Chapter Sixty-Five: Wealth in the Remote Mountains Attracts Distant Kin

That night, Zhang Yue had a particularly strange dream—one that could only be described as the fevered fantasy of a teenager in his "chuunibyou" phase.

In the dream, crowds shouted all sorts of bizarre names: Wang Anshi, the indomitable top laner; Lü Huiqing, the explosive mid laner; Zhang Dun, the ruthless AD carry; Zeng Bu, the mysterious jungler; Wang Gui, the divine support...

Half-awake, Zhang Yue couldn't help but complain inwardly—what sort of nonsense was this? So many random, jumbled terms.

Still, he had to admit Wang Anshi was impressive. Once, Wang Anshi and Cheng Hao were discussing the many obstacles facing reform at home. Wang Anshi’s son, Wang Pang, happened to pass by and overheard. He sat down at once and declared, “If we behead Han Qi and Fu Bi in the marketplace, the new policies will be implemented without opposition.”

Cheng Hao was horrified by this.

When Wang Anshi enacted his reforms, he was indeed cursed by many, but after stepping down, the old faction still gave him face and didn’t attack his character.

Thinking of his own second brother, Zhang Yue sighed again. He wished his brother could be an ordinary, unremarkable man—even just a regular scholar would be enough; then he could rely on him without worry. But if his second brother really was Zhang Dun, such a politician might not be a blessing for the family.

“Junior, you didn't sleep well last night, did you?” Guo Lin rose groggily.

Zhang Yue rubbed his eyes and replied, “Senior brother, sorry about that—how did you know?”

“You had your legs across my chest all night. How could I not notice?”

Zhang Yue laughed sheepishly. The other bed in the north room was given to Scholar Guo; so he and Guo Lin shared one bed. Zhang Yue’s sleeping habits were notorious.

As soon as Zhang Yue got up, he heard the voices of Zhang Shi and Lady Yu bickering in the southern room.

Money troubles, as always.

Zhang Shi insisted on opening a shop, while Lady Yu wanted to pay off debts.

Zhang Yue calculated; opening a shop at this time wasn’t a bad idea. As a time traveler who couldn’t even recall the formula for gunpowder, things like glassmaking, fertilizer, or cement were out of reach—even if a modern teacher taught him hands-on, he might still fail. But while he couldn’t do those things, he could certainly eat!

He remembered that iron woks started to become popular in the Song dynasty; in Bianjing, some restaurants already used iron woks for cooking. If his elder brother opened a shop and served stir-fried dishes cooked in iron woks, wouldn’t that be delightful? Eating bland soup every day had left his mouth tasteless.

A small restaurant wouldn’t compete with the likes of Fanlou, but in a county town, it would be enough to establish themselves, and with good business, earn a decent income.

If he couldn’t become an official and failed to make a career, returning home to inherit a fortune would still be something.

Previously, Zhang Yue hadn’t thought about such things. Without someone backing you, running a shop could be ruined by others; if it thrived, it would attract jealousy. Since crossing over, he’d heard countless stories of people plotting to seize family businesses. This was not a modern law-abiding society.

Now, with a scholar brother—even if he changed his registration and wouldn’t acknowledge them, Zhang Yue could still use this “tiger skin” as leverage. No one in the county would dare cross the family of a scholar.

But he wouldn’t say that outright; otherwise, his sister-in-law would think he and his brother were colluding to avoid repaying her family’s money. His brother wouldn’t give in easily anyway.

To serve stir-fried dishes, they needed oil and iron woks. Iron woks weren’t difficult, but sourcing oil was a problem.

Song people loved fried foods, like lamb oil cakes made from lamb fat.

There was also “sanzi”—Su Dongpo, the gourmand, once wrote, “Slender fingers twist jade threads, emerald oil fries them golden and tender. Spring sleep weighs heavy at night, pressed flat as gold bracelet on a beauty’s arm.”

At this time, vegetable oils mainly included sesame, rapeseed, turnip, and radish oil. Though pressed oil had been invented, purification was still lacking, and there was a distinct taste.

But these were minor issues.

Once the shop opened, they could create signature dishes, such as Dongpo pork. Even if he didn’t plagiarize Su Dongpo’s poetry, copying Dongpo pork was not a problem. Pork then had a strong odor, which only braising could suppress.

There was also beef—eating beef in the Song dynasty was not difficult. You wouldn’t get the best cuts, but small eateries did sell it. Song Huizong even banned dog meat, giving rise to the saying, “Hang a sheep’s head, sell dog meat.”

However, most beef in small restaurants came from sick or dead cattle; fresh beef was rare but existed.

Still, there was the issue of shares. The brothers hadn’t divided the family; how would they ensure both had a stake in the shop, including their absent second brother?

The shop would be run by the elder brother, but Zhang Yue could contribute technical expertise; how profits would be split needed proper negotiation. It was time for siblings to settle accounts clearly.

With his entry into the county school, the family had capital, and most importantly, the elusive second brother. Day by day, life would only get better.

Zhang Yue was filled with hope for the future, just like the rising sun outside his window.

The most important thing was to have his own foundation. Relying on mountains, they’ll crumble; relying on people, they’ll flee. As for his second brother, Zhang Yue’s demands weren’t high—he only hoped he wouldn’t be a liability, the rest could wait.

Zhang Yue and Guo Lin got up.

Noticing Guo Lin’s panda eyes, Zhang Yue asked in surprise, “Senior brother, you didn’t sleep all night?”

Guo Lin nodded.

Scholar Guo spoke beside them, “Guo Lin, today your father will go see the school administrator about the county school exam. Why not accompany him?”

Scholar Guo understood Guo Lin’s worries and was deeply concerned.

“Alright,” Guo Lin agreed.

Zhang Yue opened the door and saw Zhang Shi and Lady Yu opening theirs as well. Lady Yu’s face was streaked with tears, while Zhang Shi looked furious.

Zhang Qiu rushed out from behind his parents and hid behind Zhang Yue, looking unhappy.

“Brother, sister-in-law, heading out?” Zhang Yue greeted them with a smile.

Lady Yu said nothing. Zhang Shi asked, “Where are you off to, third brother?”

“I’m accompanying the teacher and senior brother to the county school,” Zhang Yue replied.

Lady Yu apologized, “Teacher, third brother, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? Let me make breakfast.”

Zhang Shi said, “Let’s eat out.”

Lady Yu hesitated, but the family went downstairs.

Zhang Yue couldn’t help saying, “Save what you can; it’s not easy for sister-in-law to manage the household.”

Zhang Shi opened the door, “Save for what…”

He stopped abruptly, stunned. Zhang Yue was startled as well.

Outside the door, a large crowd was gathered—some squatting, some standing, some sitting. As soon as Zhang Shi opened the door, they all stood up in a chorus.

All faces were full of warmth and smiles.

At the front, Cao Baoyi greeted Zhang Shi with a grin, “Master Zhang, it was too late last night to disturb you, so we all waited here this morning. We feared you’d slept late, so we didn’t dare knock, just waited quietly.”

Zhang Shi was speechless for a moment. The title “Master Zhang” hadn’t been heard in ages.

But that wasn’t all! In the distance, more carriages and horses kept arriving, each person more enthusiastic than the last, making for a lively scene.

What does it mean to be “poor in the city, ignored by all; rich in the mountains, distant kin come calling”?

Such greed, such vulgarity, the clichés of a feudal society!

Ps1: Thanks to Nanmu’s Curryfan for becoming the fifth Alliance Master of this novel.