The weather was beautiful that day. After Chen Chuan left, Ye Tao took an oilcloth to the banyan tree, planning to finish sewing the water bag that day.

Last night, he’d thought he could work through the night to finish it, but now that he’d actually started sewing, he realized it wasn’t going to be that easy.

The burlap was very thick, and he couldn’t use an awl like he would when stitching shoe soles—the holes would be too big. He had to sew it directly with a needle. Lin Niangzi didn’t have enough strength; she couldn’t manage the stitching and was unable to help, so Ye Tao had to do it on his own.

The clothes he wears are very tight-fitting; to ensure they stay snug, both the shirt and pants have to be secured with a cord after putting them on, much like shoelaces.

If they were pulled too tight, the rest of the seams would easily come undone, so Ye Tao chose to sew two rows of stitches, with the seam allowances on either side—one wide and one narrow. After sewing, the wide one wrapped around the narrow one, pressing down on the main fabric, and then he finished the edges.

In the past, when Ye Tao helped his grandmother, he always used invisible hemming to hide the stitches. Nowadays, most clothing isn’t made with such attention to detail, and the wetsuit has absolutely no aesthetic requirements, so he simply used a straight stitch.

The edges were left with rough, unfinished, frayed edges. This oilcloth was truly thick, and because it had been coated with tung oil, it was very dense—it didn’t fray easily. Finishing the edges wasn’t a priority; for now, it was enough to just sew it into the shape of a garment.

He’d been sewing all morning; whenever his hands grew tired, he’d stretch his fingers a bit. He’d hardly spoken to anyone, so Sai Shenxian couldn’t help but ask him:

“Brother Tao left in such a hurry yesterday—where did he go?”

Yesterday, Ye Tao had rushed back. He said he’d remembered something he’d forgotten to do, but Old Man Hong insisted it was because of his family. Given the distance, no one had ever come looking for him before—and if it were truly about his family, how could he have suddenly found out?

The two of them made a bet over this—a bowl of cold drink.

“My family—my younger brother—was summoned by the Maritime Trade Office to help salvage a sunken ship.”

Ever since Old Man Hong mentioned it last time, Ye Tao had felt it was a bit odd that his family referred to Chen Chuan that way, but Sai Shenxian didn’t chat with him as much as Old Man Hong did, and they’d only really gotten to know each other over the past couple of days. Ye Tao wasn’t sure if Sai Shenxian would know his younger brother’s name, so he had to put it that way.

Sai Shenxian looked at Old Man Hong’s calm and composed demeanor and said, “You’ve known all along that he has a younger brother who’s a strong swimmer, haven’t you?”

Old Man Hong thought to himself, I don’t know if his younger brother is a strong swimmer, but I do know that the one he’s so worried about is most likely him. He didn’t say much more, merely replying, “Strained pear drink.”

Strained pear drink is a drink made from pears; it’s not expensive. Sai Shenxian, willing to accept the consequences of his bet, was about to go buy some, but Ye Tao hurriedly said, “We agreed yesterday that I’d treat you all.”

A “wetsuit” is a two-piece outfit where the top is already sewn, and the pants are sewn together; all that’s left is to sew a reinforcing stitch. Ye Tao stretched his limbs and asked for a bowl for himself as well.

The drink vendor was also under the banyan tree, though not in the same spot as Ye Tao and Old Man Hong. He’d done quite a bit of business with them over the past few days, charging just five wen for three bowls of the drink.

After the wetsuit was sewn, Ye Tao also replaced three pairs of bag clasps for a customer who claimed to have been referred by Granny Qiao and placed an order for a new bag with him, bringing the fabric along.

“This bag is for holding an inkstone, so make sure it’s sewn very securely. Add a small inner pouch to hide a money pouch inside.”

She only stated her requirements and didn’t mention the price once. When she finished, she handed Ye Tao eighty wen: “Granny Qiao said eighty wen for a whole piece of fabric, and scraps are more expensive. Although this isn’t a whole piece, it’s not too small either—it’s three pieces. Do you think eighty wen is fair?”

He didn’t know what Granny Qiao had said, but since eighty wen was already more than he earned selling finished bags, Ye Tao naturally agreed. “I have some family matters to attend to these next few days, so I’m afraid I won’t be here all the time. Once this bag is finished…”

The woman replied, “Once this bag is ready, just have Granny Qiao take it—my son lives with her son.”

With that, Ye Tao felt reassured.

He’d earned almost nothing all of yesterday, but first thing this morning, a big job came in.

The waterproof lining was sewn up; all that remained was to wax the stitches. He didn’t have beeswax, but he had candles at home, which would work just as well. Ye Tao planned to deliver it to Chen Chuan today and bring along a couple of side dishes on the way, so he prepared to close up shop early.

Old Man Hong asked him, “Are you heading to Xinqiao Dock?”

“I’m taking a pot of ginger soup to my little brother.” Ye Tao realized that the more he said it, the more natural it sounded.

The Maritime Trade Office provided meals, so saying he was delivering vegetables seemed a bit pretentious.

Old Man Hong, however, didn’t care what he was delivering; he simply said, “Since you’re going to Xinqiao Dock anyway, why not take your lunch with you?” He pointed to Ye Tao’s basket.

Ye Tao had thought about it, but had reservations: “I checked it out last time—there are people there who specialize in mending clothes, and they even charge a tax for setting up a stall. Not to mention, whether you make money or not, you’ll still have to pay.”

Old Man Hong waved his hand dismissively: “It’s only three wen. Uncle Hong will give you two pairs of bamboo buckles—just go ahead.

“I hear that guy who learned your technique for replacing bamboo buckles also sets up a stall at Xinqiao Dock these days. Go show him why you dare charge six wen!”

Ye Tao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—wasn’t this just a public challenge?

Uncle Hong is pretty competitive; last time it looked like he’d let it go, but I didn’t expect he was still holding a grudge.

But he does have a point. Running a business is the same no matter where you do it. So many people are willing to pay taxes and run their businesses there—it must be profitable. And his tailoring skills aren’t any worse than anyone else’s, are they?

Besides, Chen Chuan, relying on his youth and good health, tends to be a bit reckless. After diving yesterday and saving someone, he actually dared to swim straight ashore—it’s best to keep an eye on him.

“Then I’ll set up a stall at Xinqiao Dock for the next few days. Uncle Hong, could you keep an eye on things here for me?”

Old Man Hong said, “That’s the right call. Just go take care of your younger brother. If anyone comes looking for you here, I’ll let them know—if it’s urgent, tell them to go find you at Xinqiao Dock; if it’s not urgent, have them leave their clothes here, and you can collect payment after you’ve mended them.”

Back home, Lin Niangzi agreed with his plan: “There are lots of people there, so business should be good. Take plenty of goods with you. I’ve sewn a few small pouches these past couple of days—take those along too. Running back and forth at noon to cook is time-consuming and exhausting. Tomorrow, Zhenniang and I will buy our own food, and you can eat out with A-Chuan.”

Running back and forth was indeed inconvenient, but eating out for every meal was too expensive.

Besides, food safety issues are always a concern—food regulation is practically nonexistent these days. Wang Xing is an errand boy, and most of the time he’s out buying food, so he’s seen plenty of filthy kitchens.

He’d told Ye Tao quite a few stories, and one about “passing off a horse as a deer” left a deep impression on Ye Tao. It went like this: unscrupulous merchants would buy up dead horse meat, cure it, and then sell it cheaply as venison.

Those restaurants might look fancy on the outside, but the back alleys are full of rotten meat—just getting close enough makes you want to vomit. He warned Ye Tao never to be tempted by low prices and buy so-called venison or game meat, as it might already be crawling with maggots.

It’s safer to eat at home.

He came up with a compromise: “Then let’s eat separately at lunch. I saw a vegetable vendor over there, so I’ll buy some ingredients and cook dinner when I get back.”

Since he had to set up a stall, Ye Tao had brought more supplies this time. In addition to wetsuits and ginger tea, there were also the bath towel Chen Chuan was supposed to bring but forgot, sewing needles, thread, and scraps of fabric for mending, the bamboo buckles Old Man Hong had specifically instructed him to bring, and the bamboo frames for hanging sachets—the basket was stuffed to the brim.

There were quite a few people like him on the donkey cart, packing it to the brim; Ye Tao sat at the back, where it was a bit more spacious.

It wasn’t raining today, so the Xinqiao Dock was even livelier than yesterday. The Maritime Trade Office had cordoned off the affected waters, but areas outside that perimeter remained open to traffic, and freight operations had largely resumed.

Ye Tao glanced at the water. The river wasn’t particularly clear, but it was much better than the muddy, yellow water he’d expected after the rain; visibility was actually quite good. The Maritime Trade Office had divided the people participating in the recovery operation into two shifts, rotating every two quarters of an hour.

Not long after Ye Tao arrived, someone struck a gong to signal the shift change. Those resting at the teahouse gradually stood up and walked to the riverbank, while the workers in the water returned to shore on bamboo rafts.

This time, Chen Chuan came ashore by boat. He didn’t see Ye Tao, who was waiting in line for food, so he didn’t call out to him.

Chen Chuan must have been a little tired; his face was expressionless. He put on his outer jacket and pants right there on the boat, but he hadn’t dried off, so his clothes quickly became damp. He didn’t bother with it, casually brushing aside the pry bar and pocket knife at his waist before sitting down in the teahouse.

The teahouse actually served ginger tea, though it wasn’t sweetened. It was brewed fresh in a large pot and ladled out on the spot. Chen Chuan glanced at it but didn’t take any; instead, he walked straight over to an empty table and sat down.

There were some women in the teahouse who had come to deliver meals; it was shift change time, and they were either seeing people off as they boarded the boats or craning their necks to find their own husbands.

Chen Chuan glanced around—they were all women—and looked away.

With a “thud,” a plate of food was set down on the table. “What are you looking at?”

Chen Chuan looked up, stared for a moment, then asked, “Why are you here?”

Ye Tao said, “The leak’s been patched up, so I brought it over. I told you to bring the cloth to wipe up the water, but you didn’t, so I had to make an extra trip.” Ye Tao arranged the dishes he’d bought one by one: “Go eat your meal.”

He’d bought a serving of casserole rice. When the shopkeeper was preparing it, he’d taken a large bone—which had been sawed in half beforehand—from the pot. Using a thin, sharp knife, he scraped every last bit of meat from the bone, extracted the marrow, piled it onto the rice bowl, and then drizzled a spoonful of rich broth over it.

The aroma of the meat filled the air. The meal also came with a small dish of vinegar cucumbers and a serving of stir-fried seasonal vegetables, though the price was quite steep—thirty wen.

Ye Tao had intended to give the casserole rice to Chen Chuan, but Chen Chuan declined, so he could only push a bit of the minced meat over to him: “Let’s eat this for lunch. When we head back tonight, we’ll see if there’s any cheaper meat for sale, and we’ll buy some to cook ourselves.”

Eating allowed for a moment’s rest, but since they still had to go into the water, eating too much wasn’t good. Ye Tao said, “I brought a basket with me. I’m not going back today, so I’ll buy you some snacks in a little while. You should rest when you need to—the water isn’t a place to push yourself too hard. I brought you a towel; once you get out, make sure to dry yourself off first.”

Most of the people in the teahouse were couples or mothers and sons, so the two of them stood out a bit.

The clerk in charge of signing and sealing the documents glanced at them a couple of times. After Ye Tao left, he asked Chen Chuan, “Is that your older brother?” 

“No.”

Chen Chuan gave him a look that said, “Are you blind?” The clerk didn’t take it to heart; talented young men were always a bit defiant.

Among the ships that had sunk this time was one belonging to the Zhao family. Had Chen Chuan not rescued the people yesterday, quite a few officials at the Maritime Trade Office would have been in hot water. It was Chen Chuan who had won the 200 wen reward, yet the clerk didn’t believe a word he said.

Someone who gave such earnest instructions—it couldn’t possibly be his younger brother, could it? “What’s your relationship to him?”

Who is he?

Chen Chuan couldn’t say, so he put on his wetsuit with a sour expression and went back into the water.

The recovery operation proceeded in an orderly fashion.

There was a large square at Xinqiao Dock; most of the area was open, but along the edges stood a ring of bamboo shelters where people could seek shade and shelter from the rain.

The section along the water was packed with people today, and Ye Tao barely managed to find a spot to set up his stall. No sooner had he set up than a customer showed up—and it was a regular: Feng Shijiu.

Feng Shijiu took a look at his bamboo stand: “I was just about to come by to pick up that sachet from you, and here you are—setting up a stall here?”

Ye Tao wasn’t particularly close with him, so he didn’t reveal much; he just nodded: “There are a lot of people here, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

Feng Shijiu said, “Well, you made the right choice. There are plenty of people here, so business should be good.”

He glanced at Ye Tao’s bamboo rack—scented pouches, coin pouches, long ribbons, and bamboo buckles.

“You replace bamboo buckles too? There was one here a couple of days ago, but this brand isn’t very good. For the first couple of days, people kept bringing them back to exchange them—they said the buckles were no good and broke easily. But over at that tailor shop, the guy learned the trade and started replacing them with copper ones. Tsk, tsk—he charges fourteen wen for a pair.”

“If they’re not durable, it’s because those bamboo buckles are poor quality. The ones I make can hold ten jin of goods without breaking.”

Feng Shijiu took a closer look and realized that his bamboo buckles were indeed a bit more finely crafted. He was mostly convinced, so he went on to examine his pouches. “How much do you sell these pouches for each one?”

“Ten wen,” Ye Tao quoted. “Did you come here just to check the prices?”

Feng Shijiu smiled. “As for the price—I’ll have to hear it. I’ll take the pouch too. Give me ten of those little sachets, plus this small pouch. Can I haggle?”    

“No haggling.” Ye Tao could tell he wasn’t really complaining about the price—he was just haggling out of habit—so naturally, he wouldn’t budge.

Sure enough, Feng Shijiu said, “I’ll take all six of these pouches. At ten wen each, that’s seventy wen—I won’t short you a single wen. But you’ll have to do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

Feng Shijiu said, “Your stall isn’t far from mine, and these pouches are brand-new—I’m sure plenty of people will come to haggle over the price. Just quote a higher price.”

He assured Ye Tao: “Don’t worry—business these past few days has been even better than usual. Normally, your customers are just people living nearby or those passing through the wharf, but these days are different. It’s not every day they salvage a sunken ship. Just look—how many people have come to gawk?”

Ye Tao followed his gaze and indeed saw quite a few people dressed in fine clothes. He quickly realized the man’s motive: by setting a high price for the pouch, it would appear more valuable—and the more valuable an item is, the more people are willing to take a chance to win big with a small bet.

Isn’t that exactly what the ring-toss game is all about—betting a small amount to win big?

But after all, this bag was made of ordinary hemp cloth; even setting the price at ten wen felt like a steep asking price to him.

“It’s so expensive—will anyone actually buy it?”

“Though the materials for this pouch are crude, the craftsmanship is exquisite. In the eyes of the wealthy, this is what’s called rustic charm,” Feng Shijiu said calmly. “If you trust me, go ahead and sell it for ten or thirty wen. If it sells, great—just make me a new one later, and you’ll earn an extra ten or so wen. If it doesn’t sell, just pack up your stall and give it back to me at the original price—you won’t lose out either way.”

Ye Tao looked at him with the gaze one reserves for a shrewd merchant.