Chapter Ten: The Boy Who Fished

The surface of the lake was as calm as a mirror, the white float motionless like a blemish upon it. The boy’s reflection stared back at him, expressionless, his gaze fixed intently on the float, the veins standing out on the hand gripping the fishing rod.

“The old fat man always says fishing isn’t about the fish, it’s about the heart. I don’t quite understand it, but how could I possibly lose to him?” The boy silently steeled himself.

“Ninth Young Master! There’s no bait on your hook; how could any fish possibly bite?” Behind him, a youth of eighteen or nineteen, a sword hanging at his waist, stood tall and straight.

“What do you know! Haven’t you heard that Jiang Taigong fished just like this?” the boy retorted sourly, swinging his rod in annoyance.

The fishing line sailed toward a cluster of low shrubs at the bank. The boy tugged with all his strength, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Eleven! Go take a look.”

The youth strode over quickly, parted the branches, and seemed startled for a moment. Soon, he crouched and fiddled with something.

“Ninth Young Master, the hook’s caught on a drowning youth. He’s still breathing.”

“Heh! See how skilled I am? Even with an empty hook, I can fish up a person. Wake him up. Anything I pull up is mine by right,” the boy waved his hand carelessly, as though he’d done something utterly trivial.

After supper, daylight still lingered. The boy stepped out of the tent and beckoned to the youth standing guard nearby. “Come, let’s have a look.”

Lu Lulian had never seen such an exquisite-looking boy; if he were a few years older and dressed as a girl, he’d be worthy of the title ‘peerless beauty.’ Yet his proud demeanor made him difficult to like at first sight.

The boy assessed Lu Lulian as one would inspect merchandise and declared arrogantly, “Your life was saved by me.”

Lu Lulian rose from his bedroll and bowed deeply. “Thank you, brother, for saving my life!”

The boy laughed coldly. “Thank you? How much is that worth in silver?”

Lu Lulian was stunned. Isn’t it proper to give help without expecting reward? What sort of strange youth would say such a thing?

Casting a disdainful glance at Lu Lulian’s somewhat tattered clothes, the boy turned away and asked casually, “Eleven, how much would a rustic young master like him fetch?”

“Ninth Young Master, at most two taels,” answered Eleven with practiced seriousness.

Lu Lulian was furious, truly furious. Men can be killed, but not humiliated; to be appraised like merchandise and valued at less than two taels—what an insult!

Straightening his clothes, he held his head high and replied with pride, “I am a dignified tribute student, not some wild child. Is it not improper to price a living person as you do?”

“A tribute student? That’s good enough to fool the country folk. In Chang’an, scholars are everywhere, officials at every corner. A mere tribute student is nothing to boast about,” the boy sneered mercilessly, striking at Lu Lulian’s pride.

“Is Chang’an so remarkable? I have lived in Chang’an since childhood, so I count as a native,” Lu Lulian retorted, unwilling to back down.

“Oh! Who would have guessed you’re a native of Chang’an? But do you really think anyone would believe it, looking at you? Which family from Chang’an do you hail from, ‘young master in distress’?” The boy’s mocking tone made Lu Lulian uncomfortable.

“Doctor Lu from the Imperial Medical Academy is my father,” Lu Lulian answered proudly.

The boy tilted his head, pondering a moment, then shook it. “Doctor Lu? Never heard of him. Eleven, how much would a doctor without fame be worth?”

“Three hundred taels is tight, five hundred taels would ruin the family,” Eleven replied succinctly.

“Haha! Even if this wild child speaks the truth, he’s worth at most four hundred taels,” the boy nodded knowingly.

The boy’s luxurious attire and commanding presence, accompanied by elite guards, revealed his distinguished background at a glance. Lu Lulian had already lost in terms of bearing, but now his youthful nature was stirred.

“So you think you’re so impressive! How much are you worth?”

“Ha! Eleven, he wants to know my value. Forget what I’m worth; just this trip alone, the silver I’ve made would terrify you,” the boy laughed heartily, as if Lu Lulian had said something absurd.

“Eleven, tell him.”

“After expenses, more than six thousand taels profit.”

“Nonsense!” Six thousand taels—a sum Lu Lulian could scarcely imagine.

“You can’t fathom it because you’re poor and lack ability,” the boy looked at Lu Lulian as if he were an ant.

“And you’re so capable?” To be belittled by a boy just a year or two younger was unbearable.

“I bought up a hundred carts of old grain from the Chengdu government stores for five hundred taels. Hauled it to Yunnan, traded it with mountain folk for over ten carts of jade. Returned to Chang’an, prices soared more than tenfold. That’s my skill,” the boy boasted, counting off on his fingers and eyeing Lu Lulian with disdain.

“And you? What skills do you have?”

“I became a tribute student at thirteen, and I’m skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.”

“Those are common talents among scholars, hardly worth bragging about. Still, tribute student at thirteen is passable—I’ll add three hundred taels for that. Anything else?”

Being suddenly valued higher, Lu Lulian felt a strange sense of relief and a hint of pride at being acknowledged.

“I know herbs, can cure and detoxify illnesses.”

The boy feigned great reluctance, as if giving Lu Lulian a tremendous favor. “That’s somewhat useful—another three hundred taels. Anything else?”

Among boys, no one wants to be looked down upon. Lu Lulian, forgetting his earlier resentment at being priced, was eager to raise his own value, even if only by a little.

“I can cook and wash clothes, though I’m not sure if that counts.” Lu Lulian felt embarrassed, his voice barely audible. He never mentioned his skill in poisoning, lest he be misunderstood.

“Two taels for that,” the boy said generously, not at all concerned that a scholar could do such menial tasks.

“Counting your family background, you total one thousand and two taels. That’s your worth, isn’t it?” The boy’s beautiful eyes stared wide at Lu Lulian.

Though uncomfortable at being appraised, recalling the initial two taels compared to the sudden thousand made it less distressing. Lu Lulian nodded reluctantly.

“All right, I saved your life. Its value is one thousand and two taels. Add the two-hundred-year ginseng decoction I used to revive you, worth five hundred taels, and you owe me a total of one thousand five hundred and two taels. Will you pay now or sign a promissory note?” The boy was dead serious.

Lu Lulian was dumbfounded, never expecting life-saving to be calculated this way. His life had indeed been saved by the boy; the ginseng soup was drunk by him, and the ginseng’s age was real—two hundred years, worth five hundred taels. Yet his own lowly life had somehow been valued at a thousand taels.

This boy is no human—he’s a demon. Compared to him, Lady Fang is almost a saint!

Lu Lulian could not bring himself to default, nor could he escape. Not only was he weak, but the youth’s sword seemed formidable.

Obediently, he handed over fifty taels of loose silver he’d acquired from Lady Fang, and, led like a puppet, signed a promissory note. His mind was left utterly blank.

The boy didn’t even glance at the small pouch Lu Lulian handed over, tossing it casually to the youth behind him.

The youth’s face turned pale, a sycophantic smile plastered on his features. “Ninth Young Master, you’ve caught a big fish indeed. Wang Eleven is truly impressed.”

“Looks like you’re out of money. If you wish to return to Chang’an with my caravan, the fare is about a hundred taels. If not, you can leave now. The promissory note bears your fingerprint; I’ll collect from your doctor grandfather in Chang’an,” the boy said calmly, as though nothing unusual had happened, ready to depart.

Lu Lulian dared not argue the high fare, fearing more unforeseen traps lay ahead. Yet resentment bubbled up within him, and he couldn’t help but say, “Brother, don’t you think your behavior excessive?”

“I am but a merchant, not worthy of your scholarly address. ‘Help without expecting reward’—that is your scholars’ ideal. As a merchant, I deal only in value and profit,” the boy replied coolly.

“A mere merchant, how dare you insult a scholar? Aren’t you afraid I’ll report you to the authorities?” Lu Lulian raged.

“From start to finish, have I insulted you? Did I not save your life? Did you not raise your own value? Wasn’t the five-hundred-tael ginseng digested by you?

And besides, are scholars so noble? Do you not eat or wear clothing? Scholars seeking food at my house are a common sight—even scholars and officials are no rarity. You, a mere tribute student, are nothing special,” the boy said, waving his sleeve and leaving without another glance at Lu Lulian, light and untroubled as a drifting cloud.