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墨書 Inktalez
Zeng Yulan watched as two tall horses approached, and Qi Chong and Yu Chunmiao each mounted one.
“Oh dear, Little Ancestor,” Zeng Yulan whispered, “I forgot how you died and yet you dare to ride.”
Yu Chunmiao pouted, “You don’t understand; this is different. I’ll go slowly, no running or jumping.”
“Mom, I want to ride the big horse too!” Yuan Qingmiao exclaimed, excited to be close to the horse for the first time.
Instinctively, Yu Chunmiao wanted to pull her closer but then hesitated, thinking about her own frail frame. Instead, she pointed at Qi Chong and said, “Let your brother-in-law carry you up.”
Qi Chong looked at the little girl with eager eyes, a different kind of tenderness swelling in his heart. He imagined that one day, if Yu Chunmiao bore him a child, he would cherish it like his own eyes.
“Come here, stretch out your hand,” Qi Chong said as he leaned forward and pulled her onto his lap.
And just like that, the five of them set off.
Upon arrival at their destination, Yu Chengwei wanted to buy his own things and took the lead. Qi Chong acted as the errand runner, securing a tavern and stabling the horses.
These were Military Horses, marked with special brands that commanded respect; no one dared to be careless. The stable hands insisted on providing only the best feed.
Once their bags were set down, the four of them traveled light to the seed shop. Qi Chong asked the clerk, “How many tobacco seeds do we need for a hundred acres?”
The clerk took out an abacus and calculated while muttering, “Eight hundred plants per acre; for a hundred acres that’s eighty thousand plants. It’s wise to prepare an extra fifty seeds per acre to account for losses or damaged sprouts—eighty-five thousand seeds would be ideal.”
Thinking it was his first time planting tobacco, Qi Chong decided it was better to buy extra just in case. “I’ll take eighty-six thousand seeds; how much will that cost?”
The clerk resumed his calculations on the abacus, fingers clicking rapidly. “One pound of tobacco seeds contains about thirteen thousand seeds. For six pounds and six ounces, I’ll give you a bit more—one pound costs five taels of silver; altogether it will be thirty-three taels. Thank you.”
“I don’t know how to plant,” Qi Chong said. “I’d like to buy a book on it; could you tell me where I can find one?” He only had a general understanding from reading but wanted to learn more specifics since this was vital for the entire village’s livelihood.
“We have them right here,” the clerk called into the back room: “Pei Gengjiao! Someone wants advice on planting tobacco.”
“Coming!” A lazy voice responded as a young scholar in his thirties emerged.
His name was Pei Qingxuan, sent by the Yamen to teach farming techniques at the seed shop. The court encouraged farmers to cultivate crops that could trade with foreign lands and dispatched instructors to ensure no one was left without guidance.
When Pei Qingxuan stepped out and saw the clerk scooping whole bowls of tobacco seeds, he was initially surprised but then delighted. “So much! You have good taste—are you planning to plant this?”
He asked Qi Chong with a bright smile that contrasted sharply with his earlier laziness.
Qi Chong nodded, thinking how strange this person was, so happy about growing tobacco himself.
Pei Qingxuan clasped his hands and smiled, "Please come in, little brother. Let's chat slowly."
"Ah, are you two going to talk for a long time? How about we wait for you at the tea house across the street?" Zeng Yulan suggested, seeing that the two might be engaged in a lengthy conversation and not wanting to stand around.
In her previous life, she had lived frugally, but in this life, her granddaughter was a wealthy heiress, and she intended to enjoy it.
"Why go to the tea house? I have tea right here. Come in, come in!" Pei Qingxuan was more enthusiastic than she had expected.
The group arrived at his office, which contained only a tea table and bookshelves. The shelves were filled with books about farming. He brought out some snacks and began to brew tea.
In the Da Sheng Kingdom, brewing loose leaf tea was popular in the south, while in the north, people preferred to crush tea cakes and boil them with salt and spices.
Zeng Yulan took one look and wrinkled her nose in disdain. "What kind of tea is this? I won't drink it."
Pei Qingxuan was momentarily taken aback by her rudeness but quickly asked, "May I ask you, Miss Qing Niangzi, what constitutes good tea?"
When it came to tea leaves, Zeng Yulan spoke confidently. "Good tea? That would be the buds picked before the Qingming Festival. After being pan-fried and rolled, they should be brewed with spring water. What you have here? It hardly tastes like tea."
"No, no! That’s just a grassy flavor; how can that be good?" Pei Qingxuan waved his hand, completely disagreeing with her opinion.
"Why am I even telling you this? You're just a frog at the bottom of a well," Zeng Yulan teased him.
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