Chapter Twenty-Three: The Arena of Exchange (Part One)

Li Sanjian and Yao Yu became fast friends upon their first meeting. After disembarking from the boat, they traveled together for five miles before reluctantly parting ways.

“Take care on your journey, Master Li. Until we meet again,” Yao Yu said, cupping his hands in farewell.

“You as well, Brother Shuxing. Farewell for now,” Li Sanjian replied with the same gesture.

Through their conversation, Li Sanjian learned that Yao Yu’s ancestral home was also in Hebei’s Western Circuit, specifically from Xiangzhou. Yao Yu’s father, a minor official, had fallen in battle against the Khitans. Afterwards, Yao Yu and his mother moved south, settling near Hangzhou in the Liangzhe Circuit. Though Yao Yu had originally been a scholar, grief and anger over his father’s death at the hands of the Khitans drove him to abandon his studies and take up martial arts, vowing to avenge his father.

Li Sanjian deeply admired this, for he, too, was acquainted with such misfortune—the loss of a father in youth, a life marked by hardship.

“Beacon fires warn at the frontier, the swordsman crosses the Sanggan River. Willow-leaf arrows flash silver, peach blossoms glow on the jade saddle. The full moon casts its light on the bow’s shadow, stars glimmer at the sword’s tip. I will not be as Yan Dan, singing in vain by the cold Yi River.”

With a booming voice, Yao Yu recited his poem, striding away with his hand on his sword.

“Brother Shuxing, wait!” Li Sanjian suddenly remembered something and called out, “Before you go, let me offer you a piece of advice: In all martial arts under heaven, none are unbreakable—only speed is invincible. This is true for both martial arts and for battle.”

“In all martial arts under heaven, none are unbreakable, only speed is invincible?” Yao Yu pondered these words as Li Sanjian laughed heartily, slung his book chest over his back, and turned to leave.

. . . . .

On this day, the sun blazed overhead. Along the official road to Qinzhou, a young page boy trudged onward, dressed in black Li attire, with leggings and a black headscarf, carrying a battered book chest under the scorching sun.

Though the journey was arduous, Li Sanjian found his heart growing lighter and his curiosity deeper with every step. The closer he drew to Qinzhou, the more travelers he encountered, and the greater the crowds, the safer he felt. What surprised him most was that the majority of passersby were merchants. Whether merchants or common folk, all were carrying, shouldering, or hauling goods—some drove carts drawn by horses, oxen, or donkeys, all piled high, their wheels carving deep ruts into the road.

Were they all heading to the market? Or did Qinzhou boast some large trading fair? Li Sanjian pondered this as he dodged the passing carts.

His guess was correct: Qinzhou did have a trading market, though it was not called a “trading market” as he imagined, but rather the Boyi Exchange.

The Qinzhou Boyi Exchange was located east of the city, in the Jiangdong Relay Station, and so was also known as the Jiangdong Exchange.

Upon arriving at the Jiangdong Exchange and seeing the three large characters over the gate, Li Sanjian immediately understood that this was indeed a place for trade.

Boyi—exchange. While Li Sanjian did not quite grasp the meaning of “bo,” he certainly understood “yi”—trade.

“Sir, come and look—this year’s new goods, all large and lustrous!”

“Take a look! High quality and low prices!”

“My good gentleman, the price you’re offering is far too low, isn’t it?”

The Jiangdong Boyi Exchange lay directly in Li Sanjian’s path. Once through it, he would soon reach his destination.

Entering the exchange, Li Sanjian found a dazzling array of goods: various fragrant woods—aloes, light incense, prepared and raw incense—alongside pearls, ivory, rhinoceros horn, and more. The air was thick with the cries of vendors and the heated sounds of haggling.

Most of the business was conducted between people from Song and Annam. The Song merchants brought silk, brocade, fine cloth, and tea to exchange for rare treasures from Annam. Each took what they needed, bartering to mutual satisfaction.

However, once a trade was struck, it had to be officiated by government clerks stationed within the exchange. Only after paying the required fee was the transaction considered legal and trouble-free, and an official pass issued. The fee, known as “gang money,” was usually waived for the Annamese but collected from Song merchants.

Despite the lively scene, as Li Sanjian walked through the throng, no one paid him the slightest attention—not even so much as a greeting. Who would bother with a poor, ragged page boy? For all they knew, he was a runaway servant.

“Sir, don’t be fooled by her age—she’s skilled at laundry and cooking, and when she grows up, she’ll serve you well.”

“Generous master, buy this boy—look how sturdy he is! Strong as an ox, and he doesn’t eat much; won’t cost you much in grain.”

Li Sanjian found himself in a dense crowd. On either side of the road stood many iron cages filled with slaves—men and women, adult and child alike.

So this was the slave market. The sight made Li Sanjian frown in displeasure.

His good mood, cultivated along the road, was instantly ruined.

The slaves in the cages stared at the crowd appraising them, eyes wide with fear, or else shrank into themselves, eyes shut tight, resigned to their fate.

The misery of these slaves struck Li Sanjian deeply, leaving his heart aching.

He felt keen pity for these poor, soon-to-be-sold souls, but he knew there was nothing he coul