Transmigrating to the Qi Family - Chapter 161

As the anger of the people gradually subsides, the instigators behind the scenes begin to panic. They don’t plan on revealing themselves, but if they let this man continue speaking, they’ll end up with a major loss instead of a gain.

“Don’t believe him! He’s spouting nonsense to cover up his crimes of embezzlement and extortion!” someone shouts from the crowd.

Another voice responds, “That’s right! We can’t tell if what he’s saying is true or false right now, but if the trade caravans and grain shops remain closed, we’ll end up starving for sure!”

This remark strikes a chord with everyone. Indeed, distant water cannot quench present thirst. No matter how expensive the goods from Liangjing are or how cheap the rice prices in the south may be, they can’t possibly go to either place to trade. Without local merchants, their goods will simply rot in their hands.

“Lord Prefect, we understand you’re from a major city, but we’ve grown used to doing business with local merchants. Please, don’t make things harder for them,” an elderly man pleads earnestly.

Others keep their eyes fixed on Pei Che. They can see now that this prefect might not be the lawless tyrant he’s rumored to be. But so what? People like him, with family backgrounds and status, won’t stay here long. Once he stirs the waters into chaos and leaves, it’ll still be the common folk who suffer.

Pei Che asks, “Is it that you’ve grown used to doing business with them, or that you’ve had no choice but to?”

The crowd falls silent. Seeing this, Pei Che continues, “If there were grain shops with cheaper prices available now, who would you choose to do business with?”

The old man replies without hesitation, “Of course, the cheaper one. But where could there possibly be another grain shop in Cangzhou?”

In Cangzhou City, anyone who attempts to open a grain shop meets with a bad end. Take Shopkeeper Huang from two years ago—on the very day his shop opens, he’s ambushed on his way home and has his leg broken. He still walks with a limp. At that time, he reports the attack to the authorities, claiming he tore off the veil of one assailant and recognized him as a clerk from Datong Trading Company. However, the authorities quickly close the case, saying he injured himself by falling. From then on, everyone understands the government’s stance, and no one dares to open another grain shop in Cangzhou.

“I say there is, so there is. If you trust me, come walk along this street in the afternoon. If you can’t buy any grain, feel free to come find me again,” Pei Che says.

Hearing this, the people look at one another, uncertain. Their boldness in coming to block the government office today is driven by sheer indignation, along with someone’s guarantee that the authorities won’t punish them. If they leave now, who knows if they’ll get another chance like this?

“Another trade caravan has entered the city! They brought grain!”

The distant shouts break the silence, leaving everyone stunned. Ever since the mountain path collapsed seven years ago, burying many people, the number of caravans coming to their area has dwindled. In recent years, only one caravan has been visiting.

Now, no one hesitates anymore. They hurriedly squeeze out of the crowd, rushing home to grab their silver and pack mountain goods to trade for grain later.

The few individuals hidden among the crowd, seeing more and more people leaving, have no choice but to feign excitement and leave with the others.

As the area outside the gates quickly empties, Pei Che smiles. Turning around, he notices the officials behind him also look relieved. Among them, a few appear different from the rest—wearing strange expressions. It’s unclear whether they’re shocked at how quickly Pei Che resolves the situation or regretful that he hasn’t been dragged into trouble.

Before Pei Che can observe further, everyone quickly adjusts their expressions, rushing forward with flattery, completely shedding their previously aggressive demeanor.

Pei Che ignores their swift change in attitude. The environment he grows up in is always like this. Everyone seems to be born with multiple masks, taking one off or putting another on depending on the scene, time, or the people they’re dealing with, sometimes showing completely contradictory attitudes.

He thinks, perhaps this is one of the reasons he has grown to like Ah Miao. Ah Miao is a pure person—clever and a little worldly, yet unwavering in his principles when it comes to matters of right and wrong. Whether dealing with the powerful or the common folk, he treats everyone the same. In him, Pei Che feels that he truly believes everyone is equal.

This kind of thinking might be seen as disrespectful today, but Pei Che occasionally wonders if Ah Miao’s perspective is actually correct.

After exchanging a few words with the officials, Pei Che excuses himself under the pretext of official duties and heads toward the clerk’s office. In reality, he changes course halfway and returns to the rear courtyard.

Back in the courtyard, Pei Che finds only Pei Mu and Xiao Shitou at the dining table. They are enthusiastically eating the steamed buns on the table, occasionally taking sips of rich millet porridge and adding bites of side dishes meant to complement the meal.

Seeing Pei Che, the two obediently greet him before quickly lowering their heads to continue eating.

“Where’s your Brother Miao?”

Xiao Shitou raises his head and replies, “Brother went out. He said he was going to some grain shop.”

“Has he eaten?” Pei Che asks, noticing there are no extra bowls on the table.

“Brother already ate. He left his bowl in the kitchen and said that if you came back, you’d wash it, but if you didn’t, Xiao Mu and I would wash it together,” Xiao Shitou says.

“Alright, I’ll wash everything later. It’s getting late, so hurry up and finish eating, then head to school,” Pei Che instructs. After speaking, he serves himself a bowl of porridge and quickly finishes his meal.

By the time Pei Che finishes eating, the two children have already left. He skillfully clears the table, carries the bowls and chopsticks to the kitchen, fetches some water, and carefully washes them.

Once the cleaning is done, Pei Che changes into a fresh set of clothes and heads out to the street. The shop he is going to has been purchased by Jiang Miao.

Initially, Jiang Miao plans to use it for small business ventures after the new year, but unexpectedly, it’s already proving useful. All the necessary tools and equipment have been custom-made at the carpenter’s workshop over the past few days.

…

The recently arrived trade caravan is busy unloading goods outside the shop. Each cart is loaded with sacks of grain, which are stacked in front of the shop, forming a small mountain in no time.

The surrounding townsfolk stare intently at the burlap sacks, their eyes filled with longing for food. They are just waiting for someone to give the signal so they can rush into the shop and buy rice in bulk.

Jiang Miao stands nearby with an account book and a thin charcoal stick, efficiently directing the unloading of the grain. The sacks are carried into the shop, and the overflow that doesn’t fit inside is moved to the warehouse.

Inside the shop, square rice bins are already prepared. When the white, polished rice is poured in, it forms a peak, emitting a rich aroma. From the smell alone, it’s clear this is freshly harvested rice from the current year.

Once everything is ready, Jiang Miao strikes a gong hanging next to the shop and calls out, “Everyone, quiet down!”

The gathered crowd immediately falls silent.

Satisfied, Jiang Miao stops and announces, “You’re all here to buy rice, right? Then listen carefully. Those with copper coins and sacks ready to purchase directly, please line up over by the red barrel. Those who need to sell mountain goods before buying rice, stand by the green barrel.”

The crowd quickly moves into action. At a glance, it’s clear that the line by the red barrel is much longer than the one by the green barrel. Many of the people in the red barrel line are also carrying mountain goods, but they fear that selling their goods will take too long and they might miss their chance to buy rice.

Jiang Miao understands their concerns but doesn’t say much. Over time, they will come to understand the process.

“In this shop, we have both brown rice and white rice. Brown rice is five wen per liter, and white rice is eight wen per liter. You can take a look—these measuring containers were newly made by the carpenters in town, ensuring absolute fairness for all customers. If you find later that the amount is short, feel free to bring the rice back for a refund,” Jiang Miao says.

A liter here is roughly equivalent to 1.25 jin. Since they purchase the rice in bulk, brown rice costs about 2.5 wen per jin. Pricing it at five wen per liter still leaves a margin of profit after accounting for transportation losses and labor costs.

Hearing this, the crowd becomes ecstatic. At Datong Grain Shop, rice costs 16 wen per jin, which translates to 20 wen per liter. Here, the price is a quarter of that—meaning that for the price of one liter at Datong, they can buy four liters here!

After realizing the price difference, no one even bothers to question the accuracy of the measuring containers. They only want to buy rice as quickly as possible, go home, cook it, and enjoy a proper meal to soothe their hollowed stomachs from the past few days.

“I’ll take four liters of rice!” says the man at the front of the line. After paying 20 wen, he unfolds the burlap sack he has brought and waits for the shop assistant to pour in the rice.

The assistant scoops out one liter of rice, levels it off with a wooden stick, and pours it into the sack. However, for the final scoop, instead of leveling it, he pours it in as it is, with the mound on top.

“Young man, you gave me extra!” the man exclaims. He doesn’t have any more money on him, and the excess rice looks like it weighs about one or two liang.

The assistant smiles and replies, “Our manager said that business requires generosity. Today is our opening day, so we should make sure everyone leaves happy.”

The man is thrilled. He happily carries his sack and leaves. The elderly man behind him also orders four liters. Watching the assistant closely, he notices that the final scoop is slightly overfilled as well and grins widely.

On the side where mountain goods are being exchanged for rice, things move slower. Unlike before, when a whole sack would be weighed regardless of quality, the process here is more meticulous. The mountain goods are poured onto a wooden table, where two assistants sort them into two piles before weighing each pile separately.

“Sir, your medium-grade hazel mushrooms weigh 1 jin 4 liang. At a purchase price of 80 wen per jin, that’s 112 wen. Your lower-grade hazel mushrooms weigh 2 jin. At a purchase price of 55 wen per jin, that’s 110 wen. Altogether, the total is 222 wen,” one assistant calculates quickly using a small abacus. Naturally, the purchase price is lower than the selling price since the goods will require further processing, which accounts for some losses.

“Sir?” The assistant notices that the customer hasn’t reacted after hearing the total and looks up curiously, only to see the man standing there in a daze, as if he hasn’t heard clearly.

“Could… could you say that again?”

The assistant obliges and repeats himself. The man stands there dumbfounded for a moment before wiping away the tears that have unknowingly welled up in his eyes. Smiling, he says, “I’ll take one liter of rice, and the rest will be exchanged for money.”

“Got it!” The two assistants get to work, one handling the money and the other measuring the rice. They finish quickly.

With a sack of heavy rice on his back and a pouch of heavy copper coins in his chest, the man steps out of the grain shop and looks up at the sign: Harvest Grain Shop. That’s what he has just asked the assistants about. From now on, he decides, he will never go to any other shop but this one. Even if Datong Grain Shop lowers its prices, he won’t return there!