“Gentlemen, to cut to the chase, I’ve got 150 pounds of pine nuts right here.”

Of the 200 jin of pine nuts brought down from the mountain, each household had set aside some for their own consumption or to give as gifts, leaving three sacks remaining—each weighing 50 jin.

Knowing the purpose of Liao and Ge’s visit, he said sincerely, “We’re old acquaintances, and I only mentioned it just now because I noticed something odd. Why don’t you gentlemen stick to what we agreed earlier and just buy some more pine mushrooms and hazelnut mushrooms? Everything I’ve brought is thoroughly sun-dried; it won’t go moldy even if you pack it in bags and travel a long way to cross the border. It’s all this year’s fresh crop.”

With Huo Ling’s support, Ge Yi no longer maintained his previous polite yet distant demeanor. Seeing that Huo Ling not only showed no sign of delight at their offer to buy the entire stock but instead thoughtfully considered their best interests, Ge Yi grew even more fond of him. He stepped forward and said, “Young man, there’s no need to worry. This is the arrangement Old Liao and I worked out just a couple of days ago. We’ve already agreed that whatever quantity of pine nuts you have, we’ll take it all.”

It was just that when they came to the market today, they happened to stumble upon that “Four-leaf Ginseng” appearing out of nowhere, which nearly threw their plans into disarray. If they had actually bought that fake ginseng, after covering their travel expenses for the return trip, they likely wouldn’t have had enough silver left to buy the mushrooms.

Thinking back, it was as if they’d been spellbound at the time. They couldn’t hear a single other sound—all they could think about was bidding higher to secure that ginseng.

Huo Ling could tell Ge Yi wasn’t lying, so he asked, “I recall Mr. Liao saying he wouldn’t deal in pine nuts—they’re heavy, unlike the lightweight dried goods. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Liao Dehai didn’t beat around the bush. “We don’t plan to sell raw pine nuts either. It’s truly labor-intensive and low-margin. Usually, it’s larger caravans that hire carts and horses to transport thousands of catties across the border—that’s when there’s actually some profit to be made.”

“I see…”

“We won’t be selling raw pine nuts; instead, we’ll press them for oil and sell that.”

Yan Qi, who had just sold a few buns, turned his head at the mention of this.

Pine nuts feel oily to the touch, so it’s no surprise they can be pressed for oil, but he’d never heard of anyone beyond the Pass eating pine nut oil.

If the locals, surrounded by mountains of pine nuts, didn’t eat it, it must not taste very good, or perhaps it wasn’t worth the effort to press it for oil.

“Pine nuts yield very little oil; they can’t compare to rapeseed, sesame, or peanuts.”

The varieties Huo Ling mentioned were all vegetable oils currently sold on the market. Among them, rapeseed oil was the cheapest, affordable for every household. Peanut and sesame oils were more expensive because fewer people grew them; farmers who used these oils usually grew them themselves, so taking them to the oil mill only required paying for labor.

Huo Feng interjected, “We tried pressing pine nuts for oil before. When you use it for stir-frying, it gives off a strong, strange pine-wood scent.” He added, puzzled, “You guys haven’t been taken in, have you?”

Liao Dehai and Ge Yi cleared their throats. Whether they meant to or not, these men from beyond the Great Wall spoke with a straightforward honesty.

The former explained, “Pine nut oil can cure illnesses. You don’t use it for cooking—you drink it straight.”   

“Drink it straight?”

Huo Feng choked on his words, struggling to imagine what that might taste like.

“Well, we can’t figure it out either. It’s just the usual sales pitch about wellness for the wealthy—as long as it sells, that’s all that matters.”

Ge Yi waved his hand and said, “Less oil isn’t a bad thing—it’s actually a good thing.”

Hou Li, who had stayed put, finally caught on and laughed, “The less oil it produces, the more valuable it is.” 

“Exactly.”

It was only then that Liao Dehai noticed there was another person at Huo Ling’s stall. Judging by his attire, he was clearly not a villager from the mountains, so Liao asked, “And this is…”

Huo Ling, chiding himself for his earlier oversight, hurriedly introduced him: “This is Manager Hou from town; he’s also a long-time regular customer of mine.” 

Both men were well-versed in social niceties, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, they seemed as familiar with one another as old friends reunited.

With the deal sealed, Yan Qi took advantage of a lull in the bun business to wash the flour off his hands and lend a hand.

The dazzling array of mountain goods was weighed one by one. Passersby could tell this was a major transaction, and some curious onlookers stopped to watch.

Liao Dehai and Ge Yi were completely focused on the goods before them. The former took out a small notebook tucked in his bosom, licked the dry brush in his sleeve a couple of times, and jotted down a figure whenever Huo Ling called out a number.

Ge Yi stood beside the scale; every time Huo Ling weighed a batch, he showed it to Ge Yi. Only after Ge Yi nodded did Liao Dehai continue writing down the figures.

“Ten jin of pine mushrooms, twelve jin of hazelnut mushrooms.”

It might not sound like much, but don’t forget these are dried mushrooms—it takes seven or eight pounds of fresh mushrooms to yield just one pound of dried ones.

In other words, during their half-month in the mountains, the five of them had picked nearly two hundred jin of these two types of mushrooms; it was just that the yield shrank significantly after drying. Precisely for this reason, the price of dried mushrooms was several times that of fresh ones.

Fresh, tender pine mushrooms and hazelnut mushrooms currently sell for around thirty wen in the market, while a single pound of dried mushrooms can fetch over one tael of silver.

Hou Li, for whom food is paramount, crouched down, scooped up a handful of hazelnut mushrooms, held them to his nose, and sighed with delight, “If I don’t get to eat hazelnut mushrooms stewed with chicken today, I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep.”

Everyone chuckled, and Ge Yi smacked his lips, saying, “Hearing you say that, Shopkeeper Hou, has made me hungry too.”

Hou Li said generously, “That’s no problem. Since we’ve hit it off, why don’t we head over to my place for a simple meal after we finish our business? My cook used to work at the Quanbin Restaurant—his skills are quite respectable.”

The Quanbin Restaurant was also one of the top restaurants in Baojia Town, though it wasn’t quite as renowned as the Juxian Pavilion.

Huo Ling recalled Hou Li mentioning that he’d spent several dozen taels of silver to poach this chef, plus an additional five taels a month in wages—otherwise, the man would have returned to his hometown to open his own restaurant.

It’s true that skilled craftsmen never go hungry; those who know how to cook are in demand wherever they go.

The truly skilled can work in restaurants or as head chefs in wealthy households, while those with more modest skills can set up a stall in the marketplace to sell snacks. Smelling the aroma of freshly baked buns and recalling what he’d just been thinking, Huo Ling moved closer to Yan Qi.

Seeing this, the ger paused for a moment before asking in a low voice, “Are you hungry too?” He replied, “I’ll make some buns. Would you like some?”

Huo Ling smiled faintly and shook his head, gently playing with the tips of his fingers hanging by his side.

“I’m not hungry.”

The two seized the moment to share a brief moment of intimacy, thankfully unnoticed by anyone.

Some schisandra berries fell out while they were weighing them, so those nearby crouched down to pick them up one by one. By the time Liao Dehai had filled a page in his ledger, the accounts were nearly settled.

Since they were buying such a large quantity, Huo Ling naturally offered a discount, and both parties were pleased.

“Pine mushrooms and hazelnut mushrooms are one wen per catty. There are also five catties of dried morels, priced at seventy wen per catty. The total comes to…”

He fiddled with a small abacus he carried with him—it had a string attached so he could hang it around his neck, and when he crouched down, it rested perfectly on his knees.

There were many traveling merchants like him who calculated on the go. Though those who traveled far and wide for business were no slouches at mental arithmetic, carrying an abacus was always a safer bet.

As the last bead fell into place, he said, “Two taels, five liang, and fifty wen.”

He then moved past the sack of mushrooms, found the one containing pine nuts, and continued, “One hundred and fifty-three catties of raw pine nuts, at thirteen wen per catty.”

This portion weighed a little over one tael and nine liang, nearly two taels.

After they finished looking, there were a few miscellaneous items—those that were too heavy or too light to weigh by the jin—that Huo Ling and the others hadn’t brought at all this time; even if they’d wanted to, they wouldn’t have had room to carry them. On the straw mat, besides the pine nuts, dried mushrooms, and wild ginseng, there were also schisandra berries, gastrodia, and mushrooms.

“Thirty jin of schisandra berries.”

“Fifteen jin of gastrodia.”

“Eighteen red mushrooms, twelve purple  mushrooms.”

Liao Dehai’s abacus clattered away, sparks flying from the beads.

Dried schisandra berries, depending on their size, typically sell for thirty-eight to forty wen per catty. The batch Huo Ling brought was definitely worth forty wen, but he charged Liao Dehai and Ge Yi thirty-five wen per catty.

It wasn’t purely a matter of doing him a favor; the wholesale and retail prices were different to begin with.

Liao Dehai had purchased such berries last time, though he hadn’t been with Ge Yi then; the two had sourced their stock separately. After comparing their batches upon returning, it was clear that Liao Dehai’s yield was of significantly higher quality than Ge Yi’s.

“The red mushroom season is over; we’ll have to wait until next year.”

Ge Yi carefully picked up the largest red mushroom; since it was already dried, he didn’t have to worry about breaking it. This was all cold, hard cash—he ran his fingers over it with satisfaction.

“Next year should be a small harvest year for mushrooms.”

Huo Ling casually flicked a blade of grass off the cap of a mushroom.

“A lean year is fine. With lower yields, prices go up, and an experienced mountain trader like you will certainly make a good profit.”

“But for us merchants, that means we’ll need to set aside more capital to stock up.”

“I’ve finished the calculations.”

Liao Dehai rolled up his sleeve and wiped the sweat from his brow without much care, then took off his abacus and tossed it to the ground.

“This thing’s been hanging around my neck the whole time—it’s been giving me a sore neck.”

“Schisandra berries: a little over one liang for fifty wen; gastrodia: four and a half tael.”

Red mushrooms were the most troublesome; they had to be sorted by size first, then weighed by the jin. Combined, they came to three liang and eight jin. At this point, they already had over nine liang and eight jin—nearly ten liang of mountain produce.

Liao and Ge finally turned their attention to the “Lantern Stand.” Before anyone else could ask, they asked Huo Ling how much silver he’d sell it for.

“Fifteen taels.”

A “Lamp Stand” ginseng wasn’t particularly rare; every ginseng season, Bailong Mountain produced plenty of it, so there was little dispute over the price. Clearly, the buyer also found the price reasonable, and they struck a deal immediately.

“Let’s round it up to a round number—thirty-five taels. Come with us to the money exchange to get the silver.”

A deal worth several dozen taels was no small matter. When they went out, they wouldn’t carry dozens of pounds of copper coins or cumbersome silver ingots; they usually carried some loose change and silver notes, ready to exchange as needed.

“Do you want copper coins or silver?”

“Copper coins. The three of us need to split the profits; I’m leading this trip into the mountains.”

“Alright.”

Liao Dehai agreed immediately. He left Ge Yi to watch the goods while Huo Ling followed Liao Dehai to a nearby money exchange to collect the funds. To carry the copper coins, Huo Ling picked up an empty backpack.

Hou Li hadn’t left yet and struck up a conversation with Ge Yi.

“Buns for sale—five wen each for a three-flavor bun—”

Yan Qi watched Huo Ling leave. He saw the young man turn back halfway down the street and raise an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile, but just as he was laughing, someone bought a bun, so he quickly looked down to serve them.

“How many would you like?”

By the time Huo Ling returned, he had sold another eight buns, and Yan Qi happily tallied the profits in his mind.

When Hou Li saw the others arrive, he pushed himself up on his knees and said, “We agreed—no need to be polite. Lunch is definitely on me.”

He also made a point of saying to Yan Qi, “My wife is home too; have her keep you company.”

With that, there was no room for refusal. Seeing that everyone agreed, he went home first to make preparations, instructing them to send a servant to guide them at noon.

Huo Ling was uneasy about leaving Yan Qi alone, so Huo Feng and Lin Changshui helped Liao and Ge carry their goods to the inn where they were staying. There wasn’t much to carry, so they could simply leave it in their guest room; keeping watch over it while they slept would put their minds at ease.

With everyone gone, the stall was empty of goods, and the straw mats lay bare, making the place feel suddenly desolate. Huo Ling quickly rolled up the mats and, together with Yan Qi, moved the stove a little closer to the center.

“Once winter sets in, we’ll sell like this. We can stay by the fire and won’t get cold. It’s more comfortable than any other line of work.”

Yan Qi thought about it and realized he was right.

At the winter market, aside from the food vendors, almost everyone was shivering so hard they had to stamp their feet. They couldn’t sit down—they had to stand, or else the cold would make their bones stiffen.

“If people come every day, selling just vegetarian buns probably won’t cut it. Someone already asked us today when we’d set up next time, saying they’d get tired of the same filling after just a few times.”

He pondered for a moment and said, “Let’s make a meat-filled one too… How about pork and scallions?”

Huo Ling was getting a bit hungry. He picked up a pastry through the grease-proof paper and ate it, deliberately taking his time.

A vendor eating his own food serves as a living advertisement in the eyes of others; who knows, it might even bring in a couple more customers.

Hearing Yan Qi’s suggestion, he thought it over. “That’s a good idea. Scallions grow fast and keep well. We’ll plant more and store them in the vegetable cellar. Even if we run out of our own, we can always buy some from other families in the village.”

The only problem was where to get the pork—they’d have to support the butcher’s business.

After finishing a bun, Huo Feng and Lin Changshui still hadn’t returned. Huo Ling knew that the inn where Liao Dehai and the others were staying wasn’t exactly close by. Not far away, a vendor was hawking sand pears—bright red and appealing to the eye.

He walked over to ask the price—three wen per pound. He tasted one; it was sweet and sour, with the sweetness outweighing the tartness.

“These aren’t wild sand pears—they’re from the old trees we grow ourselves. Pick any you like; if you find even one that’s sour, come back and find me!”

The vendor spoke with great confidence. Huo Ling could tell the difference between wild and cultivated fruit; he’d come precisely because he knew these weren’t wild. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he just go pick them in the mountains?

He borrowed the vendor’s basket to weigh out five jin, dumped them into his own basket when he returned to his stall, and paid as he returned the basket.

Since he ran a food stall, he kept clean water on hand, drawn from a nearby public well.

Yan Qi washed a few sand pears with a little water, placed them neatly in a bowl, and when Huo Ling came over, he handed one to him. Huo Ling looked at the clean, red fruit in his hand and took a bite.

It tasted even sweeter.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Hiii!! With other stories about to end, here are our new ones. Check them out:

Global Survival: From a Small Wooden Cabin to a Magic Farm
Island Survival: Life-Type Player Farms and Hoards Goods.
Lord of the Wastelands
Transmigrating to the Beast World to Farm and Raise a Wolf