Chapter 4: Ma Xianyang!

"Golden Dragon Gang — Gao Nian!"

Gao Nian's gaze was piercing. His eyes swept over Shen Xiuhan's creel, packed to the brim, and one brow arched:

"Don't recognize you, brother. Who do you belong to?"

Shen Xiuhan stopped without missing a beat, offering a slight bow:

"Tenant under the Bai family. My father was Shen Sanhuai..."

"Shen Sanhuai?"

The edge left Gao Nian's expression at once.

Clearly, the news of Shen Sanhuai's death by water monster had made the rounds in the county.

"Open stall, or going through the exchange?"

"Open stall."

"Know the rules?"

"I do."

Shen Xiuhan pulled out Momo's little pouch, counted five copper coins, and handed them over.

Gao Nian took them one-handed, bounced them idly in his palm, then jerked his chin toward an open patch of ground in the distance:

"There. That spot. Go on."

"Much obliged."

Shen Xiuhan said nothing more, picked up the creel, and headed over.

Selling fish at the market came down to two paths, each with its pros and cons.

An open stall was cheaper — just five wen for protection money — but you had to hawk the goods yourself.

Going through the fish exchange was easier. The brokers had connections, maintaining ties with every major inn and restaurant in the inner city. As long as the catch was good, they'd snap it all up in one go.

The downside was the cut — anywhere from fifteen percent on the low end to twenty or thirty percent at the high end.

Shen Xiuhan was short on money, not time. An open stall was the obvious choice.

Besides, the fish in his creel weren't exactly a hard sell.

Well — except for the black bigheads.

Black bighead meat was tender enough, but riddled with pin bones, and the fish weren't very big. He figured the pair together wouldn't fetch ten wen, so he wasn't planning to sell them.

He found a clean flagstone, set down the creel, and pulled the fish out one by one.

Six silver-striped fish lined up in a neat row across the stone.

Every one was plump and robust, scales bright and gleaming.

The largest topped three pounds, the smallest was still around two.

Three of them bore four silver stripes. The remaining three were all five stripes or above — premium stock!

In the dead of winter, fish this fine were like beacons in the dark!

The moment he laid them out, their fat, glistening appearance drew a swarm of stares.

"Silver-striped fish?"

"Whew! Gills red as blood, scales shining — not bad at all!"

"In the middle of winter? Kid, did you stumble into a silver-stripe nest?"

"Makes my mouth water just looking. Bet they don't come cheap, though."

The crowd grew thicker by the second.

A middle-aged man with the bearing of a household steward rubbed his hands together and couldn't help asking:

"Young man, how much for these?"

Shen Xiuhan had done the math on the walk over. He cupped his fist in greeting and called out clearly:

"Four silver stripes — twenty wen per pound!"

"Five silver stripes — twenty-two wen per pound!"

"As for this six-striped beauty — twenty-five wen per pound, no haggling!"

In the bountiful summer months, those prices would have been on the steep side.

But right now, in the dead of winter, with the water frozen and fresh river catch scarce as gold, the asking price was more than fair!

The words were barely out of his mouth when a young servant elbowed through the crowd:

"I'll take this four-striper!"

It went on the scale. The man cheerfully counted out forty-two copper coins, handed them over, and strutted off with his fish, grinning ear to ear.

"Give me one too — my old mother's been ill. A good fish broth to sweat the sickness out is just what she needs!"

"I want one as well!"

Business was blazing.

In the blink of an eye, all three four-striped fish were snapped up.

A full hundred and thirty copper coins in his pocket — even Shen Xiuhan felt a rush of excitement.

But what puzzled him was that the remaining three fish — better quality, five stripes and above — sat there with no takers.

The crowd lingered around the stall, pointing and murmuring, eyes full of longing, yet not a single person reached for their purse.

Shen Xiuhan thought it over for a moment and understood.

Silver-striped fish were fancy goods.

The kind of people buying fish at an open stall were mostly common folk or errand boys from modest eateries. Not exactly the gentry.

Paying an extra two or three wen per pound might not sound like much.

But in their eyes, that was enough to buy a couple ounces of pork at the butcher's!

Spending it on a few extra lines on a fish felt like a genuine waste.

After a while, the crowd thinned. The three silver-striped fish still sat unclaimed.

Shen Xiuhan's heart sank. Fish this good — was he really going to be stuck with them?

"Senior Brother Ma, this is the place."

Just then, a vaguely familiar voice carried from the back of the crowd.

Shen Xiuhan looked up.

A teenager in a black robe was approaching, all smiles and deferential posture, leading a young man who walked with a broad, commanding stride.

In the dead of winter, with the cold sharp enough to freeze spit mid-air, every fisherman around was trying to burrow his head into his collar.

Yet the young man wore only a thin white robe and showed not the slightest trace of chill!

"Senior Brother Ma, I know this market looks grimy, but the freshest catch in the county comes through here. Especially the exchange inside — those brokers always have the latest word..."

The black-robed teenager was mid-spiel when his gaze snagged on something, and he stopped in surprise:

"Han'er?"

At the sound of that nickname, a face surfaced instantly in Shen Xiuhan's memory.

Chen An — Uncle Chen's only son, and a childhood friend of the original body's owner.

His mother, Madam Zheng, had mentioned that Chen An wanted to study martial arts. Judging by the way he was treating this "Senior Brother Ma," it was clearly true.

Chen An's face lit up as he hurried over: "Han'er, your illness — you've recovered?"

"All thanks to the lifesaving money from Uncle Chen. Barely scraped through."

Shen Xiuhan played along smoothly.

"Come on, we're practically family — no need for all that!"

Chen An laughed heartily, then turned with a respectful gesture toward the young man beside him:

"Han'er, let me introduce you. This is Senior Brother Ma — Ma Xianyang, third disciple of the Tongbei Martial Hall!"

Tongbei Martial Hall!

Shen Xiuhan's heart lurched, but his face betrayed nothing. He clasped his fist in greeting:

"A pleasure, Brother Ma."

"No need for formalities..."

Ma Xianyang smiled, his gaze drifting to the fish on the ground. A curious glint entered his eyes:

"Are these yours? How much?"

"The, uh... the six-striper is twenty-five wen a pound. The others are twenty-two."

"...Not bad at all. Call it twenty-five across the board and weigh them up."

Ma Xianyang waved grandly, produced two strings of copper coins, and pressed them into Shen Xiuhan's hands with an easy grin:

"Good-looking fish. I'll take the lot. Perfect to bring back and stew a pot of fresh soup for the junior brothers and sisters at the hall — silver-stripe soup on a winter night... now that sounds delicious!"

"I..."

Shen Xiuhan was a little stunned.

But he hurried to weigh them on the public scale. The three silver-striped fish came to a hundred and sixty wen total, and he said quickly:

"You've overpaid. Let me make change..."

"Keep it!"

Ma Xianyang laughed broadly, all easy generosity:

"Brother Shen, if you land catches like these again — or anything better — just bring them straight to Tongbei Martial Hall. I guarantee the price will be fair."

"I see... well, thank you kindly!"

It clicked for Shen Xiuhan, and genuine gratitude entered his voice.

So that was it — Ma Xianyang had spotted the quality of his fish and wanted to lock in a supplier.

"Don't mention it. Chen An—"

"Yes, Senior Brother Ma!"

"Take the fish back to the hall and see Brother Shen home on the way. Walking around the outer city with money on you isn't the safest idea."

"But the exchange—"

"I'll browse on my own. Go on."

"Understood. Take care, Senior Brother Ma!"

Ma Xianyang smiled, and before leaving, he clapped Shen Xiuhan on the shoulder and reminded him once more:

"Brother Shen, remember — good fish, Tongbei Martial Hall. My senior brother's a fiend for fish. The price won't disappoint you."

"You have my word, Brother Ma."

Once Ma Xianyang had gone, Shen Xiuhan pulled out the copper coins that hadn't even warmed in his pocket:

"Chen An, about the money we owe your family..."

Before he could finish, Chen An shoved his hand back, looking half-annoyed:

"Han'er, what's with the formality?"

"I know your situation. Pay off the Bai family's rent and the sampan money first — ours can wait."

"...Thanks, brother."

"Since when did a bout of illness turn you into a whole new person?"

Chen An flashed a toothy grin and hoisted the fish creel: "Shall we? Heading home together?"

"Not yet — I need to pick up a few things at the East Market first."

"Sure. I'll drop the fish at the hall. Meet you at the inner-city gate."