Chapter Twenty-Two: Brother Jia the Virtuous

The ambitious Zhou family had various roles, and Zhou Wenbing’s part was primarily to amass wealth.

Especially with the Zhou family’s ginseng business about to open, Zhou Wenbing even handed an invitation directly to Guo Tongfang. Perhaps he knew that this Grand Steward might return to Changdu at any time.

It was precisely because of this invitation that Guo Tongfang spoke more openly when discussing Zhou Wenbing.

Jia Ping’an listened intently. When Guo Tongfang finished and tried to change the subject, Jia unexpectedly interjected, “So, Zhou Wenbing is a merchant. If he’s buying ginseng, he must be willing to pay a high price, right?”

“That’s natural. The Zhou family came from afar, new to Ningguta, and to establish themselves, they must lure people with generous offers,” Guo Tongfang replied readily. After speaking, he suddenly looked at Jia Ping’an and asked, “Young Master An, why do you ask? Are you thinking of doing business with him?”

Originally, it was meant as a joke.

Everyone knew Ningguta was surrounded by mountains on three sides, abundant with wild ginseng. But truly medicinal, quality ginseng that caught people’s eyes had been nearly all gathered over the years. Even Guo himself had gone up the mountains several times without success.

By Jia Ping’an’s own account, he had only been in Ningguta for a few days—how could he have such fortune?

Or was he, like Jia, thinking the whole mountain was full of wild ginseng and that his luck would be extraordinary?

If so, Jia thought it best to warn him: people must never be overambitious; the greater the hope, the deeper the disappointment.

“Yes, I do have such thoughts,” Jia Ping’an nodded as he reached into his bosom.

His bosom seemed capable of holding the world and many things, but in truth, he was simply retrieving items from a spatial pocket.

He pulled out a long box which obviously contained ginseng, then, with one in each hand, he extended them toward Tong Weixing and Guo Tongfang.

“What’s this for?” Tong Weixing was baffled by Jia’s gesture.

He didn’t ask what was inside because he already guessed. And precisely because of that, he was even more puzzled.

“Remember the rule in Ningguta? Anyone residing here for over three years must submit a medicinal ginseng root to the authorities, or else perform labor service,” Jia Ping’an stated simply, laying out the fact.

Both men, having been here more than two years, naturally knew this rule.

They had even been troubled by it.

The rule was that if the deadline arrived and they failed to fulfill the quota, they would have to perform labor.

As exiled officials, they could not bring many attendants; according to the Xuanguo regulations, no followers were allowed. But laws always bend for human kindness, and these men, accustomed to being served, could hardly manage without at least one servant.

Thus, exiled officials without family were usually permitted one household servant. Tong Weixing had his old servant Tong Gui; Guo Tongfang had an old attendant as well.

In daily life, these servants took care of their masters’ needs. Though few in number, after official duties ceased, they were just enough to manage.

But if labor service had to be performed, the men themselves were incapable of heavy physical work. The servants would have to bear that burden.

Labor service was no easy matter; it involved grueling manual work in conditions of scant food, inadequate clothing, and poor rest, sometimes fatal. For instance, Fan Xiliang, husband of Lady Meng Jiang, died from the exhaustion of labor service.

Being exiled yet having a trusted person by one’s side was precious; they dared not let their attendants suffer mishaps, which naturally caused worry.

Tong Weixing was utterly at a loss.

Guo Tongfang fared better; knowledgeable in equine affairs, he had helped General Hu Buyun manage horse administration even here in Ningguta, earning some silver and making life passable. But to buy wild ginseng, which required hundreds of taels, was beyond his means.

Understanding Jia Ping’an’s intent, Tong Weixing swallowed nervously and said, “So this is...”

“What else could it be but a gift from a junior?” Guo Tongfang, less reserved than Tong, immediately grabbed one wooden box.

“Hey, you...” Tong wanted to stop him. As a scholar, he deeply remembered the teaching that a gentleman does not accept charity.

“Whoa, this must be twenty-year-old ginseng,” Guo exclaimed in surprise before Tong could say anything.

“Good eye, Uncle Guo. Indeed, twenty years,” Jia Ping’an said with a smile, as if it were the most ordinary thing.

“Twenty years, truly!” Guo repeated in amazement. Before, he had only guessed; after more than two years in Ningguta and countless visits to ginseng shops, his eye had grown discerning.

“Twenty years!” Tong Weixing was equally astonished.

His exclamation signaled that although Tong seemed indifferent to worldly affairs, he was not ignorant. He knew well the value of ginseng of this age.

Both men were excited, which only made Jia Ping’an appear all the more inscrutable. Despite his youth, he seemed the calmest of the three.

Of course, in terms of actual maturity, Jia Ping’an was older than both Tong and Guo.

“Young Master An, these are quite valuable. We... can’t afford them,” Tong Weixing was the first to speak of his predicament, worried Guo might accept the gift. The gift was indeed too grand; he feared they could not repay it.

Guo, though carefree outwardly, was very measured in action. His casual demeanor was a protective facade.

When serious matters arose, he knew his limits well. He replied, “Yes, this is too precious; we cannot accept it without merit.”

“Ha ha ha,” the two men’s caution and restraint, even in the face of great temptation, made Jia Ping’an laugh heartily.

Satisfied with their conduct, Jia Ping’an thought if they had shamelessly accepted the ginseng without hesitation, he would have looked down on them and ceased further acquaintance. To others, these roots might be priceless, but to him, they were nothing special—at least, a worthy tool for discerning character.

After his laughter, Jia Ping’an said plainly, “You both call me your nephew, yet hesitate to accept a mere ginseng root? Do you look down on me and not wish to befriend me?”

“Of course not. It’s just that the gift is too valuable...” Tong Weixing did not truly think so; the value simply made him uneasy.

“Very well. Since you acknowledge me as your nephew, then take it. If you’re embarrassed, one day when I rise again, you can lend a hand to your nephew,” Jia Ping’an cut off Tong’s protest with a wave.

Jia Ping’an didn’t care much for these two twenty-year-old wild ginseng roots, but Tong Weixing did. Having been here over two years without even one root, the value was immense to him.

As Tong tried to continue refusing, Guo snapped back to reality and said, “Ha ha ha, since Young Master An honors us old fellows, we will accept. But we have one small condition.”

“Please, Uncle Guo,” Jia Ping’an smiled. He had already noticed Guo was much sharper than Tong.

“Well, we’re not much older than you. I’ve only just entered my thirties, and Brother Guo is even younger, a few years less than me. So from now on, let’s treat each other as brothers, shall we?”

Guo was willing to lower his status, refusing the title of uncle to be called brother—one had to admit, the man was shameless indeed.

“Ah? But...” Tong Weixing was shocked. How could one casually change seniority? What of propriety? Where would they place such conventions?

“Alright,” Jia Ping’an agreed immediately and even added, “Since we get along, we’ll treat each other as brothers. As for my father, we’ll each mind our own business.”

Jia Ping’an was not pleased to call someone younger “uncle,” but given his current status, what choice did he have?

This was a chance to relate as equals, so he did not hesitate. He also quietly admired Guo’s tact.

“Well said, ‘each minding their own.’ Then from now on, brother, I shall call you Junior Jia,” Guo laughed heartily.

“Brother Guo,” Jia Ping’an followed suit, seizing the moment.

Their eyes then both turned to Tong Weixing, who, despite being called Master Tong and appearing older, was actually not yet thirty. His scholarly pursuits and the hardships faced since arriving in Ningguta had aged him prematurely.