Zhou Chengzu wasn’t the least bit surprised by the Huo brothers’ return.

The brothers had been eyeing land for nearly half a year. With five acres of prime farmland finally up for sale in the village—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—there was no way they’d let it slip away.

“Did you two go back and discuss this with your families?”

He led the two men into the house and had them sit on the kang. “But let me be blunt: the Miao family and your family don’t exactly get along. You know how sharp-tongued Old Lady Zheng is. The asking price isn’t low either, so I’m afraid there’s going to be some haggling ahead.”

“So what’s the price right now?”

Huo Ling asked.

Zhou Chengzu paused before replying, “They’re asking for eighteen taels.”

“Eighteen taels per mu? Why don’t they just go rob someone?”

Huo Feng couldn’t help himself and let out a loud exclamation; there were even harsher words he didn’t dare to say.

Huo Ling took a sip of water and raised an eyebrow slightly.

Land prices beyond the Pass hadn’t risen in a while. The price for a mu of fertile land generally ranged from thirteen to fifteen taels. Even among fertile fields, there were distinctions between top-grade and lower-grade plots; the price wasn’t determined solely by yield per mu.

For example, land near a water source is more expensive, while land farther away is cheaper; land with a square shape is more expensive, while land in remote corners is cheaper.

The former is due to the convenience of irrigation—that goes without saying—while the latter is because square plots are easier to plan when sowing seeds; irregular ones always have some wasted corners.

As for poor, less fertile land, you can buy it for as little as seven or eight taels. Unless absolutely necessary, no one would go out of their way to spend money on such land; even if they did, it would mostly be for other purposes and not for growing grain.

For example, Huo Ling knew that the Wang family, who ran an oil mill in Ma’er Village, owned several mu of cheap, poor-quality land that they used exclusively to grow rapeseed. They harvested the seeds, pressed the oil, and sold it—which, when all was said and done, was far more profitable than growing grain.

Returning to the five mu of land the Miao family wished to sell, Huo Ling didn’t even need to see it—he already had a clear picture. The conditions were fairly standard in every respect. Xiashan Village wasn’t large, and the land wasn’t far from the Huo family’s current fields, making it truly tempting.

However, the asking price per mu was significantly higher than the market rate. The total amount was enough to buy another mu or even two—it was a bit outrageous.

Huo Feng couldn’t stand the Miao family to begin with, and now he spoke bluntly: “Uncle, let’s be honest—the way they’re selling it shows they have no good faith! You won’t find a sucker like that anywhere within ten miles!”

Zhou Chengzu raised his hand to calm him down, furrowing his brow as he advised, “Dafeng, you’re no spring chicken anymore—you’re almost a father of two. Why does your temper get worse with age? Asking for a price is one thing, but when buying something, you’ve got to haggle, don’t you? Are you just going to pay whatever they ask? We’ve got to negotiate this!”

Huo Ling’s patience had already worn thin by this point. He suddenly cut in, “Uncle, just how much gambling debt does Miao Shougen owe?”

Farmland is the lifeblood of a village household. Five mu of land is no small sum; unless something major had happened at home, no one would be willing to put it up for sale.

Even at market price, five mu of land could fetch over seventy taels. A single lamp ginseng root costs only fifteen taels—and that’s considered the most precious medicinal herb. If this were truly for medical treatment, that sum could buy several of those thick ginseng roots to chew on like radishes.

If the illness were truly that severe, they should have simply asked for a fair price, quickly exchanged it for cash to buy medicine, rather than fantasizing about making a quick profit off the situation. He surmised that of those several dozen taels of silver, very little would likely be spent on Miao Daqiang; most of it was probably intended to pay off Miao Shougen’s gambling debts.

Zhou Chengzu was taken aback by the question. After a moment, he shook his head and said, “I’ve truly never heard of that.” 

Huo Ling understood.

Xiashan Village was home to a mix of surnames; unlike some hamlets where the village head also served as the clan leader and could rightfully meddle in every family matter, here, there were some things even the village head couldn’t pry into.

The water in his cup had run dry. When the village chief’s wife, Mrs. Chen, came to refill it, he declined and said, “Uncle, let me be frank. It’s true that our family is genuinely interested in buying the land, but they’re desperate for money to save a life. On one side, it’s a matter of choice—whether to buy or not; on the other, it’s a matter of necessity—they must sell. Anyone with a brain can see which side holds the stronger hand. Of course, we don’t intend to take advantage of their desperation or drive them into a corner; we simply want a fair price from a seller who’s truly willing to part with the land. Otherwise, there’s no point in meeting to discuss it at all.”

He rose from his half-kneeling position, took the teapot, and poured a cup of water for Zhou Chengzu. “I’d appreciate it if you could go and probe Old Mrs. Zheng a bit more,” he said politely. “If you hear anything, my brother and I are at your beck and call.”

Zhou Chengzu had just received a large leg of lamb from Huo Ling, and the fresh gastrodia sent this year was still sitting in his house, not yet finished. How could he not give it his all? He immediately agreed, saying, “You two can rest assured. As the village chief, I’ll act as your go-between. No matter how unreasonable Old Lady Zheng is, she can’t exactly turn the world upside down, can she? Not to mention that beast Miao Shougen.”

He ran his fingers over his teacup. “In my opinion, don’t pick a fight with that family until it’s absolutely necessary—you’ll just end up covered in spit. I’ll go ask around first, then get back to you.”

“Thanks, Uncle.”

The two brothers thanked him. Before leaving, Huo Ling asked for the name of the gambling house Miao Shougen had gone to. “Baibao Gambling House”—quite a festive name. He vaguely remembered which street in Baojia Town it was on.

That street was a den of gambling dens, brothels, and cockfighting pits—noisy and seedy. He rarely ventured that way.

When he returned to the city, Huo Ling found Sun Dazhi and asked him to go to the Baibao Gambling House to find someone who could provide information about Miao Shougen.

As luck would have it, one of Sun Dazhi’s neighbors worked there as an enforcer, and it didn’t take long for him to come back with concrete information.

Sun Dazhi held up a half-eaten bun and snapped his fingers. “That guy owes fifty taels. He started with dice games at fifty wen a round, but then he kept betting bigger and bigger until he couldn’t cover it anymore. The gamblers there are all shrewd; they tricked him into signing an IOU so he could borrow money to keep gambling—and of course, the debt just kept piling up.”

Yan Qi looked at him with disgust. “Never mind what happened later—just the fact that he was willing to spend fifty wen on a dice game is foolish enough. It’s so hard for a villager to earn fifty wen.”

Huo Ling had heard stories like this before.

“A country bumpkin like him, who spends money like water, is the easiest to swindle. He’s got no worldly wisdom and no brains. All you need is a few accomplices to set him up—let him win a few times first so he gets a taste of that sweet victory. Then, nine times out of ten, he’ll start dreaming of striking it rich. Even if he loses after that, he’ll still think he can turn things around on the next roll, and so he just sinks deeper and deeper.”

Sun Dazhi pushed a piece of chive stuck between his teeth with his tongue and said with utter disdain, “That’s right. There are people in the city who do this for a living—it’s a business so depraved it’s practically smoking. They don’t even care if they cut off their own lineage.”

Yan Qi felt he’d learned something new and asked, “It’s one thing for those people to swindle city folk, but do they swindle country folk too? How many country folk can actually afford to pay off gambling debts?”

“That’s simple enough. If they have no money, they have land; if they have no land, they have people. Otherwise, how do you explain all those stories of people selling their children, or even their wives and husbands, just to pay off debts?”

Sun Dazhi counted them off on his fingers, then sighed, “I’ve seen it all. Once a person gets involved with gambling, they’re no longer human—they truly turn their backs on their own kin. There was one man who, just moments before, was wailing and kissing the ground in tears as he sold his daughter into a brothel, promising to buy her back in a few days. But the moment the silver was in his hands, he turned around and was back at the gambling table acting like a big shot. Nothing—not even his own flesh and blood—mattered more to him than those dice. And when he’d gambled it all away, he actually had the nerve to reach out and ask his daughter, who was now serving customers, for money to spend.”

“What a bunch of scoundrels.”

Yan Qi listened with growing anger, feeling so sick he wanted to vomit, and kept patting his chest to settle his stomach.

“What happened next?”

Sun Dazhi replied, “What else could happen? That old bastard lost every last penny. They made him strip naked in the freezing cold and left him to freeze to death in the snow. As for his daughter… she’s still in the brothel to this day. That place is just like a gambling den—once you go in, you can’t get out.”

The story had reached its conclusion, yet it left one with a lump in one’s throat, stuck halfway up. Yan Qi took a couple of deep breaths and decided to turn away to make the buns.

After finishing his bun, Sun Dazhi casually wiped his hands on his clothes. Knowing that Huo Ling intended to buy Miao Shougen’s land, he offered some advice: “You should drive the price down as much as you can. The longer you drag it out, the more interest piles up—it won’t be as simple as fifty taels. They’re asking for a high price now, but it’s just like gambling—they’re betting on whether they’ll run into a rich fool.”

“Once we’ve figured out the details, I’ll have a clear plan. Buying land before the New Year makes it easier to negotiate the price.”

Seeing that Sun Dazhi was about to leave, he asked, “Are you full? Don’t you want to have one more?”

Sun Dazhi laughed. “No, thanks. I can’t keep taking advantage like this. If I’m craving them again someday, I’ll come buy some myself.” 

“How is that taking advantage? You put in the work—a few buns are the least I can do to treat you.”

After the man left, Yan Qi, who had been silently wrapping a whole batch of buns, felt his frustration ease slightly. He said to Huo Ling, “There are just too many scoundrels out there. Some even set up traps specifically to lure people into gambling.”

Back in his hometown, he rarely came into the city; he’d never heard of so many “tricks” like this.

Huo Ling gently rubbed the tip of the young man’s nose—reddened by the wind—with the back of his hand. “How else do gambling dens make their money? Everyone knows gambling isn’t a good thing, so why do people keep going? In truth, many just want to go in to see something new, join the crowd, and convince themselves they’ll know when to quit while they’re ahead.”

Yan Qi frowned. “From now on, I’m definitely going to give that street a wide berth. Just seeing it makes my eyes feel dirty.”

Huo Ling also sighed, “That’s why I prefer the mountains to crowded places—there aren’t so many twists and turns there.” He had never once in his life dreamed of striking it rich; having enough to eat and wear, with land and a home, was enough for him.

Once they had children, he could guarantee they wouldn’t live in poverty; he’d be willing to spend money on them, but he wouldn’t allow wastefulness. As for whether his children would achieve greater fortune in the future, that would depend entirely on their own abilities—he wouldn’t force it.

After selling all the buns and packing up, they drove off to deliver the black oil mushroom to Manager Cheng.

Earlier, Huo Ling had asked Hou Li about this, and the latter had readily agreed to let him give the black oil mushroom to him first. It seemed there was a mutual favor between the two. He didn’t need to delve into it; he just focused on selling goods for money.

The price for black oil mushroom remained at four wen per catty. The two catties and a bit he sold fetched a full string of cash, and there were about one or two catties of heavily chipped pieces that Huo Ling simply gave away for free.

After settling the bill and heading out, he noticed a display case by the entrance of the porcelain shop stacked with small items—bowls, plates, jars, and vases. He asked the clerk,

who explained that they were all slightly flawed and being sold at a discount.

“Help yourself to this basket—they’re all ten wen each. The ones over there are twenty wen.”

After putting the black oil mushroom behind the counter, Manager Cheng replied, “Don’t worry about the price—just pick whatever you like.”

After exchanging a few polite words, Yan Qi finally picked out a small white vase with a narrow neck, barely taller than his palm. Though it was said to have a flaw, he couldn’t spot it even when he squinted; he chose it because the two strokes of orchid grass painted on the body were beautiful.

“Thank you, Manager Cheng. This one is perfect.”

Shopkeeper Cheng was somewhat surprised that they had chosen a vase instead of rice bowls or dinner plates.

So he rummaged through the selection again and picked out a pair of identical vases with different patterns—one painted with orchids, the other with bamboo—both from the twenty-cash basket.

“Take both—they were meant to be a pair.”

After leaving the porcelain shop and climbing onto the oxcart, Yan Qi was still examining the two small vases. He seemed to love them dearly, but he spoke honestly: “If they weren’t free, I’d never have thought of spending money on a vase just for flowers—something you can’t eat or drink.”

For ordinary families making ends meet, every purchase was judged by its usefulness and durability; a vase, being a mere object of refinement, could only be labeled “useless.” Seeing his delight, Huo Ling’s lips curved upward as well.

“We can keep one down here and take the other up the mountain.”

Yan Qi thought for a moment and said, “Let’s take both of them up the mountain.”

Come spring, the mountain was covered with wildflowers of every color, both inside and outside the courtyard, whereas there were far fewer down below.

“Alright, then let’s take them both.”

He carried the two vases home with great care, making sure to show them to Ye Suping and Huo Ying.

Later that evening, as the family sat around the kang chatting, a messenger from the Zhou family arrived with a message, asking Huo Feng and Huo Ling to come over.

“Could it be that they’ve softened their stance on the price?”

Huo Feng scrambled around the floor looking for his shoes, and once he found them, he hurriedly slipped them on.

“We’d better hurry over—we can’t let anyone beat us to it.” 

“With Uncle Zhou there, no one will get there first.”

The two brothers put on their coats and leather hats, fully geared up, and headed out the door.

The sky was looking a bit gloomy; it looked like it was going to snow again tonight.

A few children ran back from the direction of the river. In winter, the river froze over, forming a thick layer of ice sturdy enough to support an oxcart weighing a hundred jin. Many children went out onto the ice to play with spinning tops or pull ice sleds.

Huo Feng tucked his hands into his pockets and exhaled a puff of white breath. “Once this is settled, the two of us will go out onto the ice, drill a hole, and go fishing. We’ll catch a big fish to save for the New Year.”

“How about it? Should we go during the day or at night?” Huo Ling was getting excited too.

“Of course at night. What’s the point of going during the day? You won’t catch any big ones then.” Huo Feng was eager to get started. “Let’s invite a few more guys to join us. It’ll be warmer with more people.” 

“Everyone’s free during the twelfth lunar month. We’ll ask around and see who’s interested.”

The ice is noisy during the day but quiet at night, when more big fish come out to feed. That’s why the more discerning men prefer to go ice fishing in groups at night.

The fishing rods, lines, and hooks used for winter ice fishing are specially made to haul in fish weighing dozens of pounds—cold-water species unique to the frozen rivers beyond the Great Wall. Fattened up for winter, their flesh is succulent yet not greasy, even more fragrant than meat.

Before they knew it, the two had nearly reached the Zhou household. There was no one at the door; they didn’t know if Old Lady Zheng was still there.

Huo Feng stopped Huo Ling and turned to ask him, “If Old Lady Zheng were here, should we play the good cop and the bad cop?” Huo Ling shook his head. “You’re too hot-tempered, and I’m too stubborn—neither of us is cut out to play the good cop.”

He tilted his chin. “Let Uncle Zhou handle it.”

Huo Feng thought it over and realized he had a point. He shrugged. “Who cares? Anyway, whoever has the money to buy the land is the boss.”

Last night at home, he’d run the numbers with his wife. Based on the silver they had on hand, if the price was fifteen taels per mu, they could buy two mu, while Huo Ling and Yan Qi would take the remaining three.

Of course, fifteen taels was already a high estimate; in reality, they would certainly have to haggle the price down.

“You two are here. Have a seat.”

It was their third time entering this room in a few days, and the two of them actually made eye contact with Old Lady Zheng on the kang. Glancing to the side, they saw Miao Shougen sitting on a stool by the kang.

He couldn’t believe the guy had the nerve to show his face—his skin was thicker than a shoe sole.

As for Old Lady Zheng, it had been a while since they’d seen her. Her hair had once been black, but now it was streaked with gray.

Huo Ling took off his hat and pulled off his gloves, tucking both under his arm as he sat down on the edge of the kang.

The two of them tacitly agreed not to look at Miao’s mother and son. As the eldest brother, Huo Feng spoke first, asking Zhou Chengzu directly, “Uncle, what’s the deal with this now?”

Zhou Chengzu glanced around, cleared his throat, and said, “Five mu of land, fifteen taels per mu—seventy-five taels in total. What do you think?”    

“No way.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Huo Ling spoke up, “That’s too high. Even if we sold the crops along with the fertile fields, that price would be about right.” As soon as he finished speaking, he expected Old Lady Zheng to be the first to protest, but to his surprise, it was Miao Shougen.

He stood up, agitated, and exclaimed, “Fifteen taels per mu is the going rate for fertile land! This is my father’s life-saving money—aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?”

Huo Ling kept his eyes downcast, not sparing him a single glance, and said in a cool tone, “It’s true we want to buy the land, but we’re not exactly rolling in money. If you don’t want to sell, you’re welcome to stick to that price and keep waiting—let’s see which family in the village is willing to pay that much.”

Miao Shougen was about to speak again when Zhou Chengzu pointed a finger at him and snapped, “Sit down and talk properly! Get this straight: right now, you’re the ones begging them!”

“Who’s begging…”

Miao Shougen stubbornly refused to back down, but just then, Old Woman Zheng suddenly shrieked, “Shut your mouth! If you don’t want to drive me to my grave too, shut your mouth!”

Her voice was truly shrill and unpleasant, like a chicken being choked before slaughter.

Everyone present fell silent for a moment. Miao Shougen clenched his jaw so hard the veins on his temples bulged, but in the end, he snorted through his nose, plopped back down in his seat, and lowered his head, ignoring everyone.

Zhou Chengzu was finally able to speak. He saw that after Mrs. Zheng had shouted, she seemed completely drained of energy, slumped there motionless. 

He paused for a moment before saying, “All right then. Since everyone’s here, and one side is in urgent need of money, I say we shouldn’t drag this out any longer. Dafeng, Erling, you two put a price on it. Shougen’s mother, just tell us whether you’ll accept the Huo family’s offer or not. If you’ll sell, we’ll sign the contract and draw up the paperwork. If not, I’ll help you find another buyer in the village tomorrow.”

Huo Ling and Huo Feng exchanged a glance, then Huo Ling said, “Sixty taels. If not, forget it.” 

“Sixty taels?”

Miao Shougen jumped to his feet, spittle nearly flying onto Huo Ling’s face.

“We won’t sell it! We won’t sell it for that price!”

Zhou Chengzu was so annoyed with him that his face had turned grim. He forced himself to ask Old Lady Zheng, “Shougen’s mother, say something.”

Miao Shougen immediately said, “Mother, we can’t sell the land to the Huo family—they’re just waiting for the chance to see us fail! Those are all prime fields; we absolutely must not sell them to them at a bargain price!”

Old Lady Zheng remained silent, merely climbing slowly off the kang and standing up in her shoes.

Just as everyone present—including Miao Shougen—thought she had changed her mind and decided not to sell, Old Lady Zheng suddenly raised her hand and slapped Miao Shougen hard across the face.

The slap was delivered with full force, sending Miao Shougen reeling.

“…Mother?”

Stunned and unable to believe what had happened, he stood frozen in place, clutching his face.

After bringing her hand down, Old Lady Zheng turned around, her face still devoid of any expression. It was a long while before she spoke: “Sixty-five taels. Not a single coin less. If you won’t take this price, others will.”

This price was acceptable to Huo Feng and Huo Ling; they had discussed it before coming. Huo Feng raised his hand and rubbed his nose a couple of times. Huo Ling understood and nodded, saying, “Deal.”