Chapter Thirty-Nine: The First Bucket of Gold Found

No one was there to comfort his wounded little heart, so Yun Hao was forced to reassess this world of Sui and Tang. Anyone whose name made it into the annals of history was no ordinary figure; all of them were old foxes, steeped in the traditions of the aristocratic clans for years, molded by an entire social system into masters of cunning and duplicity. Whether mule or horse, they could see right through your heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys without even needing to test you. Trying to play tricks before them was nothing short of courting death.

Having been set up, Yun Hao had no choice but to accept it with resignation. On the way to the pharmacy with Wu Shihuo and Zhang Wenzhong, Yun Hao constantly noticed a few idle thugs with tattooed arms trailing behind them, sometimes close, sometimes distant. If it weren’t for the soldiers accompanying Wu Shihuo, they would have long since pounced to snatch the silver ingots clutched in Yun Hao’s arms.

In fact, most of the coins circulating during the Sui and Tang dynasties were copper. China’s luck had never been great—silver was always scarce. Some families preferred to hoard it in cellars, others had it fashioned into women’s jewelry or household ornaments. This only made silver even rarer. Those who could afford to use silver were either wealthy merchants or high-born nobles. There was simply no other way—one tael of silver was equivalent to about a string of coins, and ten strings of coins could weigh dozens of pounds, more than Yun Hao and his mother could ever carry. Besides, Zhao carried two hundred taels of snow-patterned silver in her bundle; if that were converted into copper coins, they’d need an ox cart to haul it all.

The tattooed toughs followed them all the way to the pharmacy door before slinking away, disappointed. Yun Hao decided then and there that he would not leave the pharmacy for anything—his small arms and legs would be easy prey for kidnappers. He didn’t know if people in the Sui and Tang dynasties had the gruesome habit of killing hostages, but he had no desire to die young.

The courtyard assigned to Yun Hao and his mother was not large, perhaps two or three hundred square meters by modern standards. Facing south, it had a single main room, with a small side chamber built against the west wall. Both were made of blue brick and tile, and he heard they were constructed with the “polished brick, seamless joint” technique—a detail he was eager to inspect.

He squatted in a corner, feeling the smooth blue bricks. Even with an embroidery needle, he couldn’t poke it into the mortar between the bricks. Good heavens! Was this a house or a fortress? Did it really need to be this sturdy? He hadn’t heard of Jinyang being on a seismic fault line.

This “polished brick, seamless joint” method was a high-level construction technique in ancient architecture: rough bricks would be cut and ground into perfect rectangles, then laid dry and grouted, with the wall left unplastered and unpainted, resulting in a smooth, immaculate surface with barely visible joints. He’d only ever heard a tour guide mention it while visiting the Forbidden City; it was said to be a lost art, preserved only in a few remote mountain temples in Shanxi. He never expected to see the real thing today.

“What are you doing, little brother?” A voice as sweet as an oriole’s sounded behind him, arriving with a waft of fragrance. He sniffed—it was the scent of mint, of all things. Yun Hao loved that crisp aroma, and immediately turned his head.

It was the same girl he’d seen earlier at the market, dressed in a pale yellow skirt, with her sharp-tongued, disagreeable maid trailing behind—a miniature version of Lady Rong from the dramas, currently looking at Yun Hao as if she’d spotted something unpleasant on the ground.

“Who are you?” Yun Hao asked the girl in the yellow dress.

“My young lady is the niece of the divine physician Zhang. What’s so interesting about this silly boy?” The quick-tongued maid cut in, rolling her eyes so hard she could have passed for ET. Those bulging fish eyes of hers were truly something; if she rolled them any harder, they might fall out.

“Xing’er, enough!” The young lady scolded her maid, then smiled sweetly at Yun Hao. “Little brother, what are you doing?”

“It’s my first time seeing a house like this. I was curious, that’s all.” As soon as he’d answered, Yun Hao realized her words carried a double meaning—little brother! Had she ever seen such a big “little brother”? It would frighten her!

“Country bumpkin!” Xing’er snorted, hands on hips like a teapot. If Zhang Miaoke hadn’t shot her a warning glance, she’d likely have started a string of sarcastic jabs.

“Yes, I’m a country bumpkin, but at least I’m not always acting like a teapot—hollow inside, with nothing but dung.” Yun Hao had no fondness for this Xing’er. She’d crossed him several times today, and he’d love nothing more than to toss her to the ground and give her a good lesson. But given her unfortunate looks, he let the notion pass.

“Dung? What is dung? You brat!” Xing’er sensed Yun Hao was insulting her, but couldn’t read, so she didn’t know what he meant. Seeing Yun Hao’s smug face only made her angrier, and she pressed him for an answer.

Zhang Miaoke burst out laughing. Xing’er might be illiterate, but she certainly wasn’t. She guessed at once what “dung” meant.

“If you don’t know what dung is, just take a left outside the door and you’ll see.” Yun Hao gestured casually towards the door.

Xing’er actually glanced toward the entrance. If her mistress weren’t present, she would have gone to check for herself what this “dung” business was all about.

“Xing’er, he’s teasing you.” Zhang Miaoke tugged her maid’s sleeve, helpless. The girl was hardworking, but always seemed a little slow. She’d have to teach her to read and learn a bit more, so she wouldn’t keep making a fool of herself like today.

“Miss…!”

“That’s enough, enough. Little brother, you’re so young—just call me Sister Zhang. This pharmacy belongs to my family. If you or your mother need anything, come to me, and I’ll help you.” Zhang Miaoke drew out a handkerchief and wiped Yun Hao’s cheek. The child had wiped his sweaty face with his hands, leaving a great smudge.

Yun Hao immediately warmed to this Sister Zhang. She was not only beautiful but gentle in temperament, her voice as melodious as a songbird. Good heavens, in modern times a woman like her would be a superstar. Most important of all, she carried a fresh, minty fragrance—it would be a luxury to fall asleep next to her, so refreshing and invigorating. Though perhaps he’d get a nosebleed.

“What are you staring at, brat?” Noticing Yun Hao’s fixed gaze on her mistress, Xing’er bristled again. She still didn’t know what “dung” meant, but she was sure it wasn’t a compliment. Her dislike of Yun Hao burned even hotter; if he hadn’t been a guest invited by the master, she’d have scolded him outright.

“Xing’er, he’s just a child—barely the age of a kitten. There’s no need for such propriety between men and women at his age.” Zhang Miaoke smiled faintly.

“Sister Zhang, you smell wonderful. Can you tell me what it is?” Yun Hao knew that Jinyang didn’t produce mint, but he was certain of what he’d smelled. He’d always loved the scent, never using anything but mint-scented bath and hair products before.

“Oh, this? It’s wild mint. My family comes from Longyou, and the mountains there grow this herbal plant. It refreshes the mind—since I like the scent, I extract the juice to perfume my clothes. Isn’t it nice?”

Perfume for clothes! Yun Hao’s eyes lit up—he had it! His first fortune was about to be made! He stared at Zhang Miaoke as if seeing barrels of gold rolling toward him.