Chapter Forty: A Failed Exploration

Flowers could be found right in the courtyard, so when no one was looking, he became a petty flower thief. Mrs. Zhao stared in astonishment at the basketful of blooms her son brought back, puzzled over what new scheme he was plotting.

“Hao’er! Why on earth did you pick all those flowers? We’re guests here, we can’t go about causing trouble,” Mrs. Zhao admonished, never forgetting that the captain of Eagle Manor was a high official. She had been extremely cautious these last few days, barely stepping out of the courtyard for fear of getting into trouble. This gave Yun Hao peace of mind—after all, he wasn’t sure if those “armfuls of flowers” weren’t also moonlighting in the business of abducting women.

“Mother, hurry and fetch a small pot. I’ve found a way for us to make some money!” Yun Hao exclaimed excitedly. He remembered having read a novel by an author named Zi Yu 2, called “Tang Brick,” which described how to make perfume. He didn’t know if that slightly balding, portly fellow was pulling his leg, but it didn’t matter—he’d try it out first. The flowers were free, and even if he failed, he wouldn’t lose anything. Yun Hao was always keen on ventures that required no upfront costs.

Upon hearing this was a money-making idea, Mrs. Zhao perked right up. She and her son had come to Jinyang, but still hadn’t settled into a proper livelihood. The housing problem was solved, but they still needed a way to support themselves.

Following the process he remembered, Yun Hao found a small-mouthed pot, poured in boiling water, and set it to simmer over the stove. Supposedly, it had to cook for two whole hours. He waited anxiously by the stove, watching the steam turn to condensation and trickle down the lid into a basin below. To ensure the condensed water flowed correctly, he even tilted the pot ever so slightly.

At last, after all the water had evaporated, he poured the distilled liquid collected in the jar into another clean pot. A thin film of oil floated on the surface. He covered it and distilled it again, repeating the process three times. In the end, Yun Hao was left with a sticky, foul-smelling substance at the bottom of the bowl.

Er… Something went awry at the final step. When Yun Hao added the strong liquor—painstakingly acquired—absolutely nothing happened. Was that author lying after all?

He eyed the liquor in his hand and suddenly realized the problem. Where in this era could one find true spirits? The so-called “strong liquor” bought through a shop assistant probably had an alcohol content of barely twenty percent. Having grown accustomed to Red Star Niulanshan in modern times, Yun Hao could drink this stuff like beer!

“Hao’er, what’s wrong, didn’t it work?” Mrs. Zhao saw her son staring dumbfounded at the inky mess and guessed at once that something had gone awry. Thankfully, the loss was minimal—just a pot of liquor. They still had over two hundred taels of silver in their pouch, and after chatting with the servants, she’d learned that a decent house in Jinyang could be bought for thirty to fifty taels. Not only could they buy a home, there’d be enough left to start a small business. She hadn’t decided what kind yet, but her son’s cooking had won praise from all the gentlemen at Erxianzhuang. Perhaps a restaurant was a good idea.

“This liquor won’t do!” Yun Hao scratched his head in frustration. High-purity alcohol was indispensable for making perfume, but where could he find that here and now? His grand perfume plan was stillborn. Dejected, he plopped down on the floor. He’d hoped to quickly establish a family business, but circumstances had left him at a standstill. Most importantly, he didn’t dare set foot outside the pharmacy.

Yesterday, he’d climbed to the roof and spotted a few of those “armfuls of flowers” sitting at a teahouse on the street corner. The moment they saw him, they put down their teacups and stared, two of the shiftiest ones pointing and whispering to each other—clearly up to no good.

Alas! He had truly been duped by that old fox Wu Shihuo. Who would have thought that coveting ten taels of silver could bring such trouble? Yun Hao would never believe Wu Shihuo was secretly behind it all. Wu Shihuo just wanted to trap him inside the pharmacy. If Yun Hao, with a child’s heart, had slipped out to play, then being kidnapped and later rescued by the mighty Wu Shihuo would have cemented a great favor—knowing Mrs. Zhao, she might even offer herself in gratitude. Heaven forbid Wu Shihuo become his stepfather! Not with a daughter famous for killing her own brothers—was Wu Zetian someone to be trifled with?

No, he had to break this stalemate. But how could he make those thugs afraid to lay a hand on him? Yun Hao racked his brain, but to no avail. Since there was no solution, he decided to stop worrying about it. Sleep was always a good choice. After all, he was neither hungry nor cold and had a fine house to live in. Those goons weren’t likely to have much patience. Maybe if he held out a few days, things would improve. He didn’t believe they’d skip collecting protection money just to watch the pharmacy’s door all day. He had his food and shelter, but they still had to eat.

Since he’d decided to sleep, he went inside to do just that. He never could get comfortable on those wooden platforms, and missed his old Simmons mattress dearly. Unfortunately, such things didn’t exist in this era. Maybe he should try to make one—but when he considered the technology involved, Yun Hao felt lost. He’d never taken a mattress apart to see what it looked like inside!

He regretted not having worked in a furniture factory in his past life—even a few days would have sufficed. At least then he’d know how sofas, mattresses, and leather beds were put together. These were all luxury goods in ancient times.

Still, it didn’t matter. So long as he understood the concept, there were plenty of skilled craftsmen in this age. Once he figured it out, he could have one made. No one here knew what a sofa looked like anyway; even if he ended up with something resembling a spaceship, no one would know the difference.

Yun Hao relished this world where he had nothing and could invent at will. He lay down and drifted off into a deep sleep, pondering with the Duke of Zhou how to make a Simmons mattress.

Almost at the same time, in a room somewhere in Jinyang, Wu Yuanshuang sat opposite a burly man with a face full of scars. The man was eight feet tall, his waist nearly as broad, a thick gold chain around his neck, and a wide patch of chest hair like a breastplate. A scar ran from the corner of his left eye down to his chin, making his fierce face all the more terrifying. With his lion-like nose, gaping mouth, and tattooed arms—one a blue dragon, the other a white tiger—he looked every inch the underworld boss.

“I wonder what brings you to see me today, Young Master Wu?” Thunder Tiger asked gruffly, dropping into a seat across from Wu Yuanshuang and eyeing his smooth, fair face.

“Uh… it’s a small matter, and I’d like to ask for your help, Big Brother Lei.”