Chapter 21

“Young Master, you’re amazing! I said Du San’s uncle would bow his head, but he didn’t flinch—then you spoke all that stuff about Confucius and customs, and suddenly he didn’t dare even breathe! What was that rhyme again? Something about strange spirits?” Little A-Wu asked Wang Yang excitedly.

Wang Yang smiled: “The Master does not speak of strange powers, disorder, or spirits.”

“Yes, yes! That’s it—strange powers, disorder, and spirits!”

“That’s not a rhyme—it’s from the Analects.”

“What’s the Analects?”

“The Analects is a book. If you memorize it, you can speak just like I did just now and leave the village head with no reply. How about it? Want to learn?” Wang Yang guided gently.

Little A-Wu nodded eagerly at first, then suddenly remembered something and began shaking her head.

“What’s wrong?” Wang Yang asked, startled.

“Young Master Wang, A-Wu is a soldier’s daughter—she’ll serve in the army too,” the black-haired man explained beside her, a flicker of hope rising in his heart. If Young Master Wang could help A-Wu escape military registration, how wonderful that would be!

Descendants of soldier households remain soldier households, even women. But female soldier households usually handle logistical corvée labor and, except in special cases, never fight on the battlefield. As for reading, it’s even more useless.

A-Wu’s expression dimmed, then quickly brightened into a smile: “I can already cook! Once I master sewing, I’ll be fine!”

Wang Yang sighed inwardly, patted A-Wu’s head, and dropped the subject. Problems must be solved one at a time—right now, the most urgent is repaying the debt.

Making money is a skilled craft.

Like in novels, invent something and sell it?

First, there’s the issue of commercial qualifications. Yes, doing business in ancient times had barriers—for instance, to operate in the market, you must obtain a “market registry.” Market registry, like military registry, falls under the category of low-status registers; once enrolled, your path upward is essentially cut off.

But large merchants who sit and sell in the market, or noble families who control businesses behind the scenes, aren’t bound by market registry—though the former need capital, and the latter require bloodline.

If Wang Yang were truly a scholar-official family member, his status alone would grant him tax exemption, allowing him to partner with merchants: they’d transfer goods under his name to avoid taxes, then give him a cut after the deal.

This method might be low-class, but it could still yield profit. Unfortunately, his status was fake, with no documents to prove it. Besides, Wang Yang had just arrived and hadn’t yet thought of such a shady scheme.

Second, time is too tight—only three days left. That’s far too rushed for promoting goods or opening sales channels, let alone inventing something!

Though he earned his doctorate, it was in literature! He could wield brush and ink without hesitation—but to make glass or smelt steel? That was overestimating him.

When Zhang Lisi brought ink, paper, and brush, Wang Yang began writing quickly, the content carefully prepared in advance. After finishing, he sat on the earthen kang and asked the black-haired man: “What can thirteen thousand two hundred cash buy?”

“Buy what?” the black-haired man asked, puzzled.

“I rarely leave home—I don’t know prices. I mean, is ten thousand cash a lot? Would even the rich consider it a significant sum?”

So this Young Master Wang didn’t even know how much ten thousand cash was!

How bold of him to sign as guarantor without knowing!

But then again, it does sound like the behavior of someone with real wealth.

The black-haired man scratched his head: “For me, even selling myself wouldn’t fetch ten thousand cash! But for the rich, it probably means little—a decent tiled house costs one or two ten thousand cash.”

“Good.” Wang Yang pondered.

The black-haired man’s words reassured him—if ten thousand cash were beyond even the rich, his plan’s success rate would plummet.

Yet suddenly he felt something was off.

But he couldn’t say exactly what.

He thought hard but couldn’t pinpoint the source of this unease, so he set it aside for now and focused on devising a way to earn money.

A-Wu poked her small head in from outside: “Young Master, have you thought of a way to earn money?”

Wang Yang nodded, closed his eyes, and began mentally refining his plan. A-Wu entered, squatted on the floor, and silently cleaned Wang Yang’s straw sandals.

After joining the camp, Wang Yang had changed into Xue Duizhu’s clothes entirely—only the straw sandals remained, the ones he’d worn since his arrival, since they were the only size that fit.

After a while, Wang Yang opened his eyes and asked the black-haired man: “How much would a decent set of clothes and shoes, suitable for me, cost?”

Given his earlier question about ten thousand cash, this one didn’t shock the black-haired man as much. Besides, many noble families made their own clothes and never bought them in markets, so it wasn’t strange that Wang Yang didn’t know prices.

“What kind of clothes do you usually wear?”

“You don’t need to ask me—just something any scholar-official son would wear.”

This stumped the black-haired man—he’d never seen other scholar-official sons or visited a cloth shop, but he knew fabric prices: “I’m not sure, but good fabric costs at least seven or eight hundred cash per bolt; made into clothes, it might cost over a thousand...”

“Let’s say two thousand cash,” Wang Yang doubled the price outright.

Good heavens!

Two thousand cash!

That could probably buy silk fabric!

The black-haired man thought inwardly.

Wang Yang asked directly: “I need two thousand cash. How much can you raise?”

“T-Two thousand cash!” Both father and daughter gasped.

“Y-Young Master, you... you want to buy clothes?” the black-haired man stammered, utterly unprepared—the Young Master wasn’t thinking about repaying the debt first, but about changing clothes!

“Yes, and I need good clothes. What, unwilling?” Wang Yang joked.

The black-haired man’s gaze hardened, and he said solemnly: “Young Master, how could you say that—”

Mid-sentence, Little A-Wu dropped the sandals and ran out.

The black-haired man guessed his daughter was angry that Wang Yang wasn’t focusing on serious matters but wanted to borrow money for clothes; he looked embarrassed:

“Children don’t understand. I’ll scold her later! You saved A-Wu yesterday—you saved my life! Whatever you ask, I’ll do!”

He paused, gritted his teeth: “We still have a little money saved. If I sell a few things, I can probably gather three hundred cash...”

“Five hundred cash!” Little A-Wu ran back, holding a hairpin.

“How did this get here!” the black-haired man exclaimed, startled by the hairpin.

“After that woman came back, I feared she’d run again, so I hid this ornament—her wooden box actually held chopsticks!” A-Wu laughed. “Too bad her jade bracelets were too obvious—I’d have swapped them too!”

Wang Yang asked curiously: “I’m not thinking of a way to avoid repaying the debt—I’m asking your father for money to buy clothes. Aren’t you angry?”

A-Wu’s face was serious: “First, this money isn’t yours to owe. You helped us yesterday, buying us three extra days—that’s already great kindness. Even if we can’t repay, we’re grateful and won’t blame you.”

“Second, since you helped us, we must repay the favor. Only that old bastard, the village registrar, would make my father work for nothing! Two thousand cash is a lot, but we’ll still try our best to raise it!”

“Third,” Little A-Wu grinned slyly, “I think you’re asking for money not to wear better clothes, but to repay the debt. Father said: to gain, you must give. Our two thousand cash is the giving—your fine clothes are the giving too!”

Both Wang Yang and the black-haired man stared in astonishment. Wang Yang laughed to the black-haired man: “This girl is extraordinary—I wasn’t this sharp as a child.”

“Soldier’s daughter, small wit—how could she compare to Young Master?” the black-haired man replied humbly, though his face glowed with pride.

Little A-Wu held her head high, triumphant. Wang Yang teased her: “Maybe I never intended to help you repay the debt—I just wanted nice clothes.”

“You wouldn’t! If you didn’t want to help us, you’d have left this morning.”

Wang Yang feigned solemnity and said slowly: “You’re wrong. What if I stayed just to trick you out of two thousand cash—and leave after I get it?”

Little A-Wu froze as if struck by lightning!

She clearly hadn’t considered this possibility—her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open in an O, then suddenly she lunged onto Wang Yang’s arm like a little frog, wailing: “Young Master, you’re so powerful! Please don’t trick us out of our money!”