Chapter Sixty-Four: No One Is Simple

Yan Ming was at a loss for words. He raised his cup and drained it in one gulp, then said, "Master Zhen, you make me feel deeply ashamed. I was a petty-minded fool, fearing your words were some sort of trap. Please, I beg you not to take offense." With that, he rose and bowed repeatedly.

Zhen Qian smiled and made a show of helping him up. Among peers, repeated bows were already a mark of great respect. When Yan Ming first met Zhen Qian, even after being saved, he merely offered a formal salute; this was partly because Yan Ming regarded Zhen Qian as an ordinary man, and partly because of his own pride.

"We met by chance. As the saying goes, you can know a person's face but not their heart—caution is natural. Now that we've spoken openly, time will reveal true character. To fuss over a fleeting moment would be narrow-minded."

The more Zhen Qian spoke in this manner, the more uncomfortable Yan Ming felt. The man had not only saved his life, but also devised a livelihood for him and his comrades. Yet Yan Ming had suspected his intentions, mistaking kindness for scheming; he wished he could slap himself. He bowed deeply to Zhen Qian and said, "Your generosity is engraved in my heart. Now that I've recovered, I wish to return home first. Tomorrow, I'll visit comrades in various places. Should any news arise, I'll have word sent to Drunken Immortal Tavern. Farewell."

Seeing Yan Ming about to leave, Zhen Qian rose to persuade him to stay, but Yan Ming was determined to return home and resolutely took his leave. Helpless, they escorted Yan Ming to the door and watched him depart.

Yan Ming left Zhendin City, driving his carriage laden with spirits through the gate. The wind cleared his head, sobering him somewhat. Suddenly, a thought struck him; he slapped his forehead and muttered, "Master Zhen—is he perhaps a scion of the Zhen family of Zhendin?"

He realized he only knew the man's name, forgetting to ask about his background, though it would have seemed presumptuous. Instinctively, he linked Drunken Immortal Tavern with Zhen Qian. Though a native, Yan Ming had spent over a decade away as a soldier, and had nearly forgotten the affairs of Zhendin. It dawned on him that Zhen Qian's generosity was hardly fitting for a mere tavern keeper; the man's status must be exceptional.

If Zhen Qian knew Yan Ming had seen through him so easily, he wouldn't know whether to be pleased or resigned.

After Yan Ming's departure, the group in Drunken Immortal Tavern hurriedly finished their meal and left as well. Wang Qun followed Zhen Qian upstairs. Once they were seated and Xiao Zhu poured two cups of water, Zhen Qian asked, "Uncle Wang, what made you suggest Yan Ming contact his old comrades? These veterans may have experienced many battles, but they lack any business experience. Isn't this too rash?"

Though Zhen Qian had agreed with Wang Qun downstairs, he remained uneasy. Entrusting the sales of spirits to a bunch of old soldiers accustomed only to fighting was unsettling.

Wang Qun noted that Zhen Qian waited until they returned to the room before asking, and thought his self-discipline far exceeded others of his age.

"You may not know, Young Master, that though these veterans served on the frontier, they've been exposed to much. They're not ignorant of business, either. Did you notice Yan Ming never mentioned the profit from spirits?"

Zhen Qian recalled that during negotiations, Yan Ming never brought up profits. Hearing Wang Qun speak now, he sensed something was amiss.

"Is there something wrong?" Zhen Qian asked.

Wang Qun laughed teasingly. "Every year, countless grape wines and Samarkand brews are brought from the Western regions to the Great Tang. Do you think Yan Ming is unaware? Soldiers love good drink; Yan Ming is no exception. Song Yi said Yan Ming used to buy wine at Drunken Immortal Tavern, but stopped when his purse ran dry. Today, when you asked him to promote spirits, did he ever protest that spirits couldn't be sold? He hesitated only out of fear we might deceive him—not because spirits can't be sold."

At first, Zhen Qian thought Yan Ming honest and simple, but now saw he had shrewdness as well. His hesitation wasn't about the saleability of spirits, but about trusting them. Zhen Qian could only chuckle wryly.

Wang Qun continued, "Don't assume Yan Ming's comrades are all solitary, unskilled fellows like him. He's an exception; most joined the army because their families had too many sons. Especially those stationed on the frontier—if they don't squander their pay, they'll have considerable savings, even in old age. Yan Ming lost his family, so his money slipped away; but for others, this venture is likely to succeed!"

Even if the outcome was uncertain, Wang Qun knew that if it succeeded, the spirits would find a market in Hebei.

Understanding a person is hard; blending into an era is harder still. Zhen Qian realized, after Wang Qun's explanation, how ignorant he was of the customs and environment of the time.

Yan Ming was an odd one: after returning home, he refused to farm, yet was sentimentally attached to the land, insisting on buying a few acres to play landlord. But he couldn't cultivate it himself and had to hire help—wasn't that just throwing money away?

In the Tang dynasty, yields per acre were low. Good fields produced barely over two shi per acre; poor fields yielded less than one shi. A few thin acres could hardly sustain Yan Ming.

He was also a man of pronounced character; back home, he refused to bow his head, which led to his impoverishment, finally forcing him into the mountains to chop wood for a living.

To Zhen Qian, Yan Ming was one of those "when one eats, the whole family is fed" types. According to Wang Qun, most private soldiers weren't destitute; with effort, they could save enough in the army to live comfortably in retirement. Yan Ming, it seemed, lacked any long-term plans.

"There's nothing wrong with Yan Ming himself, is there?" Zhen Qian asked.

"Though he's not adept at business, his words and actions show he's straightforward and loyal. If he harbored any crooked intent, he'd never have worried about our proposal being a trap. He's clearly afraid we'll exploit his comrades. Such a man values his honor above his life..."

Zhen Qian's impression of Yan Ming matched Wang Qun's. He said, "Having Yan Ming's comrades open taverns locally may not be as effective as traveling merchants, but it allows our spirits to bloom everywhere. If each place has one of our taverns, even if only a hundred or two hundred jars are sold annually, a dozen shops would mean a considerable volume. The key is, our spirits' reputation will spread, and stationary merchants will come to us for cooperation. Then, the business will be impossible not to thrive!"

"There's another point," Wang Qun added. "We used to beg those traveling merchants because we lacked our own sales channels and were forced to accept their low prices. I wonder how they'll react when they hear of this—they might just fly into a rage!"