Chapter 521: Shopkeeper Wu's Daily Life (I)

The ceaseless sound of rushing water came in waves. Looking up, a white waterfall like a bolt of silk plunged from the distant emerald mountains, reflecting the sunlight like a white dragon — a truly magnificent sight.

In later generations, the waterfall scenic area north of Zengcheng would be a famous unspoiled eco-tourism destination.

Located in a nature reserve on a remaining vein of South Kun Mountain, the scenery is beautiful and enchanting, with hot springs and countless mountain streams. The waterfall cluster there has a drop of over 400 meters, making it the highest mountain waterfall in mainland China — truly a cascade plunging straight down three thousand feet.

But in the Ming Dynasty, this bit of tourism resource meant nothing... The entire Ming Dynasty was unspoiled, ancient streets everywhere, strange and precipitous natural landscapes in every direction. A place like this was considered a remote, desolate, bandit-infested danger zone — no Ming person would get a wild impulse to come buy a ticket and pay money to sightsee.

February 10, 1631, the tenth day of the first month by the lunar calendar, afternoon. A team of porters plus a few donkeys and mules trudged along a mountain path, the distant waterfall serving as the backdrop to their procession.

This porter team's destination was a place called He Family Basin.

"Basin" is the abbreviated term for a mountain basin. Typically, such ringed-mountain terrain has a mild climate and fertile soil, making it a good place for agriculture. In later generations, the Yunnan-Guizhou region alone had over a thousand basin zones, all natural village settlements.

In the mountains north of Zengcheng, there were also quite a few basins large and small. He Family Stockade, also called He Family Basin, sat in a mountain col bordering Fogang County to the north.

Theoretically speaking, Zengcheng County had no shortage of transport waterways. Within its borders, there were six major rivers alone — the East River, the Zeng River, the West Fu River, and others — each covering over 100 square kilometers, not even counting the various streams.

However, the area north of Zengcheng was mountainous. Thanks to the harsh natural environment of ancient times, there were always some places with no waterway access, requiring human labor to transport goods. He Family Stockade was one such place.

Boats heading up the Zeng River tributary downstream from Zengcheng would unload their cargo around Paitan Town, which in later generations bordered the forest park near the waterfall scenic area. The name Paitan came from the high mountains and steep waters there — deep pools lay in the side rivers, and the ancients set out bamboo rafts there, hence the name "Raft Pool," which later took on the homophonic name Paitan.

Once at Paitan Town, reaching He Family Basin required porters and mules. Fortunately, the distance was not far — the mountain path was only a roundabout 20-odd li, a morning's effort. Finally, when the merchant caravan rounded a narrow mountain pass and passed through a checkpoint guarded by stockade men, the view suddenly opened wide before them: a secluded paradise six or seven kilometers across, crisscrossed with fields and paths, presented itself to the visitors.

"We've arrived! Put your backs into it, lads — once the goods are unloaded, a round of liquor's on me!"

At Shopkeeper Wu's shout, the porters — dark-skinned, sinewy and sturdy, long carrying poles on their shoulders, backs bent under the weight of the cargo — immediately perked up, their steps growing much lighter.

Shopkeeper Wu's real name was Wu Qianshan. He was the one who had escaped the bandit lair together with He Biandan — the Assistant Regional Commander Manager of White Crane Sundries chain enterprise, specifically responsible for external affairs.

After escaping the bandit lair back then, Shopkeeper Wu and Biandan had been rescued by a reconnaissance team and taken to Huangpu Military Port. After that, Shopkeeper Wu and He Biandan parted ways: the young man stayed at the military port, while Shopkeeper Wu returned safely to Xiancheng.

Later on, as the Pioneer Army carried out its large-scale bandit suppression campaign across the Zengcheng area, Shopkeeper Wu resumed his daily commercial activities, traveling everywhere to buy and sell goods. Perhaps because he had narrowly escaped death, Shopkeeper Wu threw himself into his work with boundless energy after that, not even pausing for the New Year. Sure enough, not long after the new year began, he was at it again, bringing a caravan to He Family Basin to sell goods.

He Family Basin was no different in layout from other villages of this era. A mountain basin filled with farmland, dotted here and there with scattered farmhouses. At the very center of the basin lay the core farming estate, enclosed by earthen walls.

Following a not-very-wide dirt road, accompanied by the murmuring of a roadside stream, the caravan soon arrived before the main gate of He Family Fortress.

Whether due to the New Year festivities or some other reason, today both the main gate and the drawbridge of He Family Fortress were open, unlike the usual practice of opening only a side gate. And when the lookouts on the wall saw the caravan approaching, a group of people soon came out from the fortress to greet them. The one leading them had a square face and wore a fur robe, about the same age as Shopkeeper Wu. From far off, he cupped his fists and laughed heartily: "Brother Qianshan, I've been missing you like crazy, hahaha!"

The moment Shopkeeper Wu saw this man, an excited expression appeared on his face. He hurried forward, reached out and grasped the man's arms, and said with deep feeling: "Elder Brother He, you're safe and sound! Have you been well all this time?!"

This Elder Brother He was named He Renzhong, the head Steward of He Family Fortress.

He Renzhong and Wu Qianshan could be considered close friends of many years — twenty years ago, Shopkeeper Wu had been a shop assistant at White Crane Sundries, and Steward He had been a runner for the He Family mountain goods team. The two of them hauled goods together by day and squeezed onto a large communal bed at night, a friendship of humble origins, truly like brothers.

Later, as the years passed and each gained social standing, their opportunities to meet grew fewer. Yet the bond between old brothers remained, undimmed by the passage of time.

"Good, good." He Renzhong nodded repeatedly. "What wind blows you here, my young brother?"

"Heh heh, I've long wanted to come see my old brother... it's just the roads were unsafe!" Shopkeeper Wu beamed. "So as soon as I saw the heads of Fotou Stronghold's leaders hanging at the south gate of Xiancheng the other day, I came without stopping!"

"Haha!" He Renzhong nodded again and again at this. "Yes, yes! With Fotou Stronghold wiped out, the road from the northern mountains down to the county seat is open now."

He Renzhong, equally stirred, reached out and gripped Shopkeeper Wu's shoulders, looking him up and down ceaselessly: "Aiya, my young brother, you've grown thin, and your beard and hair show white — though your spirit still looks hale and hearty!"

It must be said, in this era, once a man entered his forties, he could fully call himself old and decrepit. By the standards of later generations, Shopkeeper Wu was not old at all — he was only forty-three this year — yet years of harsh living had long since covered his face with wrinkles and streaked his beard with white. He did not look like a man in his forties at all.

Shopkeeper Wu shook his head and smiled at this: "It's been three or four years since we last met — of course I've aged. Old brother, don't just talk about me — your beard has gone white too!"

Steward He sighed: "Old and decrepit, old and decrepit."

The two "old and decrepit" men stood at the stockade gate, overcome with emotion for a good while, before finally linking arms and entering He Family Stockade together.

Compared to previous years, He Family Stockade was noticeably more festive this year: though it was already the tenth day of the first month, when the stockade would normally have quieted down by now, the ground was still littered with red paper scraps from firecrackers. On the stockade's opera stage, a dark-faced amateur performer with a raspy voice was loudly singing a local Cantonese opera, and quite a crowd sat below, laughing and watching the show.

After this, the two sides first inspected the goods the caravan had brought.