The Lighter

With the silver tucked away, Shen Jingchuan was just about to leave when he reconsidered. Though the shopkeeper liked to drive prices down, he was fairly straightforward in his dealings. Shen Jingchuan might as well let him try a lighter too. He stopped, turned back, and sat down again.

The shopkeeper hurriedly straightened up.

"Was there something else, young master?"

Without answering, Shen Jingchuan pulled a flint-wheel lighter from his backpack and set it on the table. Its metal casing gleamed, and it was small and delicate, an oddity at first glance. The shopkeeper leaned in and squinted at it for a long while, but couldn't tell what it was.

"Young master, what's this?"

Shen Jingchuan said nothing. He pressed his thumb against the wheel and gave it a gentle flick. With a snick, a steady blue flame sprang up.

He adjusted the gas valve with his fingertip, setting the flame to a suitable size, then lit it three times in succession. Every strike was quick and clean, and the flame remained perfectly steady.

The shopkeeper stared, his neck stretched far forward, his mouth hanging open.

"It's called a lighter. It came from overseas."

The shopkeeper came to his senses, and his eyes darted about as his old habit of driving down the price resurfaced. Stroking his goatee, he said in a studiedly casual tone,

"Hmm... it does look novel, but when all's said and done, isn't it just a thing for making fire? Our fire strikers and tinder tubes do the job just fine, and they're very convenient. However ingenious this thing is, it still..."

Shen Jingchuan laughed as soon as he heard that. Before the man could finish, he reached out, took the lighter back, and made as if to put it in his bag.

"Shopkeeper, I thought you were an honest man and wanted to do business with you in good faith. But if you keep talking like that, there's no point."

He stood up, his voice calm but firm. "If you don't think much of it, I'll find someone else. The prefectural capital is a big place. There's bound to be someone who knows its worth."

"Wait, wait, young master!" The shopkeeper hurriedly reached out to stop him, a broad smile on his face. "Come now, what's the rush? Who does business like this? You have to at least let me know a price, don't you?"

Shen Jingchuan glanced at him.

"All right, then tell me, how much will you offer?"

The shopkeeper looked around. There was no one else in the accounts room, so he held up one finger and waved it at Shen Jingchuan.

Shen Jingchuan frowned.

One finger? One copper? One tael? Or ten taels?

These ancient people love playing these little tricks.

He decided to ask outright. "What does one finger mean? A hundred taels?"

"Oh, my young master!"

The shopkeeper jumped in fright and hurriedly waved his hands.

"You can't just say that! What could possibly be worth a hundred taels? I meant... a hundred copper coins!"

He had originally intended to offer ten copper coins, but hearing Shen Jingchuan open with a hundred taels had frightened him so much that he didn't dare name a lower figure. He instinctively raised his offer to a hundred copper coins.

A hundred copper coins? Was he trying to fob off a beggar?

He already had a rough idea of what a tael of silver could buy. These lighters were one-of-a-kind novelties. Sold to young masters from wealthy families, they might not fetch ten taels, but people would definitely scramble to buy them for a few taels each.

He didn't waste time haggling. He held up one finger and spoke in a decisive tone.

"One tael of silver each. I won't take a fraction more, and I won't sell for a tael less." As he spoke, he took out the whole box of lighters and set it on the table.

"That's all of them."

The shopkeeper stared at the fifty gleaming lighters on the table, rolling his goatee between his fingertips as he pondered for a long while.

He weighed it up. The things really were just novelties. Servants did the cooking and lit the lamps, so there was no need for such expensive objects, but the young masters in the city loved showing off.

((A lot of friends have asked why these lighters wouldn't sell well in another world, so let's talk it through.

Why can modern lighters sell for high prices and help people make an impression? The key is their connection to socializing over cigarettes. At a dinner or drinking party, you pull out a good lighter to light a cigarette and show off your status along the way. There's a real social activity to support it.

It's different in another world. To begin with, there's no tobacco. Just think: two young masters from Aristocratic Clans meet, and one pulls out a lighter and says, "Look at the treasure I just got." Then the other pulls one out too, and the two of them sit there striking flames at each other? The scene itself is pretty comical. Showing off has to be done subtly, with something useful. Jade pendants, sachets, pets, even birdcages all have their uses; pull out a thing that only makes fire, and you don't even have a pretext.

Besides, whether in an Aristocratic Clan's residence or a wealthy household, lighting tea stoves, Pill Furnaces, and incense, as well as cooking, is all work for attendants, maids, and servants. A proper master carrying something to make fire would be doing menial work himself and lowering his status.

Ordinary people at the bottom make their own fires, but they earn only a few hundred copper coins a month. A fire striker and flint are good enough; nobody would be willing to spend several taels of silver on something nonessential. Those at the top can afford it but don't need it. With both ends blocked, it can't become a main product sold in volume.

When I write, I don't like that kind of brainless power fantasy where anything modern can lord it over everyone in another world. Our readers use their brains when they read, so there has to be some basic logic. You can think it over yourselves: if you were that young master from an Aristocratic Clan, would you carry a lighter around the streets?))

A novelty found nowhere else in the prefectural capital—put it in front of those wastrels, and never mind one tael apiece, people would scramble to buy them even at two.

Fifty wasn't many. With a little effort, he could sell them all and wouldn't lose money.

"Deal!" He slapped the table. "Fifty taels it is! I'll take the whole lot!"

He turned, opened the cashbox, counted out fifty taels in silver notes, and pushed them in front of Shen Jingchuan. "Please count them, young master."

Shen Jingchuan took the notes, counted them, and casually stuffed them into his backpack.

Fifty taels of silver for fifty lighters that had cost a few yuan—the profit from this deal had already exceeded his expectations.

He had come prepared to haggle, but he hadn't expected that, despite his love of driving down prices, the shopkeeper would be so straightforward.

A thought occurred to him, and he decided that since he'd started, he might as well see it through. He pulled another object from his backpack and gently set it on the table.

"Shopkeeper, take a look at this too."

It was a rectangular mirror about thirty centimeters long, with copper-plated edging. The corners had worn somewhat dull, revealing the darkened copper beneath. It was plainly an old object that had seen years of use—something Shen Jingchuan had casually grabbed from home.

The shopkeeper didn't pay it much attention at first. He picked it up and casually looked into it.

At that look, he froze.

The face in the mirror was perfectly clear. He could make out the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the fine beads of sweat on the tip of his nose, and even a small tea stain on his goatee.

The reflection was smooth, without the slightest distortion, ten times clearer than any mirror he had seen in his life.

"Th-this is..." The shopkeeper's voice grew tight, and his hands trembled slightly as he held the mirror. "A glass mirror?"

When he had gone to the Chu Kingdom to buy stock, he had seen a glass mirror there once. It was only as big as his palm and hazy, with a somewhat blurry reflection, yet the asking price had been fifty taels of silver.

They were even rarer in the Qian Kingdom. For a wealthy household in the prefectural capital to own a piece of glass the size of a fingernail as an ornament was considered a mark of distinction.

Ordinary families used bronze mirrors. No matter how brightly they were polished, the reflections were still hazy. How could they be this clear?

The one before him was almost a foot long, yet so smooth and clear, without even a ripple!

"Young master... this mirror of yours..."

The shopkeeper swallowed and looked up at Shen Jingchuan, his gaze changed. "Did this come from overseas too?"

"It's an old thing from home, no use just sitting there. If you want it, give me a fair price."

The shopkeeper turned the mirror over and over in his hands, growing more astonished the more he looked.

Though the edging was worn, the mirror itself was intact, without a single scratch. He could have a carpenter make a frame for it from fine wood.

A complete glass mirror this big—never mind Yuxi Prefecture, there might not be another even in Chang'an City. If it were put on sale, the city's wealthy families and officials' wives and daughters would fight over it.

But he still couldn't break his habit of driving down prices. Rubbing the edge of the mirror, he put on a hesitant look.

"It's a fine piece, but it's a little old. And glass is very delicate; one knock and it shatters. If it breaks on my hands, I'll lose every copper I put into it..."

Shen Jingchuan found this amusing and reached out to take the mirror back.

"If you think it'll be hard to sell, shopkeeper, I'll ask someone else."

"No, no, no!" The shopkeeper hurriedly drew the mirror protectively against his chest. "We can talk this over! Name a price!"

Shen Jingchuan glanced at him. "Same as before. You make the offer. If it suits me, I'll sell; if not, I'll leave."

The shopkeeper's eyes darted about as he calculated frantically.

Even a palm-sized inferior piece could sell for fifty taels. For one this big and in perfect condition, taken to Chang'an, it would fetch several hundred taels at the very least. Even a thousand or more wasn't impossible.

But he couldn't offer that much, and the risk was great too. He gritted his teeth and held up three fingers.

"Thirty taels! That's the highest I can offer! I really can't afford any more!"

Thirty taels?