Chapter 13: The Purslane Gambit
Chapter 13: The Purslane Gambit
Steward Wang and Chef Zhao stood paralyzed, their jaws slack with disbelief.
A fishmonger had actually appeared at the gates. And this wasn’t just any catch—each specimen was a staggering six jin and six liang!
Steward Wang refused to believe his luck could turn so sharply, yet his legs moved before his mind could process the miracle. He sprinted toward the entrance, Chef Zhao scrambling at his heels like a man possessed.
Outside, four youths stood drenched to the bone. Rainwater cascaded from their brow, matting their hair into heavy, dark ropes against their faces. Their skin was as pale as parchment, bled of all color by the chill, yet Steward Wang had no time to pity their wretched state. His eyes were locked onto the wooden cart.
It was heaped to the brim with massive, prime fish.
The scales shimmered with a dull, wet luster, and the occasional flick of a tail ignited a spark of pure hope in the steward’s chest.
“Heaven be praised!” he cried, his voice cracking with relief. “This is perfect!”
He rounded on the lead youth. “Fishmonger, you’ve come to the right place. I’ll take them all. Every single one!” He barked over his shoulder, “Chef Zhao, get the servants out here this instant!”
Chef Zhao turned to bolt back inside, but Chen Chang’an shifted, his silhouette cutting through the rain as he stepped into Steward Wang’s path.
“We haven’t agreed on a price yet,” Chen Chang’an said coolly.
“Price? Hang the price!” Steward Wang laughed heartily, the weight of a potential execution lifting from his shoulders. “How many fish in total?”
“At market rates, it’s two fish for one liang of silver,” Chen Chang’an noted.
“I’ll pay you one liang per fish,” the steward countered, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m buying the entire lot. You’ll turn a handsome profit.”
Zhou Qiankun and the others exchanged wide-eyed glances, their faces lighting up. They knew Chen Chang’an had spent forty liang to acquire this stock. Selling them here would net fifty liang in pure profit from a single trip to Yuyang City. To be blunt, fifty liang was more than the three of them could hope to earn in a year combined. It was as if silver were falling from the clouds.
“Big Brother, let me help push the cart inside—” Zhou Qiankun started, reaching for the frame.
Chen Chang’an didn’t budge, his grip tightening on the handles. “Push it?” He looked at the steward, his eyes narrowing. “In this torrential storm, Squire Zhuge’s manor offers only this? Do you truly believe we can’t find a better rate elsewhere in the city?”
“Let’s go,” Chen Chang’an commanded his siblings. “We’ll see what the rest of Yuyang has to offer.”
Zhou Qiankun and the others froze, utterly baffled. *Good heavens, he’s offering a liang a fish and you’re walking away? Big Brother, that’s a fortune!*
“Listen to me. We’re leaving,” Chen Chang’an growled, beginning to haul the cart back toward the road.
Chef Zhao returned with a squad of servants, only to find the deal collapsing. He looked as bewildered as the boys. “Steward Wang, what’s happening? They can’t leave!”
Steward Wang felt a throbbing ache begin at his temples. He realized it now: these young fishmongers were looting a burning house. They were blatantly profiteering from his desperation. In any other circumstance, the steward would have crushed such insolence without a second thought. But today, he was a man with a noose around his neck. The entire manor was waiting.
“Wait!” Steward Wang stepped back into Chen Chang’an’s path. “You’re young, but you’ve the tongue of a shrewd merchant. Where are you from? Who is your father? Where do you usually trade?” He needed leverage—a name to threaten or a reputation to squeeze.
Chen Chang’an sighed, his expression unreadable behind the veil of rain. “We are from Jiangdu. My parents are long dead. I am all that remains to provide for my brothers and sisters.”
Steward Wang’s brow furrowed as he studied their threadbare, soaked attire. They did look like orphans. If they had a father, what man would be cruel enough to send them through a deluge from Jiangdu to Yuyang? He shook his head. “No father… Fine. What is your price, then?”
In his mind, adding another half-liang would be the absolute ceiling.
Chen Chang’an wiped the rain from his eyes and spoke with terrifying calm. “Three liang per fish.”
“How much? Did you say *three*?” Steward Wang’s composure shattered. He gritted his teeth, his face reddening. “Fish are scarce, boy, but you are overreaching. In fair weather, three liang buys a half-dozen fish. Be reasonable.”
Zhou Qiankun and the others lowered their heads in silence. Even they felt Chen Chang’an was pushing the Squire too far.
“You mentioned fair weather,” Chen Chang’an countered. “Look around you. What kind of weather is this? The fiercer the storm, the higher the price of the catch—surely a man of your position understands the way of the world. We braved the floods to reach your gate. Three liang is the minimum.”
Steward Wang clenched his jaw so hard it clicked. He was swallowing his fury like bitter gall. A family of three lived comfortably on five liang a month, yet this whelp dared to open his mouth like a lion demanding a feast!
“No, it’s too much. One hundred and eighty liang for the lot.”
Chen Chang’an said nothing. He simply leaned into the harness to pull the cart away.
“Don’t go! I’m offering two liang per fish! That is a king’s ransom!”
“It is a fair price, but I want three.”
“You little—”
Before the steward could curse, a maid hurried from the inner courts, her voice high with anxiety. “Steward Wang! The Young Master sent me to ask why the fish haven't reached the kitchen! Is there a delay?”
Steward Wang forced his rage into a small, dark corner of his mind. “Tell the Young Master there will be no mistakes. The preparation begins now.”
As the maid vanished, the steward’s shoulders slumped. “Boy, I am but a servant. There is no need to make my life this difficult. Do me a kindness?”
Sun Jingyi reached out, tugging gently at Chen Chang’an’s sleeve. “Brother, perhaps we could be a little flexible…”
Chen Chang’an remained silent for a long beat. “Fine. My sister has asked, so I shall grant her the face. Two hundred and sixty-nine liang.”
Steward Wang nearly choked. He had expected a significant concession, only for the price to drop by a single, insulting liang. *I thank you for nothing!*
“One hundred and ninety liang!” the steward barked.
“Two hundred and sixty-eight.”
“Two hundred! Can we stop haggling over a few dozen liang?”
“Two hundred and sixty-seven. That is my final floor.”
Several grueling rounds of negotiation followed, but Chen Chang’an was a stone wall. Even Chef Zhao reached his breaking point. “Boy, be a man! Stop obsessing over every copper!”
“Two hundred and thirty liang, final offer!” the chef roared. “If the manor won't pay it, I’ll make up the difference from my own pocket!” He signaled the servants to seize the cart. Steward Wang could afford to dither, but the chef had a banquet to cook.
This time, Chen Chang’an let them take the handles, though his eyes remained sharp.
“Don’t be greedy. Two hundred and thirty liang is more than enough!” Chef Zhao muttered, his voice thick with irritation.
“Then we have a deal,” Chen Chang’an said, a thin smile finally touching his lips. “My brothers and I rushed from Jiangdu at dawn and haven't eaten a morsel. I’d like to request a bowl of rice from the Squire’s kitchen. Furthermore, I hear Squire Zhuge grows a vast array of medicinal herbs. The thirty liang we ‘saved’ you in the haggling—I’ll use it to purchase the herbs we require. We can’t very well return to Jiangdu with an empty cart, can we?”
Steward Wang rolled his eyes toward the heavens. *This brat is a vulture. He never stops looking for a way to profit…* “Fine! Dammit, I agree!”
Finally, the fish were hauled into the back kitchens. Chef Zhao fell upon them immediately, scales flying as he worked with frantic precision.
Seeing the heavy pouch of two hundred and thirty liang in Chen Chang’an’s hand, the younger siblings looked at him with pure, unadulterated worship. After deducting their costs, they had cleared one hundred and ninety liang in profit. To them, it was a mountain of wealth.
Zhou Qiankun was ecstatic, nearly tackling Chen Chang’an in a hug. “Big Brother, you’re incredible!”
“I was terrified, Brother,” Sun Jingyi whispered. “How did you know they wouldn't just throw us out?”
“Over two hundred liang… we’re rich!”
Chen Chang’an shook his head at their wide-eyed, star-struck reaction. A mere two hundred liang? They thought this was the peak? He intended to command the wealth of the entire world.
“Quiet down and listen,” Chen Chang’an said, lowering his voice as they moved toward the herb stores. “Once we’ve eaten, you will follow my instructions to the letter. We are here to gather herbs, but specifically, you must collect as much purslane as the cart can carry.”
The brothers’ eyes lit up again. Another plan?
Purslane—the common pigweed or ‘grasshopper vegetable’—was a wild green they had all scavenged before to stave off hunger. It grew in Jiangdu, but the soil of Yuyang City was far more fertile for it.
Could a common weed truly be turned into gold? How?