Chapter Twenty-Two: The Seasoned Veteran and the Young Lord

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Seasoned Veteran and the Young Lord

“When was that?” Zhang Qian’s brows were tightly knit as he instinctively muttered the question again.

Though this question was vivid, for him, it was somewhat “beyond the syllabus.”

Looking across the twenty-first-century land of China, apart from a handful of unlucky souls like himself, what parents would ever let their young child wander the streets alone? Much less allow them to carry anything of value in their arms!

Even though the security in Xi’an during the twenty-first century couldn’t quite match that of Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzhen, or any of the other twenty-nine provincial capitals and municipalities, such robberies in broad daylight were nearly unheard of—especially with surveillance cameras everywhere.

“I know, I know! It’s right after he leaves the busy market!” This same question, for the chubby Tang native Ren Cong, was all too simple. “Anyone who tries to rob someone in the middle of a bustling market—even if the authorities are just going through the motions—they’d still have to intervene. But once you leave the market, it’s whoever strikes first that gets the prize. The latecomers won’t even get the scraps!”

“So you think you’re clever?” Ren Qiong glared fiercely at his son, scolding him in a low voice.

The chubby boy shrank his neck in fright, daring not to speak out of turn again. But Zhang Qian had already gleaned enough insight from the boy’s answer. He lightly tapped the low table in front of him with one hand and said quietly, “So what the manor lord means is, as long as the child doesn’t leave the crowded market, even if the thieves covet his gold brick, the public gaze will make them hesitant.”

“Exactly!” Seeing how teachable this young man was, Ren Qiong nodded with satisfaction. “Unless the world descends into chaos, the law collapses, and the authorities lose all authority—otherwise, the officials must maintain at least a semblance of dignity, if only as a show for the common folk.”

“I see now! Many thanks for your guidance, Manor Lord Ren!” Zhang Qian’s eyes brightened with sudden understanding as he smiled and cupped his hands toward Ren Qiong. Then he quickly turned to the chubby boy and called out, “Brother Ren, could you please fetch my backpack from the guest room?”

“Alright, alright!” The chubby boy was still muddled, but after a moment’s hesitation he agreed and turned to leave.

Ren Qiong’s eyes suddenly lit up. He picked up his teacup, sipping slowly, as if the spiced and salted tea were some divine nectar.

“Brother Ren mentioned that under your command, the manor operates several trading houses, each dealing in rare treasures from across the land?” Zhang Qian also took a sip of tea, then smiled as he asked.

“Don’t listen to his exaggerations—there are only three or five such places. And most of the shares belong to others; I merely oversee them as the proprietor’s representative.” Ren Qiong’s gaze brightened again as he looked Zhang Qian up and down, sincere appreciation welling up within him.

He had seen clever men, but never one so astute. With only the slightest hint, this man had immediately devised a way out. And, since Zhang Qian was the one to raise the topic, it felt far more agreeable than if Ren Qiong had brought it up himself—it spared him any suspicion of scheming or covetousness.

Indeed, events unfolded just as Ren Qiong had hoped. Hearing no denial of the manor’s trading houses, Zhang Qian immediately smiled and cupped his hands again. “I have a small and perhaps presumptuous request, Manor Lord. I hope you might consider it.”

“So long as it is within my power, I would not dare refuse!” The words were formal, but he spoke them all the same, even as uncertainty flickered within.

“I have a few things on hand that I have no use for. I’d like to trouble your trading houses to sell them on my behalf. As for the sale method and the commission, you may decide as you see fit.” Zhang Qian’s tone was as casual as if he were selling off an old coat.

“It would be my trading house’s great fortune to have the honor! Rest assured, I swear to heaven not to let you suffer the slightest loss!” Though prepared, Ren Qiong still felt a tingle in his nose, swearing with a trembling voice.

He had personally experienced the effects of the miraculous medicine; calling it capable of raising the dead and regrowing flesh was no exaggeration. Securing the right to sell such a medicine would not merely bring handling fees, but would elevate the prestige of all his trading houses by several notches.

“Then I must trouble you.” Unlike the excited Ren Qiong, Zhang Qian remained unexpectedly calm. He cupped his hands once more, then lifted his teacup to examine the kiln patterns on its surface while waiting for the chubby boy’s return.

On his wrist, he wore a high-quality imitation of a Green Submariner; his Huawei phone was tucked habitually into an inner pocket. The only things left in his backpack, after sharing with the chubby boy the previous day, were two Paracetamol pills, a blister of cephalosporin, a high-quality imitation miniature Swiss Army knife, a bottle of medicated oil, and a solar charger.

Paracetamol, cephalosporin, the knife, and the medicated oil had all been revealed when treating Ren Qiong, so exposing them again was no issue. As for the solar charger, even before his journey through time, such things were only used by a few electronics enthusiasts or thrifty “penny-pinchers,” and proper manufacturers hardly bothered producing them. Unless there was another unfortunate soul in the Tang realm who had experienced something similar to Zhang Qian, there was little chance anyone would recognize what it was.

“This young man is truly remarkable. To part so casually with something so precious, as though it were nothing, he truly has the bearing of a distinguished scion!” Observing Zhang Qian’s calm appreciation of the cup’s patterns, Ren Qiong found himself increasingly impressed. “If only Cong’er had half his composure, I wouldn’t have so many worries!”

As a prominent figure in Chang’an’s business world, Ren Qiong had seen countless nobles and scions who, when forced to pawn or consign family heirlooms, would weep and wail as if mourning the dead. Yet never before had he encountered someone like Zhang Qian, who, upon grasping his hint, so decisively parted with a treasure, showing not the faintest reluctance.

This made him question whether his own approach today had actually been too shortsighted, even though, from his perspective, he was already doing all he could to help Zhang Qian while ensuring his family’s safety.

Perhaps, when Zhang Qian produced the miraculous medicine, he should urge him to keep it, pledging on behalf of the Ren family to use all their resources to protect him from coercion? For a moment, Ren Qiong was tempted to repay his life-saving debt with everything he had, and to cement the friendship between his son and Zhang Qian. However, catching a glimpse of his beautiful wife and then glancing at his three sons and one daughter, he crushed this absurd notion before it could take root.

Repaying a drop of kindness with a spring, or risking life and limb for a friend—such heroes existed only in street legends. In reality, such heroes were long extinct; at least, Ren Qiong had never met one in his life.

Lost in thought, he was interrupted by the sound of heavy breathing at the door. Turning, he saw his son, the chubby Ren Cong, running in, arms wrapped around a strange-looking bag, sweat streaming down his face.

“Brother Zhang, here you go!” Oblivious to his father’s gaze, the chubby boy made a beeline for Zhang Qian, handing the backpack over with both hands.

“Thank you!” Zhang Qian smiled as he accepted the bag. In front of everyone, he opened all the locks and zippers, took out the two Paracetamol pills, the blister of cephalosporin, the imitation Swiss Army knife, the bottle of medicated oil, and the solar charger, placing them one by one on the low table. Then, after turning the bag upside down and giving it a good shake, he smiled and said, “The medicine to dispel your fever, called Paracetamol, I have only two pills left. The antidote for the toxin in your body, called Detoxification Pill, there are twelve left. The two medicines together can only save one more person afflicted by blood poisoning. If I keep them, they’ll only invite trouble. Thus, I wish to entrust both to Manor Lord Ren for sale. As for the price…”

“One hundred thousand strings, only payable in Kaiyuan copper coins or their equivalent in gold or silver. I can pay you a ten percent deposit up front!” A sudden inspiration struck Ren Qiong, and he made the boldest decision of his life. “I cannot handle this alone. I’ll join forces with Baochangsheng and Four Seas Rare Treasures—both have solid backing and won’t be easily intimidated.”

Sadly, his efforts were wasted on someone who had no idea of the significance of Baochangsheng and Four Seas Rare Treasures in Chang’an. Zhang Qian’s attention was entirely fixed on the astronomical price of one hundred thousand strings. “Isn’t that a bit too expensive? After all, it can only cure one more person…”

“That’s precisely why it’s so valuable!” When it came to business, Ren Qiong was far superior. He shook his head and explained loudly, “Listen, young lord—only families who can afford a hundred thousand strings of Kaiyuan coins are qualified to possess such a medicine. Pricing it lower would only harm the buyer.”

“Very well, I’ll leave it to your arrangement.” A vision flashed before Zhang Qian’s eyes—a middle-class family scraping together everything to buy the medicine, only to have it seized by some official’s privileged offspring before it could even be used. He grimaced and nodded with a sigh.

An ancient poem once said, “With a fortune of a hundred thousand strings, one could ride a crane down to Yangzhou.” Clearly, one hundred thousand strings was an astronomical sum. In all of Chang’an, there could not be more than two hundred families who could afford it. Yet these few families held sway over the empire, while the others—including “white gloves” like Ren Qiong—could do little but look up in awe.

Realizing he didn’t even qualify to look up, Zhang Qian felt a wave of ennui. Forcing a smile, he handed the Paracetamol and cephalosporin to the stunned chubby boy. “Brother Ren, please give these to the manor lord.”

“Wait!” Before the boy could react, Ren Qiong interrupted loudly. “Such life-saving medicine can’t be handed over so lightly! The imperial physician Sun is still here, and the Young Duke said he’d visit tomorrow. Keep the medicine for now, young lord. Tomorrow, in their presence, we’ll draw up a formal contract.”

“Very well!” Since he’d already decided to sell the last of the Paracetamol and cephalosporin for cash, Zhang Qian didn’t mind waiting another day. He smiled, stuffed the capsules and other items back into the bag, and stood to bow. “I’ll keep them safe for now. You should continue to rest and recover; I won’t disturb you further. When the Young Duke arrives tomorrow, please send for me.”

“Of course, of course, walk slowly, young lord!” Watching Zhang Qian stuff the medicine worth a hundred thousand strings into his bag as carelessly as rags, Ren Qiong’s forehead veins throbbed with distress. He barely managed to suppress the urge to seize the medicine by force, cupping his hands instead. “Cong’er, see the young lord out.”

“Alright, alright!” Still unable to process how his father had struck a hundred-thousand-string deal in less than a quarter of an hour, Ren Cong stumbled after Zhang Qian.

Once again, seeing the vast gulf between his own son and Zhang Qian, Ren Qiong could not suppress a deep sigh.

“Manor lord, do you really intend to involve Baochangsheng and Four Seas Rare Treasures in selling those two medicines?” Thinking Ren Qiong’s sigh was due to the high price paid, steward Ren Fu approached cautiously.

“One hundred thousand strings is no small sum.” Ren Qiong glanced at him and nodded. “Even just one-tenth of that will strain the trading house for some time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ren Fu said, shaking his head with regret. “With the Duke of Bo, the Duke of Kui, and the Duke of Qiao sheltering him, isn’t that too generous? I noticed that despite his outward magnanimity, he never actually answered your question about the prescription…”

“Enough! Are you mad, or do you wish the Ren family ruined?” Ren Qiong cut him off sharply, abandoning his usual tolerance. He slapped the table, his gaze fierce. “Whether he knows the prescription or not, he saved my life! How could I possibly coerce him? Besides, if I don’t even dare keep a single dose of this medicine for myself, what right or standing do I have to claim the prescription, even if he handed it over?”