Chief, don't hit me in the face

Chapter 9: A Thousand Gold Pieces to Identify an Object

Xia City served as the final stop for northern tribes heading to the Ancient Forest in the Wilderness for hunting expeditions. Thanks to its strategic location, after hundreds of years of development, it had grown from a small tribe into a metropolis of tens of thousands, boasting an army of five thousand armored soldiers. The Tower of Glory stood tall in Man Shi Square, symbolizing the glorious achievements of the Xia clan in their campaigns over the years. As it also served as a key venue for announcing various news, over time, this area had become the most bustling district, home to numerous shops—though most catered primarily to the basic necessities of life: clothing, food, shelter, and daily necessities. “What are you doing?” The shop assistant eyed Xia Ye warily. “I’m here to buy sorghum cakes!” Xia Ye put on a very confident air. “You didn’t steal them, did you?” The clerk didn’t dare respond. The boy was dressed in a hemp robe—though it was clean and well-starch-washed, he was clearly poor. How could he possibly have a knife coin? “Hmph! Do you dare say the money the Great Prophet gave me was stolen? Do you want to die?” Xia Ye looked like a demon. “Uh!” The words “Great Prophet” struck fear into the clerk. Such a figure was usually the second-in-command of the tribe, second only to the Grand Chieftain, and held a status above all others. “Hurry up and load it—don’t hold up the Great Prophet’s urgent business!” Xia Ye urged, deliberately speaking very loudly. “What important business?” the clerk asked. “Someone like you isn’t qualified to know!” Xia Ye glanced around and noticed they had already attracted quite a bit of attention. Most of the people walking around here were warriors and heroes from various tribes; unfortunately, it was still early spring—if it were summer, there would be even more of them. “Then who is qualified to hear it?” The owner, hearing the commotion, came out. “Those with wisdom may listen!” If Xia Ye had said that only the wealthy could listen, it would have sounded too vulgar, but by saying “those with wisdom,” no one would feel like a fool—so they might be willing to give it a try. “Oh?” The owner’s interest was piqued, and he hurriedly urged, “Go on!” But Xia Ye remained silent. He pointed to the large wicker basket filled with sorghum cakes, then pointed toward the street. “Hurry up and move them over there!” The boss, quick to pick up on the hint, gave the clerk a sharp kick in the thigh. Xia Ye sat cross-legged in the middle of the long street, flanked by two mountains of cakes piled high. Passersby, overcome with curiosity, couldn’t help but swallow a few times. “Thank goodness there are no urban management officers in this world—otherwise, I’d probably be tossed into a trash can before I even had a chance to set up my stall!” Xia Ye muttered. “You rascal!” The shop owner was exasperated, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more it gnawed at him like a cat scratching his heart. So he kept urging him on, unaware that this commotion was actually drawing the attention of even more shop owners lining the street. Xia Ye went to a nearby lumberyard to buy a wooden plank, then carved four large characters into it with a stone knife. “A Thousand Pieces of Gold to Distinguish Goods!” Wow! The lumber shop owner couldn’t help but whistle in admiration. He glanced at Xia Ye—the characters were written in a sweeping, flowing style, truly beautiful! Half an hour later, dozens of child laborers had gathered. They watched Xia Ye while fixing their eyes on Bingzi Mountain with the intensity of wolfhounds. “Listen up, everyone. We’re working for the Great Prophet. If you do a good job, you’ll get more cakes tomorrow!” Xia Ye didn’t dare delay any longer; otherwise, these impatient little rascals would surely snatch the sorghum cakes and run off. “Go out onto the main street and shout this phrase: ‘A Thousand Gold Pieces for the Right Answer.’ The Great Prophet has placed a mysterious object in Man Shi Square. Whoever identifies it will receive a thousand gold pieces!” Whoa! Before Xia Ye had even finished speaking, the crowd that had already gathered let out cries of astonishment. A thousand gold—that’s a thousand Dao coins—was practically a fortune. “All right, everyone shout it three times. Once you’ve got it right, come over and claim your cakes!” Smelting technology in this era was primitive, and refining gold was extremely difficult—so by “gold,” they actually meant bronze! For the sake of food—for tomorrow’s buns—the kids gave it their all, shouting until their voices were hoarse. “Within three years, I will definitely tear down this Tower of Glory!” Xia Ye didn’t dare set up his stall in the center of the square—that would be a desecration of the Xia family’s ancestors, punishable by flogging or, in severe cases, execution—so he sat on the south side of the square. A wooden table held a small volcano-shaped pile of brown sugar granules, and next to it stood a wooden sign with writing on it—the words “A Thousand Pieces of Gold” stood out the most. With these shop owners who had followed him, Xia Ye didn’t even need to hawk his wares. Curiosity is human nature, so even though he sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, passersby still gathered around him. “What’s going on here?” People asked one another what was going on. One of the shop owners who knew the reason spoke up, prompting another wave of gasps—a thousand gold pieces for identifying an object? This was definitely a major event! Mo Wu Heng, the young girl created by Da Mo, was studying the clay figurine when an apprentice came to ask for time off, interrupting her train of thought—which left her a bit annoyed. “Didn’t you just take a day off the day before yesterday?” Mo Wu Heng considered whether she should replace this employee; he was always slacking off, and just because she didn’t bother to say anything didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of it. “Uh!” The apprentice had intended to make up an excuse, but upon seeing Mo Wu Heng’s stern expression, he immediately cowered and told her the truth. “A Thousand Gold Pieces to Identify an Object?” Mo Wu Heng rushed out onto the street, curious. She saw a child still shouting; after asking a few questions, she ran toward Man Shi Square. She wasn’t interested in the money—she just wanted to know what that “thing” was! Being curious about anything unknown is a fundamental quality of a mechanical engineer. The shop assistant hesitated for a moment, but eventually locked the shop door and secretly followed her. If he could get his hands on a thousand dao coins, he’d be a millionaire! There were plenty of people with this “get-rich-quick” mentality, so nearly a thousand people quickly gathered in the square. Xia Ye tried to act calm, but a bead of cold sweat still broke out on his forehead, betraying his anxiety—the scene was far larger than he’d anticipated! “Don’t panic—you can do this!” Xia Ye encouraged himself. “What is this blackish thing?” “Are you blind? That’s reddish-brown!” “They’ll really give me a thousand knife coins just for recognizing this thing?” The crowd was filled with shouts and whispers, their greedy eyes darting back and forth. Finally, someone couldn’t resist and boldly reached out to touch the brown sugar. “Stop!” Xia Ye bellowed, seizing the moment to speak up. “This is a rare treasure given by the Great Prophet. He said anyone who touches it without permission will die!” Whoosh! The man who had reached out immediately pulled his hand back in fright; a title like “Great Prophet” naturally carried a formidable aura of authority. “Where is the Great Prophet?” There were some sharp-witted individuals in the crowd, but before Xia Ye could answer, someone else chimed in. “Are you stupid? Do you think the Great Prophet is some beggar on the street you can just go see whenever you want?” Seeing someone get called out, everyone burst into laughter. Indeed, the Great Prophet was the tribe’s second-in-command—not someone you could just meet casually. “Why did the Great Prophet ask you to do this?” a female voice, as sweet as a nightingale’s song, asked skeptically. “How could ordinary people possibly understand the Great Prophet’s ways?” “Xia Ye immediately—if no one guesses correctly, he’ll give me a hundred knife coins. This guy can’t really know, can he?” The voice wasn’t loud, but everyone near the owner heard it, and one by one, they wore expressions of sudden realization, thinking they’d uncovered the inside story. The owner of the grain shop, in particular, was beaming with excitement; he crouched right next to the wooden table, looking as if he’d love to bury his face right in the brown sugar. Xia Ye felt like laughing—that was human nature for you. The shop owner was now the closest anyone had ever come to the thousand taels, so naturally he wanted to press on. What they didn’t know was that Xia Ye had muttered those words on purpose so they could hear them—it both explained his original motivation for working for the Prophet and stoked the shopkeeper’s greed, making the whole affair seem even more plausible. “Is it right or not? Just tell us already!” an impatient tribal warrior urged. “The general direction is right, but he hasn’t mentioned any specific names yet!” Xia Ye put on a stern face. Whoa! A wave of envious glances fell upon the grocery store owner, making him even more smug. A few minutes later, the owner couldn’t help but ask. “Can I try a bite?” The owner figured that if he tasted it, he might figure it out. “Well…” Xia Ye looked hesitant: “The Great Prophet said that this rare treasure is precious and produced in very limited quantities. It possesses miraculous effects—nourishing the heart and lungs, strengthening the spleen and warming the stomach, boosting qi and replenishing blood, and promoting blood circulation to dispel stasis. Especially for women, it can greatly relieve menstrual cramps, and taking some after childbirth can help the body recover!” Silence fell. Why was it that every single word this young man with the eye patch spoke made perfect sense to them individually, yet when strung together, it sounded like a foreign language? However, some of the more educated people looked stunned, especially the women, whose eyes sparkled with a strong desire to buy it. “I remember now—aren’t you the son of the First Hero, Xia Wu’an?” Someone recognized Xia Ye. Once that was mentioned, everyone understood—he was one of the “Two Invalids” of the Xia family living in the slums. The secret that the clan chief had adopted Xia Wu’an’s son as his own and then offered him to the Prince of Zhao—though a gag order had been imposed—spread all the more widely behind closed doors precisely because it was such juicy gossip. “What exactly is this thing?” For the sake of a thousand gold pieces, over a thousand people were racking their brains. “You didn’t make this yourself, did you?” It was that girl with the nightingale-like voice, questioning him once again. “Hah, you must have lost your mind,” The shop owner sneered, and the others burst into wild laughter. After all, in their eyes, how could a kid living in the slums—who couldn’t even read properly—possibly create such a marvel? He probably couldn’t even get it up to make a baby!