Seal Blanks

After leaving the general store, Shen Jingchuan carried the remaining fifty taels in silver notes and the twenty-odd taels in loose silver he had found on the man in black. He had intended to head straight to the money house, exchange the fifty taels for gold ingots, and put them in the space, keeping the rest for everyday expenses.

He had just rounded a street corner when he spotted a seal-carving stall by the roadside. A half-worn wooden table was packed with stone blanks, and behind it sat an old craftsman with graying hair and beard. He wore a long blue-cloth robe faded white from washing, and thin calluses from years of gripping a carving knife covered his knuckles. He looked neat and presentable.

Seeing him glance at the stall, the old craftsman immediately straightened and cupped his hands in greeting, his voice warm and mild:

"Young master, would you like a seal carved? I can do the stone, seal script, and beast finials."

Shen Jingchuan stopped and walked over. He had not intended to have a seal carved, but as his gaze swept over the stones crowding the table, a thought suddenly struck him.

He had heard the names of a few precious seal stones, things like chicken-blood stone and Tianhuang stone, but he had never seen the genuine articles and had no skill whatsoever in identifying them. He simply wanted to try his luck:

Jujubes or no jujubes, swing the pole first.

Seeing him stop, the old craftsman reached out and pointed to the stones on the table in turn:

"Look here, young master. These are all ordinary stones, good enough for a personal seal or a signature seal. They range from a hundred copper coins to two taels of silver. Labor costs extra: just carving a name or a decorative inscription is five hundred copper coins. If you want a lion or pixiu finial, shaping and lettering together come to one tael."

Shen Jingchuan nodded slightly. The prices were reasonable. Carving finials took work, and craftsmen made their living by their skills. It was not overpriced.

His gaze passed over rows of dull gray ordinary stones and finally settled on a coarse cloth laid separately at the corner of the table. There were eight pieces in all, polished into neat, square-column blanks. Each was a size larger than the other seal stones, with a lustrous color that made them stand out among the affordable stones.

"What about these?" He pointed at them.

The old craftsman picked up a warm yellow one and handed it over, speaking with the confidence of someone showing off his finest wares:

"Young master, you have a good eye. This is top-grade yellow jelly stone. Feel the texture—it's as fine as congealed honey paste. It won't chip or crack under the knife, and the characters it stamps come out with clean edges. The red one beside it is cinnabar jelly stone, as vivid as congealed cinnabar. It makes the most presentable seal. These are five taels of silver apiece, no bargaining."

Shen Jingchuan took the stone and hefted it. It sat solid and heavy in his hand, considerably heavier than an ordinary stone.

The warm yellow piece was uniform and pure throughout, with a soft, oily sheen in the sunlight and fine threads of pattern hidden inside. The red one had a translucent, jelly-like base, its vivid red like a frozen mist of blood, rich without being gaudy.

"That expensive?" he asked casually.

"Heft them, young master, and you'll know they're worth it."

The old craftsman pointed at the stones. "Each one weighs more than two taels, and every bit is solid stone. The raw material wasn't cheap when I bought it from the stone merchant, and I still had to cut and polish each piece. Anything cracked or impure had to be cut away and thrown out. Ten jin of raw stone won't yield even three jin of usable seal blanks.

"It took a great deal of work to put together these eight proper pieces without veins or cracks. They're nothing like those coarse stones. They also suit a scholar's station."

Shen Jingchuan picked up two more pieces and turned them over for a look. He had no real idea of their value; he simply felt on instinct that the stones were unusual. As for whether they were the kind of exorbitantly priced material he had heard about, no one could say for certain.

But this small investment was hardly anything to him. Even if he had misjudged them, he could not lose much—it was only a few lighters. And seeing the old craftsman's callused hands, he knew it was not easy making a living by a craft, so he had no mind to bargain.

"All right. I don't want any lettering. Can I just buy the plain blanks? I'll take all eight."

The old craftsman froze for a moment, evidently never having met such a decisive customer. He quickly agreed, fetched clean cotton paper, wrapped each piece, and carefully tied them into a bundle with hemp cord.

Eight stones came to exactly forty taels of silver. Shen Jingchuan counted out four ten-tael silver notes and handed them over. He took the paper bundle and, under cover of his wide sleeve pouch, silently slipped it into the space.

After paying, he had a ten-tael silver note and one tael in loose silver left in hand. He reckoned there was little use in taking silver back, and rather than going back and forth, he might as well exchange it all for goods.

"How much for the rest of these better stones?" he asked, pointing to the jelly stones and colored stones on the table whose color and texture were a cut above the ordinary ones.

"Young master, these green jelly stones and cauliflower jelly stones are two taels each. The ones with cloud patterns beside them are one and a half taels each."

Shen Jingchuan did not pick too carefully, choosing only those with even, pure colors and a fine texture. He selected a few green and white ones and some with patterned brown bases. In the end, the five stones came to ten taels of silver.

Together with the forty taels from before, he had spent fifty taels in total, using up all the silver notes. He would keep the twenty-odd taels in loose silver for everyday expenses.

The old craftsman was overjoyed. He swiftly wrapped the stones and handed them over. Shen Jingchuan took them, turned, and continued toward the escort agency.

He did not think much of the pile of stones, treating it as a casual gamble.

After all, his investment was just one mirror and fifty lighters, plus, of course, the hundred taels Lin Yue had put in. Even if he had misjudged every one, he would merely earn a little less. If he happened to guess right on one, it would be a ten-thousandfold return on a single investment. However he looked at it, he could not lose.

Shen Jingchuan took another street on his way back, intending to make a detour and look around. But as soon as he turned onto it, a smell of mildew, sweat, and dust hit him in the face.

The entire street was packed with refugees fleeing the disaster. They sat or lay along both sides, every one of them sallow and emaciated, their clothes in rags. Many had a withered yellow straw marker stuck on them.

Half-grown children crouched with lowered heads beside their parents. Women held swaddled infants and sobbed softly. Able-bodied men stuck straw markers in their own collars and called out hoarsely, "Selling myself! Just give me something to eat!"

Selling sons, daughters, wives, themselves—people of every kind crowded the narrow street, their eyes full of numb despair. Scattered sobs mingled with coughs, weighing on the heart.

Several elderly people who could no longer move lay at the foot of a roadside wall, their breathing faint. It was hard to tell whether they were alive or dead.

He was walking forward with a frown when a burst of heart-rending cries suddenly came from ahead. A circle of people stood around, whispering among themselves.

Shen Jingchuan stepped closer and saw two young girls standing in the middle of the circle. They looked thirteen or fourteen and were twins.

Their features were identical and delicate, though both were so thin their cheekbones jutted out. Their coarse-cloth clothes bore several patches, and the skin showing through some torn places was fairly pale. Their wrists were as thin as reed stalks.

They gripped each other's hands tightly, their faces covered in tears, shrinking back as they sobbed for breath.

A middle-aged man stood before them. He too had a sallow face and was unshaven. Clutching two straw markers, he looked grim as he scolded them under his breath:

"Why are you crying? Your uncle has no choice either!"

Beside him stood a madam dressed in red and green, her face thickly powdered. She held a handkerchief over her mouth, pursing her lips as her eyes swept over the girls, her tone sharp:

"Just look how skinny they are. A gust of wind could knock them over. I'd have to feed them up for half a year before they could take customers, and that's a good deal of rice and flour. Three taels of silver at most, not a coin more."

"Three taels?" The man's voice trembled. "Didn't you say the day before yesterday you could give five? These two girls are pretty. They'll be fine once they've been fed up!"

"Do you know how expensive grain is in a famine year?" The madam rolled her eyes. "You think it's easy to feed people? Besides, they're already this old and wild-natured. Once they're in the house, they'll need training. I'm taking a risk here. If you won't sell, forget it. There are plenty of people who want to send their daughters to me."

Hearing this, the two girls cried even harder.

One of them fell to her knees and tugged at the man's hem, sobbing:

"Uncle, I won't go to that place! I can work, I can dig wild greens and mend clothes. I won't eat for nothing; thin gruel is enough! Don't sell me there. If I go, I won't be able to live..."

The other knelt as well, her shoulders shaking violently:

"We can wait on you and work for the family. We won't be hungry... Uncle, please don't sell us, all right?"

The man looked at his two nieces kneeling on the ground, his eyes reddening too. He turned away and roughly wiped them, his voice hoarse and low:

"Silly girls, what chance do you have of surviving with your uncle? Your parents are both gone, and we can't even dig up grass roots anymore. If this goes on, our whole family will starve to death. If you go there... at least you'll have something to eat and can stay alive."

The girl shook her head desperately, tears falling into the dust. "No, I won't go even if I starve! I know what kind of place that is. If I go, I'll be ruined!"

The refugees watching nearby sighed one after another. Some murmured, "What a sin," while others shook their heads and said, "I wouldn't have a choice in his place either. He can't just watch his whole family starve." But no one dared step forward and say a word.

In a famine year like this, no one could even be sure of saving themselves, much less concern themselves with whether others lived or died.

The madam impatiently brushed off her sleeve:

"Are you selling or not? If not, I'm leaving. Don't hold up my business."

The man looked at his two nieces, their faces streaming with tears. His lips trembled, and he clutched the straw markers tightly, unable to speak for a long while.