Chapter Thirteen: A Hundred Thousand Uneven Homes

Southeast, a land of natural beauty; the heart of the Three Wu regions, Qiantang has flourished since ancient times. Misty willows, painted bridges, emerald curtains billowing in the breeze, ten thousand households scattered across the landscape! Ever since the First Emperor of Qin traveled east, departing Danyang, arriving at Qiantang and gazing upon the Zhe River, crossing from the narrow waters as the waves grew fierce and passing through Kuaiji, this ancient and beautiful city has lingered in the memories of the world. From Qin to Han, through the Three Kingdoms, the Jin, and the Northern and Southern Dynasties, history's river flows on, yet Qiantang, bathed in the wisdom and rain of countless sages, has blossomed from a little girl with braided locks into a stunning beauty, radiant and charming beyond compare. With a glance, misty waves fade into the distance; with a smile, clouds swirl and morning glow rises. Seen from afar, she is veiled in gauze, stepping through streams, her skin like ice and jade, snow-white and clear, her beauty endless and grace inexhaustible.

Xu You looked around him. Outside the Qiantang Gate, the stone where the First Emperor moored his boat stood tall and unyielding, not yet carved into the great stone Buddha by Monk Sijing in the Northern Song's Xuanhe era. Surrounded by lakes and hills, with sails and waves, merchants gathered from all directions. Though its prosperity could not rival Hangzhou in later years, the city’s ancient charm and natural elegance far surpassed the cultivated taste and spiritual aura of modern cities built from reinforced concrete.

The ox cart made its way through the bustling crowds, following the neatly paved stone road into the city, finally stopping before an inn of exquisite design and spotless cleanliness. Zuo Wen supported Xu You as they stepped down from the cart. “When hiring the cart, I made inquiries. This inn has quite a reputation in the city. Why don’t we rest here for a few days, and then plan our next move?”

Xu You looked up, smiling. “The Guesthouse of Welcome—‘A guest feels at home’—the owner certainly knows how to attract business.”

Autumn Equinox stepped down from the rear cart, carrying Lushuang in her arms. Her fair face still bore traces of tears shed at parting from Ding Ku’er. “Young Master, are we staying here tonight?”

Xu You gently wiped her cheeks, full of affection. “Are you tired? Would you like something to eat? I’ll have the chef make it for you.”

Autumn Equinox shook her head. “Not tired. But Lushuang is so frail. These days on the river, she could only manage porridge. Now that we’ve finally reached Qiantang, could you buy her some fresh milk and fish stew for nourishment?”

After these days of continual medicine and Autumn Equinox’s devoted care, Lushuang’s symptoms—shortness of breath, coughing due to inner cold—had eased somewhat, though the exhaustion of travel lingered. Yet illness comes like a mountain and departs like a thread; full recovery would likely take two or three months. Now, lying in Autumn Equinox’s arms, her eyes closed, half from fatigue, half from dizziness, she slipped into sleep.

Xu You pinched her nose. “You’re the one who dotes on her, aren’t you? Don’t worry. Let’s settle in first, and after lunch we’ll have Fenghu seek out a renowned physician.”

Just as he was about to step forward, the attendant in blue welcoming guests at the door reached out to stop him. “Sir, please wait!”

Xu You glanced at his group’s attire; not luxurious, but surely not so shabby as to earn disdain at an inn, right? Or had the threshold for Qiantang inns risen so high that only those clad in silk and brocade could enter?

Zuo Wen stepped forward, blocking Xu You and the attendant, frowning. “What is the matter?”

Attendants chosen to greet guests were always sharp-eyed and quick-witted. Sensing he might have offended, he quickly smiled apologetically. “Gentlemen, please don’t be upset. Our inn has a custom—when a refined guest arrives, we offer a challenge: answer a question. If answered cleverly, the inn presents a small gift of welcome.”

So that was it—a clever marketing ploy. Xu You teased, “How do you know we are refined guests?”

“Those upright and virtuous are called refined. Hearing your words and observing your manner, I know you are gentlemen from afar.”

These words were from Xunzi. Xu You’s eyes flashed, but he concealed it with laughter. “It’s often said all the finest literature comes from the Three Wu. Seeing it today, I find the saying true. Even in a humble inn, the attendants quote the classics—how can we martial folk not feel ashamed!”

Martial folk?

The attendant’s eyes had seen countless guests from north and south. Zuo Wen’s martial bearing was clear, but Xu You, from any angle, seemed more like a delicate scholar from a noble family than a rough warrior.

“Sir, you are gifted in both literature and arms, hardly needing humility. Please, listen to my question: You just spoke of ‘A guest feels at home’—may I ask where it originates?”

Xu You regarded the attendant anew. From this question, it was clear he did not draw from a prepared list, but crafted it on the spot. The difference may seem slight, yet the skill and knowledge required are worlds apart.

To see the great in the small—this attendant alone revealed how formidable the inn’s master must be. Xu You, new to the city, did not wish to draw attention. “You’ve really stumped me. Is there a rule here that guests who fail to answer are turned away?”

The attendant was startled, then laughed. “Sir, you exaggerate. Please, do come in!” Then he turned and called inside, “Honored guests have arrived!”

Xu You entered the gates, greeted by a square front courtyard, shaded by green locust trees and drooping willows, with a winding stream flowing cheerfully beneath an arched wooden bridge. Another attendant in blue stood at the round gate at the bridge’s end, bowing in silent welcome.

“Sir, please!”

After three such courtyards, they reached the lodgings. Pavilions, towers, and intricately carved window lattices, all crafted with exceptional skill and unique charm. Zuo Wen whispered a few words to secure a secluded courtyard in the northwest corner, containing three or five superior rooms, quiet and peaceful.

Autumn Equinox went to settle Lushuang, while Xu You and Zuo Wen spoke together. “Fenghu, after lunch, please seek out a renowned physician for another diagnosis of Lushuang. Also, find out where the brokers are—someone experienced to help us find a suitable residence. The price should be around half a million; not too far from the busy market, but not too noisy either. Ideally, something ancient and elegant, not ostentatious like a merchant’s gilded mansion…”

Brokers had existed for ages, setting prices and facilitating trade—pioneers of commercial mediation. In the pre-Qin and Han, they were called merchants or brokers; by the Wei, Jin, Sui, and Tang, they were known as ya or ya brokers; in Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing, as guides, agents, or elders, and later simply as brokers. These individuals mingled in the marketplace, well-connected and eloquent. Whenever merchants arrived with goods, they moved between inns and shops, setting prices for rice, salt, silk, fish, paper, iron, coal, fruit—all determined by them, extracting significant profits. Though often disliked by merchants, with goods transported by water over hundreds of miles and unfamiliarity abounding, without their mediation, many deals could not proceed, so people tolerated them.

Zuo Wen said, “Half a million? Sir, isn’t that a bit steep?”

In the Book of Song, the biography of Lady Chen states that a well-appointed three-room tile house in Jinling cost only thirty thousand. The Forest of Jewels also notes that building a decent temple in Qiantang cost about thirty thousand. So, while Qiantang’s property prices were not low, they did not exceed Jinling’s—half a million was indeed a large sum, hence Zuo Wen’s question.

“Fenghu, keep a long-term perspective. Don’t be stingy when buying a house. Sometimes, living well brings joy to body and mind. And remember: only when the parasol tree is well tended, can the phoenix be drawn to it!”