Chapter Seventy-Five: My Father is Cheng Ke

Zhou Zhi glanced at the old man and noticed that his black cotton jacket was quite new, so he concluded that this must be the steward of a wealthy household. Most of those who had just bought vegetables were middle or upper-class families in Gaochang Town; households rich enough to employ a steward were rare. Zhou Zhi’s mind turned quickly, and he soon made a decision.

Fan Jin had just witnessed Zhou Zhi selling his vegetables. The higher the price, the more eagerly people fought to buy them. Now Fan Jin gradually understood why. Of course—Zhou Zhi’s leafy greens were unique in this harsh winter season.

Yet even in such a season, there were plenty of families who wished to eat fresh vegetables. The power to set the price was entirely in Zhou Zhi’s hands.

Knowing Zhou Zhi’s family was poor, Fan Jin naturally hoped he could earn some extra money. He recognized the old man before him as a major customer, but he couldn’t openly suggest Zhou Zhi jack up the price.

Fan Jin grew anxious, so he called out loudly to the old man, “Ah, isn’t this Steward Cheng? What brings you out for a leisurely stroll today?”

Steward Cheng gave Fan Jin a slight bow and replied, “Heh! What brings Mr. Fan here? Are you looking to buy some fresh vegetables as well?”

Although Fan Jin’s status as a scholar was high, Steward Cheng, a mere house steward, showed little deference toward him.

Fan Jin didn’t mind, and said with a smile, “This is a young friend of mine, here to sell vegetables in town. I came to help him keep an eye on things.”

Then he introduced Zhou Zhi, “Brother Zhou, this is Steward Cheng from the Cheng family, the only scholar’s household in Gaochang Town. He’s an old acquaintance of mine, so you mustn’t overcharge him for the vegetables.”

As he spoke, Fan Jin gave Zhou Zhi a covert glance, clearly signaling him to drive a hard bargain.

Hearing that this was the steward of the Cheng family, Zhou Zhi immediately decided to raise his prices severalfold.

In truth, Zhou Zhi had never met Scholar Cheng Ke, but he knew that Zhang Yong’s sweetheart, Li Zhenzhen—the only daughter of the tavern proprietress—had been snatched away by Cheng Ke’s third son. Because of this, Zhou Zhi had no fondness for the Cheng family. In his eyes, anyone who wronged his friend Zhang Yong was an enemy, whether or not they were truly foes.

With a faint smile, Zhou Zhi said, “Since you are acquainted with Brother Fan, I certainly won’t set a high price—just two hundred copper coins per pound.”

Fan Jin’s heart nearly leapt from his chest. Ruthless! This Brother Zhou was truly ruthless. He had only hinted for a higher price, and Zhou had gone and named a sky-high one. How could anyone possibly buy at such a rate?

Steward Cheng was also startled, his face flushing red. “I heard from those who bought earlier that it was one hundred fifty coins for two bundles? Why is it now two hundred coins per pound for me?”

Zhou Zhi remained calm. “You may not know, sir, but earlier I did sell at one hundred fifty coins for two bundles. However, someone had just reserved the rest of the vegetables. Since that person hasn’t returned, I thought to sell them to you instead. If I sold at the same price, I might as well wait for my previous customer. Isn’t it only fair to serve customers in the order they arrive? If I raise the price a bit, I’ll have a good reason should the earlier buyer come looking.”

Though his explanation was a bit forced, it was reasonable enough. Still, such a steep price hike was hard to swallow.

Steward Cheng hesitated.

Zhou Zhi smiled, “No matter, sir. If you don’t wish to buy, I’ll simply wait for the other customer.”

“Could you make it a bit cheaper?” asked Steward Cheng.

“That wouldn’t be possible, I’m afraid,” Zhou Zhi replied with an apologetic smile.

After another bout of hesitation, Steward Cheng finally asked, “How much do you have left?”

Zhou Zhi lifted the quilt slowly, counted, and said, “Not much—seven bundles of spinach and only six of celery.”

“That’s not enough at all! I thought you had much more—it’s far too little,” Steward Cheng said, waving his hand in disappointment.

“Oh? Sir, do you need a large amount?” Zhou Zhi’s eyes lit up.

“Of course I do. In two days’ time there will be a wedding at home, and we’ll need plenty of fresh vegetables for the banquet.” Steward Cheng, clearly in low spirits, turned to leave.

Thinking that it was likely Cheng’s third son marrying Li Zhenzhen—the girl Zhang Yong had his eye on—Zhou Zhi felt a pang of frustration. He glanced at Steward Cheng and said, “If you need a large quantity, sir, I do have more in my field. But…”

Zhou Zhi trailed off, watching the steward’s face, leaving his sentence unfinished.

“But what?”

“But in that case, the price would be even higher—three hundred coins per pound.”

“Why is it even higher?” Steward Cheng was clearly angry.

“Please don’t be upset, sir. I didn’t plant much to begin with. If you want a lot, there’ll be nothing left in my field. I’d hoped to save some to sell at an even better price before the New Year. I imagine it’ll be worth more than three hundred per pound by then,” Zhou Zhi said, frowning, as if reluctant to part with his goods.

Steward Cheng could see Zhou Zhi was blatantly overcharging, but what could he do? Zhou Zhi was the only one with fresh vegetables in the dead of winter. Hosting guests with such produce would certainly set the Cheng family apart. He knew he was being taken advantage of, but he had no choice but to accept it.

Still, as a steward, he worried—his master had sent him to buy these vegetables, but if he paid such an exorbitant price, he might well be scolded upon his return. He stood there, unable to make up his mind.

Just then, the fool himself appeared. Cheng Dingye, the third son of Scholar Cheng, suddenly popped out from somewhere, his stubby little legs wobbling.

His face was pocked with acne scars, his hair tinged yellow, his stature short and stumpy—more so than a three-inch nail.

Strutting up to Steward Cheng, he craned his neck and rasped, “Old Cheng, why is buying vegetables such a hassle? The day after tomorrow is my wedding, and there’s a mountain of things for you to handle at home.”

Seeing him, Steward Cheng instantly hunched over. “Young Master, I was just negotiating over these vegetables. The price is outrageously high.”

“High? How high?” Cheng Dingye demanded.

“Three hundred coins a pound for celery and spinach,” Steward Cheng reported hastily.

Cheng Dingye stiffened his thick neck and barked, “Three hundred coins—is that a lot? When I’m hosting a wedding, I want everything to be fresh. Serving guests with such vegetables in the dead of winter shows our family’s distinction. Old Cheng, don’t you understand that? Are you saying the Cheng family can’t afford vegetables? Hmph! My father is the only scholar in Gaochang Town, and if we lack anything, it’s certainly not silver. Say, Old Cheng, are you just unhappy with the price because you won’t be able to skim anything off the top?”

“Nothing of the sort, not at all!” Steward Cheng’s face turned red as he hurried to explain.

Zhou Zhi and Fan Jin, watching this scene, couldn’t help but laugh to themselves. Especially Fan Jin, who thought, “How could there be someone like Cheng Dingye in this world? An utter wastrel, through and through. Doesn’t he realize that pork costs only a little more than ten coins a pound? These vegetables are ten times the price of pork.”

Indeed, at this time, pork could be had for a little over ten coins per pound.

But Zhou Zhi, at this moment, was filled with regret. He had miscalculated—if he’d known he would run into a fool like Cheng Dingye, he would have asked for an even higher price.