Another sunny day arrived. Song Bo wiped the sweat from his forehead; though autumn had begun, hauling cargo was still backbreaking, sweltering work.
“Song Bo, someone is looking for you!” the boat owner shouted toward him from the shore.
Holding a crate in his arms, Song Bo turned his head. Standing beside the boat owner was the prestigious middle-aged man from the day before. Since he was only a few steps away from the drop-off point, Song Bo nodded in acknowledgment and finished delivering the goods before returning to the boat owner’s side.
Even though they had met yesterday, the boat owner, fearing Song Bo might not recognize the man, introduced him: “This is Qin Wen, the owner of Baishu Pavilion.”
“Greetings, Boss Qin,” Song Bo said, cupping his hands in a respectful salute. “May I ask… what business brings you here to see me?”
“Good fortune has come your way,” the boat owner interjected before Qin Wen could speak.
Song Bo was puzzled. He was just doing his normal labor at the docks; how had “good fortune” found him?
Qin Wen smiled politely and explained, “We are currently in need of a transcriber at my establishment. I was wondering if you might be interested?”
A transcriber, as the name implies, was someone who hand-copied books. Qin Wen ran a bookstore and library, so transcribers were his greatest necessity. More specifically, he didn’t just look for anyone; those whose calligraphy failed to meet his high standards couldn’t hold the position, making staff even scarcer at Baishu Pavilion.
However, because Baishu Pavilion sold both fine hand-copied editions and common printed ones, their daily sales were high and their income substantial. Naturally, a transcriber’s salary was quite handsome.
Furthermore, Qin Wen himself had passed the imperial examinations and served as an official. Although he had since resigned, his study techniques and his experience navigating the world remained. Getting even a bit of guidance from Qin Wen in daily life was worth three days of hard private study. Consequently, the position of transcriber at Baishu Pavilion was a highly sought-after “golden rice bowl” for scholars in Chuanfu Town who couldn’t afford to attend a formal academy.
“If Boss Qin has a need, I would naturally be honored. However, I have already committed to working for the boat owner,” Song Bo said with a frown. In his heart, he certainly preferred a job with higher pay—after all, the household expenses rested on his shoulders, and he needed to purchase many items for the winter. Every cent mattered. But in principle, he had agreed to the boat owner’s work first. It was because he had joined that the crew was full and the owner hadn’t hired anyone else. To suddenly kick aside his old employer the moment a better offer appeared did not feel like the right way to behave.
“No matter,” Qin Wen said. He had expected Song Bo to say this, and it confirmed his judgment: Song Bo was indeed a young man of upright character.
“How so?” Song Bo asked.
“I have already spoken with the boat owner. This current job will be finished in a month. You can come to me then,” Qin Wen said.
This way, he wouldn’t offend the boat owner, and he had secured his next job without a gap in employment. It was a solution that satisfied everyone.
“Then I shall accept Boss Qin’s kindness.” Song Bo saluted again, every movement carrying the elegant air of a scholar.
Standing to the side, the boat owner felt a bit awkward listening to them. Scholars spoke so formally and refined; a rough man like himself could never manage it.
Looking at the fair-faced youth before him, whose stray hair brushed against his forehead as he bowed, Qin Wen nodded with satisfaction. “When the time comes, just come to the shop and find me.”
Qin Wen didn’t provide a letter or a token of credit, but given his reputation, Song Bo didn’t need to worry about him breaking his word. Having settled the matter, Qin Wen didn’t linger—he had business at the shop—and left the docks immediately.
The waves surged, and the briny scent of the sea filled Song Bo’s nose. He stretched his limbs and returned to hauling cargo.
Time passed quickly. After finishing work for the day, Song Bo had earned 50 coins—10 of which were extra from the boat owner for his letter-writing services.
Song Bo didn’t have a coin pouch. The heavy weight of the money was currently wrapped in a scrap of leftover fabric he’d grabbed from home. Upon entering the market, his first task was to buy a proper pouch. Carrying money in a cloth wrap was unreliable; it would be a joke if he let coins leak out along the way.
“Customer, see if there’s anything you like? These are all handmade by me.”
Song Bo stopped in front of a woman’s stall, and she immediately moved to greet him.
Song Bo didn’t care much about the style of his own pouch as long as it held money securely. However, he felt he should buy a nice one for Jiang Jinxi to hold some pocket money. During this past year that Jiang Jinxi had lived in his home, Song Bo hadn’t been stingy. Jiang Jinxi was an independent person, and everyone needs some money on hand to live. Though Jiang Jinxi came from a noble family and Song Bo didn’t expect him to earn money, Song Bo’s future job as a transcriber would be enough to cover their daily expenses. Supporting Jiang Jinxi for a year shouldn’t be a problem. He viewed it as “buying his own life”—so that when the story’s protagonist eventually came looking for him, he wouldn’t lose his head.
However, Song Bo didn’t know what patterns Jiang Jinxi liked, so he asked the stall owner directly, “Excuse me… what kind of styles do Gers usually prefer?”
The stall owner chuckled, a hint of playfulness in her eyes. “Are you pursuing a Ger you like?”
“He is already my husband,” Song Bo replied.
The woman’s smile brightened. “You’ve started a family so young? What good fortune.” She walked to the front of the stall and picked up several brightly colored pouches. “These are quite popular with Gers. The previous batch sold out; I just embroidered these a few days ago.”
Song Bo’s eyes fell on the selection. Each pouch was small, likely able to hold about a hundred coins. The embroidery was exquisite. He immediately took a liking to one featuring stalks of green bamboo.
Green bamboo represented vitality, a perfect sentiment for Jiang Jinxi.
Song Bo took the bamboo pouch and another plain, unadorned one for himself. Together, they cost him 14 coins.
With the pouches settled, Song Bo headed straight for the fabric shop. The autumn wind was growing harsher, and it would only get colder. The tattered, hole-filled quilt at home would not be enough to withstand the approaching winter.
“Step inside, sir! We have a vast selection of fabrics—expensive, affordable, we have it all.”
Song Bo entered a shop recommended by Li Wu, who said the prices were fair and the staff were welcoming to commoners.
“I want to make a quilt.”
“We have ready-made quilts in stock.” The clerk smiled and led Song Bo toward the bedding section.
The clerk hadn’t exaggerated the variety; the selection alone was enough to make Song Bo’s head spin.
“This quilt arrived just today. It’s filled with reed catkins and is very warm.” The clerk gripped a quilt hanging on a wooden rack. He had a sharp eye and had chosen a product that best fit Song Bo’s current attire. “You can feel it for yourself.”
The quilt was indeed decent. It was a light gray color that wouldn’t show dirt easily. While it had no patterns, the texture was good, and the reed filling was thick. When pressed, it bounced back quickly.
In this era, even a poor-quality cotton quilt cost 2,000 coins, let alone the high-end ones. Cotton was a luxury for common folk, who typically used hemp quilts stuffed with reeds.
“How much for this one?” Song Bo asked.
A hemp quilt required two bolts of hemp fabric sewn together. At 170 coins per bolt, plus the cost of the reed filling, Song Bo estimated it would be around 400 coins.
“380 coins,” the clerk answered.
It was cheaper than he expected. “I’ll take it. Please wrap it up.”
“Certainly, sir. Would you like to see anything else?”
“How much for ready-made clothes?”
“This way, please.” The clerk led Song Bo to the next area.
Neither he nor Jiang Jinxi had decent clothes to change into. Now that he had earned some money, it was the perfect time to buy a few emergency sets.
The walls were lined with fabric bolts and finished garments. The clerk introduced them as they walked. Ready-made clothes were cheaper than custom-made ones because the patterns and sizes were standardized. Without the need for custom tailoring, the price was lower.
Song Bo didn’t know his own measurements, so he had the clerk measure him on the spot.
To his surprise, the original owner’s physique was quite good. At 1.82 meters tall and weighing about 72 kilograms with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he was a natural clothes horse. As the clerk measured him, he couldn’t help but praise: “Your build is perfect, though it means we have fewer ready-made options that will fit you.”
The average height for adult men in the Kingdom of Heng was between 1.7 and 1.78 meters. Most shops made clothes within that range; since Song Bo was tall, those clothes would be too small.
“It’s fine, I can have them custom-made,” Song Bo said. Clothes were different from other items—if they didn’t fit right and felt restrictive, it would ruin his mood all day.
After getting his measurements, Song Bo realized he didn’t know Jiang Jinxi’s sizes. Without them, he couldn’t buy well-fitting clothes. He asked the clerk, “Could I borrow this measuring tape? Or I can rent it. I need to go back and measure someone at home.”
“Of course,” the clerk replied quickly. Since Song Bo had already purchased a quilt, they wouldn’t lose money even if he made off with the tape.
Song Bo asked for instructions on how to take proper measurements before tucking the tape away.
Since there were few ready-made clothes in his size and he didn’t particularly like them, he decided to select fabric and have the shop tailor them. For a man of his size, one bolt of fabric could make two shirts and a pair of trousers. Jiang Jinxi was about 10 centimeters shorter, so one bolt could provide him with two full outfits.
However, calculating it all, getting new clothes for both of them would cost over 800 coins. Having just bought the quilt, Song Bo didn’t have enough.
No matter, he thought. He was a man who spent all day getting dirty at the docks anyway. He would use the remaining money to buy two sets for Jiang Jinxi first, and buy his own once he earned more.