Chapter 7: Making Money with Herbs

Page (1/3)

In the blink of an eye, half a month had passed, and the day for the town market was approaching once again. Wang Sanniu felt an unusual excitement today, as he would finally get to verify whether these herbs he had gathered could bring in some money at the town’s pharmacy.

Over the past half month, every time his sister-in-law Liu returned with pig fodder, he would unfailingly squat by the pile of “withered leaves” near the wall, rummaging through them. And rummage he did—he actually managed to uncover quite a few treasures!

Besides the dandelions and plantain grass he recognized earlier, he gradually discovered more valuable herbs: leaves resembling tiny palms of Chinese foxglove, motherwort with its small purple flowers, and large patches of prickly great and small thistles.

What thrilled him most was finding several stalks of thick-leafed, thorny rhubarb! This herb was famous in later times as a powerful laxative, and the pharmacy would surely accept it.

Looking at these “weeds” that his sister-in-law had gathered carelessly as pig fodder and wild vegetables, Wang Sanniu couldn’t help but laugh through his tears.

The mountains behind Qingshui Village were an untapped treasure trove of medicinal herbs.

When he ran madly around the village with Huniu and Gouwa, he had paid close attention to the edges of the fields and barren slopes. Wild dandelions, plantain grass, mugwort, and even young baical skullcap grew wildly and luxuriantly, completely untended. The villagers only dug up a few wild vegetables; hardly anyone seemed to recognize these valuable herbs that could be sold for money.

His mother, Mrs. Zhao, had gradually shifted from dismissing his “childish nonsense” about picking herbs to now admiring, “My son is really capable.”

Wherever Sanniu pointed, she efficiently sorted the dried herbs into categories, carefully packed them into small cloth bags, and finally stuffed them all into an old hemp sack nearly half a man’s height. After half a month, the sack was almost full—a plump, heavy bundle to carry.

“Mother, if we went to the back mountain to gather herbs properly, we could probably fill up our entire woodshed!” Wang Sanniu looked at the sack and mused.

“That has to wait until the off-season! The farm work is urgent now,” Mrs. Zhao said, smiling brightly despite her words.

Her son was sensible and thinking of adding income to the family. No matter whether they could make money or not, she felt comforted by his intention.

Before dawn had fully broken today, the Wang household was already bustling. Yesterday, Father Wang Jinbao had gone to the neighboring village to buy a fat pig. Overnight, he and eldest brother Wang Daniao had butchered it neatly, arranging the fresh pork.

Selling meat was always Father’s and second brother Wang Ernai’s job. Eldest brother Wang Daniao was too taciturn and quiet to shout prices at the market.

Breakfast was devoured quickly, as usual. Wang Sanniu was slowly getting used to the “black bear den” speed of eating, though he was still amazed by the huge bowls and astonishing quantities, and his own appetite had noticeably improved.

Living with this group of “big eaters,” breathing fresh air unpolluted by future times, scented with grass and wood, and having hope in his heart, he felt much less weak. He no longer wheezed like a broken bellows after just a few steps.

He ate slowest of all. By the time he finally set down his bowl, Wang Ernai’s broad hand reached over like a fan, scooped him up as if he were a chick, and carefully set him on the wheelbarrow by the yard gate. One side was piled with pork, the other side empty—just right for Sanniu to sit.

At twelve years old, Wang Ernai was already nearly as tall as their father, with a thick stubble and sinewy muscles. People would easily believe he was twenty-two.

“Sit tight!”

Page (2/3)

Wang Ernai shouted, pushing the wheelbarrow forward.

Father Wang Jinbao, pipe clenched between his teeth, followed silently alongside, his steady steps occasionally glancing at his two chattering sons on the cart, expression unreadable.

The mountain path in the early morning was cool, filled with the crisp scent of dew and vegetation. The wheelbarrow creaked loudly in the quiet valley. A mountain breeze rustled the wild grass leaves by the roadside.

Wang Sanniu chatted sporadically with his second brother while greedily breathing in the pure air.

Qingshui Village was not far from Yongle Town—about five kilometers by modern measure. The three of them, walking briskly, reached the town outskirts in less than half an hour.

The market was already lively. Shouts, bargaining, and the calls of chickens, ducks, and geese blended together. The air was thick with a complex mixture of livestock manure, cooked food, spices, and dust.

Father skillfully found their usual stall—a spot by the street corner with a simple rain canopy, a “prime location” he had staked out years ago.

The two of them worked efficiently, unloading the meat, setting up the chopping board and racks in one fluid motion. Half a side of pork hung on the rack, gleaming with freshness.

“Sanlang, the pharmacy probably hasn’t opened yet. When the doors first open, it gets crowded,” Wang Ernai wiped sweat and told Sanniu on the cart’s shaft.

“Wait until noon, when it’s a bit less busy. I’ll take you to Renxin Hall then,” he promised.

Wang Sanniu nodded, then looked at their father. “Dad, can I wander nearby for a bit? I promise I won’t run off. I’ll come back soon.”

Wang Jinbao glanced up from his boning knife, gave a knowing look as if to say, “Just as I thought,” and grunted his assent.

With permission granted, Wang Sanniu jumped down from the cart and slipped like a fish into the bustling crowd.

Yongle Town was small, with just two intersecting main streets. Both sides were packed with shops:

Sacks of grain and oil piled at the grain store; colorful coarse and fine cloth hanging in the fabric shop; the blacksmith’s hammering ringing out sparks; pots, pans, brooms, and dustpans displayed outside the general store; the sweet scent of pastries wafting from the bakery, drawing children drooling and pressed against the door.

Behind the shops were rows of low houses with grey bricks and tiles, occasionally interrupted by grander two-story buildings.

Wang Sanniu watched with fascination. This vivid scene of ancient urban life felt more real than any drama. He strolled along the main street, quickly covering both roads. As noon approached, he timed his return to the meat stall perfectly.

Wang Ernai was already waiting, carrying the sack of herbs on his shoulder and holding an empty bag in his hand. “Let’s go, Sanlang! To Renxin Hall!”

Renxin Hall was the largest pharmacy in Yongle Town. Its three-door frontage bore a striking black-and-gold sign. Upon entering with his brother, Wang Sanniu was greeted by a strong, familiar herbal scent. Behind the towering counters stood vast shelves filled with countless small drawers labeled with herb names. A young apprentice was weighing herbs according to prescriptions.

Page (3/3)

Today’s attending physician was an elderly man with graying hair and a lean face—the familiar “Doctor Wang” from Wang Sanniu’s memory. When Doctor Wang looked up and saw a towering, sturdy man leading a rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed child inside, he smiled warmly:

“Well, well, isn’t this Sanniu? What brings you here today? Feeling unwell again?”

Doctor Wang’s tone was gentle, tinged with the concern of an elder. Over the years, Wang Sanniu’s frail health had often brought him to Renxin Hall for medicine and treatment; the doctor had watched him grow.

Wang Sanniu quickly stepped forward, adopting the obedient demeanor he remembered from his original body, and bowed properly:

“Greetings, Grandpa Wang! Thanks to your care and the tonic prescription you gave me last year, my health has improved greatly. I don’t cough or wheeze as much now.”

“Oh? That’s good! Very good!” Doctor Wang stroked his beard with a satisfied smile. Which doctor didn’t love hearing good news from their patients?

“And what brings you here today...?” Doctor Wang’s gaze fell on the bulging sack on Wang Ernai’s shoulder.

“Grandpa Wang,” Wang Sanniu pointed at the sack, his voice tinged with childlike excitement, “These are herbs my mother and I gathered at home (I didn’t say pig fodder, so nobody would be disgusted). They’re all dried now. We’d like you to take a look and see if the pharmacy would buy them.”

“Oh? Dried herbs?” Doctor Wang’s interest was piqued. He stood, stepping around the desk. “Let me see.”

Wang Ernai hurriedly untied the sack mouth and carefully presented the various dried herbs, sorted in cloth bags.

Doctor Wang crouched down, opening each bag and examining them one by one. He pinched a dry, brittle dandelion leaf, smelled a chunk of blackish rhubarb, and sifted through a bag of plantain grass, checking the integrity of the dried leaves.

“Hmm…” Doctor Wang nodded as he inspected the herbs. “Dandelion is clean, leaves mostly intact... plantain grass is thoroughly dried, no mold spots... this rhubarb is well processed, the pieces uniform, no burnt edges... and these motherwort and small thistles... the quality is quite good, carefully prepared!”

Upon hearing this, Wang Sanniu’s eyes lit up. “Grandpa Wang, so... will you take them?”

Doctor Wang looked into Wang Sanniu’s bright, hopeful eyes, then glanced at Wang Ernai, whose rugged face betrayed his own nervousness. Remembering how much the Wang family had spent at the pharmacy over the years for the sickly youngest son, his heart softened a little.