Chapter 14: Yan Qi's Memories

“A string of coins?”

The man picked up the bundle and weighed it a couple of times, his brows furrowing slightly. His gaze toward Lu Xin and his companion shifted subtly. Lu Xin paid him no mind, still putting on an air of inscrutable confidence. The man, unable to find his pulse, spoke in a much more courteous tone.

“Are you two acting on behalf of your family’s master?”

“Whether we are or not, you needn’t worry about it. This string of coins is merely a deposit. Just answer our questions. If your answers are satisfactory, we’ll take all your goods in the future.”

Lu Xin spoke with poise and vigor, looking every bit the seasoned merchant. Yet he was merely feigning composure; beneath it, uncertainty lingered. After all, he was new to the city, young, and if he didn’t put on a show, it would be all too easy for others to take advantage of him.

The man stared at Lu Xin for a moment longer before smiling faintly and lowering his voice. “It seems you gentlemen know your business. Very well, ask whatever you wish to understand. My name is Yan Qi, from Liang Prefecture. May I know how you gentlemen are addressed?”

“Liang Prefecture? Is that the one near the Northern Desert?”

Cao An’s face changed dramatically upon hearing Yan Qi’s introduction, a look of disbelief spreading across his features. Lu Xin asked what was wrong, but Cao An only shook his head, unwilling to elaborate.

“Ah, it’s no wonder you’re so surprised. Liang Prefecture borders the Northern Desert, close to the Turks. Years of drought and frequent raids by the Turks have left the common folk in misery. For a man from Liang Prefecture to do business here in Yuezhou, it does seem odd. But it’s a matter of livelihood—if there were any other way, I wouldn’t be wandering so far from home.”

Yan Qi’s face betrayed little emotion as he spoke of his origins, but Cao An remained unsettled after hearing the words ‘Liang Prefecture.’ Lu Xin was certain there was more to it, but since Cao An wouldn’t speak, he didn’t press.

“Enough. We paid dearly to leave the mansion just for this Dream Soul Paste. Business comes first.”

Lu Xin mused silently, beginning to inquire about the origins of Dream Soul Paste. At first, Yan Qi was evasive, unwilling to divulge much. Lu Xin had no choice but to offer the last twenty coins he carried.

“To be frank, the world was far less peaceful a decade or so ago. At that time, the emperor of the Tang was raising his army, and the Central Plains were engulfed in war. The Turks seized the chaos to plunder Ganzhou, Liangzhou, and Lingzhou. My brothers and I couldn’t survive in Liangzhou, so we gathered a few horses, crossed the Jade Gate, and began trading in the Western Regions to eke out a living. But the whole realm was restless, and business grew harder by the day. We drifted ever further.”

Yan Qi, recounting his tale, turned to the table, picked up a wine jar, and took several hearty swallows. He seemed excited, as if he hadn’t spoken of the past in a long time. Lu Xin only wished to learn about the supply and effects of Dream Soul Paste, not to hear such rambling stories. Still, he felt it impolite to interrupt, so he endured it.

“Have you heard of the Thirty-Six Kingdoms of the Western Regions? The ones traversed by Zhang Qian of the Han dynasty, envoys among thirty-six small nations. I tell you, I’ve been to every one. Later, we reached the Great Yuezhi. That place was terrifying beyond measure—it was there we encountered the seller of Dream Soul Paste. But it was there too that my brothers and I parted ways, never to meet again.”

Yan Qi, drunk, grew melancholic. His story was long, lasting half an hour. Lu Xin, tired of standing, settled onto the floor. Yet, when Yan Qi mentioned the Great Yuezhi, Lu Xin’s interest was piqued. He remembered vividly a history lesson where the teacher spoke of the mysterious kingdom, even more enigmatic than Loulan. All records of the Great Yuezhi vanished around 200 B.C.

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“Yan Qi, wasn’t the Great Yuezhi destroyed during the Han dynasty? It’s the first year of Zhenguan now—how could you have visited it?”

“You think I’m lying? You know nothing!”

Yan Qi, flushed with anger, hurled the wine jar aside, his pupils dilated with rage.

“The Great Yuezhi did not perish; it merely hides from the eyes of the world. Ha! And you will never find it. Only I know its magnificent beauty—and its chilling terror!”

“So, Dream Soul Paste originates from the Great Yuezhi?”

Lu Xin, unfazed by drunkenness, pressed on with his query.

“No! Though everyone in the Great Yuezhi uses Dream Soul Paste, it’s not produced there. Its source lies farther west. Beyond the Great Yuezhi, at the edge of the Western Regions, there are countless lands. In the sacred domain of the Domi sect, the great puppet kingdom, stands a divine tree—rising from the abyss, hundreds of feet tall, blotting out the sun. Dream Soul Paste is made from the powdered leaves of this tree, crafted through a secret process. Tell me, isn’t such a wonder worth more than a couple of coins?”

Yan Qi was truly drunk, his voice growing louder until Lu Xin had to cover his ears.

“Yan Qi, if everyone in the Great Yuezhi uses Dream Soul Paste, it can’t be deadly, can it?”

“Deadly? Of course not, but…”

“But what?”

“Since I feel a kinship with you today, I’ll tell you the truth. If used once every three days, Dream Soul Paste calms the spirit, aids sleep, and strengthens the body. But too much, too often, leads to lethargy and confusion. I’ve never known it to kill, though.”

“As long as it’s not deadly…”

Lu Xin left Qingshui Alley around noon, about time for lunch at the Xu Mansion. Yet he and Cao An didn’t return at once. Instead, they went outside the city and buried most of the Dream Soul Paste on a barren hill.

They’d bought two thousand pieces from Yan Qi—two full boxes. So much at once would draw too much attention if brought into Xu Mansion. Especially since the West Courtyard was teeming with people, a veritable mix of fish and dragons. To play it safe, Lu Xin decided to bring only five hundred pieces at a time, two bundles just right for carrying. Each took one, avoiding suspicion. As for the rest, Lu Xin only needed to ask Mute Wu for help and could retrieve them anytime.

It was Cao An’s first time doing business; he was both nervous and excited, his cheeks flushed the whole way. Lu Xin, even younger, would still be just a child addicted to mobile games if he were back in the modern world. But here, in the Tang dynasty, he had become a merchant—he himself found it dreamlike.

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Returning to the city, the two were in high spirits and wandered about. Cao An spent money on various things, and even treated Lu Xin to a drink. Normally, Lu Xin was too young to enjoy alcohol, but Cao An took him to a century-old tavern. Their plum wine was famous and delicious. To Lu Xin, it tasted like a modern cocktail, mixed with fruit juice—sweet and sour with a spicy kick, leaving him sweating and exhilarated.

By shopping all afternoon, Lu Xin finally grasped the purchasing power of Kaiyuan Tongbao coins. In Yuezhou, a dou of rice cost only four coins. That meant one Kaiyuan Tongbao could buy about three jin of rice. For ordinary folk, a single coin could feed a family of six or seven for a day.

By that measure, Dream Soul Paste at two pieces for a coin was rather a luxury. In these times, hunger was common. When Lu Xin lived with Grandpa Tu, he couldn’t afford rice every meal either.

As dusk approached, Cao An, wanting to save for dinner, decided to return early. Lu Xin was penniless, so he agreed. When they arrived at the mansion, the West Courtyard kitchen had just begun serving food. Servants gathered in corners, making for a lively scene.

Yet, upon returning to the West Courtyard, Lu Xin noticed many people looking at him with hostility. He could guess why—there were seventy or eighty Dream Soul Paste users in the West Courtyard, usually sending people out in turns to buy. But this month, those who would have gone out were replaced by Lu Xin, so those without stock naturally resented him.

“Heh, glare all you like. In a few days, you’ll come begging me!”

Now that the plan was in motion, Lu Xin had no reason to stop. He feared making enemies, but the mansion’s strict rules and the secret nature of Dream Soul Paste made him unafraid—no one would risk expulsion or even beheading to harm him.

After his cousin left, Grandpa Tu died, and he suffered under Feng Li’s bullying, Lu Xin learned a simple truth: in this world, only those who rise above can survive.

Three days passed in a flash, and Lu Xin was still cleaning latrines. Mute Wu, though he lent a string of coins, never asked about Dream Soul Paste. Lu Xin tried many times to get Wu to teach him martial arts, but was always refused.

“Uncle Wu, your skills are too good to go untaught. Even if you don’t take a disciple, just teach me a move or two—maybe one day I’ll be famous!”

“The world is unified and gradually at peace; people need not learn martial arts to protect themselves. To me, swordsmanship is but a sorrowful memory. For you, it might not be a blessing. Killing skills are best left unlearned.”

“Sigh, fine, if you won’t teach me, I’ll find someone else someday…”

As Lu Xin and Mute Wu argued, Cao An suddenly ran into the latrine courtyard, excitement shining from afar. He held several strings of copper coins, jingling loudly.

“Lu Xin, half the Dream Soul Paste is already sold. The rest should be gone tomorrow. We’re rich! We’re rich!”