Son of the Grain Merchant

It was the sixth month, early summer. The sky was cloudless, the sun blazing.

The scorching sunlight stung the skin with a faint, piercing pain, and waves of shimmering, searing heat blanketed the entire White Willow Village.

At the village entrance, on an endless expanse of cracked, yellowish-brown earth, a hundred or so rough, lean men stood in straw sun hats, gripping iron picks and shovels. They gathered in small clusters, murmuring among themselves, their eyes carrying a mix of reluctance and indignation.

Off to the side, a few young children in simple undershirts played and chased each other. They reached their small hands into the cracks of the parched ground, digging around to see if they could catch any tiger beetles.

The children played with earnest focus, oblivious to the harsh glare and the fine sweat beading on their rough, sunburned faces.

"Master Black is here!" A childish, excited voice rang out from among the children.

On the west side of the village.

A dun horse was galloping toward them, its hooves pounding the cracked earth. One child, who had been digging in a hole, dodged too slowly and was cut on the cheek by a flying clod of dirt, bursting into loud wails.

The crowd's spirits lifted. Their eyes swept briefly over the portly man on the horse, then locked onto the finely carved two-horse carriage at the end of the road.

The horse slowed, and a man of the marketplace dismounted from the dun horse, tying the reins to a willow tree.

He then leaned toward the carriage and replied respectfully.

"Don't worry, Young Master Feng. Leave it to me—you can rest easy."

"Mm."

Inside the carriage, Feng Xiu lifted the curtain, revealing a fair-skinned, handsome face. He gave a slight nod.

Then, Master Black turned and strode toward the crowd.

"Master Black, how did it go?"

Before he could even get close, a farmer asked urgently.

"Heh heh, you lot are in for a stroke of luck this time."

"The old master of the Feng Clan knows the heavens haven't been kind this year, so he specially found an old immortal from Yulin Prefecture who can summon wind and rain. He's coming to borrow some rain for you."

Master Black spoke with conviction, grinning wide to reveal a few gold-capped teeth.

"An immortal?"

Inside the carriage, Feng Xiu's hand, which had been idly playing with a jade ornament, paused. His expression shifted slightly.

Having crossed over into this world two months ago, he was well aware of the martial fervor that ran through the Great Liang Empire—that much he had come to appreciate.

A rich young master or not, push the tenant farmers too far, and they truly wouldn't hesitate to risk their own skins.

But as for immortals and the like, he had never heard of such things.

"Really?" The farmers outside pressed, half in doubt.

"Would I lie to you? This year's spring seeds are all ready for you. All that's left is this rain-borrowing."

Master Black thumped his chest, making a bold and confident vow.

"When's he coming?"

"Ten days? If we wait ten days, everything will be cold by then!" The crowd grew restless, voices rising. Someone's eyes went wide.

"If we miss the early planting, and this year's harvest is delayed, are we supposed to starve?!"

"Old Wang, don't talk nonsense. That new master waived half a year's rent for Dendrobium Village last month."

"If the heavens won't cooperate, what's that got to do with the Feng Clan?"

An elderly man took a few slow drags from his pipe, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as he let out a helpless sigh.

His gaze drifted to the young man in the carriage, and he forced a stiff smile onto his worried face.

"Are you on the Feng Clan's payroll or something, talking them up like that? I'll say it plain—if the Feng Clan can't get the water from the Jade Belt Reservoir, hmph—"

A harsh, aggressive voice suddenly exploded from the crowd.

The man who spoke gave a cold snort. Though dressed in coarse cloth, his build was exceptionally sturdy.

His words were aimed at Master Black, but his fierce gaze was fixed on Feng Xiu, who had pulled back the carriage curtain. The latter gave a slight nod, and only then did the man's eyes soften a little.

Sprayed with spittle from the man's outburst, Master Black's smile didn't waver.

"Don't get angry. Ten days. In ten days, I swear it won't delay the spring planting!"

The crowd still didn't believe him, their expressions wary. But Master Black's grand, confident tone, combined with his reputation as a broker who moved freely in both the lawful and underworld circles, left them with no choice but to let it go.

"Fine, Master Black. We trust you. We'll wait ten days." In the end, it was the elderly villager who had the final say.

Ten days, around mid-month—though a bit late, it wouldn't cause any real harm.

White Willow Village had no room to bargain with the Feng Clan. That Master Black had even made a promise at all was enough.

"Easy, easy. If the man doesn't show by then, I'll write my name backward!"

After a few more words, Master Black calmed the crowd without any trouble.

The people gradually dispersed.

Watching the backs of the departing men, Master Black wiped his face and spat disdainfully.

"What a bunch of trash." He ground his boot into the dirt for good measure.

Then he turned and walked toward the carriage parked beneath the white willow tree, stopping mid-stride.

He straightened his clothes and adjusted his posture, then hunched slightly, a smile plastered on his face.

"Young Master Feng, they're all gone now. What do you think...?"

Arriving beside the carriage, Master Black rubbed his hands together, his tone ingratiating, a far cry from his earlier bravado.

"Go collect your reward. Include the travel expenses from last time as well."

"Right away, young master, you're generous~"

Master Black grinned, unable to hide his delight.

In the driver's seat, the waiting coachman saw the matter settled and cracked his whip, guiding the carriage along the bumpy path toward Green Rock City.

Master Black fell in step beside them.

"If you ask me, Young Master Feng, you're too soft. A bunch of troublemaking tenants—just send a few servants to deal with them."

"No need for you to come personally."

All the way, Master Black kept up his chatter, his words dripping with the slickness of a man of the world.

"So you're saying I did wrong?"

"Exactly."

The heavens hadn't sent rain; the whole of Green Rock City and its many towns and counties were in the same boat.

Years had passed like this, and the only result was a reduced harvest of Golden Ear Wheat.

Immortals? What immortals? Just an excuse to placate the masses.

Feng Xiu made no reply, offering no argument. His gaze drifted out the window to the cracked fields, and he couldn't help but shake his head.

Argue?

There was no point debating the rules of this era with him.

As the eldest son of the Feng Clan, he naturally couldn't have direct contact with the tenants working the clan's lands.

Master Black was a broker specializing in this sort of thing, well-connected and resourceful, whether dealing with minor officials or lowly tenants.

But his words grated on Feng Xiu.

He thought his own moral standards had already been lowered to the bare minimum.

Yet every time, Master Black managed to voice some unique principle of survival from this age.

"Young Master Feng, let me, Old Black, give you some advice. Even if there's no rain for spring planting and the harvest suffers this year, even if you can't get water from the reservoirs, you absolutely must not reduce the rent. Not only that, you should raise it!"

Seeing Feng Xiu silent, Master Black thought he was taking it to heart and pressed on earnestly.

Young Master Feng paid well, and Master Black genuinely didn't want to see him do something foolish, so he added a few more words.

Inside the carriage, Feng Xiu rolled two polished jade walnuts in his hand.

Then his movements stopped.

Suppressing his thoughts, Feng Xiu ignored the topic and turned to ask Master Black instead.

"Earlier, you mentioned an old immortal in Yulin Prefecture. Is that true or not?"

"You mean that?" Master Black paused. "It's true, but the old man runs a rundown temple with hardly any incense offerings."

"Twenty taels. Go fetch him."

Feng Xiu knew full well that praying for rain was ninety percent nonsense.

Ten days, then. He'd just have to see how things played out.

Master Black's eyes darted, and he couldn't help but grumble inwardly—rich young masters really were something else, throwing money away like it was nothing.

But sticking to the principle that only a fool turns down easy money, he immediately slapped his chest in assurance.

"Right away, you just wait and see. Even if I have to tie him up, I'll bring him." His face broke into a delighted grin as he gave his guarantee.

"Young Master Feng, I'll take my leave!"

With a new job in hand, Master Black didn't linger. He cupped his hands to Feng Xiu.

Twenty taels of work tucked in his pocket—enough to keep him entertained for a while. How could he waste time?

Master Black turned and tugged the reins lightly, not even entering Green Rock City's gates before spurring his horse toward Yulin Prefecture without pause.

Inside the carriage.

Feng Xiu lifted the curtain with one hand, watching the scenery slowly roll backward.

An ancient aura, one he'd only ever seen in historical dramas, washed over him.

The carriage hadn't even left White Willow Village's borders. The path was rough and uneven, yet countless people still toiled for their livelihoods. Watching the farmers bent over, digging at the earth, Feng Xiu shook his head with a sigh.

After confirming that he truly couldn't go back, Feng Xiu gradually grew accustomed to his identity, playing the role of the Feng Clan's eldest young master with increasing finesse.

But this world was nothing like the TV dramas he had watched in his past life.

As the son of a wealthy family, the original body had left him a fairly generous "inheritance."

However, as Feng Xiu carefully played the part of a rich merchant's son, he discovered that everything seemed slightly off from what he had imagined.

The sons of wealthy households had no concept of idling their lives away. Whether inspecting farms, appeasing tenant farmers, or handling the clan's various affairs—big or small—everything required his attention.

This happened to be Feng Xiu's weak point, one he had yet to master, which was precisely why he had invited Master Black to handle matters.

In truth, Feng Xiu looked down on someone like that.

During the time he had spent with him, the man always used roundabout words to hint at his own incompetence. Today's remark was relatively straightforward.

"Young master, should we take a short rest?"

As these thoughts ran through his mind, the middle-aged coachman driving the horses from the front seat of the carriage set down his whip, gradually slowing their pace.

The road from White Willow Village to the main highway was rough and bumpy. The high-intensity driving had left the wooden board beneath him sore from the jolts.

"No need. Keep going."

Hearing this, the coachman had no choice but to continue onward.

After speaking, Feng Xiu felt none of the bumps at all.

"Thank goodness the Eight Sections Vajra Skill has reached minor success and strengthened my physique. Otherwise, with all this traveling, my bones would have fallen apart by now."

Feng Xiu sighed to himself as a purple light screen flashed across his vision.

code
[Life: 3]
[Spirit: 0]
[Strength: 0]
[Agility: 0]
[Technique Record: Eight Sections Vajra Skill (Minor Success, Life +2)]

Feng Xiu felt a little more at ease. No matter how uncomfortable this world made him, at least he had brought something along with him.

But the synthesis option on the Technique Record remained grayed out, and he had no idea when it would light up.

"Old Master Zhang's Eight Sections Vajra Skill is still too authoritative."

"I just wonder how much change the martial arts of this world can really bring."

Once they entered the main highway, the carriage's speed picked up noticeably.

An hour later, a majestic giant city crouched atop the highlands, its gray-white piled bluestone walls towering over ten zhang high.

The wall surface, weathered by wind, sand, and sun, showed large patches of peeling and mottled plaster. Outside the city gates, the scene was bustling yet orderly. Lines of people, carriages, and horses waiting to enter wound like a long dragon.

Oxcarts laden with sacks of Golden Ear Wheat creaked under their weight. Some merchant caravans leading highland packhorses carried furs, mineral salt, and many rare goods from inland regions on their mounts' backs.

Among them were also farmers carrying shoulder poles and backpacks, while robust martial artists galloped past on horseback, their hooves thundering like drums.

Before each of the eight vermilion gates stood a heavy ironwood table. The gate officials seated behind them were rapidly scanning various entry permits.

The stationed soldiers around them wore leather armor, their eyes sharp as eagles, their temples slightly bulging.

The Feng Clan was a local merchant family. A single glance at the character "Feng" hanging high on the corner of the carriage roof was enough to grant them entry into the city.

The carriage drove in through the side gate of the main entrance, weaving through streets and alleys for another quarter of an hour.

In the inner city, the familiar lintel of the Feng Clan estate came into view. Home at last.