Chapter 105: Compensation

Wang Cong was filled with embarrassment; he rarely stayed at home, and the herbs the monastery acquired were all bought by his Third and Fourth Uncles when they went down the mountain—how would he know why they didn't come to the apothecary?

Though he didn't know the reason, whether or not they chose him could only be about price or herb quality.

Wang Cong smiled faintly and whispered, "Shopkeeper, the herb prices on this list are the same, but Mount Sanqing purchases year-round, and each order is substantial—what they pay us isn't the market rate."

The shopkeeper clenched his teeth inwardly—he knew it: they must have given Mount Sanqing special favors, otherwise why would Mount Sanqing buy only from him?

He lowered his gaze, thought for a moment, then whispered, "How about this: from now on, whenever Mount Sanqing buys herbs, I'll give you a discount?"

Wang Cong: "What kind of discount?"

Shopkeeper: "For any herb, I'll charge you ninety percent of the market price."

Wang Cong frowned, silent.

The shopkeeper gritted his teeth. "Eighty-five percent."

Seeing Wang Cong still silent, the shopkeeper said, "I can't go lower—I know well that every time Mount Sanqing orders, you buy expensive herbs: cinnabar, ginseng, lingzhi, mercury—fifteen percent off the market price is already generous."

Wang Cong said, "Shopkeeper, I'm also in business—I know well that the higher the price of an item, the greater the profit margin. Licorice is cheap; an eighty percent discount saves only a few cash coins. But with cinnabar and ginseng, even a fifty percent discount still leaves your shop with healthy profits."

"Mr. Wang, you make it sound like our apothecary takes great risks."

Wang Cong shook his head. "Other goods may be risky, but medicine isn't. Birth, aging, sickness, death—these are life's constants. Whether one is born, grows old, falls ill, or dies, medicine is always needed. So in this world, everything might lose money and go unsold—but medicine never will."

"Mr. Wang, you're hinting at me—everything in this world has high and low prices, medicine included. I buy something for ten taels, and the next day the market price drops to one tael—what can I do?" The shopkeeper looked pained. "Do you think my meager capital can raise the market price back to ten taels?"

"Medicine always sells, but if you lose nine taels on every transaction, would you be willing? Mr. Wang, since you run a business, you must understand my plight."

Wang Cong nodded. "I understand. Then how about eighty percent? For every herb, give Mount Sanqing eighty percent of the market price."

He added meaningfully, "Since you know where we buy our herbs, you must know our monthly herb expenditure is substantial."

"My Younger Uncle and two junior sisters are still young. When they grow older, their herb consumption will increase even more. Think back to when my father raised me and my three uncles—how much money he spent…"

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up: Wang Fei had raised his three younger brothers and sister, and in doing so, had completely squandered the Wang family's fortune.

The Wang family had once been one of the major households in Yushan County.

He recalled the gossip he'd heard: every time the Daoist Priests of Mount Sanqing came down the mountain to buy herbs, they spent at least dozens of taels, sometimes over a hundred.

Just that purchasing volume alone could sustain an entire apothecary.

The shopkeeper gritted his teeth and nodded. "Fine—eighty percent!"

They reached an agreement: next time Mount Sanqing bought herbs, they'd come to him.

"Shopkeeper, if the herb prices drop, the quality mustn't. You know Mount Sanqing has always been strict about herb quality."

"I know, I know. Mr. Wang, rest assured—our apothecary's herbs won't be worse than his. We've been here for decades; our reputation speaks for itself."

Wang Cong nodded.

Pan Yun waited until they finished speaking before speaking up. "Can we go now? If we don't leave soon, it'll be dark."

Wang Cong reached for his money. "How much for the medicine?"

The butcher beside them roared like thunder. "We'll pay! We'll pay!"

Wang Cong looked torn, glancing at Pan Yun.

Pan Yun sighed and waved at the butcher. "Forget it. Don't pay. This is my bad luck—"

"What's that supposed to mean? I never said I wouldn't pay! Why do you say it's your bad luck?" The butcher angrily snatched the money pouch from his wife's hands. "See? We even brought the money!"

He shouted loudly, "How much do you want? Name the amount—we'll pay!"

Pan Yun's eardrums throbbed from his voice. Wang Cong stepped aside, placing himself before her. "Sir, you misunderstand. My Younger Uncle says no compensation is needed because this has nothing to do with you. She's been having terrible luck lately…"

"You Daoist priest are too superstitious! What bad luck? Wasn't this knife mine? Didn't I throw it?" The butcher glared angrily. "Tell me—is this not my fault? You say it's not my problem—what kind of mind do you have?"

"Fine, fine, it's your fault, it's your fault," Pan Yun surrendered, waving her hand. "Then pay for our medicine."

But the shopkeeper refused to take their money. "It's nothing. Now that we're partners, and I saw your monastery's Younger Uncle injured, I must help."

It was just a little wine and cloth, and the wound salve was brought by Wang Cong himself—total cost, ten cash coins. Better to waive it entirely.

The shopkeeper refused payment, but the butcher insisted on giving them money, asking the shopkeeper, "How much would this injury cost to treat at your apothecary?" The shopkeeper replied, "With the cool weather, change the dressing every other day—three applications will seal the wound. Not expensive. Including the salve—"

"Scarring costs that much?" The butcher spoke the words but immediately opened his pouch to pay. "For the injury and the fright—I'll give you two hundred cash. Let's call it even, how's that?"

Wang Cong glanced at Pan Yun and whispered, "Younger Uncle, from years of observing my father, if you take this, you'll get even worse luck."

Pan Yun: "Do you think not taking it will stop me from being unlucky right now?"

Wang Cong looked at the furious butcher, his eyes bulging like copper bells, clearly ready to strike if they refused.

Wang Cong fell silent. He thought refusing might not make his Younger Uncle unlucky—but he himself would definitely be.

He hesitantly extended his hand, about to take the two strings of coins, when a small hand pressed down on his. He turned.

Pan Yun paused, then said, "Brother, we can accept compensation—but can it be less? Just pay for the medicine: ten cash coins. You heard—the Mount Sanqing monastery has its own herbs; healing costs nothing. And you didn't scare me at all. That knife didn't frighten me one bit."

Pan Xiaohei let out a mocking "meow." Pan Yun ignored it.

She had decided: when they returned, she wouldn't let Pan Xiaohei ride in the cart, nor sit on her shoulder—she'd make it walk back on its own four legs.

"Ten cash coins? Are you mocking us?" the butcher shouted. "If word gets out, the neighbors will think Pig Meat Chang is bullying people! No—two hundred cash. Not a single coin less. Take it now!"

!. Read

Seeing they wouldn't take it, he simply shoved the money into their arms.

Wang Cong panicked, clutching the money, turning to look at Pan Yun.

Pan Yun looked utterly defeated, then erupted in anger. She snatched the two strings of coins and flung them back, jabbing her finger at his nose. "You think money makes you superior? Don't you understand I'm having bad luck? I'm speaking politely and you won't listen—do you need to lose your temper? I said I don't want compensation, I don't want compensation—do you understand?!"

Pig Meat Chang was stunned by her shout.

The butcher's wife, who had been watching silently, finally confirmed her suspicion. She yanked Pig Meat Chang behind her and smiled at Pan Yun. "We understand, we understand. Little Daoist, don't be angry. My husband's like this—strong arms, no brain."

She smiled sweetly and took back the two strings of coins. "Fine, no money. How about we give you two pieces of pork? You went to the market to buy meat, didn't you?"

Pig Meat Chang had recovered and pushed forward. "No way! If we don't pay, I'll never have face again—"

"Shut up," the butcher's wife snapped, exasperated. "Apologizing means respecting the other person's feelings! You only care about your own face—is that apology? It's forcing them to suffer to satisfy your pride!"

Pan Yun nodded vigorously. "Exactly, exactly."

Wang Cong also nodded.

The butcher's wife warmly grabbed Pan Yun's hand. "Come on, sister-in-law will take you to pick meat—I'll tell you, our meat is delicious, all from big fat pigs raised in the countryside. I'll have him cut you two slices of belly pork, and some ribs too…"

What the butcher's wife meant by "two slices of belly pork" was cutting out all the belly meat from half the carcass and stringing it for Pan Yun.

"Some ribs" meant chopping off both sides of one rack, splitting it in half, then stringing the two halves together for her.

Pan Yun's mouth hung open—didn't this meat and these bones cost more than two hundred wen?

Zhu Rouchang's heart finally eased; he slashed and scraped with his sharp knife, threaded the two strips of belly pork together, and handed them to Wang Cong.

Wang Cong swallowed hard and looked at Pan Yun.

Today's pork price: twelve wen per jin for belly pork—these two slices must weigh about ten jin?

Ribs are cheaper, but still ten wen per jin—this whole rack must be…?

He quickly calculated the price and found it matched nearly exactly the amount they owed; he exhaled and looked at Pan Yun.

Pan Yun mused, "Sister-in-law, this meat is a gift to our Qingxu Temple, right?"

The butcher's wife's eyes flickered. "Yes, it's a gift to your Qingxu Temple—please let the Daoists taste our pork."

Pan Yun exhaled and waved to Wang Cong. "Take it!"

"Yes." Wang Cong immediately took the belly pork and ribs.

Zhu Rouchang, seeing they finally accepted without fuss, softened his expression. "That's better—no need to be so shy."

He said, "Next time you want meat, just come to me—I'll give you a discount."

Pan Yun thanked him, grabbed Wang Xiaojing, who had been staring in awe, and walked off. "Hurry up—we won't make it back before dark."

Today's lucky number is any number ending in 3, screenshot as proof.

(End of chapter)