Chapter Thirty-Three: The Adopted Son and the Distillery

Zhen Qian and Qin Meng were chatting idly, exchanging words without much purpose. "So what will you do in the future?" Zhen Qian asked.

"Of course I'll be a hunter. What else could I do?" Qin Meng replied nonchalantly, as if he had long since mapped out his life.

"Don’t you want to see what lies beyond this place?"

"The outside world?" A trace of confusion flickered in Qin Meng's eyes; the world beyond was an utter mystery to him. "Isn’t it good enough here? Is the outside really that vast? Are there more mountains out there? I’ve heard from those who left that there are many bad people outside—they steal the food we work so hard to hunt, and force us to do things we don’t want to do. Is that true?"

Zhen Qian found himself at a loss for words. Wasn’t the world outside exactly like that? Full of intrigue, deceptions, and ruthless oppression… Compared to all that, the mountain village was so much more peaceful. Here, there were only wild beasts, not the despair of heavy taxes and forced labor. Perhaps living in such a village was a kind of happiness. "Who told you all that?" he asked.

"Many people…" Qin Meng answered softly.

Zhen Qian didn’t want to dwell on the subject and risk stirring up melancholy in Qin Meng. Instead, he changed the topic: "Why don’t you help me fetch some bamboo tubes and some washed rice? I’ll cook for you!"

Qin Meng looked at Zhen Qian in puzzlement, not understanding how rice could be cooked with bamboo tubes. Driven by curiosity, he fetched over a dozen fresh bamboo tubes and watched as Zhen Qian filled them with clean rice, sealed them, and tossed them into the fire. Looking at Qin Meng’s eager face, Zhen Qian said, "In about a quarter of an hour, it’ll be ready to eat!"

"Really?" Qin Meng looked at him skeptically; it didn’t seem complicated, but who knew if it would taste any good.

Returning to his seat, Zhen Qian glanced toward Qin Hao not far away. He saw Qin Hao looking back at him, beckoning him over.

"I’ll be back in a moment," Zhen Qian said, rising and walking toward Qin Hao. Little Zhu pulled Qin Meng to her side, warming to the dark-skinned boy and stuffing her food into his hands as she chattered away, peppering him with questions.

"Uncle Qin, do you need something?" Zhen Qian sat down beside Wang Qun, addressing the old fox with polite distance. "Thank you for your hospitality, Uncle Qin. If you ever come to Zhen Ding, you must visit the Zhen residence so that I may properly fulfill my duty as host."

"Of course, I’ll be sure to accept the invitation next time!" Whether Qin Hao was truly unaware or just feigning ignorance, he appeared to enjoy Zhen Qian’s polite words immensely, stroking his white beard. "Just now you were chatting quite happily with Qin Meng. What do you think of the lad?"

Zhen Qian didn’t overthink it and replied, "Hearing his story just now moved me deeply. I had no idea Qin Meng has had such a hard life."

"Qin Meng lost both his parents not long after he was born. The villagers raised him. The boy has a strong spirit but is a bit withdrawn. I’m surprised he was able to speak so openly with you," Qin Hao said.

Now that he reflected on it, Zhen Qian realized it was indeed so—living alone would inevitably make one somewhat eccentric, but he didn’t feel right judging.

Seeing Zhen Qian fall silent, Qin Hao sighed and continued, "To tell the truth, Qin Meng has always been very sensible, never asking for help with things he could do himself. He keeps his hardships hidden, which makes him all the more pitiable. Many in the village have wanted to adopt him, but he always refused. Now, seeing how well you two get along, I wonder if you might be willing to take him as your adopted son?"

"What?" Zhen Qian nearly dropped his jaw, unsure if he’d heard correctly. Qin Hao’s expression remained composed, while Wang Qun sat motionless like a meditating monk. Was he really hearing this? Such a proposal could actually be spoken aloud?

Zhen Qian had thought Qin Hao called him over to renegotiate the matter of the distillery and had already begun calculating in his mind. Judging by Wang Qun's hands-off attitude, it was clear he wanted no part in the matter, perhaps as a chance for Zhen Qian to prove his abilities.

"I’m afraid that’s highly inappropriate! I’m barely in my twenties and Qin Meng is but fourteen; we’re only five or six years apart. Wouldn’t people laugh?"

Though an adopted son is not a true son, nor a godson, and there are great differences between them and one’s own children, Zhen Qian had never considered adopting anyone. With such a small age gap, it would be more fitting to call him a younger brother. What was Qin Hao thinking, making such a suggestion?

"Age has nothing to do with adoption. Even if Qin Meng were older, if you were willing, there would be no problem. The important thing is your attitude…" Qin Hao said.

Zhen Qian felt dizzy. Certainly there were cases of elders having younger men as sons or even grandsons, but that was other people’s business—he had no wish to meddle. But now that the matter had been put before him, he couldn’t just ignore it.

"Thank you for your kind offer, Uncle Qin, but I cannot accept this adoption."

Zhen Qian felt as if Qin Hao was toying with him. If not for his age, Zhen Qian might have spat in his face—did he look so easy to take advantage of?

"Don’t be so quick to refuse, Zhen Qian. You wouldn’t be taking him as a false son, but as a sworn son—a companion and protector by your side. There would be no inheritance involved, so there’s no need to worry about complications. I just hope Qin Meng can follow you, to see the world beyond the mountains. When he’s grown, whether he stays or goes will be his own choice. If you agree, we become family, and we can take our time discussing the distillery business," Qin Hao said.

"Who wants to be family with an old fox like you!" Zhen Qian thought. It was unpleasant to be manipulated and he spoke out immediately, "That won’t do. Adoption requires the person’s own consent. It’s improper to discuss Qin Meng’s future in the context of the distillery. These are two separate matters. If you have any difficulty, Clan Leader Qin, speak plainly so our friendship won’t suffer."

The shift in address from "Uncle Qin" to "Clan Leader Qin" marked a subtle change in Zhen Qian’s tone—a step back to advance. Hadn’t Qin Hao said that many in the village wanted to adopt Qin Meng, but he refused? Qin Meng was indeed a proud and self-reliant boy, unlikely to accept such an arrangement. Besides, Zhen Qian had no idea what customs governed adoption in the Tang Dynasty. To agree rashly might bring unforeseen troubles.

Seeing that Zhen Qian was determined not to conflate the two issues, remaining calm and clear-headed despite his tempting offers, Qin Hao’s gaze showed a glimmer of approval. "Since you’d like to discuss the distillery, I’ll be frank. The Zhen family’s plan to open a distillery here is obvious in its implications, but it places the Qin family in a difficult position. No one can guarantee the distillery will remain undiscovered. If that happens, the Qin family will be in danger. It wouldn’t be right for us to take such risks without compensation—you understand this, I’m sure."

"Don’t you think you’re asking for a bit much, Clan Leader Qin?"

"That’s just you being stingy!" Qin Hao chuckled slyly. "Everyone knows the profits of a distillery—if not gold by the bucketful each day, at least a hundred or two strings of cash each month. Spending a little to buy peace benefits both sides, wouldn’t you agree?"

"Old fox!" Zhen Qian cursed inwardly. Whoever said the Qin family was ignorant of the world was dead wrong. Qin Hao was sharp enough to see a profit from a mile away and would pounce at any opportunity.

Zhen Qian raised his bamboo cup and shifted the topic. "The wine brewed by the Qin family is excellent. I imagine it fetches a good price. Why not open your own distillery?"

Qin Hao hadn’t expected Zhen Qian to turn the question back on him and gave a wry smile. "It’s true the fruit wine is our own brew, but the yield is small—barely enough for ourselves, let alone to sell. And we’ve always feared that opening a distillery would expose the Qin family, so we never considered it. Now that you want to set one up, we have to think carefully."

Qin Hao deftly turned the conversation back, but Zhen Qian remained unruffled. "Opening the distillery here does bring risk to the Qin family, but risk comes hand in hand with opportunity. If the distillery is here, you’ll have to rely on your own people as helpers. How could that not benefit the Qin family?"

The two of them, like a pair of foxes—one old, one young—parried back and forth, neither willing to yield. The discussion was reaching a stalemate, when Wang Qun, who had kept silent until now, suddenly spoke. "The Qin family lives in seclusion, enduring hardship and scarcity. Old Brother Qin is simply seeking a better future for his family. If Zhen Qian can lend a hand, I imagine the Qin family would gladly host the distillery here. Wouldn’t you agree?"

"You understand our situation well, Old Brother Wang," Qin Hao replied approvingly.

"If I help the Qin family through its current difficulties, does that mean the distillery can be established here?" Zhen Qian asked.

Qin Hao, shrewd as ever, immediately noticed the composure and confidence in Zhen Qian’s words. He raised his eyebrows slightly and said without concealment, "If you can solve our immediate problems, not only can you open the distillery here, you could even stay here as long as you wish!"

Zhen Qian was reluctant to part with his limited funds, but if it meant helping the Qin family out of poverty, Qin Hao had indeed found the right person.

Though he already had a plan in mind, Zhen Qian was careful not to reveal it all at once. "What would you like me to do, Clan Leader Qin? In my view, the Qin family is sitting on a treasure mountain begging with a golden rice bowl. Perhaps it’s partly a case of not seeing one’s own advantage, but I suspect the real reason is your reluctance to show yourselves to the world."

The Qin family was only twenty miles from Zhen Ding, yet let outsiders come to buy their mountain goods, letting merchants reap all the profit. If Qin Hao didn’t understand this, then the family had no clever people at all.

"You’re right," Qin Hao admitted frankly. "We’ve lived in the mountains for so long, we’ve lost touch with the outside world. We know a little of what goes on, but we have no one suited to deal with outsiders, nor do we know how to navigate the complex relationships, or where to begin. If you could help us, Zhen Qian, you would be a great benefactor to the Qin family. From then on, your business would be ours as well. What do you say?"

Seeing that Qin Hao was only offering empty promises with no real substance, Zhen Qian realized he’d have to put out some bait of his own.

"I plan to open a restaurant in Zhen Ding. Your family are hunters and must have plenty of game every day. If you’re willing, I can exchange grain for your catch. What do you think, Clan Leader Qin?"