Qinzhou was close to Hezhou, and it happened to be cold weather, so every household was cooking less. These days most common folk used lard, which solidified when it got cold. They heard from the people in Shangyang that sweet potato noodles stewed with bone broth were absolutely delicious.
Though fortune favors the bold and starvation awaits the timid — doing business requires courage — at first everyone was afraid to take too much. They just thought they'd get a few hundred catties and see how it went.
These peddlers normally made their living by selling southern goods in the north and northern goods in the south, earning the price difference. It wasn't much — big merchants looked down on it. Those doing business in Shangyang knew instant noodles and xuan paper sold well, but the road was truly long. To earn more on a trip, they'd have to sell at high prices, but if the price was too high, people wouldn't buy. A round trip took three months or so, and the horses pulling the goods couldn't just eat grass — feed was expensive too. Earning only a hundred or two hundred taels per trip, they felt it wasn't worth the journey — they turned their noses up at that kind of money.
But small merchants had a hard time of it — every bit they earned was hard-earned money. Each trip they only made a few dozen or a hundred taels, so they were naturally willing to make the trip.
The first sale had gone well, so everyone had a better idea now. This time they wanted to stock more and take it to Linjiang to sell — xuan paper, toilet paper, beef jerky, and all sorts of things.
The factories had sold quite a bit recently. It was a good sign — afterward there would probably be even more merchants coming. Once the water route opened, big merchants would likely come too. Zhao Ger told the factories under him to stock up more, or else there might not be enough to sell during the New Year season.
"Sure!" Fang Zichen said.
Zhao Ger looked at him. "So what price should we give?"
Fang Zichen didn't even think about it. "Forty copper coins."
That price was reasonable.
Before, they had sold at sixty-eight copper coins per catty. Qinzhou wasn't like Shangyang, but fifty or sixty copper coins per catty should still find buyers.
Zhao Ger nodded. "Then let's go to Anhe Village!"
Fang Zichen said, "Huh? Can't we just send someone with a message?" What was the point of going all the way there? It had gotten cold lately — riding a horse wasn't exactly comfortable, all chilly and windy.
Zhao Ger smiled. "Guaizai, Gungun, and Dandan love sausages. I want to go pick out a couple of pigs, make some, and save some for them to eat when they get back."
"Then we'll probably need to slaughter three. Two won't be enough," Fang Zichen said.
His kids could really eat.
Since his kids wanted it, then never mind the cold — even if knives were falling from the sky, Fang Zichen would go.
This year the New Year came a bit late. Curing the meat now was a little late, but with constant smoking day and night for ten-odd days, the flavor would still get in.
Zhao Ger and Fang Zichen headed straight for Anhe Village.
They had thought Guaizai wouldn't be back for another week or so, but Meng Ruqing was anxious and traveled day and night.
Right now he just wanted to get to Fang Zichen's side as fast as possible.
Qin Hengxuan's trip had not been made public either. The Qin family soldiers all dressed as guards, which saved them a lot of trouble when passing through towns. Otherwise, if the local officials knew he was coming, they would surely line the roads to welcome him, and dealing with all that would have caused delays.
As soon as they entered Hezhou and set foot on the cement road, Meng Ruqing began frequently lifting the carriage curtain to look outside. The weather along the way was mostly gloomy, and the cold wind howled. Along the way, locals who recognized Guaizai chased after him to press things into his hands. Watching this, Meng Ruqing felt both comforted and heartbroken.
It was noon now, and they had already entered Shunan. The cement road stretched ahead endlessly. In the rice paddies by the roadside, the greens were lush, and here and there women could be seen with baskets on their arms picking vegetables in the fields. Children in cotton clothes chased each other along the field ridges — a lovely rural scene. But Meng Ruqing had no heart to appreciate it.
"Hengxuan, are we almost there?"
He wasn't familiar with the terrain of Hezhou. Qin Hengxuan sighed helplessly — in just two hours, Meng Ruqing had already asked nine times. The howling cold wind blew into the carriage, so Qin Hengxuan draped a cloak over him.
"We've just entered Hezhou. Probably a few more days. The wind is strong outside — be careful, don't catch a cold."
Meng Ruqing pressed his lips together, his fists clenched tight.
Qin Hengxuan pried open his hands and found his palms ice-cold and covered in sweat.
"Hengxuan, I'm a little nervous." Meng Ruqing lowered his head, his eyes hidden in shadow so his expression was unclear, but his voice trembled.
"If I had listened to you back then, if I hadn't insisted on returning to the capital against all advice, would things not have turned out this way? I... I didn't protect the child either. Tell me — will he, will he hate me? When he sees me, will he chase me away?"
Qin Hengxuan sighed and pulled him into his arms, saying gently, "He won't."
Meng Ruqing looked utterly haggard. The closer they got to Fang Zichen, the more uneasy he became. He hadn't slept well for several nights — tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Even when exhaustion finally brought brief sleep, nightmares plagued him. One moment he dreamed that when he reached the bottom of the cliff back then, the child had already been smashed into a pulp of flesh and blood.
The next moment he dreamed that Fang Zichen was pointing at him fiercely, asking why he had even shown up. That without him, he would have lived better.
Why hadn't he protected him? Did he know how he had lived all these years?
Question after question, shrill and piercing. Guilt and self-blame pushed him to the brink of collapse.
Meng Ruqing was dazed and afraid to fall asleep. The grueling journey and relentless nightmares had worn him down, body and soul. His already half-gray hair seemed to have grayed even more in just a few days.
He couldn't help feeling regretful too — he had left in too much of a hurry and hadn't had time to dye his hair. He worried the child would be put off when he saw him.
Qin Hengxuan's worry was no less than his. He knew that saying more now was useless, so he had Gungun and Dandan brought over. These two little ones were always chattering — Meng Ruqing probably wouldn't have time to brood.
When they set out, Lao Jiang had grabbed some medicine. That evening Qin Hengxuan had the horses stopped, thinking he'd brew some medicine for Meng Ruqing first. But it seemed to have little effect.
Meng Ruqing slept briefly, but his brows remained tightly furrowed.
Lao Jiang said this illness was just like this — even though Meng Ruqing knew it wasn't good for him, he couldn't control it.
Qin Hengxuan held his hand and sat quietly all night, his forehead pressed against the back of it.
As soon as they reached Pingxiang Village, Guaizai rushed headlong toward home, only to find it empty.
Old Master Lu was coming back from the fields with a hoe over his shoulder.
Guaizai called out to him. "Grandpa Lu, have you seen Guaizai's father and daddy? How come nobody's home?"
Old Master Lu hadn't seen him for a long time. Earlier, when Fang Zichen and Zhao Ger came back, the villagers hadn't seen the children and asked about them. They learned that the kids had gone to visit someone, and the rest had returned later.
Now Old Master Lu patted his head: "Lord Fang and Fang Fulang went to Anhe Village. They left just a few days ago."
Guaizai immediately rushed off to Anhe Village again.
Pingxiang Village and Anhe Village were only a day's journey apart. It was getting dark now, and Old Master Lu tried to persuade him to rest—it was not good to travel in the cold weather. What if he caught a chill at night?
But Guaizai hadn't seen Fang Zichen and Zhao Ger for nearly two months. He missed them so much his head was about to explode—how could he be willing to stop?
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