He picked up the ugly lump of root, gently rubbing its skin with his fingertips, then brought it to his nose and sniffed: "Not fully dried yet, but this shade-drying method is handled properly enough. You didn't waste good material."
Lin Wu gasped, unable to believe it: "This—this dirt clod is worth more than wild mugwort? I don't know what it is, I dug it up carelessly while sheltering from the rain on the mountain, and I've just been keeping it in the house for a while."
The old shopkeeper looked at her coarse cloth clothes, ragged and ill-fitting yet scrubbed clean, with her hair plastered to her cheeks by sweat—she must have walked from the village before dawn. Remembering how her bundle of wild mugwort had only sold for twenty-odd copper coins, he felt a twinge of pity.
"Good quality, one jin seven liang," the old shopkeeper said, tapping his abacus, and spoke gently, "How about I give you one string of cash?"
Lin Wu's eyes went wide, as if frightened by the amount: "Heavens! A whole string of cash?"
She waved her hands in a fluster, then quickly pulled them back to clutch her small basket, and stammered: "Thank you, Grandpa!"
"If you find more in the future, remember to dry it thoroughly in the shade. Never sun-dry it, or the medicinal properties will be diminished," the old shopkeeper instructed patiently.
"I'll remember, I'll remember!" Lin Wu replied in quick succession, then added, "Oh, Grandpa, I've also dried some wild mint at home. Would the pharmacy be interested in buying it?"
The old shopkeeper smiled at this, and while taking out a small scale to carefully weigh out the loose silver and push it toward her, he shook his head: "Mint is cheaper than mugwort. That stuff grows like a weed, spreading all over in patches. It's not used much in ordinary prescriptions—just occasionally in summer when people come for cooling powders. It won't fetch much."
"I suppose so." The faint hope in Lin Wu's heart dissolved. Windfalls like that didn't come every day.
She looked down at the silver, hesitated for a moment, then asked: "Grandpa... could you exchange this for five qian of silver, and the rest in copper coins? I need to visit relatives in a couple of days, and I'd like to buy a decent set of clothes."
"Of course." The old man nodded kindly, and promptly changed it to five qian of loose silver plus five hundred and twenty-five copper coins, pushing them toward her.
Lin Wu carefully tucked the heavy string of copper coins inside her clothes, and they clinked softly as she did so.
Just as she was about to leave, she seemed to remember something and turned back, asking in a low voice: "Grandpa, is there a silversmith in town? I'd like to have an old silver hairpin beaten into two small bracelets."
"Go out the door, turn right, and after the cross street take a left into the alley—that's He's Silver Shop," the old shopkeeper said, pointing the way warmly. "Old He does fine work, and his prices are fair."
Lin Wu thanked him profusely and left the pharmacy. Only after she had rounded the corner did her tense shoulders relax a little. Lucky for her—she'd met an honest shopkeeper. She wondered if there was more fleeceflower root in the mountains. She could go looking again later.
Following the pharmacy owner's directions, Lin Wu soon found the small shop tucked deep in the alley. The shop was narrow with a low doorframe, and even from a distance she could hear the clink-clank of metal being hammered.
She walked over and peered in, seeing an old craftsman bent over his work, while a well-dressed woman with a silver hairpin in her hair was just about to leave.
Lin Wu stepped aside to let her pass, then lifted her foot lightly over the threshold and asked in a small voice: "Excuse me... are you Grandpa He?"
"What's the matter?" The old silversmith looked up from his work. The woman beside him also stopped, curiously glancing over.
"I... I'd like to have two plain silver bracelets made for a relative's baby, as a one-month-old gift." Lin Wu's voice was soft and thin, with a hint of shyness. "The pharmacy Grandpa said you do excellent work and charge fair prices."
Hearing this, the woman who had just stepped out of the door abruptly pulled her foot back. She turned around, sizing up Lin Wu. This woman was not old, dressed in faded and somewhat tattered coarse cloth, yet she said she wanted to have a pair of silver bracelets made—and for a relative's baby at that? The woman couldn't help but shift a few steps back into the shop.
"Do you have your own silver, or will you buy the silver here?" the old silversmith asked matter-of-factly, his expression unchanged.
"I brought the silver," Lin Wu replied quickly, carefully pulling from her cloth bag the two silver hairpins that had been ruined beyond recognition. "Grandpa, would you look and see if this is enough to make two plain bracelets for children? They don't need to be large."
Before the old silversmith could speak, the woman craning her neck toward them couldn't help but blurt out, "Oh dear! Such nice hairpins—how did they end up in this shape?"
"The children at home, they don't know any better. They snuck them out to play with, bent and scratched them... By the time we found out, they were already like this." Lin Wu looked away awkwardly.
The old silversmith took the hairpins, weighed them in his hand, and gave them a light tap: "The silver is good quality—nine-and-nine-tenths pure. One hairpin can make one small bracelet. What pattern would you like engraved?"
"Grandpa, how much difference is there in the labor cost between engraved and plain?" Lin Wu asked quietly. She definitely didn't want any patterns anyway—engraving meant loss of material, and later on, if she pawned them, they wouldn't be worth as much.
"Engraving naturally costs more. A simple twining vine pattern is a hundred wen, a tiger-head pattern a hundred fifty, and plain ones are forty wen each." The old silversmith said as he examined the two hairpins.
"Whoa!" Lin Wu drew in a breath at just the right moment, her eyes widening slightly, as if frightened by the price. Each hairpin weighed only three qian in silver, and a simple engraved pattern would cost nearly a third of the silver's value.
"Then... then just make two plain ones," she mumbled hesitantly.
The old silversmith examined the hairpins, clucking his tongue twice: "These hairpins had fine original craftsmanship. What a shame."
Hearing the words "fine craftsmanship," Lin Wu's heart gave a start. She quickly put on a sorrowful look and lowered her lashes: "To tell you the truth, Grandpa, these were part of my dowry. When my family was better off in earlier days, my parents had them made especially for me as my private savings."
The woman beside her grew even more curious and couldn't help but butt in: "If they're your own dowry, why are you having them made into gift items for a relative's child?"
Lin Wu raised her sleeve and dabbed at the corner of her eye, then went on in a rambling tone: "My aunt on my mother's side married well, and now she's just had a little boy—his first-month celebration is coming up soon. Our own household can barely make ends meet, so where would we find the spare money for a proper gift? But my mother-in-law said... she said since my husband has passed away and there's no one left in the household to hold things up, with a family of women, we may well have to depend on my aunt's support in the future. And my aunt was always very close to my little sister when she was still at home. So she gritted her teeth and told me to melt down the hairpins, make them into bracelets, and sent them over. At the very least... at least it would keep up appearances and maintain the family connection."
"Ah—yikes!" The woman slapped her thigh hard, her voice loud and urgent: "You're confusing being kind with being a fool! A dowry is a woman's foundation for her whole life, especially in your situation with no one to rely on! How could you touch it so easily!"
"I... I understand..." Lin Wu trembled as she spoke, lowering her head even further, as if trying to convince herself. "But this hairpin has been ruined by the child like this, and I can't wear it out anymore. I have no one left in my natal home—no, in my birth family. My parents passed away long ago, and my only elder brother went to Lingzhou years ago on business; we haven't heard a word from him since. I... I truly have no other choice. I only hope that my aunt will remember this kindness and, in the future, be able to lend us a hand..."
The place name she had overheard on the road earlier was quickly put to use as well.
The old woman let out a long sigh, her curiosity already replaced by pity. She shook her head and lamented, "What a poor soul you are..."
"Uncle, when will this bracelet be finished?" Lin Wu gently wiped the tear stains from the corner of her eyes with her sleeve and asked in a small voice.
