Discontent

Beginning on the twenty-first day of the fifth month, Shao Shuyi resumed his working life at the celadon shop. He had already arranged with Cheng Ji that their next lesson would take place on the tenth of the sixth month. During this interval, he intended first to consolidate what he had learned, turning over in his mind how to calibrate and maintain an infantry bow, and building a solid grasp of a bow and arrow's fundamental performance. He had even begun taking notes on the key points of every lesson so that he could review them later. Perhaps one day, new insights would dawn on him. Moreover, he had come to realize in earnest just how exorbitant it was to train a martial artist—far more expensive than studying books. The routine maintenance of just an infantry bow alone incurred steep expenses, to say nothing of the consumable supplies needed for practice, which were also no small outlay. Taking arrows as an example, Cheng Ji had said that the twenty artisans at the Hangzhou Arrow Bureau produced eight hundred arrows a day, consuming countless shafts, arrowheads, fletchings, glue, and lacquer. Sending the finished arrows to the army naturally cost the military nothing, but if they could be sold on the outside market, each arrow would fetch several tens of wen at the very least. Such a price truly left one speechless. The old adage that poverty favored scholars while wealth bred warriors was not without merit. After lunch, Shao Shuyi strolled outside the doorway, only to freeze in surprise. "Haven't seen you in a month—still alive, are you?" An ordinary ox cart was parked not far away. Zheng Fan lifted the cloth curtain, beckoned to him, and spoke with ill intent. Shao Shuyi walked over, bowed, and said, "Greetings, Elder Master Zheng." "Oho, so you know what to call me now?" Zheng Fan looked him up and down, grinning. "Your complexion is much rosier, and your frame has filled out. Such a big change in just a month? Could you have eaten an elixir of immortality?" Shao Shuyi did not know whether to laugh or cry, unsure of how to answer. Zheng Fan slowly withdrew the grin from his face. "Thirteenth Brother is at the silk shop and had no time to come over, so he had me bring you a message." "Please speak, Master," Shao Shuyi said with another bow. "You're eating and drinking your fill at the shop, living in grand comfort—have you forgotten your real business?" Zheng Fan said. "Just that one sentence. Ponder it carefully." A jolt of alarm ran through Shao Shuyi. "I would never dare forget." Zheng Fan chuckled. "I truly underestimated you back then—such a slippery fellow. Could you be scheming to offend neither side?" "How could I dare? How could I dare?" Shao Shuyi said hastily. "Mm, good then." Zheng Fan nodded. "You are the accountant. You don't need anyone to teach you what you should do, do you?" "No," Shao Shuyi replied after a moment of silence. Zheng Fan leaned his face closer and asked, "Are you afraid of dying?" "Master, you jest," Shao Shuyi said with a bitter smile. Zheng Fan scoffed. "Just scaring you. Go back and do your work properly. Thirteenth Brother has long found Wang Sheng an eyesore, and even Third Young Master has—hm, forget it, why am I telling you all this? Off with you. I'm heading back now. Don't tell anyone I came." "I understand," Shao Shuyi said. Zheng Fan lowered the cloth curtain. The ox cart slowly set off, gradually disappearing around the street corner. Shao Shuyi drew a deep breath, turned slowly, and went back into the shop. Someone was displeased with his slacking off and had sent a man to urge him on. From this day forward, his room to maneuver would only shrink, and walking the tightrope would grow ever more perilous. *** Not long after Shao Shuyi returned to the counter, he saw the martial instructor, Zhang Neng, walking over, and stood up to offer a bow. Zhang Neng gave a perfunctory bow in return, his gaze sweeping over the few shop assistants who were sweeping and cleaning. The assistants immediately scattered like startled birds. Withdrawing his gaze, Zhang Neng looked at Shao Shuyi and said, "A shipment of celadon is arriving in a few days and we'll need hands to haul it. The shopkeeper had me purchase some wine for the workers, just in case." Shao Shuyi understood: this was a requisition of paper money for purchases. He fell silent for a moment, took a deep breath, and asked, "How much wine is to be bought? How much money is needed?" "Just five jars will do. It takes thirty guan in paper money," Zhang Neng said. Shao Shuyi spread open the account book. Grinding the ink, he asked, "Where will it be bought? What kind of wine? How many sheng, how many dou?" Zhang Neng grew somewhat displeased. "It's merely five jars of wine, from the Chen Family Distillery near the Old Locust Tree." "Five jars of what wine? How many dou per jar? How much per dou?" Shao Shuyi asked again. "Why must you make such a fuss, Accountant?" Zhang Neng snapped, angered. "It is my duty," Shao Shuyi insisted. "If I keep the books, everything must be recorded clearly." Zhang Neng's expression turned ugly as he glared at Shao Shuyi's hand grinding ink. Shao Shuyi remained unmoved. Seeing his resolute stance, Zhang Neng suppressed his temper and said, "Fire wine! Shaojiu! Araki! Five sheng a jar." "Where is the authorization slip?" Shao Shuyi asked again. Zhang Neng was on the verge of erupting. Shao Shuyi was somewhat afraid inside as well, but he forced down the churning emotions, raised his head to look at Zhang Neng, and said calmly, "It comes to thirty guan. An authorization slip from the shopkeeper is required." Zhang Neng glared at him for a moment, then finally let out a cold snort and walked toward the rear courtyard. A moment later, he returned holding a slip of paper and slapped it onto the counter. Shao Shuyi picked it up gently, inspected it carefully, signed and stamped his seal upon it, and then pasted it into the account book with glue. Dipping his brush in ink, he wrote down: "Chen Family Distillery," "five jars of shaojiu," "totaling two dou and five sheng," "thirty guan in Zhongtong chao," and "disbursed to Martial Instructor Zhang Neng"—a little over twenty characters in all. "Done." Shao Shuyi offered Zhang Neng a smile and turned the account book toward him. He knew very well that two dou and five sheng of shaojiu in all likelihood would not cost thirty guan in paper money; Zhang Neng might pocket around ten guan for himself. But by the rules, so long as the shopkeeper approved it, it had nothing to do with him—after all, he was merely an accountant. Even so, how should one put it? In the past, accounts for buying food and drink would never be kept so meticulously; most of the time they were left vague, leaving room for excuses even if someone audited them. Now there was none: what liquor, how many sheng, the unit price, total price, who bought it, and where it was purchased were all set down clear as day. If an audit took place in the future, there would be plenty to scrutinize. Zhang Neng was likely worried about precisely this, which was why he gave Shao Shuyi no pleasant look. Pressing his thumbprint down hard, he turned and left immediately. Looking at his retreating back, Shao Shuyi thought to himself that when it came to making money, Zhang Neng was probably a pitiable sort. To embezzle even the money meant for food and drink meant he clearly had few channels to line his pockets. Wang Sheng was hardly loyal or generous. To fail to look after a follower who had stuck with him for years, keeping him out of the loop—he truly lacked breadth of spirit. After Zhang Neng left, the shop quieted down again. There was virtually no business the entire afternoon; only two small plates were sold, bringing in one guan. Come evening, just as Shao Shuyi was preparing to wrap up for the day, laughter sounded from outside. Presently, Shopkeeper Wang Sheng returned, accompanied by two men behind him. As it happened, Shao Shuyi recognized both of them: Sun Chuan, a broker in the celadon trade, and the coastal strongman Young Master Zhou, Zhou She. He took the initiative to rise and bow. The three men glanced at him, their gazes touching him for only a fleeting instant. Wang Sheng and Zhou She said nothing, but Sun Chuan chuckled and pointed at Shao Shuyi. "Is this the new accountant? It seems he can already hold down the fort on his own." Wang Sheng stroked his beard lightly. "Indeed. Heroes emerge from youth—quite remarkable." "I am fondest of the young and capable." Sun Chuan beckoned, speaking to an attendant who had hurried inside, "Fetch an ingot of notes. Give Accountant Shao a bit of tea money." Without a word, the attendant opened his pack, drew out a stack of paper money, placed it on the counter before Shao Shuyi, and said softly, "A meager bit of tea money. Please do not find it too little, Accountant." A shock ran through Shao Shuyi's heart. He immediately pushed the baochao back and said, "Squire, you are too kind. As the saying goes, one should not receive a reward without merit. I would feel ashamed to take this money. Please take it back, Squire." The smile froze on Sun Chuan's face, and he glanced sideways at Wang Sheng. Wang Sheng hesitated for a moment, then said, "Xiaohu, the squire is only showing goodwill. Things will be busy later on, so take it for now." Shao Shuyi shook his head. "I cannot obey." Wang Sheng's expression darkened, but being a man of the world, he soon put on a smile. "You, ah, you—what am I to do with you? How many people would give anything for a meeting gift from the squire and never get it, yet you push it away. Ah." As he spoke, the corners of his eyes darted repeatedly toward Sun Chuan. Sun Chuan let out a cold snort, took a stride inward, and Wang Sheng hurriedly followed. Zhou She stood nearer the outside, hands clasped behind his back, watching it all with keen interest. As he moved to catch up with Sun and Wang, he suddenly looked at Shao Shuyi and asked, "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" "Young Master Zhou has a good memory," Shao Shuyi cupped his hands and said. "Back in the fourth month, I saw you at Wuling Bridge." Zhou She knit his brows in thought for a moment, then let out an "ah" of recognition. "I remember now. You're that wet-behind-the-ears stripling." Shao Shuyi lowered his head slightly and said nothing. Zhou She laughed heartily. As he walked, he said, "You've offended Squire Sun, and you've offended your own shopkeeper. Things will be tough for you from now on—tough indeed!" Wearing a slight smile, Shao Shuyi did not pay him any mind. Now he was all the more certain that there was definitely some illicit secret between Shopkeeper Wang Sheng and the broker Sun Chuan. He just could not fathom why someone like Zhou She had also been drawn into it. Could they need his family's boats and men? He pondered it for a moment, but found no clue, so he simply gave up thinking about it. Shao Shuyi packed up his implements and prepared to head to the dining hall for dinner. In truth, Zhou She was right: he had indeed offended people. But what else could he do? Sun Chuan had offered him a red envelope of a fifty-guan ingot right off the bat; anyone with half a brain would not dare accept it. After being warned by Zheng Song, he no longer had any room to play both sides. Such was the sorrow of a nobody: you had no choice.