Chapter 518: Five Hundred Coins! A Full Five Hundred Coins! This Money Almost Won

Jinyang.

The early morning was still soaked in ink‑dark night.

Sparse cold stars hung on the horizon, and the biting north wind swirled snowflakes, stinging faces with a sharp pain.

Outside the Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Fenggu Grain Shop in Chengxi, a dense crowd had already gathered, and before the sky brightened, the people's anxiety over hoarding grain was already palpable.

The shop's vermilion‑painted doors were tightly shut.

The two characters "Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Fenggu" on the lintel were faintly visible in the weak morning light.

The Qingshi Shiban road before the door creaked underfoot, mingling with the white breath of the crowd, shrouding the scene in a gray, misty haze.

Everyone clutched a heavy pouch; some held coarse‑cloth money bags, bulging in their hands, pressing the finger joints to a reddened ache.

Some simply packed copper coins into burlap sacks, hefting them on their shoulders, the weight causing a slight hunch, yet no one dared to set them down.

Everyone feared that a moment's slack would mean missing out on grain later.

A stir rose in the crowd as a few broad‑shouldered, stout men rubbed their frost‑red hands, their faces full of impatience.

One bearded man spat on the ground and barked roughly, "Damn it! Why isn't this grain shop open yet?"

"I ran here from the outskirts before dawn, freezing like a child; if we wait any longer, we'll all freeze solid!"

A scar‑faced strongman beside him glanced at the surging crowd behind, furrowed his brows tighter, and echoed, "Damn! The shop still isn't open, yet the crowd outside keeps growing!"

The words sparked a low murmur of complaints throughout the crowd.

Someone tightened their grip on their money bag, a worried expression on their face.

Another tiptoed to peer into the shop, eyes full of urgency.

A woman cradling a child whispered soothing words, though anxiety seeped through her voice.

The north wind grew fiercer, carrying the crowd's sighs, echoing through the empty streets.

Just as the crowd's impatience peaked, about to pound the door, a young man ahead brightened, pointing at the shop and shouting, "Quick, quick, quick! The shop's opening! Look, the doors are moving!"

Hearing this, everyone turned forward in unison.

Sure enough, the tightly shut vermilion doors were slowly pulled apart, widening to reveal the shop's dim yellow light.

In an instant, hope ignited on every civilian's face, the earlier complaints and impatience wholly replaced by urgency.

"Push in fast! Buy more!" someone shouted, lunging forward, "Otherwise the price will double by afternoon…."

After all, with prices soaring and a flood of common coins on the market, such scenes have become commonplace in recent Jinyang.

People scrambled to lift money bags and haul burlap sacks, shoving forward heedlessly.

At the front, a middle‑aged man in short brown garb, his face weathered, pushed his way to the counter with raw vigor, clutching his money bag tightly, panting, and shouted at the busy clerk, "Clerk! How much for a bushel of wheat today?"

"Give me a firm price quickly, I'll buy several bushels!"

The clerk, about twenty‑something, wore the shop's standard blue‑cloth short shirt with rolled cuffs, his face blank as if accustomed to such scramble.

He glanced at the man and replied evenly, "Eight hundred coins."

"How much?!"

The two words struck like thunder, leaving the man stunned.

Immediately, the crowd behind him erupted, full of astonishment and disbelief.

"It was… yesterday?"

"They're trying to drive us to death!"

"Exactly!" a nearby woman, eyes reddened with anxiety, her child wailing from the crush, chanted while soothing the baby, "According to this price hike, in a few more days our copper coins will probably not even buy half a bushel of wheat!"

Voices of debate rose and fell in the crowd, full of anxiety and anger, yet the clerk seemed unfazed, merely curling his lip, a hint of disgust on his face, and said impatiently, "Eight hundred coins a bushel still too pricey?"

"You don't even look at the current market!"

He pointed outward, raising his voice, "Grain is scarce in Jinyang City now; many with money still can't buy any!"

"Keeping the wheat price at eight hundred coins is already the shopkeeper's mercy!"

"By afternoon it may rise to nine hundred coins, and then you might not even find stock to buy!"

The remark calmed the crowd's unrest a bit, many showing hesitation.

Because harsh as it sounded, it was the truth…

This is the current livelihood of Jinyang.

The middle‑aged man clenched his teeth and asked again, "And… what about millet? How much per bushel?"

"The wheat price's risen too sharply; I can buy some millet too!"

The clerk fiddled with the abacus on the counter, still expressionless, and replied without looking up, "Five hundred coins."

"This…"

The surrounding townsfolk were stunned again, their surprise deepening, followed by a chorus of exclamations.

"Just yesterday it was three hundred fifty coins per bushel of millet!" a man in a coarse‑cloth long robe, looking scholarly, shouted, "It jumped one hundred fifty coins overnight; this increase is absurd!"

"Exactly!"

"How can the price rise so much?"

"They're making it impossible for us common folk to survive!"

Someone echoed, voice full of anger.

Yet the clerk, hearing this, showed no remorse; he straightened his back, his expression growing haughty, a mocking smile curling his lips, "At this price, buy if you want, or don't."

He gestured toward the long queue behind, his tone clearly dismissive, "If you're not buying, step aside quickly, don't hold up those behind you!"

"There are plenty willing to spend this money; if you won't buy, others will scramble for it!"

Finishing, he ignored the angry faces before him, turned and shouted to those behind, "Next! If you're buying, hand over the money quickly; if not, don't block the way!"

Inside the shop, the air grew increasingly stagnant; the middle‑aged man's hand trembling around his money bag, his face full of struggle.

"Buy it, brother, don't hesitate!" a nearby citizen in patched short brown clothing urged, his voice bitter, "With this market, prices shift daily; in a few days our copper coins may buy even less food!"

Those words struck a chord with everyone, and a low murmur of agreement rose from the crowd.

"Yes, buy as much as we can; it's still better than having money but no grain later!"

"The kids at home are about to cry from hunger; we have to buy it even if it's expensive!"

The middle‑aged man heard these words, and his chest felt as if a boulder pressed down, making it hard to breathe.

He looked up at the shop assistant's haughty expression, then down at the heavy, heat‑clenched purse in his hand, let out a long sigh, and resignedly compromised, "Alas, fine, fine, give me a dou of millet....."

"The wheat price is just too high; we can't afford it."

"If it were like this early on, it would be over!" the shop assistant replied impatiently, swiftly scooping millet with a wooden bucket and pouring it into the cloth sack the middle‑aged man handed him.

With the first person conceding, the rest of the townsfolk no longer hesitated and surged forward, shouting in turn:

"I'll take three dou of millet too!"

"Pack me two dou of wheat, and add another dou of millet!"

"Shop assistant, give me a bit more; there are many of us at home, we really can't make do!"

For a moment, the grain shop rang with overlapping shouts, the clink of copper coins, and the rustle of the shop assistant weighing grain and filling bags.

Everyone wore a worried face, yet they had to bite the bullet and pull out their money.

Afraid that a moment's delay would see the food snatched away, or the price jump up another notch.

The middle‑aged man carried the cloth sack filled with millet; its heavy weight made his arm ache, and his heart felt even heavier than the sack.

He pushed through the crowd and left the Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Fenggu grain shop.

The north wind that met him swirled with snowflakes, biting his cheeks, yet it was nothing compared to the chill in his chest.

The middle‑aged man stopped, looked down at the millet in the sack, and couldn't help murmuring, "Why are millet and wheat so expensive now!"

"If prices keep rising like this, how will we common folk afford to eat!"

As soon as the words fell, a fellow villager carrying a grain sack walked over, his face full of unrelievable bitterness; he patted the middle‑aged man's shoulder, his voice low and weak, "Brother, stop talking; the more we say, the more tears it brings."

He looked up at the gray Jinyang sky, his eyes filled with numb resignation, "We lowly peasants, our lives like weeds; in this chaotic world, we can only hope to live one more day if we can."

"Who still dares to hope for grain prices to fall?"

"We only ask the heavens to open their eyes, stop raising prices, and not let our whole family starve on the streets—then we can thank the heavens."

The middle‑aged man, fretting over his grain sack, caught a corner of his eye on a dark, dense crowd at the street corner, several times larger than the people outside the Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Thus we have Place: Fenggu grain shop; amid the jostling, faint shouts drifted on the wind.

He froze, nudged the nearby villager with his elbow, and, puzzled, pointed, "Hey, look! Why are so many people gathered over there? What are they doing?"

The villager beside him looked in that direction, also bewildered, "Yeah, so many people gathered there—could there be another incident?"

Both, with questions in mind and grain sacks in hand, followed the flow of people toward that spot.

The farther they went, the clearer the shouts and the denser the crowd; in the pushing, many people's grain sacks jostled, yet no one seemed to mind.

Everyone's gaze was drawn to the makeshift platform erected ahead.

The platform was only about three feet high, hastily built with wooden planks and wooden stakes.

Standing on it was a man dressed in Rough Cloth Short Coat, none other than Shen Junli in disguise.

He clutched a simple wooden megaphone, fashioned from a hollowed Bamboo Tube, pressed to his lips, shouting with fervor; his voice, hoarse from excitement, carried a powerful resonance that reached every corner.

"Fellow villagers! Do you know how much a dou of millet sells for in the grain shop now?" Shen Junli's voice was hysterical, brimming with uncontainable anger, "Five hundred copper coins! A full five hundred! These coins would barely fit in a sack, yet they can only buy a dou of millet!"

——

PS: Today one chapter is four thousand words, another three thousand, together that's seven thousand; Wan Feng said they'd patch it up as soon as possible, truly no excuses for dragging out updates!? (ゝω???)