Yang Chengfeng stood by, watching Fang Zichen chat casually with them in just a few sentences. The merchants had been so scared at first that they could barely move their hands and feet, terrified of saying the wrong thing and offending him. But after only a couple of exchanges, seeing how easygoing Fang Zichen was, they completely relaxed.
Fang Zichen asked what business they were in and where they usually sold their goods. He talked about trade—their own area of expertise—and the merchants began to chatter nonstop.
"How do you usually price them?"
"Hemp fabric is twelve copper coins per chi (about 1/3 meter). Brocade is more expensive—but if we don't mark it up, we'd lose money on the journey."
Fabric production wasn't easy, and local consumption was limited. Sending finer goods to other prefectures meant long journeys and lengthy travel times, which drove up costs. And in those other places, the local merchants were already well-established—like "dragons ruling their own territory." The merchants didn't dare expand too much; if they did, they'd be taking food off other people's tables. With no backing, they feared stirring up trouble too. They mostly sold their goods in small quantities, with no permanent shops. All in all, it was barely a step up from scratching a living out of the dirt.
The rise and fall of commerce plays a critical role in a region's economic development.
Back in the '70s and '80s, there was no such thing as going out to work in the cities. So back then, every rural household was poor. Later, as things developed, villagers started going out to work in the cities—one month's wages could match a whole year of farm labor. Even now, the pattern remained the same, unless a family owned dozens of acres of land, farming alone could fill their bellies but never their purses. There were simply too few ways to earn money in the village.
If Hezhou wanted to get rich, it had to promote trade—build workshops, open shops, and give the common people jobs and income.
Fang Zichen saw the merchants out and went back to his room to make plans.
As soon as the merchants stepped outside, their faces were creased with grins.
When people asked, they'd say—oh, they'd met the prefect and chatted with him for quite a while!
And truly, they were overjoyed. What an honor!
Though they'd hated the officials before, deep down they also feared and admired them.
Why?
Because officials were formidable figures. Word had it that to become one, a person had to excel far beyond ordinary students in their studies—and since the merchants themselves were barely literate, of course they respected those who excelled at books.
And besides, this the prefect had been personally appointed by the Emperor—that made him even more special.
The prefect wasn't someone they could see every day. Now that he had finished suppressing the bandits and returned to Hezhou, meeting him again would be a rare chance.
One merchant said, "His Lordship just patted my shoulder. I'm not washing this robe when I get home."
Another envied him: "He shook my hand—I don't want to wash either, but I can't exactly hang my hand up when I bathe, can I?"
Yang Chengfeng watched the merchants worship and revere Fang Zichen with such gratitude, and couldn't help cursing them inwardly for being fools.
Why do you think he said "sorry" to you?
Because he feels guilty for taking more than half your silver!
"These dozen or so merchants—what are their family circumstances? Can they afford to eat their fill?"
"Oh, they have maids at home? So they're getting by all right. Losing a hundred or two hundred taels probably won't kill them. Why are you looking at me like that? Without me, they wouldn't have recovered a single coin."
Sold, and still coming to say thank you—fools, all of them.
As for the young women and gers brought back earlier, their families had been notified. But in the end, only four young women were picked up by their relatives. The rest stayed in the yamen. Not because they didn't know the way home—but because their families' attitude made it impossible for them to return.
They were no longer welcome at home. Their families wouldn't be happy for them; they'd blame them for bringing shame and disgrace, for making it impossible for their younger siblings and elder brothers to hold their heads up in the future. Wherever they went, people would point and whisper behind their backs. They might as well have been dead.
The remaining young women and gers probably understood their families' stance by now. They had no idea where to turn. Right after coming down from the mountains, they had been managing well enough. But after just a few days in the yamen, they had grown dazed and hollow, drifting through each day in a haze. They spent their time crouched in corners, eating nothing, speaking to no one.
It looked like they had psychological problems.
There were no psychologists in this era, and Fang Zichen didn't know how to be one either. But he'd seen therapists before—his aunt was a psychologist—and he could roughly imitate what he'd observed. So he brought Guaizai along to try counseling them. But they were terrified of him—they'd shrink away the moment he entered, as if he were some monstrous flood beast, cowering and trembling with their heads in their hands. They were afraid of men—but oddly, they didn't seem afraid of Guaizai.
The yamen was full of men, so Fang Zichen hired two old women from outside. But that didn't work well either. When they came, all they did was sigh and moan: "Oh, you poor things, ruined by those brutes, what will become of you now? Those beasts, may they rot in hell—"
Fang Zichen overheard from outside and thought: I brought them here to talk people into living, not into dying! That's not the kind of empathy I meant!
In the end, the difficult task fell to Guaizai.
Guaizai was a little upset. He considered himself a man now—yet those older brothers and sisters were afraid of men but not of him. What was that supposed to mean?
They didn't see him as a man! He felt deeply discriminated against—so much so that even his steamed buns didn't taste good anymore.
"Son, will you take this mission?" Fang Zichen asked.
Guaizai clutched his bun and stayed quiet, sulking.
Fang Zichen picked him up. Guaizai stood on his thighs and wrapped his arms around his father's neck.
"Son, this is a very tough mission—not just anyone can do it. You know what a psychologist is? They need broad and professional knowledge, good communication skills, a friendly and approachable face, and a meticulous mind. The reason I'm giving this to you and not to anyone else is because you're amazing—you have all the qualities and abilities I just described!"
Hearing this, Guaizai perked right up. His earlier gloom vanished, and his eyes sparkled.
"Really?"
Fang Zichen's gaze wavered slightly, but he had no other choice. He was at his wit's end—he couldn't just let these people give up on life. These were human lives at stake. He nodded: "Absolutely! Your handsomeness and awesomeness are known to all. Father would never lie to you!"
"In that case, Guaizai accepts this mission!" Guaizai declared, puffing out his little chest with all the bravado he could muster.
Fang Zichen kissed his tender, smooth little cheek and spoke in the tone of a seasoned veteran: "Son, you have to understand—with great power comes great responsibility. There's no escaping it!"
Guaizai looked up at his father, eyes shining with admiration: "Father, that makes perfect sense. Guaizai understands completely now."
Fang Zichen let out a long sigh: "Ah... you're too much like me. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
Zhang Quan: "..."
Zhang Quan watched the two of them—father and son—agonizing and brooding over their own "excessive excellence," sighing and lamenting back and forth, each more brazenly shameless than the other.
But then, on second thought, Zhang Quan realized they probably did have the right to be that shameless. By now, the common people outside were singing their praises to the skies, lauding the prefect and the young master as some kind of miracle workers. There was even a rumor going around that the prefect was brothers with the Thunder God—that the mountain blast had been the Thunder God's doing. Even Zhang Quan felt embarrassed just hearing it.
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