Chapter Five: The Unscrupulous Merchant

This time, the pearl-diving fleet returned without incident; only a few were stung by jellyfish, but there were no fatalities. The harvest was bountiful, and the pearls were of excellent quality. When the jubilant fleet arrived at the fishing village, the anxious families waiting on the shore burst into cheers, some even shedding tears of joy—not for wealth, but for the safe return of their loved ones.

Pearl-diving was fraught with peril; every expedition brought the risk of never returning, and each time, someone was left behind in the pearl pools forever. That all their kin returned this time was nothing short of a miracle.

As the boats docked, a woman rushed from the crowd, flinging herself at Fugui and the others, clutching Li Sanjian tightly and sobbing, “Jian’er, Jian’er, you... you’re so thoughtless! Do you want to frighten your mother to death?”

“Ah, sister, Jian’er is just fine, isn’t he?” Fulín patted his chest proudly. “With his uncle here, what danger could befall him?”

Fu'er Niang grew even more agitated at this, turning to Fulín. “You dare say that? Jian’er may be reckless, but aren’t you as well? Why didn’t you send him back?”

“It’s not like I called him here, nor did I make him stay,” Fulín muttered under his breath.

“Enough, Niang, Jian’er is safe and sound. Let’s not blame him,” Fugui said with a cheerful smile.

“Yes, Mother, don’t worry. See, nothing happened to me,” Li Sanjian tried to comfort her.

“Am I old?” Fu'er Niang laughed at his words.

“Not at all. You’re as beautiful as a flower!” Li Sanjian replied playfully.

“Such a cheeky tongue! Is that how you speak to your mother?” Seeing Sanjian unharmed, Fu'er Niang dragged him along, fussing endlessly.

“Mother, we had a great haul this time—so many pearls, and even a black one!” Li Sanjian exclaimed excitedly.

Later, when the pearls were sold or exchanged for other goods, the earnings would surely be substantial. Li Sanjian thought to himself, having contributed to the effort, he ought to receive a share—enough, perhaps, to ease his family’s hardship for a while.

As Li Sanjian dreamed of fortune and Fugui and the others busied themselves unloading, a commotion broke out in the crowd. Several merchants pushed their way forward, led by Chen Yide, head of Yuanfu Trading Company from Fujian.

Chen Yide, in his forties, hailed from Quanzhou in Fujian, born into a merchant family and well connected with both the court and local officials. He had been trading in marine goods for over a decade and was familiar with Fugui and his peers.

Among all the pearl and tortoiseshell buyers, Chen Yide always offered the best prices. The pearl divers preferred selling to him or exchanging their pearls for grain, cloth, wine, salt, and other necessities.

“Master Chen, what brings you here in person? Allow this old man to salute you,” Fugui said, bowing with a smile as Chen Yide approached.

“Heh, we’re old acquaintances—no need for formalities,” Chen Yide waved his hand. “I hear you had quite the harvest this time, Old Fugui?”

“Thanks to heaven’s favor, the yield this year is indeed good, several times better than previous years, and the quality is excellent,” Fugui replied.

“When Old Fugui takes charge, there’s always a bounty,” Chen Yide said, with a subtle compliment, before continuing, “Let’s get to the point. I’ll buy all the pearls you’ve harvested, at the usual prices. Is that agreeable?”

“Well...” Fugui hesitated. “It should be so, but as you see, the weather’s been unpredictable. We likely won’t be able to dive for pearls again this year. My people rely on these pearls to get through to next year. Master Chen, could you perhaps offer a bit more?”

“Hmm, that’s reasonable,” Chen Yide mused. “Our friendship is deep. Name your price, and I’ll see if I can manage the deal.”

Fugui pondered for a long moment before replying, “This time, we’ve gathered over twenty pearls the size of a longan. For those with blemishes, one pearl for five bushels of rice, three pounds of salt, and two pints of wine. For flawless pearls, eight bushels of rice, five pounds of salt, and three pints of wine. For the rest, add a bit more to the usual price. How does that sound?”

“Hmm...” Chen Yide looked troubled. “Old Fugui, your prices are more than double last year’s. If I ship them to the capital, I’d barely make a profit. This isn’t quite fair, is it?”

“Yes, the prices are too high—there’s hardly any profit,” another merchant chimed in.

“That’s right, the journey is long and arduous. At these prices, selling in the capital would leave us with nothing,” said another.

“Too expensive, no margin left. Why bother buying pearls? We might as well leave and cut our losses,” they complained, beating their chests as if they’d lost everything.

Fugui grew anxious, watching Chen Yide. “Is it really too high? Then, Master Chen, name your price.”

His household, including Fu'er Niang and her son, had seven or eight mouths to feed, and they were on the verge of starving. Fugui was desperate for grain, salt, and other daily necessities.

Chen Yide smiled, patting Fugui’s shoulder. “Well, I won’t make things difficult. For top-grade pearls, three bushels and five pints of rice per pearl, plus two pounds of salt and two pints of wine. The lower-grade pearls, twenty strings of cash per pound or a hundred bushels of rice, with salt and wine as needed. Old Fugui, this is already much more than last year. What do you say?”

Fugui fell silent. The price was indeed better than before, but surviving until next year would still be tough; barely enough to keep the family from starving, let alone save anything.

“It’s close enough. We’ll make only a slim profit, what more do you want?” another merchant said.

“That’s right, greed has no bounds. One must learn contentment,” others chimed in.

“Very well, let’s settle it this way,” Fugui finally agreed after glancing at the divers behind him.

He had no choice. Chen Yide and the other merchants not only knew this trade route well, but also had subtle ties with the officials of Qiongtai. If Fugui and his crew refused, they might not even be allowed to go out to sea, let alone dive for pearls.

“Bring the pearls over,” Fugui instructed the divers.

They responded and began unloading the pearls from the boats.

Chen Yide waved for his men to inspect the goods.

“Wait!” Li Sanjian couldn’t hold back any longer, and shouted, “Don’t make the deal! Don’t give them the pearls—it’s too cheap!”

He still didn’t know what era he was in, nor did he understand the prices of grain, salt, or wine. He had no idea about the value of pearls either.

But he knew one thing: pearls were rare treasures, especially large, perfectly round ones—they were priceless. How could they be traded for mere pints of rice or wine?

“Jian’er, don’t be rude,” Fugui scolded.

Fu'er Niang tugged gently at Li Sanjian’s sleeve, signaling him to stop.

“Oh? Who is this young man, and why does he object to our trade?” Chen Yide asked with amusement. A naïve youth—did he really understand the business? Chen Yide’s curiosity was piqued.

Li Sanjian, though slight, was handsome, with a fair, smooth face and deep, dark eyes. His skin was lighter than most fishermen, more like a scholar...

“Master Chen, he’s my grandson. He’s... he’s not quite right in the head—often speaks nonsense. You needn’t pay him any mind,” Fugui replied hastily.

Chen Yide laughed heartily. “Mad? Nonsense? I don’t think so. I’d like to hear why the young man opposes our purchase.”

An idiot? So he’s simple-minded, Chen Yide thought, his intrigue only growing.

Li Sanjian saw the mocking looks on the faces of Chen Yide and the merchants, and grew angrier. Ignoring Fu'er Niang’s pull, he pointed at the sacks of rice. “How much is this rice?”

He had been in this world for several months and had learned enough of the local tongue to be understood.

Chen Yide and the others were startled, sensing trouble, and looked at Li Sanjian without replying.

“How much is this rice worth? I heard you mention the capital—what’s the price of rice there? By the way, where is this capital?” Li Sanjian remembered the mention of “the capital,” and wondered which country’s capital it might be.

The crowd burst out laughing. Surely, he was simple-minded—even the location of the capital was unknown, and yet he dared to interfere.

Relieved, the merchants began to taunt him.

“The capital is our sacred dynasty’s city—Kaifeng Prefecture,” an elderly man called out from the crowd. He had a lean face, a beard flecked with gray, and was about sixty.

“Kaifeng... Kaifeng...” Li Sanjian muttered for a long time before blurting out, “Are we in the Song dynasty now?”

The old man was bemused. This foolish boy didn’t even know what dynasty he was in—over a hundred years since the founding of the Great Song!

“Indeed,” the old man laughed, but answered, “It’s the Shaosheng era of the Great Song.”

“Oh, I see,” Li Sanjian nodded. “What’s the price of grain in the capital?”

“I’m not certain, but a bushel never exceeds thirty coins,” the old man replied.

Li Sanjian grinned and pressed on, “What’s the price of wine per pint in Kaifeng? And what about salt?”

The old man rolled his eyes. “You know nothing, yet you jump in to argue—simply foolish beyond measure.”