led the horse straight to the relay stable, but the main doors were shut. After much knocking a narrow gap opened. “Brother Cao?”

“Xiao Gao, where is everyone? Why is the shop closed?”

“Come in,” the lad said, glancing about before opening the door.

The interior was empty—no one in sight.

“The head steward took the men to Laizhou to haul grain. The county is short. A dou of rice is up to four hundred cash—at this rate, people will starve!”

“Four hundred?!” Three hundred had seemed outrageous; this was worse.

“The grain shops’ stock has been hoarded by merchants. They set prices as they wish; folk can’t afford it. Theft and robbery are everywhere. The city hasn’t been safe these days—mind yourself.”

“Does the yamen do nothing?”

“Do what? The magistrate and the merchants are in each other’s pockets, palming off benefits. He won’t lift a finger!”

Cao Kun swore. “I’ll take the horse back. I’m going to check on my mother.”

“Brother Cao—wait,” the lad called.

“What is it?”

“Take the horse home. The bosses took nearly all the fodder when they left. If the horse stays, I fear we’ll starve it…”

At sixty or seventy taels a head, a horse wasn’t something a shop lad could repay.

“Alright—I’ll keep it. I’ll return it when the steward comes back.”

He rode straight to his mother’s old place. She lived there with only a maid; if cutthroats sniffed around…

At the gate, the door was shut. He pounded until, just as he moved to climb the wall, a string of curses rang out from within.

“Knock, knock, knock—is someone dying? Do you know my son is a relay steward—been all over—seen blood? Keep knocking and I’ll have him cut you down!”

Relieved by the ferocity, he called, “Mother, it’s me.”

“Kun’er!” She ran to the door and unblocked the barricade piece by piece.

“Are you alright, Mother?”

“I’m fine. Did you fetch the in-laws? Are they alright?”

“They are. I’ve settled them at the other courtyard.”

“Good, good.”

“Did someone just knock at your gate?”

“Since the day after you left, people have come by, knocking to borrow grain. I don’t dare lend it.” She paused. “At first they were polite; later they started cursing. Yesterday, they tried to smash the door to force their way in. Near scared me to death.”

Cao Kun’s eyes darkened. “Where’s Aunt Hui?”

“She left the second day after you. Said she was going to her uncle. I didn’t hold her—gave her a string of cash and sent her off.”

“I can’t rest easy with you alone. Come back to the other courtyard.”

This time, his mother didn’t refuse. “Then take what we can. If we leave it, it’ll be stolen clean.”

Mother and son packed food and essentials. Behind the old house was a vegetable patch—higher ground, spared the flood. Many plants lived.

She uprooted them, ready to transplant at the other place.

They filled a large trunk and managed to load it. After locking the door, they strapped the chest to the horse and returned.

Before they’d entered the gate, a neighbor approached to borrow grain.

Before Cao Kun could refuse, his mother spoke first—crying poor. “Auntie, it’s not that we won’t lend. We don’t have any to eat either. See what’s in this chest?”

She opened it—nothing but seedlings. “We’re hungry enough to dig up greens. There’s a child at home. If you can, lend us some!”

At once, the woman retreated and barred her gate, not answering again.

“Humph,” said Mother Cao. “With that sort, you have to parry. Give an inch and they’ll be here every day for more.”

Inside, Lin Qiu met them. “Mother, you’re here.”

“Where’s little Mai?”

“With my mother. Go on in; we’ll tidy up here.”

She hurried in. She had missed the child terribly.

Before the flood, they had brought the baby by every few days. Now, she hadn’t seen him since the disaster began.

She found Chen Rong and the in-laws sat and exchanged condolence and news. “I heard the town was destroyed—houses washed away?”

“Just so. The dead are past counting. Only a few hundred survived.”

Mother Cao clicked her tongue. Too tragic for words.

“Sui’er and I will have to board here for a time—please don’t mind us.”

“How could I mind!” Mother Cao said. “You are his mother—it’s right you should live with your son. You stay as long as you like. If Cao Kun dares grumble, I’ll cuff him!”

Chen Rong laughed. When Lin Qiu had married, she had worried the mother-in-law might be hard. Now she saw the older woman was blunt-tongued but easy to deal with.

Cradling her grandson, Mother Cao sighed. “He’s thinner. If we’d known how it was out there, we wouldn’t have taken him. In such heat, it’s hard enough on grown folk, let alone a child.”

“Exactly—no wonder Lin Qiu had to come back with the boy.”

Thankfully, the journey hadn’t made him ill, and he was as lively and sweet as ever.

After a while, the young couple finished tidying. The old house had five main rooms, with a kitchen and storeroom—a good fit for several people.

Chen Rong and Lin Sui took the west room; Mother Cao lived with Cao Kun and Lin Qiu in the east three.

Food was not a worry. On leaving the town, Wang Ying had given them five sacks of wheat; combined with the millet they had brought, it would last until spring.

To be safe, Cao Kun took a string of cash to the grain shop.

Prices were rising by the day. Yesterday, millet had been 450 per dou; today it was 500. Those with money could still eat; those without were digging wild greens and chewing bark.

He went in to inquire. The clerk knew him and, after some talk, sold him four and a half dou for a string. Cao Kun packed it into sacks and left.

From the moment he stepped out, ten pairs of eyes fixed on the bags. Only because he looked tall and hard did they refrain from jumping him.

The man behind him was not so lucky. He’d barely taken a few steps when a crowd surrounded him, snatching at the millet in his arms.

“Don’t—don’t! My child and old mother are starving—let go!”

Such scenes had become daily occurrences. No one intervened; even the yamen runners couldn’t keep their bellies full. Longquan County was a pot boiling over.

It remained this way until the tenth month, when the authorities finally sent soldiers with relief grain; prices fell back—but many had already starved.

—

By the tenth month, the North had already begun to chill; mornings and evenings now called for heavier clothing.

At first light, Wang Ying took Ma Qianzi out to view shopfronts; when they reached the appointed spot, the broker-woman was already waiting.

“Please come in, honored sir. This shop has an excellent location—don’t be misled by the narrow doorway; it’s quite spacious inside and won’t hinder trade. What do you think?” she asked.

Wang Ying shook his head. Inside was a long narrow tube with no windows—pitch-black within, nothing visible. The price wasn’t high, but one couldn’t keep candles burning every day just to do business.

Once outside, Ma Qianzi hurried to ask, “Master, how does it look?”

“No—let’s see the next one.”

Another shop lay at the junction of Zhengyang Street and the main avenue, a crossroads where all sorts mingled.

As they arrived, a brawl broke out—men hammering each other bloody—until constables hauled them off.

Wang Ying’s brows knitted; he didn’t even bother to look before abandoning that storefront.

His fresh produce was meant for wealthy households; the stewards of great families would never shop in a place like that. Besides, without a power base, if trouble kept flaring up, the little money earned wouldn’t even cover the costs of smoothing things over.

A fruitless morning sent them home empty-handed.

In recent days, Ma Qianzi had learned the prefectural city’s streets well; on ordinary days, he did the legwork to find candidates and only then called Wang Ying to inspect.

Even so, suitable shops were scarce; any that appealed came with high rents. With the vegetables in the experimental field already planted and about to come in, if nothing else worked, he would have to use Qingyun’s jade…