Chapter 1539 - To Each Their Own

When it came to treating bruises, setting bones, or performing acupuncture, these were standard skills for anyone in the martial arts world. Every sect possessed its own secret recipes; among the various "elixirs" claiming to cleanse the marrow and transform the tendons, if there weren't a thousand varieties, there were at least five hundred. To leave home without seventeen or eighteen small porcelain bottles tucked into one's robes would be a disgrace to one's title as a martial artist. Poisons and knockout drugs, by contrast, were rare—such tricks were considered beneath one's dignity. Using them invited ridicule and damaged one's reputation. If the authorities caught wind of them, it meant a lawsuit. What law-abiding citizen walked around carrying poison?

Though every sect maintained "behind-the-scenes backers," and many disciples hailed from gentry families rather than commoner stock—men who needn't kneel before officials and could speak their minds—the government remained a formidable adversary. So while people certainly concocted such substances, they were never for public display.

"If we're opening a medicine shop, I may lack other talents, but bone-setting poses no problem," the middle-aged man nodded.

"Uncle Jiao, your Northern Dragon Sect started as horse traders—isn't this practically your ancestral trade?" Zhou Zhongjun seemed genuinely excited. "I don't have the skills to treat patients, but I can fetch things, serve tea, and lend a hand."

The man called Uncle Jiao was Jiao Gongli, leader of the Northern Dragon Sect. His organization was a small one based in Shanxi—more a guild of horse traders operating beyond the Western Pass than a proper martial arts sect.

Horses were precious, delicate animals prone to fractures and injuries. Those who raised and traded them typically knew something of bone-setting and possessed unique herbal remedies. Besides treating horses, they treated people too—often with excellent results. During the Ming and Qing dynasties, the capital's most celebrated orthopedists were Mongols from the Court of the Imperial Stud who had originally specialized in treating equines.

For the Northern Dragon Sect as a horse-trading organization, bone-setting was indeed Jiao Gongli's ancestral craft.

Jiao Gongli looked slightly embarrassed but managed a smile. "Miss Zhou serving me tea? How could a rough fellow like me possibly deserve such treatment? If Abbess Miejing heard of it, she'd skin me alive."

"Nonsense! I can't do massage, can't diagnose ailments—if I don't serve tea, what use am I?" Zhou Zhongjun was enthusiastic about the prospect of "opening a shop." The Hengshan Sect was exclusively female and strictly disciplined; daily life was crushingly dull. Such novelties appealed to her restless spirit.

Jiao Gongli laughed drily. Huang Zhen understood the girl was merely excited by the novelty of it all. Besides, her status was different from others'. If someone truly needed to serve tea, Nan Wan'er was the more appropriate choice.

But he couldn't afford to dampen her enthusiasm now. Her master, Abbess Miejing, was a key figure within the sect and had thrown her considerable support behind this operation. So he smiled diplomatically. "Miss Zhou is talented in both letters and martial arts—how could she possibly be relegated to menial duties like serving tea? A medicine shop requires someone to record prescriptions and dispense medicine. You shall do that."

Zhou Zhongjun simply wanted something interesting to do; the specifics hardly mattered. She agreed readily.

Sima Qiudao sneered inwardly, but since Huang Zhen had assumed command here, he kept his opinions to himself.

"I know a little acupuncture as well, though only for women's ailments..." Nan Wan'er whispered, her voice lacking confidence.

Before Huang Zhen could respond, Zhou Zhongjun cut in with a cold laugh. "Don't parade your petty tricks! In acupuncture, can you compare yourself to Abbess Yiming or Junior Sister Anhui?"

Nan Wan'er immediately retreated. "I was just saying... in case... if it's needed..."

Huang Zhen maintained his amiable expression. "Miss Nan's willingness is commendable. But we all depend on Miss Nan for our daily needs here. I couldn't bear to burden you with additional duties, haha." He laughed it off and steered the conversation elsewhere.

Sima Qiudao spoke up. "If we're opening a medicine shop, we'll need medicines."

"That's manageable. I brought some bone-setting remedies with me," Jiao Gongli said.

Others chimed in, indicating they too carried drugs that could serve temporarily.

"That's not quite what I mean," Sima Qiudao said. "It's true everyone has brought some pills, but for a medicine shop, the quantities are far too small. We're not opening for just a day or two—what happens when supplies run out? Besides, the pills you've brought were carefully prepared by your sects. Setting aside the precious ingredients, some required years or even decades to refine. Giving them to ordinary commoners would be an enormous waste."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Sima Qiudao continued, "Moreover, how can a small medicine shop justify employing so many people? The Cropped-Hairs will grow suspicious. But if we claim we need to gather and compound herbs, the numbers make perfect sense."

Before he could finish, someone clapped and laughed. "My worthy nephew puts it perfectly! With this pretext, we can move about freely to gather and purchase herbs. Freedom of movement becomes infinitely more convenient."

The speaker was thin and tall, around fifty years of age, with the air of a transcendent expert. He belonged to no sect—a local strongman from the Funiu Mountains in Zhongzhou named Song Shengying. His origins lay in the Green Forest, but he had "washed his hands in a golden basin" in middle age, returning to the righteous path. Rumor held he was generous with money and public-spirited in disposition, and thus maintained broad connections. His relationships with officials were excellent, and martial artists had bestowed upon him the sobriquet "Living Mengchang." That he had come personally surprised even Sima Qiudao; Huang Zhen could scarcely believe it himself.

Huang Zhen nodded approvingly. The idea was clearly superior to merely opening a medicine shop. "Freedom of movement" was worth its weight in gold. The Cropped-Hairs didn't restrict travel, but if their group frequented various corners of the county without plausible reason, they would eventually attract unwanted attention. Now, whether venturing into the mountains or the towns, gathering or purchasing herbs served as a ready-made excuse.

"Villa Lord Song truly possesses the rich jianghu experience one would expect of a former Green Forest hero!" Zhou Zhongjun couldn't resist interjecting.

Song Shengying's expression soured. Sima Qiudao knew the man detested any mention of his Green Forest past and was secretly amused—though also faintly worried.

As an elder, Song Shengying could hardly bicker with a junior like Zhou Zhongjun. Besides, they were all in the same boat; open conflict would benefit no one. He coughed and said, "Processing and compounding herbs—that I can manage. With Meng Liang and Meng Guang to assist, we can run this medicine shop quite capably."

Huang Zhen knew these two brothers lived in seclusion in the mountains year-round, gathering herbs as their primary livelihood. Martial artists couldn't live on air and dew; neither could they openly rob the rich to feed the poor like bandits. Those with sects could rely on sect assets, but independents like Meng Liang and Meng Guang either depended on subsidies or their own practical skills.

The brothers, both approaching middle age, were taciturn and stoic by nature. Hearing Song Shengying's words, they merely nodded their agreement.

Song Shengying continued, "Brother Huang, we'll trouble you to serve as shopkeeper. To survive here, we can't merely playact—we must conduct real business. So let's set aside matters of seniority for now. Put on your shopkeeper airs and direct us to work hard."

Huang Zhen began to demur politely, but Zhou Zhongjun chirped, "Yes, yes! Senior Huang looks most like a shopkeeper!" She seemed more enthusiastic about opening the shop than anyone. Then she frowned. "Hero Sima doesn't have a role yet! I think he'd make a perfect clerical advisor—he's always so bookish and melancholy, just like one of those sour scholars."

Sima Qiudao laughed heartily. Seeing that assignments had been settled without objection, he said, "I won't be staying at the shop."

Zhou Zhongjun blinked. "Young Hero Sima, if you're not staying here, where will you go?"

"We can't all hole up in Nanbao Town," Sima Qiudao replied. "This is a strategic point where Han and Li peoples mingle, but it's not central to the Cropped-Hairs' operations. We're safe here, true, but also deaf and blind. Our information will always arrive a step too late..."

Though "Seventh Master" endeavored to send news every few days, and Sima Qiudao's group rotated trips to East Gate Market to meet with Xin Nachun, communication remained inconvenient and dangerous. In his latest secret letter, Seventh Master had instructed them to plant someone in East Gate Market itself. That way they could communicate via open signals without relying on Xin Nachun or written correspondence.

Ideally, he and Huang Zhen had discussed this days ago. They had decided that Sima Qiudao would infiltrate East Gate Market while Huang Zhen held down the fort in Nanbao.

"I want to go to East Gate Market too!" Zhou Zhongjun said hastily, her enthusiasm for shopkeeping instantly forgotten. "Young Hero Sima, take me with you!"

Days of confinement in this mining town had bored her half to death. Hearing of East Gate Market's bustle and prosperity only sharpened her desire to see the sights and find some relief.

Sima Qiudao smiled slightly and waved his hand. "That won't do. For Miss Zhou and me to travel alone together would be... inconvenient."

Zhou Zhongjun realized the abruptness of her request. Both of them were unmarried—a lone man and woman traveling together would invite gossip and damage her reputation. Color rose to her cheeks. But she never conceded defeat in words, so she snapped, "Who said anything about being a lone man and woman with you? Don't flatter yourself! We'd simply be going to East Gate Market together to spy on the Cropped-Hairs."

Sima Qiudao nodded with a smile. "It's excellent that Miss Zhou possesses such intent. Allow me to scout ahead first. It won't be too late for you to follow once I've established a foothold."

Song Shengying asked with concern, "What identity will my worthy nephew assume in East Gate Market? You know the Zhouyi—you could pose as a fortune teller. Relatively free movement, not particularly conspicuous."

"Seventh Master warned that jianghu trades don't work under Cropped-Hair rule. Get caught, and it's digging sand and breaking rocks for you. I've visited East Gate Market a few times and never spotted a single physiognomist or fortune teller." Sima Qiudao frowned. "For now, as Miss Zhou suggested, finding a shop to work as a clerical advisor seems the only viable path—though such a position restricts freedom of movement."