Chapter 38: The Third Pavilion Under Heaven

The Jia family was down to a single heir. This was the reality of their situation, and because of it, whenever Jia Ping’an was mischievous or failed to memorize his lessons as a child, the most his father, Jia Fanghao, would do was glare at him. A beating? That was out of the question.

The Jia family’s lineage rested on this one sprout; they cherished him far too much to ever lay a hand on him in discipline. Jia Ping’an understood this perfectly, which was why he had added that final remark—a statement heavily laced with the implication of a threat.

"Do not obstruct my work. I intend to marry many women and expand the Jia family line. Conversely, if you stop me, I shall remain a monk for the rest of my days."

The threat proved effective; Jia Ping’an could see the chest of his father, lying there in bed, heave twice in rapid succession. Clearly, Jia Fanghao understood the "threat" and was incensed by it. Jia Ping’an was not unfilial; he simply refused to be blindly obedient. Who was to say that parents could not be wrong? If he knew their reasoning was flawed, was he still expected to follow it? If that was what filial piety required, Jia Ping’an would have no part of it.

Having said what needed to be said, Jia Ping’an trusted his words would take effect. At the very least, his father would not stand in his way for the time being. Jia Ping’an rose from his chair. Just then, the voice of his younger sister, Jia Rongrong, rang out in the courtyard: "Brother, Rongrong has washed her face and is very pretty now. Come out and play hide-and-seek with me!"

"Coming," he replied from inside the room before heading out, leaving Jia Fanghao lying in bed, feigning sleep as his breathing gradually steadied.

In the days that followed, Jia Ping’an became busy. Especially at night, after everyone else was asleep, he would enter his personal space. The tea trees were already planted in the black soil. They did not disappoint; the seeds had taken root and sprouted, growing not only vigorously but at an astonishing speed. To ensure his tea was unique, Jia Ping’an watered it with diluted spirit spring water, which only made the growth more delightful. He did worry about wasting the spring water, fearing it might one day run dry, but so far, the spring remained full, as if any amount taken was instantly replenished. Jia Ping’an could not fathom how these magical occurrences happened right before his eyes, but since the results were favorable, he saw no need to fret.

With the tea sorted, Jia Ping’an began researching alcohol. He had tasted the local spirits; made from sorghum, the flavor was mediocre, and most importantly, the alcohol content was far too low—comparable to modern beer. This left him dissatisfied. In his previous life, as a high-ranking secretary, he had a great capacity for liquor and was accustomed to fine spirits. He was unwilling to settle for the equivalent of beer.

Since it wasn't available on the market, he would make it himself. He swapped sorghum for glutinous rice and utilized distillation techniques to increase the potency. Having visited many distilleries during his time in office, the process was well-imprinted in his mind.

While crafting his strong spirits, he did not forget about spices like Sichuan peppercorns and star anise. Chili peppers did not exist in this era, but with the help of his little companion, "Xiao Bai," and after a thorough description, the two ventured into the mountains and found *Zhu Yu* (cornelian cherry dogwood) buried deep in the snow. Its fruit resembled goji berries and could be soaked in wine, eaten like chili, or consumed as a snack. After being frosted, it tasted even sweeter—a perfect temporary substitute for chili. By transplanting the roots into his space, the issue of spiciness was resolved. With this, he knew his restaurant would be a success.

He also had to attend to hardware requirements. He traded ginseng with the Zhou family for bolts of fabric. The Xuan Kingdom was not a textile producer, so the price was high, but Jia Ping’an had deep pockets. When he ran short of money, he simply traded high-quality ginseng, much to the delight of Zhou Wenbing. Zhou would fulfill any request Jia Ping’an made, or find a way to make it happen. A high-end restaurant required uniform attire for its staff to distinguish itself.

As Jia Ping’an busied himself, Chang Chao was not idle. Tasked with overseeing the restaurant’s construction, he acted as the foreman. The Zheng family provided five hundred laborers, working overtime to complete the foundation before the ground froze. Driven by the lure of money, even as October arrived and the air turned cold, nothing could stop their progress.

Was the foundation too hard to dig? No problem. Jia Ping’an had money; he produced ginseng root after ginseng root, exchanging them for silver that made the Zheng clansmen go wild. If one shovel-strike didn't move the earth, they used two. As long as they kept at it, there was nothing they could not create. As for the rafters, that was even easier. Ningguta was surrounded by mountains on three sides, and there was no shortage of sturdy timber. Again, as long as one was willing to spend, nothing was impossible.

The commotion soon spread throughout Ningguta. Everyone knew that a lucky young ginseng hunter named Jia Ping’an had struck it rich and was building a new restaurant. Opinions were divided, with all sorts of rumors flying. Regardless of the skepticism, Jia Ping’an proceeded methodically according to his plan.

A month and a half passed in the blink of an eye. With less than half a month until the New Year, the restaurant stood according to his blueprints. Furthermore, the chefs and staff purchased by the Zhou family from Changdu had arrived, travel-worn but ready. Zhou Wenbing had put in significant effort, writing to his clansmen to hasten the process, hoping to prove the strength of the Zhou family's influence and demonstrate that partnering with them was Jia Ping’an’s wisest choice.

Upon receiving word, Jia Ping’an arrived at the Zhou family’s ginseng firm. Entering the back courtyard, he saw a crowd of sixty people squeezed into the small space. Zhou Cai, who had been waiting for him, greeted him with a beaming smile.

"Master Jia is here."

"Manager Zhou, thank you for your hard work," Jia Ping’an said, cupping his hands in a respectful salute.

"Oh, it's nothing, just passing along a message," Zhou Cai replied modestly. He knew that this young man was the firm’s "god of wealth" and not someone to be offended, maintaining a fawning smile on his face.

Zhou Cai led the way, and Jia Ping’an, accompanied by Chang Chao and Zheng Tongheng of the Zheng clan, headed straight for the back hall. Zhou Wenbing was speaking with his clansmen when he saw Jia Ping’an. Before even greeting him, he laughed, "Master Jia, I have fulfilled my mission. Both the people and the goods are here, every last one, ha ha ha!"

"Ha ha ha, I see. I must thank you, Clan Leader Zhou," Jia Ping’an replied, also laughing. It was not mere politeness; he had already scanned the crowd. Despite the winter cold forcing the women to dress in bulky layers, he could see they were all over 1.6 meters tall—a rarity in an era where the average stature was much lower.

"Since the Zhou family took on your order, we naturally did our best. By the way, here is the roster and the indentures. Also, this crate contains the fabric you requested. See if it meets your expectations," Zhou Wenbing said, handing over a thread-bound ledger.

"Excellent, excellent." Jia Ping’an took the roster and did a quick count—exactly sixty people. He handed the ledger to his assistant, Chang Chao, and walked over to the crate. He pulled out a piece of red patterned fabric from the top. It was thick and of high quality. He nodded in approval. "The goods are excellent. I accept them. As for the balance, please tell me the total, Clan Leader Zhou."

The initial five ginseng roots had sold for ten to twenty thousand taels, which covered the cost of the people, but not the fabric. He owed Zhou Wenbing, and he was ready to pay. As long as the price wasn't an extortionate demand, Jia Ping’an would accept it. With his personal space, earning money was easy. However, if Zhou Wenbing tried to take advantage of him, their future cooperation would be limited. Business was about long-term, mutually beneficial relationships.

Jia Ping’an’s proactive offer to settle the account made Zhou Wenbing smile broadly. He signaled to Zhou Cai, who took out an abacus and began to calculate. In a moment, the total was ready.

"Master Jia, here is the final tally. Including the ten crates of fabric, it comes to thirty-three thousand, eight hundred taels."

Zhou Cai presented the detailed account to Jia Ping’an, clearly inviting him to check the figures. The ledger listed the costs for the ten chefs—one hundred taels each, including their indentures, which was quite reasonable for skilled labor.