Chapter 60

rivers (glossary)

Jiang Si Yin

These barbarian women exchanged wool for various basic daily necessities, and some particularly beauty‑loving girls even went to trade for bronze mirrors and rouge and powder.

Manager Zhang brought out a strange garment and said with a smile, "The weather is so cold—would you like to buy this sweater? It's very warm to wear."

The temperature on the steppe in autumn has already dropped, especially at night when it falls sharply.

"What is a sweater?" a noticeably wealthier barbarian matron asked, picking up the fuzzy garment to examine it, "Is this clothing? Oh my, the color is really vivid."

The steppe lacks dyes, so the more vivid something is, the more they like it.

Manager Zhang's chubby face bore a likable, simple smile: "You can try wearing it; it's warm, and even if it snows you won't fear the cold."

Manager Zhang, who knows how to do business, specially had someone send several brightly colored sweaters to the consort of the Chanyu of Shuwu.

Emperor (duplicate raw term but different original)

To the consort, she had grown tired of the heavy, scented wolf, rabbit, and fox furs; the multicolored sweaters sent by the Central Plains merchants were fresh and new.

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This year the steppe's winter arrived late; with the current weather, wearing a fur overcoat would surely be hot, while silk cloth clothing would be too cold—this sweater is just right. It comes in thick and thin versions; if you feel hot you can wear the thin one, if you feel cold you can wear a slightly thicker one—it's utterly comfortable.

The barbarian matron gazed longingly at the sweater, and upon hearing its price she couldn't help but shake her head.

Great Celebration

Although the barbarian matron couldn't afford it, the barbarian nobles who had heard the news and rushed over quickly snapped up the sweaters, drawing clicks of tongues from the onlookers.

Since the consort loved those sweaters, they naturally couldn't miss out.

To them, the sweaters were indeed a bit pricey, but the nobles raised more livestock; this year alone selling wool had earned them a substantial extra sum, so they could still afford these sweaters!

Hulled Barley

Manager Zhang

Manager Zhang

Wang Dahang saw them loading wool onto these carts, feeling very envious, and whispered to Manager Zhang: "Those sweaters are made from this wool, right? How much wool is needed to knit a sweater?"

Manager Zhang wasn't surprised at all that Wang Dahang could guess that.

At least earlier this year, he also helped purchase a lot of wool; now Wang Dahang's caravan is also helping to purchase a lot, and just thinking a bit about the situation in the capital lets one guess roughly.

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Wang Dahang swallowed, feeling very excited; this is really profitable, the price difference from wool to sweater is like heaven and earth.

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This year's sweaters are scarce; they were basically sold out already in the Central Plains, and he could only get these through his brother-in-law's connections—other merchants simply don't have the capability to obtain them.

But next year will be different; once the Great Celebration is saturated, sweaters will definitely be exported outward, the first being the grasslands.

"I reckon the nomads aren't stupid either; possibly the price of wool will rise next year." Manager Zhang whispered to Wang Dahang, "Before then, we should collect as much wool as we can."

He pointed to the sky and whispered, "This business—do it with peace of mind!"

He got this by riding on his sister and brother-in-law's coattails, with the Duke of Ying's household as guarantor, allowing him to obtain so much goods; although he has to split fifty-fifty with the superiors, being able to connect with the imperial line is truly worthwhile!

Wang Dahang is truly envious and jealous; having a sister who married into a high family is great, and he can even tie himself to the imperial household.

But this is really something one can only envy, after all, without that fate one simply couldn't do it.

He doesn't have a beautiful sister married into a powerful household.

Sweaters are simply in short supply in the barbarian lands; Manager Zhang is quite adept at handling relations, and he even kept several for the master.

Of course, the ones for the master are definitely plainer in color, while those for the children are naturally suited to children's colors.

"I like this thing called a sweater; this green one looks really nice." Jiang Si Yin said delightedly, having already imagined himself in spring, all dressed in green, hiding in the bushes, where none of his little companions could find him.

Manager Zhang chuckled and handed over a red one, saying, "For the New Year, children should wear red, so I'm giving you red as well."

Jiang Si Yin was very happy, asking, "Do you have a larger size? My sister loves red the most." He pulled out all his pocket money from the tent, asking, "How much per piece? I'll buy three."

For his foster parents and Sang Ya, one each; as for his biological father, he already has one, so there's no need to buy another—he can buy something else as a gift for his monk father.

When the children went happily to try on clothes, Manager Zhang saw no one around and whispered to Jiang He: "The emperor asked the master whether oat and black feather grass can be planted in the Great Celebration."

When Manager Zhang learned that the master was actually a spy sent by the emperor to the grasslands, he was completely dumbfounded.

These days the master's reputation in the Great Celebration isn't great; many scholars think he's aiding the enemy, and he had been wondering how to distance himself from the master, but then the emperor secretly summoned him, and afterward had him stay in contact with the master.

The master is on the grasslands; making contact isn't easy, so he can only rely on the caravan's help.

Each time he recalls these events, Manager Zhang feels both ashamed and excited.

Ashamed that he, out of fear, wanted to stay away from the master and completely forgot the master's kindness; excited that he was actually summoned by the emperor, and would henceforth serve as the liaison for contacting the master.

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Jiang He remained calm, saying, "When you go back and tell the emperor, any geographical environment similar to the grasslands can be cultivated." He paused, then added, "You don't have a seagoing ship, do you? The monk and I told the emperor about sweet potatoes, potatoes, corn, and the like—these are overseas high-yield crops that can be grown in most parts of the Great Celebration; as long as you find two of them, the Great Celebration will never lack grain."

Having heard the master describe it before, Manager Zhang knew this was the high-yield grain even the emperor was seeking, and he couldn't help feeling somewhat excited.

If he could find it in advance, the emperor might very well give him a prominent official position.

He secretly decided that, once he returns, he will immediately organize merchant ships to go overseas in search of profitable grain.

The goods brought by the caravan sell quickly, after all the herders lack everything; with money they want to spend it, so the money from selling wool goes in and out, allowing them to exchange it for substantial supplies.

Looking at their happy appearance, this winter will surely be good.

When Manager Zhang left the grasslands with more silver than in previous years, he gained some insight.

It looks like, come next spring, the Central Plains and the grasslands will not go to war again.

The nomads have exchanged their wool for so many goods that they already lack neither supplies nor food; moreover, with spring arriving and being able to plant black feather grass and oat, their lives have hope, making them even less likely to go to war.

Fighting gets people killed, and even the nomads don't want to die.

In past years, seventy percent of wars occurred in spring.

Now that black feather grass and oat are available, both the grasslands and the Central Plains are awaiting spring planting; who would waste spring on meaningless warfare?

So the master planted oat in the grasslands precisely because he had thought of this point?

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No matter what, in an era of peace and prosperity, it is the best of times for merchants!

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In winter, Sang Ya Niang's belly finally showed signs of pregnancy.

She held her slightly protruding belly as she tidied up at home.

This year's winter came late; when the first snow fell, the temperature dropped quickly, and they had to break camp and migrate to a more wind‑sheltered basin. The larger tribes had already chosen their sites and set out, while these smaller tribes still had to wait a few days before departing.

Jiang Si Yin never expected that after only a month without seeing Sang Ya, her belly would already be swollen—just a month ago it had been only slightly bulging.

He stared at Sang Ya Niang's belly, full of surprise, and handed over the gift he had brought.

Jiang Si Yin's new clothes were the green hat that the monk Jiang He could not appreciate, but among the Hu people it was quite popular.

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The child felt delighted, saying, "The hat was dyed by my father, and there's plenty of dye left—do you want one, Sister Sang Ya?"

Sang Ya nodded decisively, "Yes, yes, yes—I want a green one too!"

Jiang He could only smile helplessly, "Sure, I'll dye one for you as well."

Honestly, aside from the unfortunate connotation of the "green hat," green is actually fresh and rather nice-looking.

Especially on the steppe, green symbolizes hope, and they don't think there's anything wrong with it.

At that moment, a clamor arose outside the tent; Sang Ya glanced over and said, "Ba Tu, your little friends have come to invite you out to play."

Jiang Si Yin hesitated for a moment, then walked to the tent's entrance.

He said something to those little companions, then returned, without going out to play with them.

Sang Ya sat by the stove boiling milk; the master said drinking more milk was good for pregnant women, so she boiled a large pot every day.

Before, her mother suffered severe morning sickness, complaining that milk was too fishy; later she added tea leaves, which reduced the fishiness, but her mother ended up unable to sleep from drinking milk tea, and the master also said tea was bad for pregnant women, giving her a packet of jasmine flowers—tea brewed with jasmine has a jasmine fragrance, which her mother especially liked.

Sang Ya handed Jiang Si Yin a cup of jasmine milk tea and asked with a smile, "You're not playing with your little friends? Did you have a fight?"

The last time Jiang Si Yin came over, several kids were clearly roughhousing, getting along extremely well.

Jiang Si Yin took a big gulp of jasmine milk tea, still somewhat unsatisfied, and said, "I want to see how my father takes a pulse."

This tea is truly fragrant—even the saliva he swallows smells sweet; he's a man, and if his little companions caught a whiff of his perfumed scent, he'd be terribly embarrassed!

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Sang Ya, however, was delighted, "You're going to start learning medicine? That's wonderful."

If Ba Tu mastered the master's entire medical skill, he could walk sideways across the steppe—no one would dare bully him anymore.

"Sister Sang Ya, do you want to learn?" Jiang Si Yin suddenly asked her, "If you want to learn, my father will surely be happy to teach you."

Sang Ya felt somewhat overwhelmed by the favor, her face full of disbelief as she pointed at her own nose, "I—I can also learn?"

She had once entertained that thought, but she had heard that Central Plains medicine was passed only from men to men, let alone to outsiders, so she didn't dare speak up.

But anything can happen.

Jiang Si Yin's knot in his heart finally untied.

"These years, Father has truly missed you…… Father originally thought that after becoming a monk, everything would end, but he discovered you are the calamity of his life, the most precious treasure hard to part with in the mortal world. Father originally thought keeping you in the Jiang household was to keep you in a nest of wealth and honor……"

The current Master Xuan Ji is widely recognized as the best divine doctor of steppe medicine; with him around, surely nothing will go wrong.

He repeatedly said, "Ba Tu has been idle all winter with nothing to do—this is the perfect time to teach Sang Ya to read."

"Host, Jiang Si Yin's memory has returned; he knows where he came from, so he shouldn't be so obsessed with staying on the steppe."

The monk sat by his bed for a long time, so long that Jiang Si Yin couldn't help but want to open his eyes.

Finally, Jiang Si Yin couldn't help but scream.

How could one study medicine without knowing how to read? She still understood that principle.

Jiang He gestured for Sang Ya Niang to extend her wrist so he could take her pulse.

Under the oil lamp, Jiang He held a carving knife, carving a small piece of wood, with wood shavings falling everywhere.

The Hu people were reluctant to buy such an expensive blanket; theirs were mostly sheepskin or wolfskin, and even after many washes, when covered over the body they still gave off a strong odor.

But this time, he did not give up; instead, he stubbornly stared at the woman appearing in the illusion.

Father had better keep his word, otherwise he will never forgive him!

He stared at Sang Ya Niang's belly, and in a hazy way, he seemed to see a woman wearing Central Plains clothing.

He once felt so secure that no matter what he did wrong, he always had a home.

Jiang Si Yin immediately patted his chest, "Sister Sang Ya, this isn't a problem—I can teach you to read!"

Jiang He reached out his hand, stroking the child's forehead, "Little Yin, Father will never leave you again."

She once also stroked her own belly, a gentle smile on her face, "Little Yin, Mother will give birth to brothers and sisters for you, and soon you won't be lonely anymore……"

Jiang He sighed, "An unhappy childhood requires a lifetime to heal."

The parrot poked its head out to look, knowing this thing was a gift from the host to his son.

Everyone in the tent was startled, all turning their gazes toward Sang Ya Niang's belly.

Even when he drifted onto the steppe, even if Sang Ya's family tried to be good to him, what could it do? As an adopted son, it was obvious he still bore the burden of supporting a lame old man, and he had to grow up.

Now thinking about it, the stepmother's aggression toward him might well be because he was too clever—fearing he would become a threat.

In his previous life, Jiang Si Yin never regained his memory; he had no origin and didn't know his destination, so all he could do was make his mark as a Hu person, deeply imprinting the steppe nation's seal upon himself.

On the steppe, because trees are scarce, only a very few nobles can afford to sleep on a bed.

Everyone in the tent was frightened by him.

The system thought it over and felt that was indeed the case.

The host's original family was too terrible; even recalling the host's memories made him uncomfortable, and tonight, because of the child's matter, his emotions are in turmoil and he cannot sleep.

His father, as the eldest legitimate son of the Qingyuan Marquis's manor, was not favored by his grandfather; above him there was a stepmother eyeing the title hungrily, plus her own children, leaving his father powerless in the manor and able only to avoid confrontation.

"I know." Jiang He's voice was calm and unperturbed, "I said those things on purpose—this child really lacks a sense of security."

At that moment, the tent's cloth flap opened, and Jiang Si Yin quickly closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

He tucked the blanket around the child, then Jiang He returned to his own room.

"Rest assured, this humble monk will follow your tribe." Jiang He smiled, saying, "This humble monk will stay by your side and come to no harm."

Before seven, he had acquired considerable knowledge, and being naturally clever, while at the Qingyuan Marquis's mansion he was often praised by his tutor, who compared the step-grandmother's many grandsons to mud.

His father misjudged the ruthlessness of the Qingyuan Marquis's household; he never imagined the step-grandmother would have him kidnapped and sold.

His bed made his little companions envious for a long time; they would romp and tumble on it, saying this was the treatment of nobility.

Sang Ya's father laughed so hard his gums showed.

Jiang He turned his head, smiling, "Of course it's fine, but don't listen to Batu's nonsense—learning medicine doesn't start with taking a pulse; it starts with memorizing the Tangtou Ge."

Jiang He hopes his son has a happy and joyful childhood!

With Master Xuanji's words, Sang Ya's family immediately felt relieved.

He finally remembered—recalled the memories from before age seven: a gentle, kind mother, a father who seemed stern but was actually soft-hearted… those days were as beautiful as a dream.

As a result, he underestimated their shamelessness and cruelty; they didn't see his father's retreat as voluntary, but thought the title was never his father's to begin with, that his stepping aside was rightful, and they owed him nothing.

Hatred might be redirected; he felt it better to resent the Qingyuan Marquis's household than to complain why his father abandoned him—and indeed that is the case.

He now brings black-feather grass and oat to the steppe; with these two, the steppe might gradually grow accustomed to farming, no longer needing to follow water and pasture; once they enjoy the convenience and prosperity of agrarian civilization, who would still choose the hardship of a nomadic life?

"Ah—ah—ah—"

Only Jiang Si Yin keenly noticed that his father's smile was somewhat off.

"Little Yin, sorry." The woman's pale face was streaked with tears, "It's mother's inadequacy; you have no brothers or sisters..."

The north wind howled, carrying wolves' cries on its breath.

Sang Ya's father had just returned from outside when he heard his daughter wanted to study medicine, and the master had even promised to teach her; he was instantly overjoyed.

"Twins?!"

His hand was very steady, his movements so light that even the most skilled carpenter couldn't keep up with his speed.

At seven, he didn't understand why his father abandoned him to become a monk; but combined with what his father said tonight, the eleven-year-old finally understood.

"Host, your son is truly asleep now." The system's voice echoed in Jiang He's mind.

The monk's voice grew increasingly hoarse.

In the darkness, Jiang Si Yin lay in the warm blankets with eyes wide open, unable to sleep.

Unlike now, the blankets are warm and cozy, the quilt is a costly cotton batting, thick and soft, still carrying the scent of sunshine.

"Father..." Jiang Si Yin opened his eyes, forehead beaded with cold sweat, he clung desperately to the monk's robe corner and cried out in anguish, "Why? Why did you become a monk?"

Jiang Si Yin turned over, avoiding that hand, and bit his lip tightly.

"Two children!" she thought, overjoyed—giving birth to two at once, even if no more children came later, she and her husband would be content.

But as Jiang He's son, he need not be sensible or mature; he just needs to be happy and joyful.

Sang Ya's mother first rejoiced for her daughter, then sighed, "Sang Ya can't read."

His father thought that by becoming a monk he was making his stance clear, leaving the title to the uncle born of the stepmother; as a grandson posing no threat whatsoever, he could live peacefully in the Jiang household.

Now the tent he lives in is large, and this bed is also large; even if he rolls around on it, he won't fall off.

Even if he is mischievous, even if he is disobedient, he never needs to worry about being driven out of his home.

The monk in his robes entered, just as countless parents do before bed, checking if their child has kicked off the covers, and he tucked the child's hand, which lay outside the blanket, back inside.

Even after having lost his memory, Jiang Si Yin took a long time to grow accustomed to the smell of the fur blanket.

Jiang Si Yin's hand involuntarily clenched into a fist, his heart filled with resentment; he had never asked himself how he knew he wanted to stay in this wealthy nest—no one had ever given him a choice!

He carefully polished the little trinket in his hand until it felt smooth to the touch.

When he grows up, he will surely make the Qingyuan Marquis's household look bad!

"Little Yin!" Jiang He rushed over, embraced him anxiously, and asked, "What's wrong? Do you have a headache?"

Jiang He sat on the bedside, gazing at the child's silhouette in the darkness.

His head felt as if it were about to split open, and Jiang Si Yin's forehead was drenched in sweat.

Now his legs are strong, as if they had never been injured; according to his knowledge, there are hardly any physicians in the Central Plains with such medical skill. His view matches Sang Ya's mother's: if his daughter learns even a little medicine, it will be enough for her to be valued by her in-laws after marriage.

Suddenly his brow furrowed slightly, but under the worried gaze of the pregnant woman it quickly smoothed, and he put on a soothing smile: "Don't worry, your body is very healthy and the child is fine! This humble monk is merely surprised—it's rare to see twins."

The Tieman tribe has many diehards; the nobles who hold military power might prefer a wandering life, and once they realize that settled life has sapped the fighting strength of the herdsmen, they will certainly not let it rest—they may even choose to go to war with the Central Plains, at which point his and Jiang Si Yin's situation would become awkward.

Afterwards, the woman lost the light in her eyes; she reached out, hoping to grasp her son's hand, but ultimately let it fall limp…

Jiang He said, "It'll be ready soon; I hope Little Yin likes it."

Jiang Si Yin knew that most yurts have no beds—just a fur felt laid on the ground serves as one; each winter he finds it hard to endure, as cold air rises from the ground in gusts, making him shiver in the fur felt, his feet icy all night long.

"Sorry, Little Yin." The monk's clear, warm voice sounded low and hoarse in the darkness, "Father has been searching for you; back then he truly had no choice—if he hadn't become a monk, neither he nor you could have survived…"

Jiang He said calmly, "When the time is right, I will accompany him away from the steppe, trying to minimize the influence of steppe civilization on him."

The parrot perched on its stand, watching him; late at night, all quiet, fearful of disturbing Jiang Si Yin next door, the man and the parrot could only communicate in their minds.

"Sorry, Little Yin, Mother can't accompany you anymore..."

Although he had lost his memory, he still recognized Central Plains characters; over these months, living with the monk father, perhaps because his loving birth father was present, he gradually began to recall some things.

After his mother died, his father became a monk—was it because his father's heart held only his mother, rendering him utterly insignificant?

Today is truly a string of joys—suddenly two more children, who wouldn't be happy? His only worry is that the two children will each suffer, and their mother will have a difficult delivery.

Sang Ya's mother couldn't help but rub her belly, and soon a delighted smile appeared on her face: "No wonder my belly has grown so quickly."

He clutched his head, crouched there, and his shriek turned into a painful wail.

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