Ch. 10: Chapter 10: Musk

Madam Zhao hesitated for a moment, then flung the nearly empty bag of hawthorn fruit into a corner by the wall. She dusted off her hands.

“All right! I’ll trust you this time. While I’m taking the medicine, I promise I won’t touch another piece of hawthorn. And if your medicine really cures this stomach pain, I’ll never eat it again!”

“You needn’t give it up altogether. But hawthorn is a medicinal ingredient, after all. You can’t keep eating it as a snack, especially on an empty stomach. If you’ve had a heavy meal of fish and meat and feel bloated afterwards, a few slices can still help your digestion.”

“I’ll remember that. But hold on—didn’t your father put hawthorn in my prescription? What about that?”

Zuo Shaoyang had already prepared his answer.

“That’s a guiding ingredient. It directs the other medicines to the appropriate channels. There’s only a tiny amount, and it’s been ground into powder. It won’t cause any trouble.”

He said this for fear that Madam Zhao, finding no hawthorn in the packets, might grow suspicious and go back to ask Zuo Gui about it. That would give the whole game away.

“Oh, I see. Hurry home and have your supper, then. It’s freezing out here!”

“All right. Oh, Auntie, there’s one more thing. Is there a large medicine shop nearby?”

“Yes. Huimin Hall is just around the corner. It has the biggest premises in all of Hezhou! But your family runs a medicine shop. What do you want with another one?”

Zuo Shaoyang chuckled and waved a hand.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m off. Good night!”

He turned towards home, keeping an eye on Madam Zhao’s entrance. Only after she had gone inside and the courtyard gate had closed did he turn back and head in the direction she had indicated.

Around the corner, he spotted a brightly lit shop farther down the street, with large lanterns hanging outside. Although the night watches were about to begin, people were still coming and going, most of them looking unwell. He guessed at once that this was the medicine shop Madam Zhao had mentioned.

Zuo Shaoyang hurried over at a trot.

Looking up from the entrance, he saw a building a hundred times finer than their own Guizhi Hall. It stood three storeys high and was five bays wide. Above the doors hung a sandalwood signboard with an elaborately carved border. Its raised lettering was gilded against a deep blue background, surrounded by golden clouds. Even at night, it was vivid and striking.

The inscription read: Huimin Hall.

Intricately carved lattice windows flanked the entrance, with large red lanterns hanging high at either corner. All six tall, carved door panels stood open. Inside hung thick red curtains edged with gold-thread embroidery.

There was no assistant outside calling customers in. That was a rule of the trade: a medicine shop did not solicit patients at its door, much less shout for their custom. Visitors were welcomed once they had entered.

Zuo Shaoyang reached out to feel one of the curtains. It was thick and soft. Since, as he understood it, there was no cotton in the Tang dynasty, the padding must be silk floss. That cost far more than cotton and was beyond the means of ordinary people. Those few curtains alone showed how prosperous Huimin Hall was.

He lifted the curtain and stepped inside.

Warmth washed over him like a spring breeze, while the rich furnishings dazzled his eyes. Several large, gilded braziers decorated with fine wirework stood around the room. Glowing coals cast an inviting red light that brought colour to the faces nearby.

Behind carved rosewood tables sat several elderly physicians with greying beards, examining patients. Some held brass hand warmers.

Rows of long benches lined both sides of the hall, and quite a few people were waiting to be seen. The scene reminded Zuo Shaoyang of the waiting rooms in well-known modern hospitals. Yet those belonged to an age of enormous populations. He had not expected to find patients queuing like this in ancient times.

Apparently, faith in celebrated specialists—and the desire for good health—knew no distinction of age or dynasty.

As he stood looking around, a young assistant approached.

“Sir, have you come for a consultation or to have a prescription filled…? Why, aren’t you Master Zuo from Guizhi Hall?”

Surprised to be recognised, Zuo Shaoyang chuckled.

“That’s right. I was passing and thought I’d have a look. Am I not welcome?”

“Of course you are! We could hardly hope to persuade you to visit.”

The young assistant certainly knew how to talk.

“Are you here for a consultation or some medicine? Oh, forgive me—what am I saying? Your family has its own medicine shop, and your father is one of Hezhou’s famous physicians. Why would you come to us for treatment or medicine? What can we do for you?”

“I’d like to see whoever’s in charge.”

Zuo Shaoyang had no wish to waste time.

“Doctor Ni is in the inner parlour, seeing an honoured patient. His brother is at the counter. This way, please.”

The assistant stepped aside.

Huimin Hall was run by two brothers. Doctor Ni, the renowned physician, headed the establishment, while his younger brother managed its business affairs. The latter was now at the counter, entering figures in a ledger.

Zuo Shaoyang walked farther inside. Few of the patients or assistants paid him any attention. Evidently, only people in the trade knew that his father ran a medicine shop. Since few patients visited Guizhi Hall, hardly anyone recognised its owner’s son.

Looking around, he found Huimin Hall far grander than their own shop. The long bank of medicine cabinets alone held several times as many ingredients as Guizhi Hall.

He approached the counter.

The manager looked up, recognised him, and immediately returned to his ledger.

“Well, if it isn’t the son of Guizhi Hall’s proprietor,” he drawled. “What brings you here?”

Zuo Shaoyang glanced to either side, took the musk pod from inside his jacket, and set it on the counter.

“I’d like to sell you this. Interested?”

The manager gave a vague murmur and glanced at it out of the corner of his eye. He continued writing, his voice growing flatter still.

“Have you come here to amuse yourself at our expense, Master Zuo?”

“No. Why would I joke with you? I’m offering it for sale.”

Only then did the manager look up at him properly. His eyes flicked back to the musk pod.

“Short of money, Zhong? Heh. You didn’t happen to… Acquire this from your family’s shop, did you?”

He slipped his left hand beneath his right elbow and mimed picking a pocket.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zuo Shaoyang glared at him. “You think I stole it from our shop? I’ll have you know I got it myself, hunting while I was gathering herbs in the mountains!”

The manager glanced at the assistant, who smiled as though he, too, could make nothing of it.

“That’s what I thought. If you were taking something from your shop to raise a little spending money, you wouldn’t choose this. You’d take ginseng or something of that sort. Though I doubt your shop has any ginseng. It may look like nothing more than a radish, but it’s expensive, you know. Guizhi Hall probably couldn’t afford it…”

Condescending bastard, Zuo Shaoyang muttered inwardly.

“Well?” he demanded. “Are you buying it or not?”

“Of course. A medicine shop must buy medicinal ingredients. Cheap or dear, if it can be used as medicine, we’ll buy it.”

The manager fixed his eyes on Zuo Shaoyang.

“How much do you want for it?”

“You name a price.”

The manager glanced at the assistant standing behind him. They exchanged smiles full of mockery.

Setting his brush on its rest, the manager held up a hand with all five fingers spread, then turned it over and displayed them again.

“That much.”

“Ten taels of silver?”

Zuo Shaoyang recalled what Huixiang had told him about prices on their journey home. Ten taels of silver worked out to roughly ten thousand yuan. In the modern world, genuine musk from a wild deer could fetch more than a hundred thousand—ten times that amount. But he could hardly compare prices across the ages.

Ten thousand would do. It would cover the nine thousand wen they owed in rent and leave a little over. Since he had bought the musk for nine wen, he would still be making an enormous profit.

He sighed.

“You’re driving a hard bargain. Only ten taels for musk as good as this! All right. Pay up.”

He held out his hand, thinking of the dark-skinned girl carrying firewood. He had taken such advantage of her generosity. The next time he saw her, he would have to repay that kindness properly.

The manager snorted and curled his lip.

“Are you still half asleep, Master Zuo? Where have you ever seen a musk pod sell for ten taels of silver?”

“Then how much? A thousand wen? That’s daylight robbery!”

“A thousand?” The manager sneered. “Has poverty driven you mad? Ten wen!”

He turned his hand over twice more.

“Ten copper coins! A thousand wen, ten taels of silver—listen to yourself!”

“What?”

Zuo Shaoyang’s startled cry made several patients turn to look. He quickly lowered his voice.

“Ten wen? Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake? This is musk! Genuine musk from a wild forest musk deer!”