The two of them quickly retraced their steps.
Halfway up the mountain, Yan Ziyue and the others had already gathered a large pile of dry firewood—enough to last the Yan family at least half a month. Yan Ziyue’s basket was also half full of wild vegetables.
This trip could be said to be a great harvest.
Yan Zihao used the rope they brought to tie the firewood into a bundle, and the group hurried down the mountain.
By now, it was late afternoon. The sun was setting, and the sky was painted red by the evening glow.
Father Yan, Mother Yan, and Yan Erlang were still working in the fields.
Erlang had been watching the mountain, and when he saw Yan Zihao and Lu Qingran coming down, he called out happily:
“Father, Mother! Big Brother and Sister-in-law are coming down!”
Hearing this, the parents looked up and saw Yan Zihao dragging a large bundle of firewood toward them.
“Dalang, that’s a lot of firewood—looks like enough for half a month,” Mother Yan said.
“Third Sister and the others gathered most of it. Mother, Qingran and I need to go to town again. You can eat dinner first,” Yan Zihao replied.
“Go to town again? What’s so urgent? It’s getting dark—can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Mother Yan asked, puzzled.
“It’s a bit urgent. We’ll be back soon.”
“Alright, go and come back quickly. If there’s an ox cart, take it,” she reminded them.
After dropping off their things at home, Yan Zihao and Lu Qingran hurried out again. By the time they reached the village entrance, the ox cart had just gone about fifty meters, so they quickened their pace.
“Oh, it’s you two again? Didn’t you go to town this morning? What’s so urgent?” the driver asked casually once they got on.
The driver, surnamed Wang, used to live over a hundred li away in Wangjia’ao, also under Zhushan Town. The area was remote and poor. His son once saved someone in the mountains and received twenty taels of silver as a reward, which allowed the family to move here.
“It’s something urgent,” Yan Zihao replied briefly.
Once they reached Zhushan Town, they went straight to Jishitang, the only pharmacy in town, known for fair prices and a good reputation.
Inside, rows of medicine cabinets lined the walls.
“Are you here to see a doctor or buy medicine?” a young apprentice asked.
“Is your shopkeeper here? We’d like to speak with him,” Yan Zihao said.
“Yes, please wait—I’ll call him.”
Soon, the apprentice returned with an elderly man in his fifties. He was of average height, slightly thin, with sharp, bright eyes that revealed a keen mind. Dressed in a simple gray robe, he looked energetic and steady.
“These are our shopkeeper and best physician—everyone calls him Shopkeeper Li or Doctor Li,” the apprentice introduced.
“Greetings, Shopkeeper Li,” Yan Zihao said.
“What brings you here?” the old man asked.
“Do you buy medicinal herbs? We just dug some up in the mountains,” Yan Zihao said.
“We do. Let me see the quality.”
Yan Zihao unwrapped a corner of the cloth, revealing ginseng.
The old man’s eyes immediately lit up.
Looking around and seeing no customers, he said quietly, “If I’m not mistaken, this is ginseng—about twenty years old. You’re quite lucky. I’ll offer twenty-five taels. What do you think?”
Lu Qingran wasn’t sure if the price was fair and glanced at Yan Zihao. Before she could speak, the apprentice added, “Our prices are the most reasonable in town—you can ask around.”
After exchanging a look, Yan Zihao said, “Deal.”
The twenty-five taels were given as one ten-tael ingot, two five-tael pieces, four one-tael pieces, and the remainder in copper coins.
It was the first time Yan Zihao had held so much money. The heavy pouch felt almost unreal.
After leaving, he handed it to Lu Qingran.
She knew that in ancient times, money was usually handed over to the head of the household—here, that would be Yan’s parents.
Before she could speak, he said, “You found the ginseng. You keep the money.”
“Shouldn’t we give it to Mother?” she asked.
“No need.”
Since he insisted, she accepted it. She handed him the loose coins and stored the rest in her space—there was no safer place.
“Now that we have money, should we buy some rice and meat?” she suggested.
Yan Zihao nodded.
It was now evening, and the streets were lively. They went to a rice shop nearby.
“Welcome! What would you like?” the shop assistant greeted.
“How much is your rice per jin?” Lu Qingran asked.
“Coarse rice is 5 wen per jin, old rice 8 wen, broken rice also 8, fine rice 15, millet 15,” the assistant explained.
Lu Qingran looked at Yan Zihao, who understood immediately. “Thirty jin of coarse rice.”
“That’ll be 150 wen.”
After paying, they left.
At the meat stall in the western market, the butcher was already closing up.
“Any meat left?” Yan Zihao asked.
“How much do you want? If it’s fatty meat, I can spare a jin—I saved some for myself,” the burly man said.
“Thank you.”
He returned with a slab of pork—mostly fat. Lu Qingran frowned slightly at the sight.
“One jin and a bit—I’ll count it as one jin. Eighteen wen.”
After paying, they hurried toward the town gate as darkness fell.
Near the ox cart, a commotion was brewing.
“It’s already dark—why haven’t we left?”
“Yeah! Uncle Wang, it’s almost full!”
“Just two more people!” the driver replied.
“Who are we waiting for? There’s no space left anyway!” a plump woman complained.
Just then, Yan Zihao and Lu Qingran arrived, slightly out of breath.
“Ah, you’re finally here!” Uncle Wang said.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Yan Zihao apologized.
“No problem—find a seat. It’s crowded, so squeeze a bit.”
There were already five people seated. The only available space was beside the plump woman—barely enough for one.
“Qingran, you sit. I’ll walk,” Yan Zihao said.
“No. You’ve walked enough today—come up and squeeze in.”
She shifted closer to make space. The woman immediately snapped, “Why are you squeezing? If there’s no space, walk! What’s so special about a grown man?”
Lu Qingran ignored her and made more room until it was enough.
“Come up,” she called.
As the cart started moving, the woman grumbled the whole way.
Lu Qingran didn’t bother responding.
She was tired, thirsty, and not in the mood.
“Tired?” Yan Zihao asked softly.
She nodded.
He lowered his shoulder slightly. “Lean on me and rest.”
She murmured a quiet “mm” and leaned against him.
“Shameless! Acting like this in public—no sense of decency!” the woman snapped again.
That was the last straw.
“I’m leaning on my husband—what’s it to you? Say one more word and I’ll smash your mouth,” Lu Qingran snapped coldly.
“You—!”
She shot her a sharp glare, and the woman immediately fell silent.
Meanwhile, when Yan Zihao heard the words “my husband,” the anger on his face quietly disappeared.