"How much is this phonograph? I'll take it!"
Li Banfeng had set his heart on the phonograph. Steam-driven, such a precise piece of machinery was something one couldn't find even back in Yuezhou.
If he took it back to Yuezhou and sold it as a collector's item, it would fetch a handsome profit. Even if he didn't sell it, keeping it for himself would be thoroughly satisfying.
Shopkeeper Feng wiped down the phonograph, looking reluctant to part with it. "This was handcrafted in Amikan. There are only two in all of Puluo Province. I truly don't want to sell it."
Li Banfeng caught his drift—he was asking for more money.
"Shopkeeper Feng, name your price."
Shopkeeper Feng hesitated for a long moment, then held up two fingers.
Xiaopang's eyes widened. "Twenty thousand?"
Shopkeeper Feng shook his head. "In Huan Country notes—two hundred thousand!"
"Two hundred thousand!" Xiaopang gave a baffled smirk. "Shopkeeper, you really take us for fools."
Shopkeeper Feng said, "It's worth every bit of it. I truly cannot come down on the price!"
Li Banfeng looked at the phonograph.
A vintage mahogany cabinet topped by three brass horns, the one on the right still puffing out steam at a leisurely pace.
"The forest blossoms wither, burying the heart deep; when the spring swallows return, where will I be?~~"
The moving melody still lingered by his ears, making Li Banfeng want the phonograph even more.
Yet two hundred thousand was far too distant for him.
His tuition and living expenses had all come from his own part-time work; in his entire life, Li Banfeng had never possessed more than ten thousand in assets.
He glanced at Qin Xiaopang, who glared back. "Why are you looking at me? I've never seen that much money in my life! Back in our village, two hundred thousand is enough to build a house!"
A sickle for five hundred, yet building a house cost two hundred thousand?
Was he joking?
Of course, that sickle was no ordinary item, and there was no telling what kind of place Xiaopang meant by a "house."
Li Banfeng couldn't take his eyes off the phonograph. By his estimation, in Yuezhou, this phonograph would definitely sell for five hundred thousand. Filled with confidence about what would be the biggest investment of his life, he looked at the shopkeeper, straightened his back, and said, "Hold this phonograph for me. I will buy it!"
Shopkeeper Feng looked into Li Banfeng's eyes and felt an unusual weight behind those words.
He felt Li Banfeng really would buy it.
"Alright, I'll hold it for you," the shopkeeper agreed.
*I will buy it!*
To Li Banfeng, these words truly carried a special weight.
In the welfare home, watching the children outside eating popsicles, he had said: *I will buy one.*
In middle school, seeing a classmate's basketball shoes, he had said: *I will buy them.*
In college, seeing other classmates' mobile phones, he had said: *I will buy one.*
He had bought the popsicle, the basketball shoes, and the phone.
He would definitely be able to buy this phonograph, too.
"Brother, let's go! We're running out of time!"
Qin Xiaopang dragged Li Banfeng out of Feng's Grocery Store. The shop boy let out a sigh. "Shopkeeper, when is that thing ever going to sell?"
The shopkeeper pondered for a moment. "I think that fellow surnamed Li genuinely intends to buy it."
"What good is genuine intent?" The shop boy shook his head repeatedly. "Forget two hundred thousand—I doubt he can even pull twenty bucks out of his pocket!"
***
Xiaopang went to a blacksmith's house and bought an axe.
From head to handle, it measured seventy centimeters long.
Li Banfeng frowned. "You're taking that up the mountain?"
"I heard anyone who dares climb Bitter Mist Mountain is a ruthless character. Bringing this axe will scare off at least half of them."
Carrying the axe, Xiaopang went to the market, bought twenty jin of dry rations, filled two large canteens with water, hired a horse carriage, and took Li Banfeng west toward Bitter Mist Mountain.
They traveled for an entire day. Of the twenty jin of dry rations, Li Banfeng ate less than one jin, while Qin Xiaopang devoured nearly half.
Late into the night, the two arrived in the vicinity of Bitter Mist Mountain.
Li Banfeng looked into the distance, but saw only hazy night and no sign of any mountain.
Xiaopang found an inn and rented two spots in a communal bunk room.
Even he felt that staying in a communal bunk was a bit shabby, so he made a point to explain to Li Banfeng:
"I wanted a private room too, but this damn inn jacked up its prices—a hundred for a room, while a bunk is only twenty. Let's just squeeze in together, brother."
Li Banfeng wasn't picky. He lay down on the bed and pretended to fall asleep.
The communal bunk was one long shared wooden platform crammed with over twenty people, filled with snoring, teeth grinding, sleep-talking, and all kinds of noises.
Once Xiaopang was fast asleep, Li Banfeng slipped out of the inn, hid the key in the grove outside, and entered the Portable Abode.
There was still nothing like having a room of one's own.
From the welfare home to college graduation, Li Banfeng had never had a room of his own. Now, even sleeping on the cold floor felt comfortable.
This time he didn't oversleep. When Li Banfeng exited the Portable Abode, dawn had just broken.
Xiaopang had also woken early and was looking all around for Li Banfeng. "Brother Feng, where did you go?"
Li Banfeng brushed it off casually. "Went to take a leak. Brother Pang, are we going to sleep a bit more?"
Xiaopang grew anxious. "Sleep? What sleep? We need to get up the mountain right now!"
Li Banfeng followed Xiaopang westward. They walked for an hour, but ahead lay only a thick blanket of fog; still not a trace of the mountain was in sight.
Many others were traveling along the road. Xiaopang carried his axe and wore his pack of provisions, eyeing his surroundings vigilantly.
A bald man in his thirties with a scar by the corner of his left eye was rushing ahead and bumped right into Xiaopang from behind.
Xiaopang stumbled, nearly falling over, and glared up at the bald man.
The bald man's eyes flared with hostility as he looked back at Qin Xiaopang. "Are you blind? Don't you know you're blocking the way?"
Xiaopang flared up immediately. "You fucking bumped into me, and you've got the nerve to cuss me out?"
The bald man took a step forward. "What if I did? Did you think I wouldn't beat your ass? Itching for a beating, are you?"
Xiaopang raised his axe and brandished it before the bald man.
The bald man spat, drawing a machete over a foot long from his waist.
Li Banfeng watched quietly from the side, calmly resting his right hand around the handle of the small sickle.
The small sickle was inside his pocket; neither the bald man nor Xiaopang noticed.
A man in his early thirties with parted hair, gold-rimmed glasses, and a gray plaid suit walked up to Xiaopang and the bald man.
"Gentlemen, save your strength for the mountain. Why show off here?"
To be honest, Xiaopang didn't want to fight either; he was eager to get up the mountain to pick flowers, but he couldn't bear losing face.
The bald man glanced at the man in gold-rimmed glasses and sheathed his blade. Both sides had found an out, and the matter was dropped.
The bald man continued on his way, and Xiaopang lowered his axe.
The man in gold-rimmed glasses said quietly to Xiaopang, "Brother, first time on the mountain?"
Qin Xiaopang sneered. "I've walked this Bitter Mist Mountain who knows how many times. How could it be my first?"
It was indeed his first time, but he couldn't let on before a stranger.
The man in gold-rimmed glasses chuckled. "First time or not, take my advice: that bald fellow isn't someone to mess with. Once on the mountain, he'll definitely try to ambush you."
Xiaopang spat. "What, you think I'm scared of him?"
The man in gold-rimmed glasses arched an eyebrow. "An open spear is easy to dodge, but an arrow in the dark is hard to guard against. Not just you—I spoke up just now, so on the mountain, he might very well target me too."
"Well, I'm not afraid," Xiaopang said, gripping his axe tightly as he spoke.
The man in gold-rimmed glasses glanced at Li Banfeng. Li Banfeng kept his head down and remained silent, looking every bit like an honest, simple fellow.
The three walked together for a while. Ahead, several banners faintly came into view.
There were yellow ones, green ones, and purple ones.
Li Banfeng asked, "Whose banners are those?"
Xiaopang glared at Li Banfeng, warning him not to look like a novice.
He didn't know where those banners came from either, but Li Banfeng asking aloud was practically announcing to everyone that they were first-timers.
In truth, the man in gold-rimmed glasses had long realized they were first-timers. Looking at the banners, he murmured, "The Bai family, Huang family, Lu family, Liu family... people from all the major medicine houses have arrived."
Xiaopang had heard the names of these medicine houses, but he didn't understand why their people had come here.
Once snake-spot chrysanthemums were picked, they would naturally be sold to the medicine houses. Shouldn't they just wait at home to do business? Why bother camping out at the foot of Bitter Mist Mountain?
The man in gold-rimmed glasses knew the reason, but didn't state it outright. "Friends, let's not go any further. Let's wait here for news."
"Wait for news?" Xiaopang frowned. "Wait here for what? The blooming period for snake-spot chrysanthemums lasts only one day. Every quarter of an hour we wait is one less flower we can pick."
The man in gold-rimmed glasses shook his head and drew a folding fan from his waist. "Do you know what hour the snake-spot chrysanthemums bloom?"
Xiaopang said loudly, "They bloom today!"
The man in gold-rimmed glasses fanned himself, speaking unhurriedly. "They do bloom today, but the exact hour is uncertain.
"Early morning is today, noon is today, and dusk is today too. If you head up the mountain now and they don't bloom until dusk, wouldn't you have swallowed a full day of poisonous mist for nothing?"
Xiaopang sneered. "I have cultivation. I'm not afraid of poisonous mist."
"I know you have cultivation, but even with cultivation, you shouldn't squander it pointlessly." The man in gold-rimmed glasses looked out at the boundless mist in the distance. "If an ordinary person inhales the mist on Bitter Mist Mountain for three hours straight, they'll likely lose their life.
"Cultivators who have just entered the door and possess no stage can last at most seven or eight hours. Seeing how sturdy you are, you must be a Food Cultivator, right?"
Xiaopang kept silent. A cultivator's pathway and cultivation level were not things to reveal to strangers in the first place.
The man in gold-rimmed glasses smiled. "If you're a Food Cultivator and have had your fill of food and drink, you can hold out for over a dozen hours.
"Once the flowers bloom, as long as you find the right spot when you go up, picking seventy or eighty blooms won't be a problem at all."
Seventy or eighty blooms at eighty-five dollars each—that would add up to more than six thousand dollars!
At that, Xiaopang grew eager to press forward. The man snapped his folding fan shut, blocking Xiaopang, and frowned. "Didn't I just tell you? Now is not the time. Head up after they bloom. Who knows how many reckless people like you die on that mountain every year?"
Xiaopang asked huffily, "Do you know when they bloom?"
The man in gold-rimmed glasses pointed his fan at the distant banners. "I don't know, but they do. Every year, the medicine houses hire a couple of scouts to go up the mountain.
"Once they see the flowers bloom, they send up a signal, and the medicine houses dispatch their people up the mountain. When that happens, all we have to do is follow behind them."
Xiaopang was taken aback. "The medicine houses send people up the mountain too?"
The man in gold-rimmed glasses chuckled. "If they don't send people up, and they can't buy any snake-spot chrysanthemums, what will they use to refine snake-spot pills?
"If a major medicine house can't even produce snake-spot pills, wouldn't its reputation be ruined?"
Xiaopang looked around. "With so many people heading up the mountain, everyone who picks flowers has to sell them to the medicine houses anyway. Why would they worry about not being able to buy them?"
Fanning himself, the man in gold-rimmed glasses said, "If only one medicine house were buying, they naturally wouldn't worry, and they'd set the price.
"But several major medicine houses in Yaowanggou want to buy flowers. If competition breaks out, the sellers call the shots on the price."
Xiaopang still didn't understand. "Wasn't it agreed on? Eighty-five per stalk."
The man shook his head. "That's the price quoted before heading up the mountain. Once you come down, it's a whole different story.
"Suppose you ran a medicine house, didn't have a single snake-spot flower in hand, and the flower pickers demanded an exorbitant price—would you buy or not?
"If they send people up and harvest three to five hundred blooms, they'll have some security. Worst comes to worst, they refine a few fewer pills and avoid being held by the throat by the sellers."
This man in gold-rimmed glasses was a true insider; his words made it clear that he understood the business on Bitter Mist Mountain thoroughly.
As he spoke, several people gathered around to listen quietly. None of them had been up Bitter Mist Mountain before, and they all wanted to learn from his experience.
The man wasn't stingy either. He rambled on about a good deal of common knowledge, focusing especially on the features of the snake-spot flower.
As he was speaking, he suddenly stopped, his eyes fixed on the distant banners of the medicine houses.
Beneath the banners, several men walked into the depths of the thick mist. The man in gold-rimmed glasses said to the crowd, "The medicine houses' people are heading up. We should get moving too."
Xiaopang was eagerly about to surge forward when the man warned, "Don't tail them too closely. Down at the foot of the mountain, they'll keep in line to protect the medicine houses' reputations.
"But once on the mountain, they're capable of anything. Picking flowers is hard work; harvesting them yourself is never as fast as robbing others."
Hearing this, Xiaopang tightened his grip on his axe again, and the surrounding people grew tense as well.
The man in gold-rimmed glasses said, "If you trust me, let's team up. That way, we can watch each other's backs."
Chapter 28