The remnants of snow lingered in the shaded spots untouched by the sun, and the biting wind made the cold unbearable. Despite Zhou Jing’s strenuous efforts that left him drenched in sweat, he still found it hard to endure. He retreated to a sheltered spot and asked with a smile, “Manager Jin, is there something you’d like me to do?”
Manager Jin rubbed his hands together and said, “You’ve got strength and a silver tongue. My shop happens to be short-handed, and you’d fit right in.”
Zhou Jing wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ve got some pressing matters to attend to lately. I wouldn’t want to hold up your business. If you’re still in need of help after I’m done, I’ll gladly come back.”
Manager Jin frowned slightly but nodded. Then he pressed further, “How old are you? Are you spoken for?”
Zhou Jing immediately caught his drift and scratched his head awkwardly, his face flushing. “I’ve got my eye on someone. We’ll be wed next year.” He had saved up some money, and the orchard owner he worked for wanted to sell the place since he no longer had time to tend to it. Zhou Jing figured that if managed well, the orchard could turn a decent profit. He was keen on taking it over, but he was still short on funds, leaving him at a loss.
Manager Jin chuckled, shook his head with a sigh, and turned to leave. But after a moment’s hesitation, he stopped and said, “There’s always a place for you here. If you ever find yourself without a proper path, you’re welcome to come. I’ve taken a liking to you.”
Zhou Jing’s heart skipped a beat. He never imagined he’d meet someone like this in his lifetime—someone who neither looked down on his humble origins nor demanded anything from him. A warmth spread through his chest.
After collecting his wages, Jicheng accompanied Manager Jin to visit a friend, presenting the herbs they had gathered a few days prior to a medicinal merchant. The merchant remarked that while the quality was good, such herbs were abundant among specialized growers and wouldn’t fetch much of a premium. Instead, rare finds like ginseng and lingzhi were in high demand. If they could dig some up, he’d pay handsomely for them and would continue buying such herbs in the future.
Bidding farewell to Manager Jin, Jicheng strolled through the market with Liansheng, discussing the herb business. “We’ve toiled in the mountains for so long, only to earn a pittance. It’s really…”
Liansheng laughed it off. “No matter. Even if I were out looking for odd jobs, I wouldn’t earn much. Besides, today’s work was thanks to you. If I were left to wander aimlessly in this town, I might’ve missed the opportunity entirely. The mountains are full of treasures—we just need to keep searching, and we might strike gold.”
Jicheng smiled, realizing he’d been too impatient. He still had to tend to the mountains properly. Then it struck him that Zhou Jing had disappeared at some point, though he could easily guess where he’d gone—nowhere but Miss An’s place.
“I heard he wants to buy the orchard he’s been tending to but is short by nearly a hundred taels. No wonder he’s been so troubled lately. Zhou Jing’s proud by nature—he’s agonizing over this but refuses to let Miss An know. He truly cherishes her from the bottom of his heart.”
Jicheng wanted to help but had little to spare at home. He decided to discuss it with Chunfu and contribute what they could. A well-managed orchard could be profitable, and Zhou Jing was already skilled at tending to it. The initial phase might be tough, but once things got rolling, prosperity would follow.
On the bustling street, an old man hunched over, stroking his donkey’s mane with a sigh. His clouded eyes scanned the hurried passersby, his heart heavy with worry. His wife was gravely ill and needed expensive medicine, forcing him to part with his beloved donkey.
Most livestock sellers set up far from town to avoid complaints about the mess horses and sheep left behind. Clearly new to trading, the old man rambled to his donkey like a parent, urging it to obey its new master, be mindful, and not cause trouble—proof of the deep bond between them.
Jicheng glanced at the commotion ahead but approached the old man instead. “This one’s in fine shape. You must’ve raised it with great care.”
The old man sighed. “Indeed, I treated it like my own child, never letting it suffer. If not for desperate times, I’d sooner bear hardship myself than sell it. Are you looking to buy?”
Jicheng nodded. “I often come to town, and traveling on foot wastes time. This one looks sturdy, and you seem honest. How much?”
The old man, tears welling, stroked the donkey as if sensing their impending separation. “Even a poor-quality horse costs over twenty taels. My donkey’s nearly as fast. Selling it feels like selling my own child—fifteen taels is the lowest I can go.” Seeing Jicheng hesitate, he panicked. His wife needed medicine, and after a whole day, only one person had inquired. If he sold it too cheap, his conscience would ache.
“Fourteen, then? Thirteen—truly, no lower.” If his wife recovered, the leftover money would be their meager retirement fund. He’d even buy coffins in advance to spare them indignity in death.
Jicheng’s heart ached at the sight of the old man’s threadbare coat, its lining frayed and cotton exposed. Times were hard, and selling possessions was a last resort. He’d intended to buy a horse but figured a well-fed donkey wouldn’t be much slower. Softly, he said, “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to undersell. I’ll give you fifteen taels. But the streets are crowded—best be cautious. We poor folk must watch our backs.”
After handing over the silver and ensuring the count was right, Jicheng escorted the old man home. The dilapidated yard suggested the donkey had been their most valuable asset. The old man clung to Jicheng, offering endless advice before finally urging them to leave.
On the ride back, Jicheng mused to Liansheng, “It’s only when you see others’ struggles that you realize our village isn’t so bad. Some families barely harvest enough to pay taxes, leaving nothing to eat. Heaven turns a blind eye to the suffering of the poor.”
Liansheng nodded, watching the barren trees flash by. “True. After taxes, my family just scrapes by. The new magistrate hasn’t been cruel, at least—unlike the last one, who squeezed us dry. That kind of oppression could drive a man to ruin.”
Jicheng flicked the reins, guiding the skittish donkey home. The road’s potholes, filled with melted snow refrozen by night winds, cracked under the cart’s weight. The icy wind howled, but the donkey’s bell lent a cheerful note to the gloom.
At home, Chunfu alternated between napping and sewing to pass the time. With rice ready, she tossed vegetables, vermicelli, and fish into a pot of seasoned broth, the rich red soup mouthwatering.
Just as she started on a clear broth, cart wheels and hoofbeats sounded outside. She smiled—Jicheng was back.
Their dog, Abao, barked furiously at the unfamiliar donkey, which snorted and stamped, sending Abao scurrying with its tail between its legs. Jicheng laughed. “What a coward! And here I thought you’d open the gate. They say a dog takes after its owner—guess that’s not always true.”
After feeding the donkey and pigs with stored hay (worrying it wouldn’t last), Jicheng brushed off the dust and headed inside. Chunfu had laid out the meal, and in the warmth, she helped him shed his outer layers. “You’ll sweat during dinner. No need to bundle up now.”
Rubbing his hands, Jicheng admired Chunfu’s rosy cheeks. “I bought a donkey. We don’t need speed, just reliability. This one’s young and well-kept—less trouble for us. Tomorrow I’ll build a shed to shelter it and add a lock against thieves.”
Winter was harsh, but time flew. With the New Year approaching after several snowfalls, opportunists might target them—better safe than sorry. Chunfu sipped her soup and agreed.
“Liansheng mentioned Zhou Jing’s short on funds to buy the orchard. He hasn’t asked, but I’d like to help. A well-run orchard can be profitable, and we know he’s trustworthy.”
Jicheng watched Chunfu cautiously, fearing resistance. Lately, she’d insisted on counting their savings nightly. To his surprise, she said, “Lend it to him. I won’t stand in the way of honest work. Zhou Jing’s ambitious—if he’d been born wealthy, he’d thrive. Climbing out of poverty’s hard. We’ve no urgent expenses, and what’s left will see us through.”
Jicheng smiled. “You’re always counting. How much do we have?”
Winter income was slim. The shop’s main earnings came from the Pei family’s teahouse, and their share was modest. Selling preserved goods and fish might net a few taels. After buying the donkey for twenty taels, they had fifty left. Lending the bulk would leave enough to live on, if frugally, until next month’s earnings.
After hearing the tally, Jicheng pondered. “Once the shed’s done, I’ll take the money to Zhou Jing in town, then head to the county to settle that matter.”
But uncertainty gnawed at him. He had no idea what lay ahead.
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