From the Army

Chen Dasheng suddenly fell silent. The hope that had just flared in his eyes dimmed once more.

It would take at least three taels of silver to heal Chen Dong's right hand.

Three taels of silver.

It might not sound like much.

But Chen Dasheng had never seen three taels of silver in his entire life.

The fields the Chen Family farmed yielded around one hundred and fifty shi of grain each year.

Under the laws of the Great Yan Dynasty, they had to pay ten shi of grain in rent each year. A household of six also had to pay a poll tax of four hundred copper coins annually.

If they converted all their grain into copper coins, the Chen Family's yearly harvest would amount to only a few thousand coins.

After paying the rent, poll tax, corvée tax, and their household expenses for the year, they could save only two or three hundred copper coins.

Three taels of silver.

It would take the Chen Family at least ten years to save that much!

The gray-haired physician seemed to see Chen Dasheng's predicament. This farmer, dressed in old, ragged clothes and reeking of sweat, couldn't afford the cost.

He took out his medicine box and began changing Chen Dong's dressing.

The money for treating Chen Dong's injuries had all come from Steward Liang. As their landlord, the Liang Family had truly done everything they could.

For a while, no one in the room spoke.

In the end, Chen Dasheng did not have Chen Dong's injuries treated.

The physician prescribed a few more doses of medicine and told Chen Dong to go home and rest. As for how well his right hand would recover, that was up to fate.

The three men of the Chen Family didn't linger at