Chapter 44: Living Is Hard

After leaving the apothecary, Gao De wandered through the commercial district, purchasing consumable auxiliary materials like honey water needed for potion mixing.

These auxiliaries weren’t expensive—totaling less than three silver—but they were tedious and time-consuming.

The most frustrating part was that in this world’s currency system, the lowest-denomination copper coin had roughly the purchasing power of four yuan and twenty fen from Gao De’s past life.

Too large!

In daily life, such imprecise and high-denomination currency caused many inconveniences.

To adapt to everyday transactions, the people of the Xien Kingdom invented a solution: they simply cut copper coins in half for small purchases.

This practice devalued the currency and was officially banned by Xien authorities.

But due to its ubiquity, it gradually became an accepted informal rule.

These half-cut copper coins were called half-copper coins, with an actual purchasing power equivalent to two yuan.

With half-copper coins in circulation, daily transactions became much easier, yet still lacked precision.

At such times, people relied on rounding up and accounting in finer units, settling totals collectively.

Like right now.

“One pound of rye bread costs one and a half copper coins; one pound of wheat bread costs four copper coins,” the baker’s assistant announced in a rhythmic tone.

The bread in this world—especially rye bread—was far denser and more substantial than what Gao De knew.

In scientific terms, it contained extremely high fiber, making it more filling.

One pound (about 450g) of rye bread could sustain an adult for about two days, and the apprentices in the herb garden for two and a half days.

For eight people, they’d consume roughly three pounds of rye bread per day.

Bread-making technology in this era was primitive, lacking modern chemical preservatives, so shelf life was short—about a week before it turned dry, hard, and spoiled.

Buying six days’ worth was most practical: eighteen pounds of rye bread.

Gao De couldn’t help glancing again at the wheat bread, noticeably whiter and pale gold compared to the rye bread.

He took a deep breath of its aroma—wheat, caramel, and a faint smokiness—then firmly turned away.

“Give me eighteen pounds of rye bread,” he told the clerk.

The taste of wheat bread was unquestionably superior to rye bread.

So was its price.

This was because wheat required better growing conditions—warmer, richer soil—and yielded less stably per unit area than rye or barley, making it far more expensive.

As a processed product, wheat bread cost more than double the price of rye bread, consumed mainly by wealthy merchants and upper-class farmers.

In contrast, rye bread remained the daily staple for the general populace.

Honestly, Gao De could now afford wheat bread.

But his moral outlook, shaped by modern education, prevented him from making such distinctions for now.

The herb garden’s output was a collective effort; though he was the main contributor, he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy wheat bread while the other apprentices ate only rye.

Only when he owned personal wealth could he shed this moral burden.

If they switched everyone’s staple from rye to wheat bread, the daily food cost alone would rise—he mentally calculated it.

The difference of four minus one point five, times three, equals seven point five copper coins; over a year, multiply by three hundred sixty, totaling two thousand seven hundred copper coins.

Converted to silver, that’s two hundred twenty-five silver; converted to Xien gold coins—this non-decimal currency system was truly inhuman—he muttered under his breath, then concluded: eleven gold and five silver coins.

This was only the extra cost for staple food. Once the staple improved, everything else would naturally rise with it.

Like during a famine, everyone ate coarse grain buns with pickled vegetables; once rice became affordable, the side dishes had to upgrade too—you couldn’t keep eating pickles, right? Same logic.

Hmm. The “team” was still in its startup phase—better stay frugal.

Gao De nodded solemnly to himself.

“Eighteen pounds of rye bread, that’s twenty-seven copper!” The clerk swiftly packed thirty-six loaves into paper bags and calculated the price in one breath.

Gao De carefully pulled two silver coins and the three copper coins he’d received as change from buying potion auxiliaries from his pocket, handed them over, and took the bag of bread.

Eighteen pounds of bread—about eight kilograms—wasn’t especially heavy.

But the thought of carrying eight kilograms for an hour’s walk back to the herb garden made Gao De, visibly thin from chronic malnutrition, feel a headache.

Previously, food procurement had been handled by two older apprentices in the herb garden.

Split between them, the weight was negligible.

“Take a carriage back,” Gao De made a luxurious decision.

Since he’d decided on the carriage, weight wasn’t an issue anymore.

After leaving the bakery, Gao De headed toward the “Peas and Lamb” market, just one street away from the commercial district.

To Gao De’s understanding, “Peas and Lamb” was simply the vegetable market.

It had many makeshift stalls, mostly run by local farmers selling their own crops, with a few fixed shops mixed in.

Here, Gao De first spent one silver on two pounds of the cheapest pork, then bought six days’ worth of young peas, turnips, potatoes, and cabbage.

These were all easy-to-store vegetables; after deliberately rounding up, he spent another three silver.

Carrying bags in both hands, Gao De stood at the street corner for a moment—then a sharp-eyed carriage driver spotted him, judged him a likely customer, and drove his two-wheeled carriage over, stopping before him.

The city had two types of carriages: four-wheeled enclosed carriages, and the two-wheeled light carriages like this one.

The two-wheeled carriage had an open design, no roof, only a low rail around the seats, making it lighter and faster.

The driver, wearing his distinctive hat and gripping the reins, called out warmly: “Sir, need a ride? My horse is the strongest, runs the fastest.”

“How much to get to Seda Herb Garden?” Gao De asked.

The herb garden had long been named after Master Seda; years of operation had given it slight fame in Hogen City—enough that even a seasoned driver wouldn’t find it unfamiliar.

“Base fare: seven copper for two kilometers. Beyond that, three copper per kilometer. Outside the city, six copper per kilometer.”

“From here to Seda Herb Garden, via the main road, it’s a bit over five kilometers—the last kilometer is outside the city. Nineteen copper total,” the driver calculated swiftly.

On foot, the herb garden was only four kilometers away, but some narrow paths were impassable for carriages, forcing detours and extending the distance.

“Alright, let’s go,” Gao De pulled two silver coins from his pocket and handed them over.

Taking the five copper coins as change, Gao De stepped onto the carriage.

The carriage had two seats, facing each other, comfortably accommodating two adults.

Beneath the seats was storage space; Gao De placed his purchases securely, sat down firmly, and the driver cracked his reins and whip, setting off.

“Only one silver and five copper left—city earnings, city spending, not a single coin makes it home,” Gao De sighed inwardly as he enjoyed the ride.

Living here isn’t easy!

New book launch—please follow!

(End of Chapter)