Chapter 137: The Foshan Trip, Part Three

The clerk guided them through a central hall into a large courtyard, where three long, two-story buildings stood in neat rows. Covered walkways connected them, a thoughtful defense against the elements. The rooms were tidily arranged on each floor, a modern design that astonished Yang Shixiang, though it was all too familiar to Liu San and Huang Tianyu. They suspected the blueprints were the work of their own architecture company.

The “Heaven-grade” rooms—the superior suites—were all located in the rearmost building. Each was a suite, complete with a master bedroom and an adjoining room for servants. Large windows flooded the space with light, and by the standards of the era, the furniture and bedding were both comfortable and impeccably clean.

Gao Di and his companion, Chen Tong, quickly set down their luggage and began making the beds. Inns of this time rarely provided bedding, so guests were expected to bring their own. The clerk bustled about, bringing hot water for washing and brewing tea, all while making polite small talk about their journey. Liu San offered only vague replies. After they had washed up and were sipping their tea, the clerk returned with candlesticks and inquired about their dinner preferences.

“The inn can arrange it,” Liu San said, producing a small piece of silver, about two mace. “This should cover both food and wine.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll see to it immediately!”

“There’s no rush,” Liu San countered. “First, bring a few dishes to go with wine and a few pots of yellow wine to our room. And is there a bathhouse nearby?”

“But of course. Our inn has its own bathhouse. It’s not crowded, and the water is clean. Just bring your key token; there’s no extra charge.”

After days on the boat, the men were dusty and exhausted. The news of a bathhouse was a welcome relief, and they all went for a much-needed soak. When they returned, it was still early. Knowing that Gao Di was a Guangzhou native, Liu San gave him and Chen Tong the evening off to explore the city.

The three men were in a relaxed mood. They had the clerk bring eight small dishes and a pot of yellow wine, and they settled in to drink. Their conversation drifted back to the pharmacy business, and soon they were discussing the great medicine markets. Yang Shixiang, who had visited the Qizhou medicine market with his father as a boy, recounted his memories with a wistful air.

The Qizhou medicine market, located in what was then Anguo County in Hebei, was a remote and inconvenient place. It wasn’t even a production center for medicinal herbs, yet merchants from across the country used it as their primary trading hub. The market’s origins dated back to the Song dynasty, and by the Wanli era of the Ming, it had become the largest distribution center for medicinal herbs north of the Yangtze River. It would reach its zenith during the Qing dynasty, boasting a history of over five hundred years—a truly remarkable phenomenon.

“…It’s not so strange when you consider it,” said Yang Shixiang. “Qizhou is the birthplace of the ‘Medicine King.’ It’s said his hometown possesses special powers. Herbs that haven’t been to Qizhou lack their true medicinal flavor, while those weak in flavor become potent upon arrival.”

Liu San had never heard of such a belief. Yang Shixiang continued, “At the Qizhou market, merchants from every region gather. You can find herbs from the north and south—everything. It’s a magnificent sight.” He shook his head with a sigh. “The brokers who facilitate deals in the market alone number in the thousands! There are thirteen merchant guilds. The Beijing guild itself has over three hundred registered businesses trading there.”

“The Beijing guild?”

Yang Shixiang explained that because so many merchants from different regions came to trade, they formed guilds based on their place of origin to mediate disputes and handle other affairs. The number of guilds fluctuated, but thirteen were long-standing, each specializing in different products. For example, the Shandong guild exclusively sold scorpions, donkey-hide gelatin, snake gourds, and tree peony bark. The Shanxi guild dealt in antelope horns, goji berries, fritillary bulbs, coltsfoot flowers, and fennel seeds. If you wanted something specific, you could go directly to the respective guild’s merchants and find it with ease. It was remarkably convenient.

Liu San’s curiosity was piqued. What a grand place! He wondered how many medicinal herbs he had only read about could be found there. For a student of Chinese medicine, it was a sacred land. However, with Huang Taiji’s impending invasion, Hebei would soon be inaccessible. He had to suppress the sudden surge of excitement.

“When my father first opened his shop in Lin’gao, he visited the market a few times, but then he stopped. In the entire Qiongzhou Prefecture, no shop has the resources to go to the medicine market—” He sighed again, a note of desolation in his voice.

Sensing the somber mood, Huang Tianyu deftly changed the subject, asking about the fine goods to be found in Foshan. His cover story, after all, was that of a traveling merchant looking to trade in the town.

“Foshan is known as one of the four great towns under heaven; there’s no shortage of excellent goods,” Yang Shixiang said. “The most famous are undoubtedly its ceramics, Xiangyun silk, and copperware.”

Huang Tianyu was aware of the ceramics and silk, but the copperware was new to him. He learned that Foshan was also renowned for its casting industry. Copper casting was highly developed there. Most of the bronze Buddha statues, incense burners, and similar items in Guangdong, Guangxi, Fujian, and even as far as Southern Zhili were cast in Foshan. The town also produced a large number of bronze and iron cannons.

A developed casting industry meant an abundance of foundry workers. Huang Tianyu decided that in addition to recruiting potters, he would also try to hire a batch of foundry workers. The Industrial and Energy Committee was in desperate need of such skilled native laborers.

Yang Shixiang added that Foshan’s traditional Chinese medicine industry was also well-developed, with seven or eight renowned pharmacies that produced and sold many patent medicines. Liu San made a mental note to buy some of each to test in the clinic. If any proved effective, he would have to acquire the formula, one way or another.

As they were talking, the door curtain was lifted, and a clear voice asked, “Sirs! Care for a song?”

The voice was crisp, though tinged with the awkwardness of a Cantonese speaker attempting Mandarin. Liu San looked up to see a girl of about twenty holding a set of ivory clappers. She wore a green blouse, a floral skirt, and a silk ribbon at her waist. Her hair was styled in a “paojiaji,” a popular fashion for courtesans, and her small, darting eyes brimmed with a captivating, flirtatious charm.

Following her was a middle-aged woman holding a folding fan.

Huang Tianyu waved a hand impatiently. “No, no.”

“What’s the harm in a little entertainment on a long journey?” Yang Shixiang, who seemed well-versed in these matters, beckoned with his hand. “Come here!”

The girl smiled sweetly, waved to the older woman, and entered the room alone. She curtsied. “May I ask the sirs’ names?”

“My surname is Yang,” he replied. “And yours?”

“This servant is called Shucui.” She curtsied again, her lively eyes sweeping over the three men before she lowered her head, her long eyelashes fluttering. The coy display stirred something in each of them.

Liu San was the most composed. “Since you’re here, sing for us.”

“Yes, sir. What would you like to hear?”

Liu San and Huang Tianyu exchanged a clueless look. It was Yang Shixiang who beckoned the old woman to bring him the fan, from which he selected a few songs.

Shucui lightly tapped her ivory clappers, and a melody flowed from her lips, beautiful and enchanting. The only problem was… they couldn’t understand a single word. They guessed it was some sort of sentimental ballad. Yang Shixiang was unfazed, but Liu San and Huang Tianyu had been without female company for a long time. After a few cups of yellow wine, a familiar heat began to build in their bodies.

Yang Shixiang leaned close to Liu San’s ear. “Doctor Liu, are you satisfied?”

“Mmm, mmm!” Liu San had already given Shucui a thorough appraisal and nodded in satisfaction.

“Then let her attend to you tonight.”

“This—” Liu San’s heart skipped a beat. He was tempted, but the thought of his colleagues getting injections at the Bairen General Hospital gave him pause. Shucui was a courtesan. What if he caught something? Then he thought of his wife, Wu Yunhua, in one of her moods, and a chill ran down his spine, instantly dampening his ardor.

Just as he was hesitating, Huang Tianyu whispered, “I have condoms.”

Liu San shot him a fierce glare. He hadn’t been so forward-thinking. Besides, he wouldn’t have dared to pack condoms with his formidable wife watching over his shoulder.

“Then she’s yours,” he said to Huang Tianyu in Mandarin.

“I can lend you one…”

Liu San was thrilled. He and Huang weren’t particularly close, so the offer was remarkably generous—condoms were a rare and precious commodity.

“It’s nothing,” Huang Tianyu said with a wave. “We’re brothers. Besides, this stuff won’t last forever.”

Yang Shixiang saw them whispering and, assuming they were complaining about the lack of women, quickly added, “I’ll have Shucui call another girl over.”

Liu San, abandoning all pretense of modesty, nodded eagerly.

Yang Shixiang said to Shucui, “You may leave for now. I’ll have the clerk call for you later. And bring another young lady with you.”

“Yes, thank you, Master Yang,” Shucui cooed. “This servant has a newly arrived sister. I’m sure the masters will be pleased.” With a demure smile and another curtsy, she floated out of the room.

The men exchanged a knowing glance. They continued drinking and talking until dusk fell. Then, Yang Shixiang sent the clerk to fetch Shucui.

With a jingle of curtain hooks, Shucui drifted back in, followed by another young girl. The newcomer wore a sky-blue silk jacket, tightly fitted at the waist, and a lotus-root-pink skirt that swayed gracefully with her every step.

She looked a bit young, though. Small and slender, with large, honest-looking eyes set in a small face. A silver hairpin with kingfisher feather inlay was tucked in her dark hair, along with a few fresh flowers, creating a slightly mismatched but charming effect.

Gods, how old is she? Huang Tianyu thought. She looked like a first-year middle schooler, and an underdeveloped one at that.

The old society is truly sinful, he mused. But she was pretty, with a much fairer complexion than what they were used to in Lin’gao.

“This servant is Qianqian, paying my respects to the two masters.” The girl came forward and curtsied, her voice soft.

“Serve the two masters well!” Yang Shixiang instructed her, then got up and discreetly left the room.