Chapter 141: The Foshan Trip, Part Seven

She unfurled the cloth bundle, revealing a Xiuchun Dao, a miniature version likely custom-made for her. “Isn’t it beautiful? It’s a shame I don’t have a small ‘flying fish’ robe to go with it. To wear the robe and carry the sword, standing guard before the Emperor—that would be glorious!”

Huang Tianyu shook his head. Was this girl a uniform fetishist, too?

“I hear the Emperor is a handsome and refined man…” Li Yongxun began to swoon. “If only I could stand guard for him, even just once.”

And then he would notice you, select you for the palace… Huang Tianyu thought of the Ming-dynasty fangirls he had encountered in the past. It seemed there were plenty who dreamed of becoming maids, servants, or concubines to Chongzhen. Ming fangirls were everywhere.

“If the Emperor took a liking to me, as a subject, I would naturally obey,” Li Yongxun said, her eyes glazing over with a dreamy look. “But I would die without regrets if I could just stand guard for him once.”

Huang Tianyu found her infatuation both amusing and endearing. He could only manage a dry laugh.

He then arranged for a boat to Foshan and had their luggage loaded.

Yang Shixiang had spent the previous night at a familiar brothel and only returned late. When they set off in the morning, he was surprised to see Qianqian, the singing girl from the night before, dressed differently and ready to travel with them. He assumed Liu San had taken a fancy to her and brought her along. Liu San offered a simple explanation, saying Qianqian was going to Foshan to stay with relatives and they were just giving her a ride as a good deed. Yang Shixiang warned him not to take in a woman of unknown origin so hastily, lest he fall victim to a scam. Liu San could only smile bitterly. It’s not like I wanted to bring her.

Throughout the journey, Liu San had Gao Di keep a close eye on Li Yongxun, wary of any tricks. But since boarding the boat, she had been surprisingly well-behaved. She spent most of her time in the cabin, pestering Huang Tianyu to tell her stories about his travels. Huang Tianyu, a former military enthusiast and confirmed homebody, had no real travel stories to tell. He had to cobble together tales from travel blogs he had read online, spinning a web of fantastic nonsense. In their conversations, he learned more about the girl. She was an only child, her mother had died young, and she had been raised by her father. Her “rebellion” against the arranged marriage was more of a protest against her father’s failure to consult her than a determined stand against a forced union. It was, he suspected, an excuse for an adventure.

After running away, Li Yongxun had headed south to Guangzhou. She had a distant relative in Foshan, a last resort if things went wrong. She had also heard that Guangzhou was full of novel and interesting things. She had faced several dangerous situations on her journey but had managed to escape each time thanks to the Jinyiwei plaque she had “borrowed” from her father’s colleague. Having grown up around the Jinyiwei, she had a basic knowledge of tracking, stealth, and various underworld tricks, and she could handle common thugs.

“Uncle, what is this made of?” Li Yongxun was still obsessed with the ketchup. At mealtimes, she would insist that Huang Tianyu bring it out. The ketchup, originally intended for steamed buns, was mixed into her rice. She even invented new concoctions: ketchup with congee, ketchup with pickles… Eventually, she started eating it straight from the jar with a spoon. Half the jar was gone in no time. Huang Tianyu had never seen anyone so fond of ketchup.

“It’s ketchup, made from a fruit called a tomato.”

“Tomato? Is it grown in Guangzhou?”

Huang Tianyu gave a vague answer. He didn’t want to mention Lin’gao, lest the girl decide to go there next.

“I believe it was introduced from a foreign country.”

“Uncle, can you give me this ketchup?” the girl asked without a hint of shame. Huang Tianyu, a twenty-eight-year-old who had never been so affectionately addressed as “uncle” by such a cute girl, immediately agreed. When Liu San found out, he made her trade her “Elixir of Bliss” for it. The substance had nerve-paralyzing properties and might prove useful for the Ministry of Health in developing plant-based anesthetics.

Aside from the ketchup-for-elixir trade, the rest of the journey was uneventful. On the morning of the third day, the boat arrived at the Foshan pier. After disembarking, Yang Shixiang, who was familiar with the area, took his servants to find an inn with their luggage. Liu San and his group were now keenly aware of the inconveniences of travel in this era. It was only a little after ten in the morning, a time when they would just be starting their business in the modern world, booking a room later in the evening. But in this time, if you didn’t secure lodging early, you might not find a room at all.

Huang Tianyu hired two sedan chairs to take Li Yongxun to her destination. This time, she didn’t cause any trouble and gave clear directions. They arrived at what appeared to be a prosperous household. Li Yongxun had someone send a message in, and soon several female servants came out to welcome her. Huang Tianyu was invited into the living room for tea. A man who looked like a steward came to greet him and asked about their journey. Huang Tianyu gave his prepared story: they had met her by chance on the road and, seeing that she was traveling alone and fearing for her safety, had escorted her.

The steward thanked him profusely, asked for the location of his inn, and then saw him out.

When Huang Tianyu returned to the inn, a six-part gift had already arrived from the household. Yang Shixiang seemed quite pleased.

“This family has good manners,” he said, picking up a card. “There’s also an invitation. It seems they value this girl highly and want to treat us to a meal.”

The invitation was on a plum-red card, signed “From Lin Ming.” The name sounded like that of an ordinary merchant; a scholar wouldn’t have such a simple name, Liu San guessed.

“We should decline the meal,” Huang Tianyu said. He wasn’t keen on such social obligations and wanted to start his inspection of Foshan’s industries immediately.

“They’ve already sent an invitation,” Liu San countered. “We should observe the proper etiquette. Besides, we’ll be coming to Foshan often in the future. It’s good to have an acquaintance here.”

Yang Shixiang agreed. The banquet was scheduled for the next day. Since they had found an inn without any trouble, it was still just past noon. They decided that Liu San and Yang Shixiang would first visit their main target: the Yang Run Kai Tang pharmacy. Business negotiations rarely succeeded on the first try, so it was best to start early.

They prepared a four-part gift of local products from Lin’gao, hailed two sedan chairs, and set off for the pharmacy.

Foshan Town, along with Hankou in Hubei, Jingdezhen in Jiangxi, and Zhuxian in Henan, was known as one of the “Four Great Towns.” In the Ming and Qing dynasties, its prosperity rivaled that of Guangzhou. Its ceramics and silk were exported in large quantities, and its commerce and industry were highly developed. Guild halls from all eighteen provinces of the empire were established here, making it a major hub of trade.

After about half an hour, Liu San’s group saw a memorial archway ahead. A strong, fragrant smell of medicinal herbs filled the air. They had arrived.

The sedan chairs stopped, and Gao Di opened the curtain. Liu San stepped out and was immediately impressed by the pharmacy’s grandeur. He had been to the original site of the Tongrentang in Beijing, but it paled in comparison to this.

The storefront spanned seven bays and stood two stories high. The central bay was the main entrance, and the other five were storerooms, filled with medicinal herbs from top to bottom, emitting a potent, earthy aroma.

Yang Shixiang led him through the main gate into the first courtyard. The stone-paved yard was bustling with sedan chairs, carts, waiting bearers, drivers, and servants, like a crowded market. On either side of the central path, two mat sheds had been set up, with pots and other equipment inside. People were lining up, presumably for tea.

A musky smell drifted from the west side of the courtyard, which was separated by stone barriers to form a deer enclosure. Several sika deer were kept there. It was early summer, and the weather was hot, so the deer were listlessly lying under a canopy. Still, they attracted a crowd of onlookers.

Liu San had only read about this method of attracting customers and couldn’t help but take a closer look.

“The Yang Run Kai Tang’s ‘Whole Deer Pills’ and deer antler are famous,” Yang Shixiang said. “Our ancestors built their fortune on this.”

“Whole Deer Pills” were a powerful tonic for the kidneys, replenishing essence and qi. In a commercially developed place like Foshan, where the wealthy gathered, there were naturally many who suffered from “the king’s ailment.” It was no wonder the Yang family had prospered.

“My family originally lived in Liaodong, in the medicine trade. My great-great-grandfather moved to Foshan. That’s how we have this skill,” Yang Shixiang explained his family history. “We used to have several old family friends there, but after the situation in Liaodong deteriorated, they probably all met with disaster. Alas!”

That the Yang family had come from Liaodong was a surprise to Liu San.

“Why didn’t the Runshi Tang make this?”

“In a place like Lin’gao, who would buy it?”

“Brother Shixiang, just because no one in Lin’gao buys it doesn’t mean no one in Qiongshan, Leizhou, or Lianzhou will. With this formula in your hands, you could do great things.”

“Whole deer,” Yang Shixiang said with a sigh. “It’s not easy to obtain. And it must be a live deer, raised until autumn when the medicine is prepared, and then slaughtered. It needs someone to care for it daily. My father considered it, but the cost of buying and raising deer was too high for a small shop like ours to bear.”

They climbed the stone steps and saw a large black plaque with red characters hanging in the main hall: “Yang Run Kai Tang De Ji.” Below it were two black plaques with gold characters, one reading “Authentic Medicinal Herbs” and the other “Prepared According to Ancient Methods.” On both sides of the main wall were honeycomb-like medicine cabinets. A long counter, lacquered a gleaming black, stretched across the middle of the shop. Above the medicine cabinets was a foot-high carved horizontal cabinet displaying blue-and-white porcelain jars containing pills, powders, pastes, elixirs, and medicinal wines. Above that hung many different plaques with inscriptions like “Effective and Pure,” “Searching the Mountains and Seas,” and “A Hermit in the Market.”

The decor was opulent and elegant, a world apart from Yang Shixiang’s humble Runshi Tang. Even in the modern era, Liu San had never seen such a magnificent traditional Chinese pharmacy. He couldn’t help but be deeply impressed.