However, who was going to pay her any attention?
Anyone could tell she was up to something. Just looking at her made their eyes feel dirty.
Everyone dutifully lined up to collect their grain. With members of the clan supervising, no one dared inflate their household’s figures.
Those who had taken a spoonful or two of rice in advance to cook their meals also reported it, and the amount was deducted.
Constable Wang couldn’t be bothered to distribute the grain himself, so he left the task to Zhan Yunpeng.
Though the boy was young, he was quick-witted, upright, and kindhearted. He was also extremely popular among the group.
Zhan Jianping, Zhan Haochen, and the other young men helped him calculate how much each household should receive and then weigh it out.
Zhan Yunpeng’s hands trembled with excitement. When he picked up the wooden scoop and touched the warm brown rice, his eyes reddened.
They had been hungry for far, far too long! They had walked until their feet were broken, only to receive a piece of moldy, rock-hard bread to keep them alive. Every day, they worried that they might collapse from hunger and never rise again.
A scene like this—lining up to receive rice—was something they would never even have dared dream of!
Everyone else was overwhelmed with emotion as well. Low sobs spread through the line.
“Pull yourselves together.”
Fifth Grandfather wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes. “Hurry up and collect your grain. Put extra rice in the pot and make porridge. Eat your fill. Once your stomachs are full, you’ll be ready to pick grapes tomorrow.”
At that, Constable Wang’s face darkened. “You’ve already been picking grapes for two days straight. You’re still going to pick more?”
“Constable, I forgot to tell you.” Cheng Yao came over with a beaming smile. “The young master of Zhiweizhai placed an order for our grapes. He’ll take as many as we can pick—even the ones that have dried on the vines. We’re desperately short of money and food right now, so we should pick them for him.”
Constable Wang continued to frown. “You’re exiled convicts, yet you’ve started doing business with merchants. Do you think that’s acceptable? If this continues, you won’t be allowed to proceed at all.”
Seeing that he was about to lose his temper, everyone in the group grew anxious.
Feng Xianxian stood with her arms crossed, waiting leisurely for the show to begin. She sneered inwardly:
Cheng Yao, don’t you love showing off?
Now you’ve finally run into trouble, haven’t you?
I told you—no flower blooms for a hundred days. You can’t stay lucky forever.
You helped everyone make money, and now you’re getting scolded for it. This must sting.
From today onward, your bad luck begins.
And after offending Constable Wang, you won’t have an easy time either.
Zhang Dapeng was secretly delighted as well. If the little slut dared talk back, he would egg the chief on to confiscate all the rice and sell it at a high price later. Everything belonging to exiled convicts was supposed to be confiscated anyway. Who would dare question or oppose him?
At such a critical moment, Zhan Haoting didn’t dare step forward to stop them. Otherwise, his political enemies would seize the opportunity to bury him for good.
Under the watchful eyes of the scheming crowd, Cheng Yao’s smile never faltered.
“What you’ve said is perfectly reasonable, Constable Wang. We’re criminals, and we shouldn’t be lingering on the road. But you paid for everyone’s medical treatment, and the little money we have left won’t get us all the way to Jiuyou Prefecture. The imperial court and the local authorities don’t care whether we live or die. If we don’t support ourselves and earn money to buy food, what else can we do?”
She took out a bulging purse and waved it back and forth in front of him.
“We made nearly seven taels of silver from one batch of grapes.”
Constable Wang swallowed. His eyes gleamed greedily as they followed the purse involuntarily.
They had escorted prisoners thousands of miles, risking their lives with every step. Wasn’t the whole point of facing death at every turn to make money?
Who in this world didn’t like money?
No one!
Cheng Yao continued to tempt him. “By picking the grapes, we can make several taels, even dozens of taels of silver. An opportunity like this won’t come around twice. Once it’s gone, it’s gone!”
Zhan Haochen also worked up the courage to speak. “Only if we make money can we repay you. We won’t have to worry about food and clothing, and we’ll be able to reach the place of exile safely.”
The others chimed in one after another.
“Those aren’t grapes—they’re money!”
“Constable Wang, please agree! At most, we’ll pick the grapes and then quicken our pace to make up for the days we’ve lost.”
“Constable Wang, give us two more days, please.”
Everyone spoke at once, and Constable Wang grew irritated from the noise.
But he wasn’t a fool. The money was practically free for the taking, so why refuse it?
“That young master of Zhiweizhai—did he really tell you he’d take every grape you picked?”
“Of course. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Constable Li and the others.” Cheng Yao replied, “He even wanted to establish a long-term partnership with us. Unfortunately, we’re only passing through, so we had no choice but to turn him down with great reluctance.”
Constable Wang had actually already asked Li Liming about it.
He found it unbelievable. Was business really this easy nowadays?
Then again, how many people in this world were as lucky as they were, able to find grapes sweeter than honey in late autumn?
And how many people were as articulate and well-liked as Cheng Yao, able to befriend a scholar with some status and connections—one who also knew how to cherish a beautiful woman—and get him to bring them a major buyer?
None.
So this money could only be earned by Cheng Yao. If they failed to seize this opportunity, it truly would be a pity.
After thinking it over again and again, Constable Wang finally gritted his teeth, stamped his foot, and agreed.
“Then pick for two more days. Only two days—no more!”
“And from tomorrow onward, use the money you earn to pay me back first.”
Everyone readily agreed, their faces lighting up with joy.
Feng Xianxian: “…”
Zhang Dapeng: “…”
That damn Cheng Yao was truly impossible to kill!
Consider yourself lucky!
This night was destined to be filled with joy and warmth.
More than twenty battered pots were set over bonfires. As the contents boiled, white steam carrying the faint fragrance of rice drifted slowly upward.
Whenever the wind blew, the aroma spread throughout the camp and slipped into everyone’s noses.
Gazing at the white porridge bubbling in the pots, the exhaustion and sorrow on everyone’s faces had long since vanished. Their eyes shone brightly, and even the children stopped crying, staring eagerly at the scent of rice spilling over the rims.
Cheng Yao came over carrying a winnowing basket. Inside were powdered mugwort and shredded ginger.
“Take some if you want. Add a little salt and minced meat to the porridge too. Be kind to yourselves.”
Each household received roughly sixty pounds of rice, but no one dared eat to their fill. Even making thick porridge was considered a luxury.
However, the previous night, everyone had received a little meat—rabbit, pheasant, or sika deer. They had been unwilling to eat it, so now they could add some to the porridge.
The people were deeply grateful and thanked her again and again.
Once the seasonings were added, the aroma of the food became even more enticing.
“Son, is the porridge ready yet?”
“Mother, I’m so hungry.”
They had gone hungry all day and were already famished. Their mouths were dry from swallowing saliva. Who could possibly keep waiting?
Fifth Grandfather beamed and suddenly called out, “Once it’s ready, let’s eat!”
His voice was loud and his spirit heroic, as if they were about to feast on a magnificent banquet rather than eat porridge.
The clansmen shouted back in unison, “Yes!”
Afterward, they all burst into laughter at the same time.
…
The next day.
Since everyone had gone to sell grapes the day before, only a small number of people had gone up the mountain, and they had picked barely two hundred pounds in total. Before dawn, Cheng Yao woke everyone and urged them to pick more so they could deliver a larger batch to Zhiweizhai.
Everyone understood her good intentions, and no one complained—even those who did have objections could only keep them to themselves.
There was no breakfast. They simply ate a few grapes on the mountain to tide themselves over.
But once they thought of the money the grapes could bring, very few people were willing to eat them.
Those who ate a lot, such as Feng Xianxian and her husband, were even scolded by the clansmen.
Everyone put their backs into the work, picking as fast as they could. By sunrise, they had selected some of the harvest to take down the mountain.
Cheng Yao estimated that, counting what they had picked earlier, they had gathered roughly four to five hundred jin in total—just enough to meet the quota.
Besides, they wouldn’t need to call out and hawk their wares today. They only had to deliver the goods, and with two handcarts, seven or eight people, and two constables, that would be more than enough.
Still, she didn’t feel at ease and decided to lead the group herself.
To reach Zhiweizhai, they had to pass through the market.
Some of the townspeople still recognized Cheng Yao, and from a distance, they called out to ask whether she could spare some for them to buy.
In this cold season, when fresh fruit was scarce, these wild grapes had naturally become a highly sought-after commodity!
