The hush lasted a while before the whispers began.
"Six taels five qian!"
"Six taels five qian, really?"
"Good grief, that's not striking it rich — those are treasure fish. How come Ah Shui's goes for so much? Is it that good?"
Clearly, everyone had been stunned by Martial Master Hu's asking price.
Beside them, Li Libo counted on his fingers and was startled.
Chen Jiechang's red-blood perch weighed two jin seven taels six qian and had earned only three taels of silver — which worked out to a little over one tael one qian a jin.
But Liang Qu's ox-horn pomfret, at three jin two taels one qian, had brought in six taels five qian! That came to two taels a jin — nearly twice the red-blood perch!
Wait, why had he just said the red-blood perch "only" earned three taels?
Li Libo fell silent.
At the same time, Liang Qu was likewise plunged into enormous delight.
He had assumed one treasure fish would simply cut his time to entering a martial hall drastically short. He had never imagined it would ram the progress bar straight to full!
Together with the two taels eight qian in cash he had saved these past days, Liang Qu's total assets already topped nine taels three qian!
That not only met the minimum of seven taels required to enter the martial hall; it even provided for the tax due after autumn.
As for any thought of refusing to sell — there was none at all.
That the martial master had offered so distinctly different a price showed he wasn't leaning on the shallow experience of country fishermen, their ignorance of the ox-horn pomfret, to quote some wild number; otherwise he might just as well have named a price close to the red-blood perch's.
Besides, a few taels of silver truly weren't much to a martial master. Take Chen Jiechang: a hundred wen a day made three taels a month; it was only because his living expenses ran high that he didn't look wealthy.
And if he did get squeezed on the price, there was nothing to be done about it — no reason Pingyang Town would spare him. The fishermen were no fools, and neither were the martial masters; selling on the spot also saved him a trek of a dozen-plus li.
"Sell — of course I'll sell. It's just that I have a question for Master Hu."
Liang Qu steadied his mood and put forward one small request.
Martial Master Hu was a man of few words: "Ask."
"Why, when both are treasure fish, is the ox-horn pomfret worth twice the red-blood perch?"
Every fisherman nearby pricked up his ears; they were all burning to know too.
The world of martial masters was, after all, mysterious and alluring, and quietly knowing things others didn't was a secret thrill in itself.
At Liang Qu's question, Martial Master Hu showed no impatience and explained: "An ox-horn pomfret's horns can be used as medicine. Made into honey pills, they raise essence and refine qi and can help break through the blood gate. That is the very gate I stand at now — it is of great use to me."
So that was it!
Liang Qu thought of the pair of small horns he had set aside earlier and counted himself lucky he hadn't thrown them out.
Martial Master Hu was quite the honest sort.
Everything after that went smoothly. Liang Qu presented the live ox-horn pomfret, Martial Master Hu tossed him a pouch of silver and walked off without even wanting the cloth bag back.
Before leaving, he still called out: "From now on, whoever catches another strangely formed treasure fish like this one, come tell me. I won't let you take a loss."
The fishermen of the wharf cheered as one.
The four gates of skin, flesh, bone, and blood — going by what had been let slip before, Martial Master Hu had already reached the fourth. Cross it, and "martial master" would no longer be a mere honorific on everyone's lips but hard, solid capability. A few treasure fish truly were of the utmost importance.
Liang Qu mused to himself.
Once Martial Master Hu departed, the fishermen on the wharf threw all regard for volume to the wind. In a rush they were all congratulating Liang Qu on his good luck — some even pressed forward for a touch, hoping to pick up a scrap of that deep and mystical something.
In this past half month and more, Liang Qu had caught a yellow croaker, a spotted-head fish, and now a treasure fish besides — practically a walking lucky charm.
Amid all the pressing and crowding, Liang Qu kept a firm grip on his money pouch, though he didn't refuse them.
Setting out to fish held far more uncertainty than planting and harvesting grain, so fishermen tended to believe more than farmers in the existence of mysterious powers. Yixing also had no lack of sacrificial rites, great and small — though, the region's productivity being as developed as it was, these were all organized by the big households, which supplied the livestock.
Of course, this world had martial practitioners, beings utterly beyond ordinary mortals; whether those unnameable things existed as well, Liang Qu couldn't say for sure.
In no time at all, the limelight of the two treasure-fish catches at Shangrao Landing had been stolen almost entirely by Liang Qu alone.
Chen Jiechang stood outside the crowd, fingering his heavy pouch of silver, unwilling to accept it yet helpless to change anything. He could only walk away alone.
When the excitement had passed and some of the fishermen drifted off, Li Libo let out a squawk: "Sweet mother, six taels! My family couldn't save up that much in generations!"
"Spare me. Who's about to enter the martial hall and take a master — that's anyone's guess." Liang Qu tucked his money pouch away snugly, went back aboard, and quietly gathered up the two pomfret horns lying on the boat, each the size of a finger bone, stowing them away. At the same time he picked up Li Libo's family's fishing net and handed it back. "Your family's net was a huge help to me."
"Hey, doesn't that mean a meal's owed me?"
"I intended to anyway."
Fresh from a windfall and with the martial hall just ahead, Liang Qu was brimming with high spirits; naturally he would stand treat.
The two went straight to an inn and ordered a whole chicken, a plate of mutton, and a plate of pork, plus a pot of hot wine. For a hundred-odd wen, he gave Li Libo a fine, hearty meal.
Liang Qu himself didn't drink and wasn't used to it, but Li Libo could hold his liquor. Fishermen were forever in the water — there wasn't one who didn't drink. With the day so happy besides, he ordered him a pot, as thanks for the loan of the net.
When they had eaten and drunk their fill, Li Libo, red-faced, glanced left and right and asked in a low voice: "When are you planning to go to the martial hall?"
Liang Qu turned his head aside. "How do you know I'm going to the martial hall?"
His original self had been a loner, without anyone at the wharf he was close to. Liang Qu was different: generous by nature, and having stood Li Libo two meals already, the two had grown far friendlier than at the start.
"Obviously. You pumped me so full of careful questions last time even a fool could read your mind. But that's only natural — who hasn't dreamed of training in the martial arts, of becoming a martial master? That's being a man above men. Not like us clodhoppers, stinking of fish head to toe."
There was more than a little envy in Li Libo's voice. Become a martial master, get your name on the rolls, and the court stipend came on its own; you stepped out of the base register, never had to put out to fish day after day, and never picked up that fishy reek again — a smell soap pods could never wash out, marinated clean through you.
The Dashun dynasty had been founded barely sixty years ago, and in recent years the winds and rains had been kind. You couldn't quite say people went hungry, but running about every day for that little bit of food made for a truly wearying life, and no one wanted to live that way forever.
Every lad in Yixing under twenty had dreamed the beautiful dream: astonishing aptitude, a great master's favor, becoming a grandmaster of the age.
The pity was that the great majority could never clear that high threshold of seven taels of silver. And even if they could pay — letters for the poor, the martial arts for the rich — in the end there'd be no great road in it for them.
Li Libo had always figured Liang Qu was just another boy nursing a dream. He hadn't expected a single treasure fish to make him see the fellow in a whole new light.
Six taels five qian — that nearly covered the threshold.
This kid was surely going to enter the martial hall right alongside him.
Only, it was all a shade too coincidental. He'd only asked a little while ago, and now came a windfall that could carry him into the martial hall. And there was that business of Scabby-Head Zhang's brawl — come to think of it, he hadn't seen him in half a month or more. Rather strange.
Li Libo felt something was off, but couldn't say what. He just felt that in all of Yixing there was no one else like Liang Qu.
"That's right. Father left a bit of savings behind — it's enough now." Liang Qu saw no need to deny it.
Li Libo wore a look of "just as I thought," looped an arm around Liang Qu's neck, and laughed out loud: "That's the best news yet! I was worried about being pushed around at the martial hall — perfect. The two of us can be fellow disciples!"
"Mm."
Chapter 13