Chapter 19: The Fish Trade

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Li Po carried the pottery jar and stepped out of the outer room. He was quite pleased—fish soup was the most nourishing, and its flavor was undoubtedly better, far superior to those three whole fish. Of course, there was an unexpected bonus: a few copper coins tucked in his pocket.

These coins came from the tax official, a sort of payment for the few fish. After some hesitation, seeing the official’s insistence, Li Po accepted them. Yet, he still did not understand the difference between the Daye white coins and the Kaihuang five-zhu coins...

Meanwhile, inside the room, the young tax official was tasting the stewed fish, frowning as he thought the wine and the dish were a poor match, all the while enduring the nagging of Sergeant Liu.

“Giving him a few fish is already showing kindness—why bother with money?”

The tax official narrowed his eyes in silence. He wouldn’t bother explaining to this coarse man—that was the dignity of a nobleman. Nor would he admit that he did not want to fall out with Yuchi, Luo San, and their gang.

He also wouldn’t reveal to Liu that the humble young man just now spoke with an impeccably pure dialect from Guanzhong and displayed an uncommon eloquence—perhaps he really was a scion of a collateral branch of the Li family from Guanzhong.

Unlike Yuchi and the others, the official had seen countless fallen scions of great aristocratic families. Even in destitution, such lineage was worth hundreds of times more than this rough man beside him. When opportunity came, these men could rise at a bound...

It was worth remembering that the current emperor’s grandfather, Yang Zhong, also endured a miserable youth as a wanderer.

Of course, drawing a parallel from a lowly vagrant to the emperor’s grandfather seemed far-fetched, but in these times, who could say what might happen?

Meanwhile, the rough man regarded the official with secret mockery.

Everyone knew you were just scared of Yuchi, Luo San, and Cheng Dalang’s gang causing you trouble.

Looking at you, you pathetic soul, I won’t even tell you that being flamboyant won’t keep you alive long in Mayi.

Those born from the bottom possess their own survival wisdom.

For example, Sergeant Liu never took Li Po too seriously. He cared for him when he could; when he couldn’t, no amount of talk mattered. Giving money to a vagrant? Not a chance.

If news of this reached Yuchi’s ears, they’d just blame others for meddling.

Such wisdom the young tax official might never understand in his lifetime, and even if he did, it wouldn’t be at his age.

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Like Li Po, who returned to his hut, idly playing with the coins, but ultimately decided to give the money to Sergeant Liu. In his current position, keeping money was useless; it needed to be spent.

Just like the tall thin man and the cripple who had lost their lives after getting money—this fish soup courtesy of Sergeant Liu was far more practical.

That night, the large man and the small one warmed themselves with the fish soup, chewing on roasted fish, feeling life had never been so sweet.

The next day, the weather turned foul—wild winds howled, and the city gates were closed.

So Li Po visited those families again.

This time, walking through the migrant camps, he felt utterly different. Those who could bring food were like deities to the people there.

If not for their circumstances, someone might have already set up a memorial plaque for him.

A small, trembling woman passed by—perhaps she was going to relieve herself.

This was Li Po’s rule: what was once hated and resented was now followed strictly—even if freezing to death in the latrine, it was by Li Gong’s decree.

Seeing Li Po, the woman knelt without a word and kowtowed several times.

Li Po, feeling sheepish, went from house to house. Such enthusiasm made him uncomfortable.

After visiting each home, he collected a string of frozen fish.

Though Li Po said nothing, these people were glad.

To them, this was just like paying taxes to the government.

Since someone had found them a means of survival, not taking a penny would be strange.

However, Li Po had no intention of profiting from these migrants; his values were entirely different.

He believed that possessing sharp teeth and claws did not justify preying on herbivores unnecessarily—that did not display true skill.

Braving the cold wind, he squatted by the city gate.

Coincidentally, a group of northern men carrying firewood passed through the gate passageway. The two leaders immediately began scanning the surroundings.

Spotting Li Po, they laughed and shouted, then surrounded him.

Li Po looked up and smiled.

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These two were familiar faces—he had beaten them just days ago, their bruises still not faded.

One man, black-eyed, shook his fist at Li Po; the other looked angry but mostly ashamed...

This wasn’t revenge. In their simple understanding, being hit meant naturally hitting back—nothing serious.

Yet, in the fierce customs of Mayi, their behavior of ganging up on a fellow clansman hardly brought honor.

Li Po had no intention of fighting again. Without Luo San’s straightforward child nearby, fighting these Mayi hunters was unwise.

Before the northerners could speak, Li Po pointed to the frozen fish in front of him and smiled, “Three fish, one bundle of firewood—fair price. You brothers must be tired in this cold. Why not sell it to me and save some effort?”

The men exchanged glances. They’d heard from their kin that a villain at Mayi’s gate had stolen their firewood and beaten them.

They hadn’t expected such a young boy; their eyes toward their kin turned uncertain.

As for the fish, they paid it no mind.

Selling firewood into the city was a strict government rule. Hunting occurred in other seasons; in winter, firewood had to be brought into the city.

Earning a few extra copper coins, given their situation, was a small boon. Most importantly, the government’s rule compelled them to come.

Of course, if firewood could only be sold to the government, Li Po wouldn’t be waiting here.

He had already confirmed that as long as firewood entered the city in winter, the government didn’t care who it was sold to—flow migrants included.

“I want to fight you again.”

Trying to speak reasonably, the two northern men, embarrassed and clumsy in words, under the half-smiling gaze of their kin, proposed a poor condition.

Seeing Li Po hesitate, one slammed a bundle of firewood down before him. “If you win, it’s yours.”

...

Li Po was finally beginning to like this place.

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