Great Tang Idyll - Volume 4 Chapter 214

The running water murmured, and joy made one forget how late it was. Cattle and sheep were slaughtered and cooked; wine was passed around, cups exchanged again and again.

Zhang Zhong truly brought his family to the mountain tribe’s village. The three old men also wanted to see how life was here, so they followed along.

When they arrived, the three old men found it hard to judge the situation at first glance. 

If one said the locals lived poorly, each of them seemed quite happy, and there was no trace of worry in their eyes.

If one said they lived well, their clothing was all coarse hemp cloth, even the clan chief dressed the same. Their faces clearly showed malnutrition, and the little boys did not wear clothes at all, running about the mountain with bare bottoms.

“This is exactly what Xiaobao and Juanjuan often talk about — the relationship between spiritual civilization and material civilization. If we can increase their material income without damaging this unity and upward spirit, then things would be perfect.” Old Man Bi now resembled a scholar specializing in such theories, speaking to Old Man Yao and Old Man Zhang.

Old Man Yao was already accustomed to this kind of talk — anyone could say such things, and always in perfect sets of phrases. The problem was how to increase local income; that was the difficult part.

Straight-spoken Old Man Zhang asked directly what Old Man Yao was thinking. “Yongcheng, what kind of work do you think can increase the locals’ income?”

When Zhang Zhong heard Old Man Zhang ask him, he was about to speak, but after thinking for a moment, he returned the question: “I wonder if Master Zhang has a good method?”

As he spoke, Zhang Zhong glanced at Old Man Bi and Old Man Yao — the meaning clear: Have you three already come up with something?

The three old men shook their heads. If they had a solution, they would have said so already. The land here barely produced enough to feed itself. Villages near the prefectural seat could still go out to sell things, but the villages farther up the mountains? The only things they could sell were wild animals. There were also many wild fruits, but nobody wanted them.

Should they imitate Shuzhou’s method of caged livestock? What livestock could be raised in these mountains? Skiing might work, but not every mountain was suitable for it.

Seeing the three old men unable to answer, Zhang Zhong dropped the topic and pointed to the mountainside trees. “There are plenty of trees here. Even if winter is cold, they won’t run out of charcoal.”

“Yes, cut them all down and make terraced fields,” Old Man Zhang said immediately, assuming Zhang Zhong was suggesting cutting trees.

“Master Zhang, the mudslides here are already bad enough — don’t harm them further. I meant choosing mountainsides that don’t affect roads or homes, cutting and planting simultaneously. People who come here to ski will need heating, so the villagers can make money from that, but it still doesn’t solve the fundamental issue.” Zhang Zhong was shocked at Old Man Zhang’s suggestion. Doing that would destroy the locals’ future. Even if he didn’t call it environmental protection, he could not deliberately damage resources so severely.

Old Man Zhang now understood — Zhang Zhong was talking about skiing, not a method to make the locals genuinely rich.

As the four men spoke and walked, Zhang Wangshi led the seven children and chatted with the clan chief’s three wives with the help of translators.

Zhang Zhong was not worried that his wife would say something wrong. Even if he spoke incorrectly, she would not. Even dressed in plain cotton instead of a court lady’s robes, Zhang Wangshi appeared dignified and gentle, making the clan chief’s wives feel comfortable. The seven adorable children won them over immediately.

Even the clan chief himself wanted to steal one — better if he could take two — to raise at home. 

Laughing together, everyone entered the village’s main hall, the central stone-built structure, with outer walls made of mixed stone and wood.

Clan Chief Qiang Hu was extremely hospitable. Regardless of whether it was mealtime, once guests arrived, he ordered preparations immediately.

Oxen used for plowing were slaughtered, sheep as well, along with many wild animals from the mountains.

They did not use complicated cooking methods — they hardly had any such methods to begin with. Everything was simply roasted. It was lively, and convenient.

The three old men watched as even the ox was slaughtered and felt distressed. They glanced at Zhang Zhong, but he behaved as if nothing had happened — as if the ox were no different from a pig. Kill it, then kill it.

While meat roasted, the villagers danced and sang with members of the Zhang and Wang families. 

At this moment, Wang Juan’s father finally played his role. He usually did nothing, but his drinking capacity was tremendous — completely draining every cup. He blocked a great deal of alcohol for Zhang Zhong.

Zhang Zhong normally drank very little and became drunk easily. He usually only drank medicinal wine or grape wine. Even when socializing, Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan never allowed him to drink too much. They always had antidotes and sobering soups ready.

Before coming, both families prepared special diuretic medicine and medicine that prevented alcohol from being absorbed, allowing most of it to pass through in the urine.

Members of the Zhang and Wang inner households were specifically tasked to compete in drinking — eating as little as possible so alcohol passed quickly.

Villagers stuffed themselves with meat, but Zhang and Wang family members hardly touched it — instead, they drank heavily.

But how much wine could a small village have? Wine was made from grain.

When Zhang Zhong emptied another bowl, villagers went to Qiang Hu and whispered that the wine was gone.

Qiang Hu froze. Everyone was having fun — and the wine had run out. How shameful! How could he tell guests, Stop drinking, we’re out of wine?

Seeing him troubled, Wang Juan’s father spoke: “Relative, I remember we brought quite a bit of wine with us. Don’t drink only one kind — let’s change it.”

“Yes, yes. If you hadn’t reminded me, I’d have forgotten. Brother Qiang Hu, why not try the wine I brought?” Zhang Zhong finally received the moment he’d been waiting for. He had been worried that the villagers’ wine wouldn’t run out. He even spoke politely, since taking out your own wine when someone invited you could feel rude.

Qiang Hu did not care about any of that. His wine was gone — of course they should drink the guest’s wine.

He happily agreed and ordered people to fetch it.

When the wine changed, the three old men quietly poured out what they had been pretending to sip and held their cups, waiting.

Only Zhang Family wine was real wine. Zhang Zhong would never bring inferior wine here — not that his family even had inferior wine.

The villagers drank the new wine and immediately became excited. Good wine — and not grain-based. It had fruit flavors, strong but smooth. Even the children had a few sips and clamored for more.

After a bowl, Qiang Hu smacked his lips and asked in confusion, “Brother Zhang, where did your wine come from? Why is it better than mine?”

Zhang Zhong thought, Isn’t that obvious? If my wine weren’t better than yours, how would I run restaurants? And you’re missing a genius son and daughter-in-law.

“Brother Qiang Hu, to be honest, my family owns many restaurants. We have specialized brewers in every region, each using local ingredients. In Yizhou, I plan to start a distillery in Baodao County — for strong-aroma wine, not sauce-aroma. The wine you tasted was made from fruit — wild fruit from Shuzhou, where the mountains are full of fruit nobody wants. And the ‘black sky seeds’ — others don’t want them, so I took them. After fermentation, we add a little white liquor during the second fermentation. The flavor changes. Smooth when drinking, pleasantly dizzy afterward. We planned to sell it in the restaurants, but before we could finish brewing a batch, we had to come here. A pity — the abundant fruit there made it perfect for brewing. Here? Not as convenient.” Zhang Zhong spoke in a drunken squint, complaining lightly.

Qiang Hu was also muddled, but he understood clearly enough. Hearing Zhang Zhong, he suddenly had an idea. “Brother Zhang, we also have a lot of fruit here. And that black sky seed — is it this thing?”

He shook his bowl, showing a bit of residue, then stumbled to the wall, picking up several black bean-sized dried fruits and bringing them over.

“Yes, that’s it. It can even be used medicinally. And you have a lot of fruit here?” Zhang Zhong tossed one into his mouth and asked.

“A lot — more than a lot. The whole mountain is full of fruit. Nobody eats it. Even if we bring it down the mountain, nobody wants it. But our people are not few. Everyone can pick them — men, women, and children. If you want to brew wine, we can all pick fruit for you.”

Qiang Hu was simple-hearted. He did not understand Zhang Zhong’s calculations; he only wanted to be helpful.

The three old men finally understood what Zhang Zhong intended. Instead of issuing commands, let others propose the ideas themselves — truly subtle and effortless. No wonder he held wine feasts and dance parties at the foot of the mountain. All of it was to exhaust their wine and then lure them with better wine.

Brilliant. One could not help but admire it.

“If all Tang officials behaved like this, how could our people ever fail to prosper? Yongcheng may usually look awkward and afraid of his wife, but he’s quite charming now.” Old Man Zhang whispered to the others, feeling the wine taste even better.

“Good wine. Once the wild fruit of these mountains becomes wine, it’ll be valuable. First method: skiing. Second method: wine. I wonder what the next method will be.” Old Man Yao was also in great spirits. Seeing people live well was sweeter than honey.

Old Man Bi sighed. “Seeking merit without seeking credit — the Zhang Family’s methods are unpredictable. Perhaps the locals will one day understand Zhang Zhong’s painstaking efforts.”

Zhang Zhong had already begun discussing cooperation with Qiang Hu.

Zhang Zhong suggested: the Zhang Family helped the village brew; the village helped the Zhang Family sell.

Qiang Hu disagreed: he wanted the villagers to help Zhang Zhong pick the fruit, and whether Zhang Zhong sold the wine or not was irrelevant.

Neither side budged.

In the end, Wang Juan’s father offered a solution: This year, villagers would pick fruit, and the Zhang Family would buy it to brew wine in town. Villagers would come learn the process. Next year, the Zhang Family would no longer buy fruit — they would buy wine brewed by the villagers, then perform secondary fermentation and sell it in their restaurants. This way, nobody took advantage of the other, and nobody suffered losses.

Both drunken Zhang Zhong and muddled Qiang Hu happily agreed. They celebrated with more wine, and Zhang Zhong also gave the village many seasonings, testing some directly on the roasting meat. The flavors were excellent.

“Zhang Family will suffer the loss first. You think you can brew the moment the fruit arrives? Wine needs time. First fermentation three months at least; second fermentation another five months before flavor emerges. Since when did the Zhang Family brew fruit wine in Shuzhou? There aren’t many wild fruits there, and they didn’t have time.” Old Man Bi suddenly realized a crucial point.

Old Man Zhang explained, “That wine came from Luzhou fruit — already aged two years. Of course it tastes good. Eight months isn’t enough to produce such flavor. If the wine tasted bad, Qiang Hu wouldn’t believe it would sell. I estimate that fruit wine made from Yizhou fruit will need at least two years before it can be sold. This is called inventory suppression. The Zhang Family always prefers ‘quasi-cash-flow’ operations — constantly putting money into rotation, and when doing business, they always invest a small portion and let other local merchants participate. If not for the villagers here, they wouldn’t be willing to tie up capital.”

“Yes, Xiaobao and Juanjuan occasionally mentioned something called cash flow — something about loans, splitting, mortgaging again to borrow again — probably even more profitable. But Juanjuan didn’t agree, and Xiaobao only mentioned it in passing. I don’t know what kind of method it is or why they won’t use it.”

Old Man Bi understood a bit, but not the danger. If Zhang Xiaobao wanted, he could destabilize the entire Tang monetary system. This era’s financial foundation was fragile — especially currency exchange.

Qiang Hu had no idea what Zhang Zhong planned, or what kind of family the Zhangs were. He did not even know exactly where Shuzhou was. He only knew this official was good, and the Zhang family’s children were delightful — a pity he could not steal any.

He looked at the seven children, then at his own. The difference was heaven and earth. Even if dressed in beautiful clothes, his children could not compare.

“Brother Zhang, how do you raise your children? Ah, I wish I could take a pair home. They sit there like little adults. Anyone talks to them, they always greet them with smiles. Mine? Small bodies with big tempers.” Qiang Hu asked enviously.

Zhang Zhong thought, Of course. Do you know who teaches them? If you saw Xiaobao and Juanjuan, you’d be even more jealous. Immortal-like skills can’t be compared. I only hope those two aren’t suffering on this journey…

He sighed softly, but changed to a warm smile. “Brother Qiang Hu, that’s easy. Send your two little ones to my place. Let them play with Xiao Bei and the others. After staying for a while, they’ll improve.”

“This… my two little ones are hard to manage. If I’m careless, they run off and disappear. No matter how I beat them, they don’t listen. Sending them to your place — wouldn’t that trouble you?”

Qiang Hu was truly tempted. Even if they couldn’t become as well-behaved as Zhang’s children, at least living down the mountain meant better food and care. He had heard that the seven children from the Zhang family had their own large wheeled house and doctors constantly attending to them. If he sent his children down, he wouldn’t have to worry about illness. They could eat well, play well, and maybe learn a few characters. He imagined his child writing his own name on the ground before other villages — that would be glorious. For now, he could only envy the Zhang children.

Seeing Qiang Hu soften, Zhang Zhong immediately said, “No need to worry. Children run around because they have nothing fun. My place has many toys. Once they have something to play with, they’ll stay put. It’s settled — we’ll take them when we return tonight. The more, the livelier.”

Qiang Hu no longer refused, happily agreeing. Then he suddenly remembered something. “Brother Zhang, let me gather people from the other villages too. We can all pick fruit together so you can brew more wine.”

“Truly? Then Brother Qiang Hu, you’ve helped me greatly. Drink!” Zhang Zhong lifted his bowl and drank it dry.