Chapter 22: Zhao San Pays a Visit

Inside the bundle lay the fruits of her labor from the past two years—thirty embroidered handkerchiefs, each featuring a unique pattern.

She quietly bypassed the village path, following a rugged mountain trail until she reached the pre-arranged spot beneath Eagle Cliff. Gu Changshan was already waiting there, a larger sack and a small steelyard scale resting by his feet.

Seeing Shen Guilan, he skipped the pleasantries and pointed directly at the sack on the ground.

Shen Guilan opened her bundle and neatly laid out her exquisite handkerchiefs on a clean rock. Gu Changshan crouched down, picked up one of the pieces, and examined the stitching with care. He then began placing items from his sack onto the scale’s pan—sun-dried mushrooms, high-quality Solomon’s seal, and several pieces of wood that emitted a strange, faint fragrance.

He measured with such precision that it felt less like a transaction and more like a delicate ritual.

"Your embroidery," he said, setting the terms as he weighed the goods, "is worth one pound of premium mountain mushrooms or half a pound of Solomon’s seal per piece. I will take these to the post station outside town and sell them to a medicinal herb merchant I know from out of town. He knows quality and won't drive down the price. From now on, we shall trade here every five days."

Shen Guilan nodded heavily, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

This was no act of charity; it was a transaction between equals. He had not only given her a way to survive but had also restored her dignity.

With that, they established their verbal agreement.

Shen Guilan returned home carrying a full bag of mountain treasures and herbs, feeling for the first time that the ground beneath her feet was solid. However, Gu Changshan’s source could not be easily exposed, and mountain goods could not be eaten as a meal. She hid the majority of the haul in a secret cellar behind the house, keeping only a small portion to find a way to trade for rice and grain.

Just as Shen Guilan was racking her brain, her daughter, Xiuwei, provided an unexpected spark of inspiration. The little girl had gathered scraps of colorful cloth and grass seeds from somewhere, and, imitating her mother, she used coarse hemp thread to weave them into tiny, delicate "colorful woven bells" that rustled when shaken.

Under the large locust tree at the village entrance, where children loved to play, Xiuwei plucked up the courage to mimic the adults. She set up a tiny "stall" under the tree, using her woven bells to trade for eggs or small lengths of hemp thread used for mending shoe soles.

At first, it was just a game among children, but gradually, some adults took notice. The Shen family’s needlework was famous far and wide; though they couldn't afford the fine embroidery, everyone was happy to trade a worthless egg for a trinket that could keep their children amused for hours.

Before long, Xiuwei’s little stall was truly "in business." She traded for eggs, thread, and even half a piece of leftover cornbread. Watching her daughter’s busy, grown-up-like demeanor, Shen Guilan felt a stir in her heart.

A bold idea began to form. She started teaching Xiuwei simpler stitches, using fabric scraps to embroider small cats and dogs, which she fashioned into cute sachets. These items were inexpensive yet charming and delightful.

Consequently, the inventory at Xiuwei’s stall grew increasingly diverse. The scope of the trade expanded quietly from children's play to the women of the village. One day, a sachet would fetch three eggs; the next, two woven bells would bring in a handful of mixed-grain flour. An invisible, underground network centered around the Shen family, based on the barter system, began to weave itself silently in the most inconspicuous corner of the village.

Deep into the night, the light in Shen Guilan’s room remained on. The newly acquired lamp oil made the flame dance with vigor, reflecting on her focused profile. Her fingers flew across the embroidery hoop, and with every needle and thread, she stitched her hopes for the future.

In the corner, the eggs and grains Xiuwei had traded for formed a small pile. Though modest, it was enough to keep them fed for the time being. On the surface, the household remained the same hollow thatched hut, containing nothing but a few pieces of coarse cloth and some worthless sundries. Yet, no one knew that beneath this apparent poverty, a stubborn vitality was surging like an undercurrent.

The village night was silent, save for the rustling of wind through the treetops. Shen Guilan’s needle pierced the fabric with a light, rhythmic sound—a sound that brought her an unprecedented sense of peace.

However, she did not notice that on the other side of the village, several pairs of greedy, resentful eyes were already fixed on the window where the faint light flickered. The darkness of night was both her camouflage and a shroud for the danger quietly closing in.

It was a dark, windy night—a night for violence.

Zhao San kicked open the Shen family’s already rickety wooden door. With a group of thugs, he burst into the hut like a pack of starving wolves into a sheepfold.

"Search! Search every inch! Don't even spare the mouse holes!"

Zhao San’s triangular eyes glinted with greed and malice. He was the most capable dog under Shopkeeper Qian in town, possessing the sharpest nose and the most ruthless methods. Shopkeeper Qian was certain that a widow and her young daughter could not possibly conjure money out of thin air to pay for the old man’s medical bills; there had to be a secret, and it was likely they had stumbled upon some illicit mountain goods.

Under the lamplight, Shen Guilan shielded young Xiuwei behind her. Her pretty face showed no trace of fear, only eyes like cold, deep pools, staring coldly at the uninvited guests.

"Brother Zhao, my family is destitute. What could you possibly want that requires such a grand mobilization?" Her voice was low, yet every word was clear, carrying a poise far beyond her years.

"Cut the crap!" Zhao San spat. "Someone saw that menace Gu Changshan delivering things to your house! Confess—is it wild ginseng? Hand it over, and I might just let you and your daughter off easy!"