Chapter 124 — The Mountain Expedition Appointment
Xie Jing stood up, patted himself off, and went straight to the white horse.
Xie Siquan called after him several times, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t help but shake his head with a laugh: “Still sulking? Really… Can your uncle apologize properly?” His voice was loud enough that not just Xie Jing, but everyone around heard him. Yet no one dared to look over; they busied themselves pretending not to hear.
Xie Jing swung onto Bai Shisi, tightened the reins, and had the horse walk over.
Xie Siquan clasped his hands in mock surrender: “Let’s just say your uncle misspoke earlier, and I apologize to you.”
Xie Jing looked at him calmly from atop the horse and said, “Next time I bring him to see you, he’ll be better than anyone.”
Xie Siquan took it as the boy’s stubbornness and quickly said, “Alright, alright.”
Xie Siquan led Xie Jing around for a bit before they headed to the salt fields.
The Xie family had more than one salt field in Upper City, and just walking through each took considerable time. Xie Siquan took him to the largest one.
It was August, and the sun hung in the sky like a furnace, oppressive and scorching.
In the salt fields, steam rose from the boiling pans. The doors and windows of the low buildings had all been removed to let the heat dissipate, but even so, a thick white mist still hung in the air. Many salt workers worked shirtless, their long iron shovels stirring the brine continuously, sweat pouring down. On the other side, workers carried sacks of salt out, their lean but strong bodies bending under the load; the strongest could carry two or three bags at once.
Xie Jing followed Xie Siquan, and along the way, many people greeted him. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the workers seemed particularly enthusiastic when they looked at him. They shouted “Young Master” with strong voices.
Xie Jing was puzzled, but Xie Siquan understood immediately.
The old manager of the salt fields was highly respected and fair. In his younger years, he had trained many disciples; now, three of them were managers themselves, and several others ran the other salt fields. Xie Jing’s actions that day hadn’t just sought justice for the old manager; they had restored the Xie family’s face. Salt workers valued loyalty above all, so the title “Young Master” was now firmly secured.
Xie Jing became somewhat accustomed to being called this and quietly followed Xie Siquan, speaking little, observing everything.
At first, the field managers were curious about the new young master, but soon they were reassured. The newcomer looked like the Xie family head but had a temperament just like the Second Young Master: steady and reliable. Their hearts felt at ease.
When they reached the last salt well, brine was being pumped up. Thick bamboo tubes were lifted by several workers, the bottom valves opened to release a pool of black brine.
Xie Jing asked, “Why is this different from the others?” The brine he had seen before was clear.
A worker explained, “Young Master, you may not know, this is black brine, the most precious type. Its taste is better than the others. In Upper City, only our field has it.” Afterward, he showed Xie Jing the finished product. Although the black brine required extra steps to cook, it still produced snow-white salt.
Xie Jing had never seen this before and was curious.
Xie Siquan opened a small jar and encouraged him to try some.
Xie Jing pinched a bit and put it in his mouth, immediately frowning: “So salty.”
The workers were stunned, while Xie Siquan laughed beside him: “Silly boy, salt is naturally salty. It tastes better in cooking; you can’t appreciate it by tasting it dry.”
Xie Jing nodded, standing there with his hands behind his back.
Seeing the time, Xie Siquan didn’t take him back to the mansion but had lunch at the salt fields.
The salt field had a canteen serving communal meals. The hotter the weather, the more chili was added, making the food more appetizing. Each table had one meat dish and one vegetable dish, plus a large bowl of pickled radish. In the center of the hall were two bamboo barrels about half a person’s height: one with steamed white sweet potatoes and rice, the other with porridge made of softened rice, enough to fill anyone.
Xie Jing was not picky and ate two large bowls of porridge with ease.
Seeing that he barely touched the dishes, Xie Siquan offered him some pickled radish: “Want to try?”
Xie Jing shook his head, mouth full of porridge, muttering: “Salty.”
He didn’t mention it at first, but once he did, Xie Siquan couldn’t help but laugh, though he suppressed it with a cough.
Xie Siquan wanted him to eat there to understand the daily life of salt workers and to expose him to the business side of the salt fields. In Chinese culture, whether in business or personal relationships, sharing a meal was one of the fastest ways to bond. Sure enough, after lunch, the managers and foremen smiled warmly at Xie Jing, calling him “Young Master” even more affectionately.
Xie Siquan spoke with a few foremen while keeping an eye on his nephew, feeling very satisfied.
Xie Jing once again exceeded his expectations. Though the boy had suffered much outside, he remained a fine son of the Xie family.
The recent troubles between the Xie family and the Huang family of Lower City were completely gone from Xie Siquan’s mind. No matter the chaos caused by the Huang family, it would pass; in a few years, when the estate was handed to the next generation, he was confident no one in all of Western Sichuan would surpass his nephew.
After finishing his third bowl of porridge, Xie Jing had fully neutralized the salt taste.
The salt made from black brine was indeed powerful; if salt had levels of saltiness, he felt black salt was several degrees stronger than usual. He regretted tasting it dry.
Xie Siquan noticed too. After lunch, they were brought a pot of tea at the office area to sit and discuss business.
Pouring tea for his nephew, Xie Siquan said, “I brought you here today to tell you about the ‘Mountain Expedition Contract.’”
“Mountain Expedition Contract?”
“Yes. When I took over, it wasn’t as glorious as now. Those were difficult times.”
Xie Siquan became head of the family before turning thirteen. His elder sister had married, leaving him alone in the family. Though he had some money and land, he was not one to live idly. He had promised his sister he would buy a large ship to see her, so in those years, he undertook many daring ventures. The “Mountain Expedition Contract” was one of them.
The so-called contract involved landowners signing agreements with merchants. Landowners provided the land for “one well and three facilities”—a salt well along with the necessary grinding, cart, and cooking spaces. During the excavation of the wells, even for three to five years, no rent could be charged. Once the wells were operational, the total profit was divided into shares between the host family and merchants. The Xie family opened two salt fields, dividing profits into thirty shares: the host had eighteen, merchants twelve. At the end of the contract, all fields returned unconditionally to the host.
In other words, the merchants profited temporarily, but ownership returned to the host.
Xie Siquan said, “Back then, I mortgaged all the family houses and fields, receiving four thousand taels from five merchants each. Thanks to this twenty thousand taels, the family business was revitalized.” He took a sip of tea and continued: “This year, the final well reached maturity—exactly the eighteenth year.”
Xie Jing did the mental calculation and realized the sum was enormous. At the time, Xie Siquan was just a boy, yet he risked so much. Impressive indeed.
Xie Siquan rubbed his chin and cursed, “Damn, if I hadn’t kept Xu Jun in reserve, this business would have really failed. Those Shanxi merchants had so many accounts—nobody could outcalculate them!”
Xie Jing smirked but said nothing.
He had heard Xu Jun mention this matter before, though much more subtly, casually saying: “Among the merchants who came to Western Sichuan was my father. It was this contract that brought me here, to stay.” There was clearly a story behind it.
Xie Siquan eyed him suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”
Xie Jing blinked and, expressionless, said: “Nothing. Just thinking how impressive you are, and Second Young Master too. I heard many salt-excavating techniques back then were brought by Shanxi merchants.”
Xie Siquan nodded. “They were indeed quite skilled.”
Xie Jing asked, “How did you pick the Second Young Master back then? Love at first sight?”
Xie Siquan thought for a moment and shook his head: “I was after his wealth. Honestly, I didn’t care much about his appearance.”
“Ah?”
“He was a Shanxi merchant, from Qixian,” Xie Siquan explained. “You’ve heard ‘gold from Taigu, silver from Qixian,’ right? Qixian was full of wealthy merchants and talented people. Xu Jun’s family had some influence, locally nicknamed ‘Half of Qixian.’”
Xie Jing was stunned. “Second Young Master is that rich?”
Xie Siquan draped an arm over his shoulder, smiling: “So you know, in the future if you ever run out of pocket money, ask the Second Young Master. He may look cold, but he has a soft heart. Remember to speak sweetly; he’ll give you as much as you want.”
Xie Jing shook his head, then asked: “You already gave me a lot, uncle. Can I spend it freely?”
Xie Siquan’s eyes softened. “Of course. Whatever’s given to you, use it however you like.”
Xie Jing stood up.
Xie Siquan asked, “What’s the matter?”
Xie Jing’s ears reddened. “I drank too much water, I need to… use the restroom.”
Once Xie Jing left, Xie Siquan noticed the entire pot of water had been finished and couldn’t help but smile.
That evening, back at the Xie mansion, Xie Siquan had money sent to Xie Jing, along with a letter.
The total sum was fifty thousand silvers: ten thousand from Xie Siquan, like Xu Jun, presented as a meeting gift. The remaining forty thousand was sent from Shanghai by He Dongting, along with a polite letter asking if Xie Jing was comfortable in Western Sichuan, if he lacked any necessities, and to make a list for delivery if needed.
Accompanying the letter was a photo: a group shot at the Chamber of Commerce, everyone in Western-style formal wear, standing before the Chinese General Chamber with the national and local flags flying behind them.
Though the photo was only palm-sized, Xie Jing immediately recognized Lord Bai Jiu among the black-and-white figures.
Lord Bai Jiu stood a row behind He Dongting, taller than those around him, not smiling, hair slightly moved by the wind. Xie Jing reached out to touch it, perhaps wanting to smooth the strand.
He studied the image carefully, committing it to memory, then looked for He Dongting. He was in the center, easy to find, but Xie Jing only glanced briefly before setting the photo down.
After reading the letter, Xie Jing called Wang Su over and quietly asked: “Did His Lordship write back?”
Wang Su shook his head. They hadn’t received anything.
Xie Jing was slightly disappointed, but at least he had the photo. After thinking a moment, he asked: “Contact the merchants in Rongcheng; I need to buy some things.”
Wang Su asked, “What do you want to buy?”
Xie Jing: “Guns, some bullets, maybe two cannon tubes if possible. If not, no matter. Two more Mauser rifles will do.”
Wang Su, surprised by the quantity, asked, “That many?”
Xie Jing said, “Not too many. They’ll last for years.” The past two years had been slightly chaotic. Though his uncle and Xu Jun could handle Huang Wanxing, others might be more difficult. Armoring a squad would at least ensure self-protection.
The Bai family merchants had the connections; these items could be procured. Xu Jun agreed and went to Rongcheng that very night.
Xie Jing sat in his room, reread the letter, and began composing a reply.
It was his first time writing to He Dongting. The opening felt awkward; although well-educated, he was more used to practical matters like bookkeeping. Writing such formal language felt unnatural. He decided to prepare a package of Western Sichuan specialties—mostly dried mountain goods—and had the Chamber of Commerce deliver them to Shanghai.
He also prepared a set for the East Courtyard members, including things he had enjoyed over the past days, sent via his guards to the Bai family’s local agents.
Recently, Lord Bai Jiu had begun sending people to buy salt, but only dealt with the shopkeepers and agents. They showed proper respect to Xie Jing but knew little about Lord Bai Jiu. So Xie Jing didn’t question them. The goods were sent, and the Bai shopkeepers assured him: “We’ll definitely deliver them to Manager Xie.”
Xie Jing asked, “When will it arrive?”
The shopkeeper thought briefly. “With fast horses, about ten days.”
Xie Jing nodded, then after a moment, took another letter from his bosom and quietly said: “This is my letter to Lord Bai Jiu. Take it together, don’t let anyone else see.”
The shopkeeper received it with both hands, very solemnly, and promised: “Manager Xie, rest assured. Within ten days, it will reach His Lordship.”
Though the envelope felt light in his hands, it weighed a thousand pounds in his heart. Manager Xie was such a figure that he personally entrusted this letter—clearly, it contained important news for Western Sichuan.
A few days later, Wang Su returned with a report.
He brought a batch of sturdy wooden crates. Following Xie Jing’s instructions, he did not deliver them directly to the Xie mansion but stored them temporarily before returning alone to report. He handed over a booklet: “I brought back half the supplies. The rest are being prepared. At most, within seven or eight days, everything will be delivered. I met Li Yuan at the Rongcheng office and handed over the goods. The remaining items will be delivered by him and the East Courtyard managers.”
Xie Jing checked the quantities and asked, “Did Li Yuan say anything?”
Wang Su: “He said the same as you guessed. If I hadn’t gone, he would have come to Western Sichuan himself by month-end.”
Xie Jing nodded.
He had sent Li Yuan to Rongcheng to contact Huang Renfeng. The deadline was March. If nothing happened there, he would return to Western Sichuan. So far, Huang Renfeng had shown no activity; the secret line was premature.
Wang Su continued: “On the way back, I heard something else. The Huang family in Lower City encountered bandits; someone was kidnapped.”
Xie Jing asked, “Huang Wanxing was kidnapped?”
Wang Su: “No, it seems to be his steward, Li Chunlin.”
Xie Jing stroked his chin. How peculiar—someone as cunning as Li Chunlin falling into the hands of bandits. He instructed Wang Su: “Send two men to investigate. Remember, take weapons, and if anything happens, retreat first. Life is more important than anything else.”
Wang Su acknowledged and left.
Meanwhile, Yunmeng Mountain…
This was Western Sichuan’s remote, defensive terrain. The narrow valley often had falling rocks, located dozens of li from Zhuandou Township, easy to defend but hard to attack.
Occasionally, low-tier bandits fled into the mountains, but few survived. The area had heavy miasma and poisonous insects. Traders knew it was dangerous, often circumventing the entire mountain rather than risk crossing it. Though closer, attempting to traverse the canyon carelessly could cost one’s life.
Author’s Note:
The uncle tricking the child into tasting salt:
Xie Siquan: Hehe, raising a child is so fun.
Xu Jun: Stop it now!
The fast horse delivering a letter – Western Sichuan shopkeeper:
Shopkeeper: Ah! Confidential, this must be top commercial secret!
