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The Hedong caravan reached the pontoon bridge at Shanjin. The junhou guarding the bridge flicked his eyes over the procession, his lips curling downward slightly. With a wave, he sent soldiers to inspect.
The caravan leader hurried forward, beaming, and handed a pre-prepared coin pouch to the lead soldier.
"What's in the carts?" the soldier asked, tossing the pouch to another to count while glancing casually at the leader.
"Just ordinary grain, no contraband," the leader replied, still smiling.
"Oh? Grain? You're new here?" The soldier chuckled, not waiting for an answer. He had a soldier check a cart at random, found no issues, reported to the junhou, and let the caravan pass.
The leader thanked profusely, but inwardly he was puzzled. Usually, these soldiers would find or invent problems, circling the carts and delaying passage until more coins were offered. Today, they let them through without even needing the second pouch he'd prepared. And what was that "new here" comment about?
Curious but cautious, he didn't dare ask. The caravan moved on, crossing the long Shanjin pontoon bridge.
Not far past Shanjin lay a trumpet-shaped valley. At its wider end, near the crossing, stood a massive, crude market enclosed by wooden fences, bustling despite its simplicity.
The shelters were made of roughly cut trees, bark barely stripped, forming frames open on all sides. Thatch roofs offered minimal protection from rain or sun, serving little purpose beyond that.
Yet, under these shabby conditions, merchants in plain silk buzzed like flies around carrion, darting from one shelter to another, waving contracts as if clutching millions in wealth. Their cautious pride sent a shiver through the caravan leader…
This was the look of big business!
The running figures, the carts of goods piled under the shelters—it was as if the air itself carried the alluring scent of copper coins…
The leader took a deep breath, as if to inhale that scent into his lungs, then scanned the market. Spotting the largest shelter for grain trading, his face flushed with excitement. After a few quick instructions, he strode toward it.
Before he reached the grain shelter, a soldier maintaining order stopped him, silently pointing to a wooden sign nearby.
The sign bore four large characters: "Only Sell, No Buy"!
What!
The leader froze, bewildered. They weren't buying grain here?
Why not?
How could they not?
Where was he supposed to sell his grain?
The soldier, seeming to read his mind, pointed again. Outside the market, near the official road, stood a lone, forlorn shelter. Under it, a middle-aged man waved from behind a desk, beside a tiny wooden sign—so small it was easily missed—bearing a single character: "Buy."
The lively market contrasted sharply with the desolate shelter. The leader felt a sinking premonition, as if he himself would soon share its bleakness.
"You're new here?" the middle-aged man asked, smiling.
"Why does everyone keep saying that? And why aren't they buying grain inside?" the leader demanded.
"Because only I buy grain here," the man replied, his smile wolfish, eyes gleaming as if sizing up a plump rabbit.
The leader clasped his hands. "May I ask the grain prices?" Though puzzled, as long as someone was buying, it was fine—grain was grain, no matter the buyer.
The man flipped over a wooden board, pointing to the listed prices for the leader to see.
"Per da shi: millet 650 coins, sorghum 500 coins, wheat 390 coins, millet 420 coins! Are you mocking me?" The leader's anger grew. These prices were barely above Hedong's market rates, just covering transport costs…
Sili's grain prices never dipped below 1,000 coins. Had he hauled grain from Hedong just to earn cartage fees?
Furious, the leader stormed off. If they wouldn't buy here, surely somewhere in Sili would!
The man in the shelter, still smiling, watched him go without a word.
From Shanjin to Shan County, all caravans had to pass through the trumpet-shaped valley's narrow mouth. Soldiers maintained order, so despite the backlog, the caravans moved through methodically.
The leader waited with his caravan.
"You're new here?" an old man from a nearby caravan said suddenly.
"Why does everyone say that?" the leader asked, baffled. Was "newcomer" written on his face?
The old man smiled, pointing to a triangular flag on his caravan. "Without this flag, you can't leave…"
The leader looked around, noticing most caravans had similar flags, marked with codes like "Yihai" or "Dingchou."
"May I ask how to get one?" the leader inquired.
The old man pointed back at the market. "Trade there, get a contract, then take it to the shelter at the camp gate to receive a flag. You need to present it to pass the valley."
"What are you buying, sir?"
"Heh, grain, naturally." In Sili, nothing was hotter than grain.
The leader's eyes flickered. If he couldn't leave without a flag, perhaps—
"My carts carry grain. If you're interested…"
Before he finished, the old man erupted. "If the goods don't match the contract, it's confiscation at best, execution at worst! I kindly warned you, and you try to harm me? Hmph!" He stormed off.
The leader stood stunned, then looked at the valley's mouth, feeling like a rabbit caught in a trap…