Chapter Thirty-Seven: Archery Practice

“Of course, things won’t be so simple, but everything has to wait until the tea trees grow before we can proceed to the next step!” Zhen Qian didn’t want to reveal everything to Qin Hao; their partnership had just begun, and keeping some matters to himself would be advantageous.

Seeing Zhen Qian unwilling to elaborate, Qin Hao, who knew things wouldn’t be straightforward, replied, “That’s fine! The slope at the foot of the mountain isn’t useful anyway. I’ll follow your lead…”

As the morning sun climbed higher, the mist in the mountains gradually dispersed. Standing atop the ridge, the landscape below was laid out in full view.

Zhen Qian looked around and saw the rugged terrain. A silver ribbon wound through the mountains—he recognized it as the Tuo River, flowing past the Qin family’s home.

“Qin Elder, where is your place?” Zhen Qian pointed toward a hollow in the mountain.

Qin Hao followed his gaze and chuckled, “Have you taken a liking to that hollow?”

Zhen Qian nodded. The spot was surrounded by mountains on three sides, with water on the fourth. The terrain was perilous; sheer cliffs formed a natural barrier.

“It’s a good location, but crossing the river won’t be easy. Building a bridge will be quite an undertaking.”

“This is the place!” Zhen Qian declared without hesitation.

Qin Hao pulled a face. “Are you planning to set up your distillery there as well?”

“Of course. Is there any trouble for the Qin family?” Zhen Qian sensed his hesitation—constructing a bridge was no small feat; it would take at least ten days to a month. But Zhen Qian was resolute; such a prime spot was rare.

“You jest, Master Zhen. The Qin family has plenty of hands, just not much else. But to finish everything will take a month, and we’ll surely trouble you again.”

“You’re too polite, Elder Qin. Our partnership is mutually beneficial. The Qin family has boundless mountain resources; I merely offer advice. We share the profits, so it’s not truly a bother.”

“You’re right! Why not stay a few more days? There’s much here that needs your guidance.”

After exchanging pleasantries, seeing the day was advancing and the site chosen, they descended the mountain, touring the area around the Qin household. Entering the village, they noticed a child pounding something with stones. Upon closer inspection, Zhen Qian found the child cracking a pile of small walnuts. He picked up a few and asked, “Elder Qin, are there many such nuts in these mountains?”

Qin Hao nodded, “If you like them, there are indeed many, but they’re not staple food. If you wish, I can have some gathered for you.”

Zhen Qian replied mysteriously, “I won’t take advantage of the Qin family. If it’s convenient, have people collect as many as possible—I’ll buy them all, ten coins a pound. How does that sound?”

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Qin Hao saw Zhen Qian was serious and reminded him, “These aren’t worth much here. Are you sure?”

For a long time, nuts were forgotten, their hard shells discouraging people from eating them—unlike the enthusiasm for seeds, nuts were troublesome and often considered medicinal. For the refined ancients, grappling with such food was hardly elegant.

“I need a lot, and I’ll be buying from you long-term. I’ll also provide work for the village women. The bamboo huts I stayed in yesterday can serve as my base here. There are a few other matters I need you to collect for me before I leave.”

Zhen Qian had discovered that apart from some capable hunters, the Qin family lacked artisans. He had hoped to make use of the surrounding bamboo groves, producing bamboo goods, but they could only offer basic bamboo sticks and tubes—not even simple woven mats. He’d have to find another solution elsewhere.

Qin Hao looked frustrated and apologetic. Zhen Qian had suggested several ways to prosper, but the Qin family could do very little. It was true—they were sitting atop a mountain of gold and begging for food. Their predicament was no one’s fault but their own.

“Master Zhen has many ways to make money, but aside from hunting, the Qin family knows little else. We’ll need your help.”

Zhen Qian thought the Qin family’s poverty was well deserved. So many years, and they never learned a craft—he couldn’t help but mentally shake his head at Qin Hao.

“Let’s take it slow! I was a bit hasty; learning a craft takes time. I didn’t fully consider that before.”

After this discussion, Qin Hao realized how thin their foundation was—even something as simple as weaving bamboo mats hadn’t occurred to them. A mat wasn’t worth much but could still help the family avoid hunger. It was Zhen Qian who pointed out the obvious.

“If you have more good ways to earn, share them. The Qin family can plan accordingly.”

Noting Qin Hao’s greed, Zhen Qian replied disdainfully, “If the Qin family makes use of the surrounding sea of bamboo, you could earn five or six hundred strings of cash a year. The urgent task is to find skilled bamboo workers. Bamboo can be used for mats, chairs, lanterns—anything connected to bamboo. Once you master the craft, the ancient vines in these mountains are also valuable materials. When that happens, wealth will be inevitable.”

Qin Hao grinned, feeling Zhen Qian’s words were right—the road ahead for the Qin family was long.

Amid laughter and conversation, the group reached the village entrance. The dozens of cartloads of goods brought earlier were gone, replaced by furs and mountain produce. Wang Qun was directing people to load carts. Spotting Zhen Qian, he approached, “Young Master, I’ll return to the county today and bring the goods you requested in a couple of days. I’ll handle things at home—you needn’t worry!”

“With Uncle Wang handling it, I’m at ease. Safe travels!”

Qin Hao chuckled, “Brother Wang, rest assured. Master Zhen is our honored guest. Though our place can’t compare to yours, many things are no less than what you have. We’ll make him feel at home. Hurry back—the Qin family is counting on Master Zhen to turn his ideas into real wealth!”

Scholars speak of honor, merchants of profit. Now, Qin Hao’s mind was filled with thoughts of prosperity for the family—he had nothing to hide, though it made Zhen Qian and Wang Qun a bit embarrassed.

Wang Qun drove the carriage away, disappearing over the mountain, while Zhen Qian turned back to the village.

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Qin Hao pointed to the surrounding mountains, “If you wish to enter the wilds, I’ll have someone accompany you. You can hunt along the way—it’s more fun than the outings scholars take for sport.”

Zhen Qian did want to experience the thrill of hunting in ancient times, but he didn’t know archery, nor had he ever seen bows in his family, likely because they had no time for such diversions.

“Elder Qin, I don’t know how to shoot. Could someone teach me?”

“You don’t know?” Qin Hao looked at him as if he were a rare creature. In this age, it was uncommon for someone of Zhen Qian’s status not to know archery. It was like everyone in later times knowing how to play basketball or soccer—not necessarily experts, but at least familiar.

“Godfather, let me teach you!” Qin Meng immediately volunteered.

“You rascal,” Qin Hao affectionately patted Qin Meng’s head. The boy dodged, protesting loudly, “I’m not a child anymore!”

Seeing Qin Meng eagerly take charge, Qin Hao smiled, “Very well, you take your godfather to practice. I have a bow to give you, Master Zhen—please don’t refuse.”

When Zhen Qian saw the bow Qin Hao presented, his expression darkened—not because it was particularly good or bad, but because it was an ordinary horn bow. As soon as he tried it, he realized ancient bows were nothing like modern compound bows; without considerable strength, he couldn’t even draw it.

“Godfather, this is a two-stone hard bow, commonly used by the Qin family for hunting. The clan leader knows you haven’t used a bow before, so he replaced the string with a softer one. Now the draw strength is about one stone. Let me teach you some archery techniques.”

Qin Meng demonstrated with his own bow, “Godfather, don’t take the bow yet. Spread your feet shoulder-width apart, both hands with three fingers interlocked beneath your chin, elbows and shoulders level, arms pulling outward, then release your fingers, opening your arms horizontally with the force. After release, if you pause, your body should form a big ‘T’. This is the basic release action. All archery movements are based on this. Coordinate your breathing: inhale when drawing, exhale when releasing. Follow my example!”

Once he started practicing, Zhen Qian realized archery was far more complicated than he’d imagined—especially compared to the effortless mastery shown by heroes in dramas, drawing and shooting with perfect grace, never missing, shooting arrows backwards, or tossing them—like playing a game. When he tried himself, it was a different story.

At first, archery was much like martial arts stance training: dull, repetitive, full of entry-level techniques. After a few repetitions, his waist ached, his back hurt, and his arms and fingers went numb.

After a while, Zhen Qian nearly wanted to give up, but for the sake of his own survival, he persevered.

“Godfather, now I’ll teach you the ‘three-step archery method’. First, grip the bow and nock the arrow. Use your thumb and forefinger to hold the bow, nock the arrow on the bend of your forefinger, draw the string with three fingers, and hold the arrow between your index and middle fingers. Second, inhale, draw the string beneath your chin, pause for a few breaths to check your posture—are your shoulders and elbows level? Don’t look at the target! Draw quickly, release slowly. After drawing fully, count to three in your mind. Third, release and exhale, move your drawing hand back and let the arrow fly. After shooting, check your posture; keep your gaze straight ahead, don’t worry about hitting the target. As long as your form is correct, your arrows will land together. Practice these three steps a hundred times a day, and within a month, you should be able to hit the target from fifty paces.”

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