Chapter 15: The Meishan Exchange

The official postal station was situated near the city gate through which they had entered. However, if you didn’t know its location, you’d have to search for a long while, for the postal station was tucked away in an alley rather than on the main street.

Qingzhen and his companions were led into the spacious courtyard of the postal station, where they saw piles of goods awaiting dispatch. There was a bit of everything: furs, scales, horns, wings, cuts of meat, and so on.

“People even collect these tattered scraps of hide?” Qingzhen asked, pointing at a large pile of ragged and broken pieces of hide.

“No matter how shabby, it’s still the hide of a ranked fierce beast. Patch them together, and you can still make a few pieces of cheap armor. You have to understand, when hunting beasts in the Eastern Wilds, even the cheapest patched leather armor makes a world of difference. Without it, you’re as good as paper—one swipe from a beast, and you’re dead for sure,” the little guide explained, his face serious.

“Do you think anyone would want this kind of hide?” Qingzhen took out a piece of flying mouse pelt from his coat. It wasn’t whole, with clear cut marks, clearly made during the hunt.

“You’ve kept this piece in fairly good condition. With three or four like this, you could patch together a complete flying mouse. You should be able to fetch a decent price,” the guide replied.

Qingzhen was delighted. “Thank goodness my sister reminded me to bring these hides as well. I also have some that got singed by fire talismans, now just charred scraps. Will those sell?”

“That’s unlikely,” the guide said. “Armor still has to look presentable.”

“Forget it, if they won’t sell, I’ll just throw them away later.” Qingzhen didn’t care. In that situation, if he’d worried about saving the hides, he’d have ended up losing his own life. Trading your life for a bit of hide—that would have been sheer stupidity.

Qingzhen was certain he wasn’t a fool. The value of a few scraps of hide was nothing compared to his own.

“Are you here to send something by post?” A young man in a courier’s uniform approached them.

“Yes, we’d like to send some large fish cuts home,” Qingzhen replied, signaling Qingquan to bring over a box. He opened it to reveal sections of a ninth-rank fierce beast, the Giant Grass Carp, flash-frozen inside.

“We can do a fast delivery by flying bird. It’ll arrive in a day,” the courier said after a glance. “How many boxes? What’s the total weight?”

“One thousand catties, ten boxes,” Qingzhen answered.

“How heavy is each box?”

“Twenty catties per box.”

“Solid wood boxes are heavy. That’s one hundred and twenty catties per box. You’ll need ten great flying eagles. The postage is six hundred red gold coins, or equivalent value in goods,” the courier said.

“Qingquan, get those claws, pelts, and shells—we’ll have them assessed for value,” Qingzhen instructed.

“Coming!” Qingquan quickly brought over a stack of tattered flying mouse hides, a shell from the Red Armored Crab, and the massive shell of the Bronze Armored Turtle King. The courier showed particular interest in the enormous turtle shell.

“Of all the odds and ends you brought, only this big turtle shell is worth anything. I’ll give you four hundred red gold coins for it. The rest, all together, are only worth fifty. We’re not traders in wild goods, so I can only offer you the base price. If you aren’t satisfied, you can exchange them elsewhere for red gold coins and come back to pay the postage.”

Qingzhen immediately turned to Uncle Zhao, who nodded—selling them elsewhere wouldn’t fetch much more. The small bits weren’t valuable.

“How much will you pay for our ninth-rank fish meat per catty?” Qingzhen asked, calculating that the total offer so far was only four hundred and fifty red gold coins, still one hundred and fifty short of the postage.

“Is it fresh?” the courier inquired.

“Slaughtered this morning,” Qingzhen replied.

“Then you’re at a loss. Live ninth-rank fierce fish go for twenty red gold coins per catty; once dead, only eight,” the courier said.

At Baiwei Pavilion, a catty would cost at least fifty red gold coins, even for dead fish.

Qingzhen suddenly realized how much he’d been overpaying before.

“Qingquan, bring over what’s left from this morning, just enough to make up one hundred and fifty red gold coins.”

“That’s nineteen catties,” Qingquan said, running to the cart to fetch another box. He took out two large cuts—a fish head and a tail. “A full twenty catties.”

They were sizable pieces, but together, they were missing the belly.

The courier took a careful look and couldn’t help but twitch his lips. The box was full of heads and tails, some pieces weighing six or seven catties, others nearly ten. Clearly, the bellies had all gone home.

“Why not sell me the rest as well? Dead fish fetch eight red gold coins per catty everywhere.”

“What about live fish?” Qingzhen asked.

“You still have live ones?” The courier was amazed. “Ninth-rank fierce beasts aren’t easy to catch—ordinary nets can’t hold them.”

“These weren’t caught with nets. Just tell me, do you want them or not?”

“Of course, twenty-one catties.”

Qingzhen looked to Uncle Zhao again, who nodded. “Come with me and take a look.”

Qingzhen had someone bring over a large water barrel. As soon as the lid came off, a big fish leaped out with a bang. Finally, some relief—the cramped barrel had nearly broken its tail.

Bang, bang, bang—the remaining grass carp also made their bid for freedom.

Humans are so cruel, nearly suffocating us at the last moment.

Seeing the giant grass carp, still leaping and thrashing on the stone-paved ground, the courier was overjoyed. What lively fish! With such vigor, there was no doubt they were true ninth-rank fierce beasts, not farmed.

“Haha, let me get someone to gather them up for weighing,” Qingzhen said, a bit embarrassed.

“No problem, I’ll have someone bag them for weighing,” the courier replied, immediately summoning help. Each fish was bagged and weighed, though one worker carelessly got a nasty bite from the carp's sharp teeth, blood spilling everywhere.

“Careful! Do you think these are your home-raised carp? They’re ninth-rank fierce beasts!” the courier scolded.

Farmed fish could never compare to the shimmering, ink-like luster of the wild carp’s dorsal scales. The famed border army’s fish scale armor was made from just such scales, especially those along the spine.

How much fish could Qingzhen and his group eat, after all?

Aside from the thousand catties set aside for his parents, almost three thousand catties of giant grass carp remained here; only a few were left at home for meals.

“In total, two thousand eight hundred and fifty-two catties. At twenty red gold coins per catty, and I’ll round it up for you—fifty-seven thousand, one hundred red gold coins,” the courier said cheerfully. It was a rare treat to receive such a haul of live fish in the morning.

“And the box of frozen fish?” Qingzhen asked.

“That box doesn’t weigh much. I’ll give you six hundred and thirty red gold coins for it. Is that acceptable?” the courier offered.

Qingzhen did a quick calculation—he’d gained a little extra. “Agreed,” he replied at once.

“That makes a total of fifty-seven thousand, seven hundred red gold coins. Come with me, and I’ll take you to settle the accounts,” the courier said.

Qingzhen gave instructions for Qingquan to unload the cart, then went off with Uncle Zhao to complete the transaction.