Dao of the Deal - Chapter 13: Firewood

While it had taken some persuasion to get Yize to take the silver, he did seem more relaxed once he’d made the decision. At least, Muchen surmised as much from the relaxed set of his shoulders. Yize had an impressive poker face for somebody so young.

It was only when he turned and asked his sister if she wanted anything from the village that Muchen spotted the ghost of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

Muchen waited for Chuhua to shake her head before clearing his throat and jumping back into the conversation. “You’re making a trip?”

“Selling firewood,” Yize said. “Our own stockpile is full, so it’s time to carry the extra to the village to sell.”

Muchen stretched before standing. “Why carry it? I’ve got a perfectly good cart that isn’t being used for anything.”

He was curious to see how Yize handled himself around the rest of the village. He also wanted to take the chance to make a few sales of his own. He wasn’t in desperate need of the money, but he needed to follow his dao consistently if he wanted to make steady progress.

“I wouldn’t want you to go to the trouble-”

“No trouble at all,” Muchen said. “I want to stretch my legs anyway, after spending so much time in bed.”

Yize relented with a nod. Muchen smiled and followed him outside, leaving the confinement of their small home for the first time in over a day. The first breath of fresh air lifted his spirits and broadened his smile. The little house nestled in the middle of the woods wasn’t anything special on the Qianzhan Continent, but tourists back on Earth would have had to shell out a great deal of money to enjoy such untouched natural beauty.

The house, once he was looking at it from the outside, was primitive in construction but neat and tidy. Similarly, the yard was far better tended than he ever would have expected from a pair of young teens. The firewood was stacked nearly to the roof of the small shed in the corner of the yard. It was massively in excess of anything the two of them could ever use. Despite Yize’s modest words, this was obviously more in the nature of a side business than a hobby.

The two of them made short work of loading up the cart. Muchen was glad for the chance to move his hands and feet and get his blood pumping. He was a little awkward in his movement at first, until he managed to get it through his head that his injuries really had all healed up in such a short time. By the time they were done moving the firewood, he felt almost entirely back to normal.

Muchen drove the cart out of the yard and onto a small dirt trail. Yize sat beside him on the driver’s bench in the spot usually reserved for Xinyi. The two of them maintained a companionable silence along the way.

They had departed from a home that was halfway up a mountain, but the mountain peak wasn’t the sort of massive thing that would have merited a ski resort in his previous life. It was more in the nature of a big hill, sprawled across the landscape as part of a chain stretching off from the outskirts of Li Village and off toward the horizon. The area they were driving through was only lightly forested, the occasional tree breaking up a sea of wildflowers and leaving a commanding view of the village down below.

Muchen spent most of his time enjoying the view, but sneaked the occasional glance at his traveling companion. That brief hint of a good mood that he’d seen back in the house was well hidden by now. Yize was on alert, his eyes keeping track of any potential danger from the forest around them, but otherwise his expression betrayed nothing of what he was thinking.

For a pair of children to be forced to live on their own, there had to be a tragic story behind it. Muchen wouldn’t pry, but he could make some deductions. For Yize to be comfortable heading into the woods to hunt at a young age, he must have learned it by following his father. One day his father must have ventured too far into the wilds or gotten a little unlucky. As for their mother… well, this was a world of harsh contrasts.

The sects had access to miracle doctors who could heal wounds that even modern medicine couldn’t touch. Some of that medical treatment was available to the wealthy and well-connected. For the vast majority though, it was pretty much up to luck whether they would survive any particular ailment. There were all too many ways for a peasant woman to die young. Muchen didn’t need to know the specifics to know that there had been a tragedy.

Beyond that, he knew that a place like Li Village was usually named for the most common surname, a surname that Yize and Chuhua didn’t share. Even a small town was full of its own politics and competition. A pair of children that weren’t a part of the network of relations by blood or marriage would be hard pressed to survive on their own.

The Qianzhan Continent was a place that was full of such minor tragedies. Still, Muchen had it in the back of his mind that he’d like to do more for Yize than toss him a bit of silver. He just wasn’t sure whether it would be practical. Surviving such difficult times should have made Yize capable. Whether he was somebody Muchen could work with over the long term, though, he’d have to watch for a while longer to find out.

He was brought out of his thoughts when the village came into view. It was a small farming community like so many others throughout the Qianzhan Empire, the picturesque sight of neatly tended fields belying the back-breaking work that went into every single mu of cultivated land.

The sunlight glinted off of a ribbon of water that bounded one side of the settlement. The whole scene was fit for a postcard from his previous life. Unfortunately, in this era, few people had the leisure to enjoy beautiful scenery. To them, the wildflowers dotting the forest weren’t nearly as attractive as a rice paddy that could be relied on to feed a family. Similarly, the commanding view offered by a house halfway up the mountain was heavily outweighed by the inconvenience of needing to travel for some distance over a barely-maintained road to reach the village.

Someday this place could be turned into a luxury resort, but Muchen wasn’t sure just how long it would take for technology to advance far enough to make such a project viable.

He took a glance back behind him. He couldn’t see nearly so well looking up the mountain as looking down, of course, but he could still tell that the forest grew more wild and ominous farther up the slope. While a capable hunter like Yize could make a living from the forest’s bounty, there was a reason most of the villagers preferred to survive by working in the fields.

The dirt path they’d been driving along broadened as they descended to flat ground. It still wasn’t anything to write home about. Back on Earth, Muchen would have hesitated to call it a road. The best that could be said for it was that there weren’t any trees growing directly in their path. Fortunately, Huichen was undaunted by shoddy terrain and kept the cart moving along at a reasonable clip.

Muchen didn’t think they were saving much time compared to walking the same distance, but at least the cart was capable of hauling far more firewood than either of them would have been able to carry. Whatever Yize might think of his presence, Muchen had at least saved him a decent amount of time by insisting on helping him out.

Muchen received the usual mix of curious and suspicious stares from the villagers as they reached the outskirts of town. In this primitive era, especially in a small town like this, strangers were equal parts entertainment and potential threat.

Yize, by contrast, received a far friendlier welcome. The villagers greeted him with smiles, waves, and even occasionally called out once they recognized that the boy riding on the cart was somebody they knew. Yize responded to each of them with a polite nod and an unchanging expression. If the boy was well-liked within the village, it certainly wasn’t due to his silver tongue.

Yize didn’t even crack a smile when he started making sales. He simply directed Muchen on a meandering path around the village. From time to time one of the village women would flag them down and explain how much firewood she wanted. Yize would unload a corresponding bundle from the back of the cart and accept a few copper coins in payment before moving on.

Well, there was something to be said for developing a reputation and a network of repeat customers. Even if his sales technique needed to be polished, there was some potential there.

They made their way halfway around the village before the pleasant routine of successful commerce was interrupted by a hoarse shout. Muchen looked in the direction of the hail to find that they had been stopped in front of one of the larger residences of the village.

A spacious courtyard that could have been used for a productive vegetable garden was instead playing host to a game of mahjong, judging from the tiles and betting markers strewn around the table. Three young men were seated around the table, while a fourth was swaggering in their direction.

Muchen raised an eyebrow. Whoever owned this house was rich enough to own plenty of fields. For a quartet of young, able-bodied men to be lounging around in the middle of the day when there was plenty of work to be done didn’t say any good things about their character. Of course, he could have surmised as much by the smug grin in evidence as the man who had called out drew closer.

“If it isn’t Yize,” the man said, “bringing firewood to my door.”

“I have firewood for sale,” Yize said, “if you pay up front.”

That was a caveat that Yize hadn’t felt the need to add with any of his other customers. It was good to see that he had at least a bit of business sense hiding behind his stone faced facade.

The man chuckled. Two of his friends dragged themselves up to their feet and moved to stand behind him. The fourth was passed out in a drunken stupor.

“Why should I pay?” he asked. “I’ll take this to satisfy the debt you owe me.”

Yize snorted. “Since when are you so generous as to lend me money?”

Matters looked set to degenerate from words to violence at any moment. Muchen felt a momentary flash of guilt. If Yize had been carrying his wares on his back it would have been easy enough to dash away and avoid this whole unpleasant situation. Burdened by a slow moving cart, that wasn’t an option.

“If I say you owe me money, then you owe me money,” the man said. “What are you going to do about it?”

He pushed forward, ignoring Yize’s look of anger as he led his lackeys around to the rear of the cart. Perhaps he would have shown more caution if Yize was armed, but absent his bow and arrow the man had no qualms about engaging in a spot of daylight robbery.

Muchen waited until the leading lackey reached over the tailgate into the back of the cart before he made his move, lashing out with his knife. He missed the leading lackey’s fingers by a whisker as the blade hit the tailgate with a solid thunk and sank a few inches into the solid wood. The man scrambled back, running into his leader and nearly sending the three of them tumbling to the ground.

“Before you take something from my cart,” Muchen said, “you should ask to see if I agree.”

“How dare you,” the man said, drawing himself up to his full height. He would have looked more threatening if his knees weren’t trembling. “Do you know who I am?”

“I know the punishment for thieves,” Muchen said. “I can accompany you to the government office… or we can discuss the matter ourselves, if you insist.”

He wrenched the knife free from the wood and used it to gesture in the man’s direction, leaving little doubt as to the nature of the discussion they’d be having.

Muchen knew there was little danger of a real fight breaking out. Men like this liked to pick on easy targets. When they realized they were picking on somebody who would fight back, the most they were likely to do was put on a show before backing down.

Of course, that was only a matter of probabilities. There was a chance that Muchen had just invited a fight to the death. He knew that. Even so, he felt relaxed and carefree. All three of these men taken together were less of a threat than any one of the wolves he’d faced in his last fight.

Maybe there was something to Xinyi’s training methods after all.

“Now, let’s not be hasty,” the man said. “That boy isn’t worth getting into a fight over. And he really does owe me money.”

Muchen rolled his eyes. The only thing worse than a bad liar was a bad liar who thought he was a good liar.

Ordinarily he wouldn’t waste time bandying words with a halfwit. The man had been thoroughly cowed. He had barely had the guts to stand up to Muchen in the first place, and by the time he gathered his courage—or drank enough wine—and decided to do something stupid, Muchen would be long gone.

Unfortunately, Yize would still be close enough to suffer from retaliation. Not that he couldn’t take care of himself, but Muchen thought it would be ungrateful to leave such a time bomb behind for somebody who had done him a favor.

“I hired him to do business for me,” Muchen said. “Before you beat a dog, you look to the owner first.”

Yize had enough sense to keep quiet. If he was insulted by Muchen’s turn of phrase, he wasn’t showing it on his face.

“If he owes you money,” Muchen continued, not bothering to keep the scorn out of his voice, “you can collect it when it won’t waste my time.”

The man glared at him. He was probably aiming to be intimidating, but to Muchen’s eye he looked petulant more than anything else.

“Who are you?” he asked again. “I’d like to know who’s looking to go into such big business in firewood.”

“Don’t look down on low cost goods,” Muchen replied. “And don’t worry about my business.”

With that he snapped the reins and set Huichen plodding forward. The man stayed behind and glared at the two of them as they left.

The two of them were rather subdued as they made their way through the rest of the village and finished selling off the rest of the firewood. Muchen hadn’t been keeping close track, but he figured Yize had made around a hundred wen or so. More than enough to live on for a day, maybe a few more if they were frugal, but there probably wasn’t enough demand in the village to sell so much firewood more than once a week or so. It really was a small scale business that wouldn’t usually be worth Muchen’s time.

Of course, that wasn’t his biggest concern at the moment. He waited until they were out of town and had some privacy before broaching the subject.

“Will he give you any trouble?”

Yize looked at him and shrugged. “No more than usual.”

“His family?” Muchen asked.

That prompted a moment of thought before Yize replied. In the end though, all it merited was another shrug.

“I wouldn’t cross his uncle,” Yize said. “But his uncle wouldn’t still be the patriarch if he indulged all of Goudan’s vendettas.”