Chapter 16: Brothers Part Ways from This Moment On

Qin Qingshou was merely a merchant, and not even a prominent one—just a small-town dealer of miscellaneous bamboo goods—yet his ambitions soared so high!

Ye Chang fixed his gaze upon him, silent for a long while. Qin Qingshou did not expect to sway Ye Chang with a few brief words; he steadied himself, ready to unleash his eloquence once Ye Chang voiced his refusal.

Yet when Ye Chang spoke, all of Qin’s preparations were rendered moot.

“Very well, Shopkeeper Qin, with such aspirations, how could I not agree? Yet I am but a rustic from the countryside, of little consequence, without wealth or influence, unable to make this widely known. I’ll leave the matter entirely to you, Shopkeeper Qin.”

Qin Qingshou’s breath quickened; he stared at Ye Chang in disbelief for a moment before he managed to speak. “Master Ye, if this method is presented to the court, you will surely be rewarded—not just with silk and copper, but perhaps even with rank or title. Who can say?”

Ye Chang smiled. “I know.”

“If you know this, Master Ye, why would you hand over such a tremendous achievement… to me?”

“I am a man of the wilds; what use have I for titles or honors? Should you profit from this, and feel obliged to share some wealth with me, I would accept it gladly.”

“This…”

Qin Qingshou was at a loss. To call Ye Chang noble seemed inaccurate, for he did not refuse money; to accuse him of greed was equally unfitting, for he cared nothing for rank or title.

He thought it over but could not fathom Ye Chang’s reasoning. At last, he clasped his hands in respect. “If Master Ye does not disdain me, I would be honored to see this through on your behalf.”

“No need, no need, Shopkeeper Qin,” Ye Chang laughed heartily. “If you worry that I might renege, we can draft a written agreement. My ambition is simple—a small pond, a solitary hill. That is enough.”

Qin Qingshou was moved to respect. “Master Ye, you are not of this corrupt world. I am the small-minded one here.”

In the Tang dynasty, it was common to seek the “shortcut of Zhongnan”—ambitious men often chose to retire to the countryside, waiting for the court to summon them and thus achieve meteoric rise. Qin Qingshou suspected Ye Chang of harboring such hidden intentions. Though he praised him aloud, inwardly he was doubtful: those who sought fame through reclusion were always of rare talent—like Li Bi, the famous recluse who, even as a child, was hailed as a prodigy. Though Ye Chang had his own mystical encounter, his fame could hardly compare.

“But Shopkeeper Qin, your visit is well-timed. I, too, wished to consult you. Where do you procure your bamboo?”

“Why does Master Ye ask?”

“I’ve no intention of entering the bamboo trade, merely wish to know your source. If you feel it must remain secret, I’ll simply ask elsewhere.”

Qin Qingshou’s face shifted slightly. “You misunderstand, Master Ye. I was simply curious as to your reasons… All my bamboo comes from Jin Family Ridge in Henei County.”

In recent days, Ye Chang had finally figured out the geography of Xiuwu County. The county itself was unremarkable, but nearby Henan Prefecture and County roughly corresponded to what would later be Jiaozuo, while the famed Mount Fufu was actually the future Yuntai Mountain. The region lay in the northwest of Henan, at the foot of the Taihang Mountains. He was surprised that Qin Qingshou could supply so much bamboo—did the Tang climate truly allow such abundance this far north?

“How far is Jin Family Ridge from here?” Ye Chang asked.

“Just over thirty li—a day’s journey.”

“Is there much bamboo there? How many acres? How many stalks?”

This question made Qin Qingshou instantly serious; clearly, Ye Chang’s curiosity had a deeper purpose.

“Henei has produced bamboo since Han times—hence the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove retired there. Yet moso bamboo is a southern species, fond of warmth and moisture, and rare in the north. My ancestors introduced it to Jin Family Ridge; now we have hundreds of acres, with tens of thousands of stalks.” Qin Qingshou thought for a moment, then added, “But from Henei to Xiuwu, tough bamboo is plentiful enough.”

Ye Chang narrowed his eyes, pondering whether this “tough bamboo” could serve his plans.

“Does Master Ye have great use for moso bamboo?” Qin Qingshou probed.

“I do.”

“Oh? For what purpose, might I ask?”

“Paper-making,” Ye Chang answered simply.

Indeed, he planned to make paper. After much deliberation, he judged this the fastest way to build his fortune in this era.

But above all, he was fed up with using toilet sticks—scraping oneself with a bamboo sliver was a grisly business, akin to a doctor wielding a scalpel on his own flesh.

Paper-making was essential—he needed to produce toilet paper!

If he was to make paper, wheat straw might suffice for personal use, but to earn real money, he needed to manufacture bamboo paper. Conveniently, Ye Chang was well-versed in the relevant techniques—he could almost recite from memory the bamboo paper-making methods described by Song Yingxing in his late Ming treatise, “The Exploitation of the Works of Nature.” Yet he only knew how to use moso bamboo; whether other varieties would suffice, he was unsure.

Still, it was worth experimenting.

“Paper-making… Master Ye, you mean to make paper?” Qin Qingshou exclaimed in surprise. “From bamboo?”

“Exactly. Whether it succeeds, I cannot yet say, but if it does, I may trouble you to help distribute it.”

“That would be easy enough. Good paper will always find a market.” Qin mulled it over. “But I have always heard that paper is made from hemp, mulberry, paper mulberry, or rice straw—bamboo paper is seldom seen.”

Qin Qingshou was familiar with the price of paper—one hundred sheets of white paper cost forty or fifty copper coins, about the same as three dou of rice. Though cheaper than before, it remained costly, so much so that many scholars could not afford it and resorted to writing on walls, giving rise to the tradition of “wall inscriptions.”

“It should be cheaper than current paper,” said Ye Chang. “But all this will take half a year to bear fruit. Until then, keep it between us.”

“Oh? Why the secrecy?”

“If it fails, I’d rather not be laughed at,” Ye Chang replied with a smile.

Their conversation was overheard by Liu Gui, who sneered inwardly. This Eleventh Master was truly oblivious to his own limitations—having been fortunate enough to summon water with the Immortal’s guidance, now he dreamed of making paper! If it were so easy, would it fall to him? And he even feared being mocked… as if he’d even last six months before giving people cause to laugh. He would have to report this to the Liu family.

Though the meal was dry, with no wine served, both host and guests were well pleased. Upon learning that Ye Shu was to serve on corvée duty in the capital, Qin Qingshou even wrote a letter for him to take to Chang’an, addressed to a close relative who ran a shop in the western market, asking him to look after Ye Shu. Both Ye Shu and Ye Chang understood this gesture.

When the gathering broke up, Xiang’er happily seized the chance to clear the table. Ye Chang helped in the kitchen, where the two spoke softly; Xiang’er was eager to learn his recipes, and Ye Chang, far from hoarding his knowledge, taught her several stir-fry techniques. The better she learned, the more he could enjoy leisure and good food—why not?

“Eleventh Master, you’ve used up half the oil, and you didn’t even render lard from that pork! Even so, we can’t eat like this every day, can we?”

Given Ye Chang’s household finances, daily banquets would soon spell ruin. He laughed, “In that case, we’ll raise our own pigs and chickens!”

“With just you and me, that’s impossible—Liu Gui is useless,” Xiang’er grumbled. Ye Chang peered into the courtyard; Liu Gui was indeed nowhere to be seen, no doubt off shirking his duties somewhere.

“Well, we could ask the neighbors for help. Raising pigs is too troublesome, but chickens are simple enough. Still, it’s not ideal—living in the village, we can’t keep many, and they’ll taste poor unless we move to the foot of the mountain and get more land.”

“Eleventh Master, you should have listened to Shopkeeper Qin earlier—if you’d presented your irrigation scheme to the court, you’d have a grand official title by now. Then we’d have plenty of land and houses, you could buy more servants, and I could be in charge!” Xiang’er’s eyes shone with longing. “Then I could order others around!”

Ye Chang was left speechless by her childish dreams. He ruffled her hair, mussing her bun, and said, “Things don’t come so easily. My reputation is still unknown; even if the court rewarded me, could I keep it safe?”

Xiang’er, being young, could not understand the helplessness behind his words.

Leaving the kitchen, Ye Chang saw Liu Gui slinking into the courtyard with a sly grin. Ye Chang’s heart stirred. “Been off to Changzhi again?”

Liu Gui’s face fell, and he dropped to his knees. “No, no, I wouldn’t dare!”

Of course he had. Not only had he visited Changzhi, he must have received some promise there, hence his happiness. Ye Chang felt a surge of irritation; his brother was about to leave for corvée, his brother-in-law had been shipped off to guard the kiln in the mountains, and now he was left with Liu Gui.

“If you want to go back, I’ll return your indenture to Changzhi and save you the trouble of running back and forth. What do you say?”

“No, I don’t want to go back. I—I’d rather stay with you, Eleventh Master,” Liu Gui stammered in panic.

Strange indeed. His refusal to return proved only one thing: Changzhi had not given up. They left Liu Gui here to observe and, when the time was right, to act against him.

Ye Chang was no naïve fool. He had given Liu Gui a chance, but it was not accepted. He nodded slightly and said calmly, “Tomorrow I’ll go into town to see my brother off and pay respects to Shopkeeper Qin. You’ll come with me.”

Liu Gui, uncertain whether Ye Chang truly trusted him, agreed but was already plotting to report to Changzhi later.

At dawn the next day, Ye Chang rose and went to the village entrance, where the five men conscripted for corvée had already assembled. Of these, four bore different surnames; only his own brother, Ye Shu, represented the Ye family—the largest clan in Wu Ze. This struck Ye Chang as odd, but before he could say more, the officer in charge urged everyone to depart.

Lady Fang, usually so composed, now covered her face with her sleeve, while little Cinu finally grasped that his father was leaving and burst into tears, dragging his young sister into sobs as well. Amid the clatter of wheels and the neighing of horses, the officer’s repeated commands threw the scene into chaos.

Ye Chang hurried over, took Cinu by the hand, and said, “Your father is going to Chang’an, and when he returns, he’ll bring you treats and toys. But if you keep crying, there’ll be none for you!”

The child, easily distracted, was soon coaxed into smiles, and his sister, always following his lead, stopped crying as well. In fact, her big, dark eyes sparkled as she repeated, “Treats! Toys! Treats! Toys!” in her childish voice.

“Sister-in-law, don’t be sad. My brother will be back in two or three months at most,” Ye Chang comforted Lady Fang. “With Cinu and the little girl here, you must take care of them and not give my brother cause to worry while he’s away.”

Lady Fang wiped her tears and gathered her children close. Seeing his brother so sorrowful at their parting, Ye Chang stepped forward again. “Brother, don’t worry. Take the chance to see the capital’s sights—tell Cinu and the little one all about it when you return.”

His easy tone lifted everyone’s spirits, lessening the pain of farewell. Since the men would gather in the county seat, Ye Chang went with them, probing the officer along the way and slipping him a few coins to look after Ye Shu. The officer, caught off guard, revealed that Ye Shu’s conscription had been orchestrated by the Liu family. The truth dawned on Ye Chang at once.

So Changzhi bore him no good will—his brother had been implicated because of him!

With this realization, Ye Chang resolved that if Changzhi dared act so ruthlessly, he would not remain passive.

“Brother, in Chang’an, under the emperor’s eye, be cautious and keep a low profile,” he said as they reached the town, where Ye Shu was to join the other conscripts.

“Don’t worry, Eleventh Brother. I’ll be careful. But you—be on your guard. I fear Changzhi has other schemes,” Ye Shu hesitated, then added, “I’m certain this conscription is your aunt’s doing. If they could send me away, it’s only to deal with you next. I’ve sent word to Uncle, asking him to come home and take charge—perhaps he can take you away with him.”

Ye Chang was astonished.

He had always thought his brother a dullard, lacking both insight and cunning. Only now did he realize that his brother was far from foolish—he simply chose not to reveal his shrewdness.

He understood everything.

“Yes, brother.”

“You’re not the same as before, but don’t get overconfident. Uncle Changzhi is greedy and sly; Aunt is fierce and ruthless. As a junior, I shouldn’t speak ill of my elders, but if I don’t warn you, I fear you’ll suffer. Just be patient—when Uncle returns, all will be well.”