Chapter 7: A Small-Scale Business

November’s north wind swept snowflakes across the frozen surface of Kunming Lake, the ice groaning low with the gusts. This year’s snowfall had come fierce and sudden; barely past mid-November, the entire city of Beiping lay cloaked in white, its usual streets and alleys deserted. Only the stretch from Wanshou Temple in the northwest suburb to Kunming Lake buzzed with a lively commotion.

On the ice, a roughly square hole about three feet across had been chipped open. Cold vapors mingled with mist rose from the watery depths beneath, frosting a thin layer of hoarfrost at the hole’s edge.

A burly man clad in a coarse cotton jacket stood beside the hole, clutching a hemp rope as thick as his thumb. Tied to the other end was a basin-sized magnet, its black surface dusted with a thin sheet of ice that shimmered with a cold, hard gleam under the snowy light.

“Lower it!” The man shouted, swinging his arm with force. With a splash, the magnet plunged into the icy hole.

“That must be an expert who has cultivated inner strength to wield such power,” someone whispered nearby.

Word had it the man was a righteous hero of the martial world, causing the crowd around to hold their breath. Hundreds of eyes fixed on the rope at the hole. Some shivered, stamping their feet as their breath vanished into the swirling snow; others, bolder, leaned forward, straining to peer into the icy depths.

Moments later, the man yanked sharply on the rope. It snapped taut, veins bulging on his face, clearly the submerged object was heavy.

As the magnet slowly emerged from the hole, a flash of black gleamed on its surface—a large cluster of iron coins!

The rusted coins clung tightly to the magnet, densely packed in a half-circle, swaying gently in the wind and snow, producing a faint clinking.

“Wow!” the crowd erupted.

A scholar in a long gown stroked his beard admiringly. “To think such things lie beneath the ice. Who would toss iron coins into the lake for no reason? Truly odd!”

The man didn’t pause, plucking the coins off and tossing them into a nearby bamboo basket before flinging the magnet back into the hole. This time, he hauled it up quickly.

At first, the magnet bore a dark object—upon closer inspection, a vegetable cleaver! Though rusted, the blade’s shape remained clear, evidently dropped by accident into the lake.

“Can you really fish that up?” a woman carrying a basket gasped. “My husband said he lost a cleaver just the other day; could it be this one?” Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Hearing the chatter, the man snorted coldly. “That cleaver doesn’t bear your husband’s name, so don’t think you can take it for free.”

“Well, well. Braving the cold and risk to haul these things from the lake, of course they belong to you. Even if the owner turns up, they won’t have the face to claim them,” people chuckled in agreement.

Before the laughter died down, the man cast the magnet down a third time. This time the rope was heavy; he gritted his teeth, pulling with all his might, his face flushed red.

When the magnet surfaced, the crowd gasped sharply—it carried an iron helmet! Water plants clung to its edges, the spike atop rusted but still exuding a grim martial aura.

“Is this... a soldier’s?” someone whispered. “Perhaps lost during battles years ago?”

The surprises were not over. Fired up, the man removed the helmet and lowered the magnet once more. This time it was a struggle, nearly all his strength summoned. As the magnet slowly broke the surface, the crowd erupted in cheers: it held half a piece of armor! The armor plate, palm-sized, edges bound with iron rings and chains, now rusted into a solid sheet, still bore marks of its former weight and strength.

“My heavens!” an old man in the front row exclaimed, mouth agape. “In all my years, I’ve never seen such a marvel! A single stone can pull iron relics from the lake. Truly eye-opening!”

Others tallied the haul and assessed its worth on the spot. “That string of coins are Da Zhou’s founding currency. Back then, brass was scarce, and the First Emperor hastened to unify the money to cement his legitimacy, so a vast batch of iron coins was minted. Though iron coins were unpopular, none dared refuse them openly. That’s worth several hundred cash. The cleaver, though rusted, could still be sharpened and used, so let’s say ten cash. The real prize is the helmet and armor—worth at least an ounce or two of silver. This man has made quite a haul today.”

“One or two ounces of silver?” someone gasped. “He earns in half a day what I make in a month.” The envious gaze fixed on the man on the ice grew even more intense.

The wind and snow bit into their necks, yet no one dared move. The man’s bamboo basket was already half full—coins, cleaver, helmet, and armor pressed together, gleaming darkly under the swirling snow.

Around the ice hole, the steam grew thicker; the spectators’ gasps and chatter mixed with the howling wind, carrying far across the open ice of Kunming Lake, outshining even the roaring north wind, becoming the liveliest scene in this wintry weather.

By afternoon, under all eyes, the burly man hauled up an iron canister from the lake, containing several silver coins and a gold bracelet, sparking yet more astonishment among the crowd.

News of this drew many townsfolk braving the storm to see the spectacle. Around Wanshou Temple and Kunming Lake, people swarmed like a mountain of humanity.

***

The burly man was none other than Deng Gang, chief banner officer of the Divine Machine Battalion. Several accomplices stood nearby, occasionally shouting to stir the atmosphere—they were soldiers from the battalion’s left flank.

Behind the scenes was the mastermind Wu Tiande, mingling with the crowd, selling the stolen magnets he had pilfered from the Divine Machine Battalion’s warehouse.

“Better to weave a net than just envy fish in the deep. Ten taels of silver is nothing. With a bowl-sized magnet in hand, what treasures couldn’t you fish up?” Wu Tiande pitched to a captivated young man.

“How can I fish when Kunming Lake’s already been picked clean by this big fellow?” the young man replied.

“You’ve got it wrong. You may miss out on the lake’s treasures, but Beiping is full of waterways and canals. You could spend six months fishing and find countless gold and silver,” Wu Tiande patiently explained.

“That’s true…” the man hesitated.

Just then, a planted shill behind him shouted, “Any more magnets for sale? Save the biggest one for me—I’ve got plenty of silver.”

Sensing trouble, the man decided to buy, “All right, I’ll buy. Here’s ten taels. Show me first; don’t sell me a fake.”

“No problem,” Wu Tiande smiled, taking the silver. He used the magnet to pick up a few coins in demonstration, then handed it over to complete the sale.

By day’s end, Wu Tiande had sold over fifty magnets of various sizes, earning nearly 350 taels of silver.

Wu Tiande hired a couple named Bao Er to sell fast food on site. Their fare included pork stewed with vermicelli, cabbage, and radish, freshly cooked on a coal stove, served with a fluffy white steamed bun, steaming hot and tempting.

The price was just twenty cash, not expensive.

Crucially, they were the only stall nearby—no branches anywhere else.

If you didn’t want to buy, you’d have to gnaw on your own dry rations in the cold. Those dry rations, in freezing weather, were as hard as stones, easily chipping teeth.

Alternatively, you could return to Beiping city and skip the crowd.

But city meat buns cost three cash each, three to fill you up—nine cash total.

Compared to this fast food, not much difference in price.

Bao Er and his wife also offered warmed yellow wine. On such bitter days, a big bowl of warm wine made one feel wonderfully invigorated.

The price was steep—twenty cash a bowl—causing some to wince.

Yet, for the sake of Bao Er’s wife’s charming smiles, her bright eyes, and the generous allure of her half-revealed ample bosom, most were willing to pay the extra twenty cash just to win a smile from such a beauty—unless utterly destitute.

Thus, Bao Er’s fast food business thrived; they sold out all their food and drink. Jia Zhi had to make two trips to restock from Beiping city.

Later, records showed Bao Er and his wife sold over three thousand boxed meals and over eight hundred bowls of yellow wine, generating gross revenue of around seventy to eighty taels of silver. After costs, they pocketed a tidy profit of forty to fifty taels—a modest sum, but the profit margin was impressive.

By afternoon, the crowd began to thin as people left for the city. Wu Tiande, Qingwen, the Baos, the Lou family, Jia Jun and his mother, Jia Zhi, and others dispersed, blending quietly into the returning throng without drawing attention.

As today’s star, Deng Gang could not be seen walking alongside director Wu Tiande. Mounted on a swift horse, he circled around the northern Anding Gate, then wandered east and west within Beiping before sneaking quietly into the Baos’ home on Xiaohuazhi Lane.

“Commander Deng, why just now returning? Your brothers acting as shills have already drunk several bowls of yellow wine and are passed out in the Bao family’s side room,” Wu Tiande chuckled.

“Hahaha, those useless fellows! When they wake, I’ll skin them alive. I haven’t even sat down yet, and they’ve started eating and drinking—do they have any manners?” Deng Gang laughed and scolded.

Wu Tiande advised, “No need to be so harsh. They’ve done their part today. Without their cheering, our magnet sales wouldn’t have gone so smoothly.”

“I’m only joking, Brother Wu, don’t take it seriously,” Deng replied.

They laughed together and sat at the wine table, the Baos as hosts, attending and urging them to drink.

Deng Gang had come for his share.

As a key participant, not only did he act as the lake diver in the biting cold, exerting great effort, but he also facilitated the thefts from the Divine Machine Battalion’s warehouse.

With the stolen helmets, armor, broken swords, and other scraps, the magnet fishing drew the curious crowd’s lively interest. The various magnets, also stolen from the warehouse, were the main source of profit.

Deng Gang also contributed his own savings—several taels of silver and a gold bracelet—as props.

By prior agreement, Deng was entitled to half the proceeds, about 190 taels of silver.

Wu Tiande rounded it up, giving Deng 200 taels.

The Baos were temporary hires, receiving only a predetermined wage, no share of the profits.

Bao’s wife, as a woman who showed her face and flirted, was vital to the success of the food stall. Besides her agreed two taels, Wu Tiande gave her an extra one as a bonus.

Bao himself got only two taels.

The couple, after a hard day, earned five taels total—a respectable sum, and both were satisfied.

Especially Bao’s wife, who cared little for the money, busy flirting and teasing Commander Deng Gang over drinks.

She had already resolved to make sure Deng spent his earnings in their home, not taking a single coin away.

Thinking this, she feigned warmth from the wine, pulling her blouse aside slightly on both sides, revealing a pair of large, round, enticingly white bosoms. Deng sitting beside her found his gaze wandering.

Lou Shi oversaw sales figures and supervised Bao’s food business; her son Jia Jun hawked loudly among the crowd, both playing their part.

When Wu Tiande invited them to join the venture, Lou Shi insisted on no upfront payment, only that Wu repay their debts once he earned money.

“You owe so much; better to repay first. Though we aren’t rich, we’re not desperate for cash,” Lou Shi said.

Wu Tiande admired their integrity and pitied their lonely poverty. Besides settling debts on the spot, he gave Jia Jun a small bonus.

Claiming seniority, Wu Tiande offered it as a gift, which Lou Shi could not refuse, so Jia Jun kowtowed in thanks.

Wu also had Bao’s wife gift Lou Shi a bowl of meat and a basket of steamed buns leftover from the fast food sales. Lou Shi accepted gratefully.

Jia Zhi, a temporary helper, was paid a small sum and given some food to feed his family.

As for Qingwen, still young and merely a spectator, Wu Tiande did not intend to pay her.

All told, this small-scale venture earned Wu Tiande 180 taels of silver. Beyond covering year-end debts, he finally had seed money to consider other small businesses.