“First pot of gold. We must secure it.”
Chen Zui lay on her father Chen Laosan’s broad back, swaying gently with his steady steps. Watching the increasingly bustling streets of Anping County, she silently repeated the thought in her mind.
It was just after dawn.
Chen Laosan carried a worn bamboo basket on his back, an old bandage wrapped around his head that was faintly stained with blood. His trouser legs were splattered with mud. He walked quickly—after drinking the spiritual spring water last night, he felt full of endless strength. Even after dozens of miles of mountain road, he wasn’t out of breath at all.
As they passed the city gate, villagers from their hometown who had come to market pointed at them.
“Hey, isn’t that Laosan? Did they split the family and starve? Is he going into the city to beg?”
“Carrying a sick child and still walking that fast… strange indeed.”
The harsh words drifted on the wind into their ears. Chen Laosan paused slightly. If it had been before, he would have already lowered his head in shame, face red. But today, he only subconsciously touched the hard cloth bundle in his chest, straightened his back, and walked on without looking aside.
That bundle held his family’s future. He had no time to argue with such gossiping women.
In the basket, Chen Zui watched her father’s tight jawline and curled her lips slightly. Money really does give a man courage—he hadn’t even sold anything yet, but his confidence had already risen by a third.
They passed through the noisy market and stopped in front of a grand two-story building.
On the black lacquered plaque with gold lettering were three large characters: Jishitang (济世堂).
This was the largest pharmacy in Anping County, reportedly connected even to people in the capital. Well-dressed customers in silk robes came and went, and the air was filled with the faint bitter fragrance of medicinal herbs.
Looking at the high threshold, Chen Laosan felt a bit uneasy. He rubbed his calloused hands and tightened his grip on the cloth bundle in his chest before stepping forward.
“Get lost! Where did this beggar come from!”
A chicken-feather duster swept across the air, nearly brushing his nose.
A young attendant in gray stood at the entrance, triangular eyes full of disgust as he looked at the father and daughter, as if they were something filthy.
“If you’re begging, go to the back alley! Don’t block the entrance and offend the noble guests! Take your poor smell somewhere else!”
He waved the duster like he was chasing flies.
Chen Laosan’s momentum, just built up, nearly collapsed at that shout. He forced a smile and bent his waist.
“Little brother, I’m not here to beg. I’m here… to sell medicine.”
“Sell medicine?” The attendant sized him up and sneered. “You? What kind of medicine could you possibly have? Wild weeds from the roadside, trying to scam money? Get lost, or I’ll break your legs!”
Nearby customers also cast contemptuous looks.
Chen Laosan’s face turned red. His lips trembled as he tried to argue, but didn’t know how.
At that moment, a crisp voice came from inside the basket.
“Father, put me down.”
Chen Laosan instinctively crouched.
Chen Zui climbed down quickly, straightened her patched cotton jacket, and walked forward.
Her small face—barely the size of a palm—was calm and stern, showing not a trace of fear.
She walked up to the attendant, who was three heads taller than her, clasping her hands behind her back. In that moment, she looked less like a child and more like an old scholar inspecting his territory.
“Root head round and long, bark aged with deep wrinkles, iron-thread veins dense, pearl-like dots visible.”
A string of obscure medicinal terms suddenly came out of her mouth.
The attendant froze mid-swing. He looked down at the little girl in confusion.
“What… what did you say?”
Ignoring him, Chen Zui turned and carefully took the cloth bundle from her father, placing it on the reception table.
“If your Jishitang can’t afford this, we’ll go to Huichuntang across the street,” she said calmly while slowly unwrapping it. “A fifty-year-old wild mountain ginseng that can save a life hanging by a thread. Plenty of people would fight to buy it.”
The cloth was opened.
A wild ginseng root lay quietly on the table, still carrying the scent of soil.
Though just a gatekeeper, the attendant had been around medicine long enough to recognize quality. His eyes nearly popped out when he saw the dense rings and firm root head.
This quality… was even better than the one the shopkeeper had spent a fortune buying just days ago!
Before he could react, a calm voice came from behind the counter.
“What’s all this commotion? Unseemly!”
An elderly man with a goat beard walked out—sharp-eyed and composed. This was Shopkeeper Tong of Jishitang.
His gaze fell on the ginseng, and his pupils shrank sharply.
He rushed forward in two steps, ignoring the dirt on Chen Laosan, leaned in to smell it, then carefully picked it up with a cloth in his hand.
“Good stuff!” he exclaimed. “Tightly packed root crowns—authentic old mountain ginseng! At least fifty years!”
He looked up at Chen Laosan. “Where did you get this?”
Chen Laosan froze and instinctively looked at his daughter.
Chen Zui stepped forward, shielding her father.
“Shopkeeper grandpa, good medicine doesn’t ask its origin. Just name your price.”
The shopkeeper looked at her more carefully now, surprise flashing in his eyes. This child spoke clearly, showed no fear, and even held the upper hand in the negotiation.
“A bold little one,” he said, stroking his beard. “Fifty taels. How about it?”
Fifty taels!
Chen Laosan sucked in a sharp breath, almost staggering. That was enough to build three large houses and buy dozens of acres of good farmland!
Just as he was about to agree, Chen Zui tugged at his sleeve.
“Shopkeeper grandpa, that’s not very honest,” she said lightly, shaking her head. “There’s war in the north, and medicinal supply is strictly controlled. In winter, the nobles value their lives most. This kind of life-saving ginseng in the provincial capital already goes for over a hundred taels. You’re offering fifty—are you taking advantage of us country folk?”
The shopkeeper’s smile froze for a moment, then turned into a wry grin.
This wasn’t a three-year-old child at all—it was a little fox! She even knew about the war and market conditions!
“Alright, alright, I misjudged you,” he sighed. “Eighty taels. That’s the final price. I don’t have more cash on hand.”
Eighty taels.
Chen Laosan felt like fireworks were exploding in his head. He was dizzy.
Chen Zui calculated briefly. It was fair. Any higher would bring trouble.
“Deal,” she said simply.
The silver was quickly brought out—eight heavy ten-tael ingots, plus a few strings of copper coins.
When the weight landed in Chen Laosan’s hands, the rugged man trembled as though struck by lightning. He shoved it deep into his clothes and clutched it tightly, afraid it would fly away.
After the deal was done, just as they were about to leave, Shopkeeper Tong suddenly called out.
“Little friend,” he said, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “May I ask… who taught you how to identify herbs?”
A three-year-old who could recognize ginseng quality and understand market prices could not possibly be ordinary. There must be a master behind her.
Chen Zui paused and turned back.
Thinking of the nonexistent “white-bearded old man,” she smiled mysteriously.
“Shopkeeper grandpa, my master once said: there is always a mountain higher than another. If I come across more good things in the future, I will return.”
With that, she took her still-dazed father by the hand and walked out of Jishitang without looking back.
Standing at the doorway, Shopkeeper Tong watched their small figures disappear into the crowd, his fingers tightening slightly on his beard.
“Go,” he ordered the attendant. “Find out which village that father and daughter are from. That little girl… there’s likely an extraordinary divine physician behind her.”