Chương 4: Chapter 48: Dao of the Merchant

Song fumbled with the coins in his purse. He had, at most, two gold. ["Jesus. Three hundred bucks for a doll?? That's a ripoff,"] Cyrus snapped. ["No. Very good doll."] Song replied. ["Really? Would Mae like it?"] ["Love. Best in village."] ["Then don't look desperate."] Cyrus replied sternly. ["Didn't you hear him? He wants to get rid of it. Counteroffer."] Song took a deep breath and pulled himself together. He wasn't as good as Tae at haggling; his brother always said he was too forthright for it.

Aloud, he said, "I think three gold is a bit much. You aren't even a doll seller. I'm doing you a favour if I take it off your hands." Gawnsoo's smile sharpened, and he ran a hand through the doll's hair, letting it trickle through his fingers.

"This was made by Master Kwan, a peerless craftsman of Silla. I've carried it far and wide. You'll not find another like it in all of Nakjo or Chengdu." Song struggled to come up with a reply, if the merchant spoke true this really was a priceless toy. But Cyrus whispered, ["That just means it's taking up wagon space. Plus its added weight. This is basic inventory management stuff."]"Surely you want it out of your wagon then, to make space for other goods," Song said after a moment of trying to translate the Canadian's odd phrasing. Gwansoo laughed.

"Hah! You know your stuff young master. Very well, two ding, five nyang." Perhaps if he went back and asked Seojoon? Song regretted not taking his older cousin's money. He was about to ask the merchant to wait, when Cyrus said, ["Good, now hit him with the knockout. Tell him Mae is sick and it's her one wish to have a doll."] Song barely kept the scowl from his face. ["Private."] ["Fool. Everybody in the village will know it within a day. And you heard he bought it for his niece. Knowing it'll go to a sick little girl will soften his heart."] Family honour battled with Song's empty pockets, and the empty pockets won.

"Please, Sir Gwansoo," he said plaintively, "I'm buying this for my little cousin. She has qi poisoning, and asked for a doll to keep her company while she rests." Gwansoo's jaw tightened, and he looked Song up and down, then his gaze softened.

"A Nakjo Lee wouldn't lie about something like that. How is she?" Song shook his head.

"I don't know. She's being looked over by the family physician... He says he has high hopes." Gwansoo considered the doll.

"Hmm… Let's show our tiles. How much do you have?" Song pulled all his coins out of his purse and laid them on the table. They amounted to one gold, eight nyang when added all together. Gwansoo considered it, frowning. Song ran his hand through his hair and curled his toes in his shoes. Please.. Please…

"It's not enough," Gwansoo sighed.

"I'll be taking a big loss. Almost a nyang's worth." Song's heart fell.

"But!" Gwansoo continued, grinning.

"I'll take payment in kind. I'm on a trip to ferret out local specialties, and am getting a bit peckish besides. You wouldn't happen to know the best place to eat and drink in Changpo, would you? If you take me there, and tell me about the goods the village has to offer, I'll take one gold, seven nyang for the doll." Song's heart soared once more.

"Of course! I know the best place to eat in all of Changpo!"

"Then let's deal, young master." Gwansoo covered his right fist with his left palm and bowed. Song mirrored him a moment later. — The air in Chef Cho's guanz was heavier than usual, the usual happy atmosphere dampened by several scowling traders talking in animated tones with their guards and porters.

"What's happening, Chef Cho?" Song asked, looking around curiously.

"Is that you, Lee Song?" Chef Cho asked from beneath the counter, where he was rummaging about.

"One moment. You won't be starting any fights this time, will you?" Song blushed.

"No." With a whoof, the stocky chef pulled a big bag of flour out and laid it next to his workstation. He cracked his back and wiped his balding pate, then cleaned his hands on his apron and walked over to the counter.

"They've all heard about the grasswolves. And they're not happy about it." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Why not? Can't they just go back to Chengdu?"

"Well, yes…" Cho said, trailing off.

"A proper merchant values profit above even their own life," Gwansoo said from behind Song.

"They're deciding whether the risk is worth the reward to continue moving East."

"Who's this?" Cho asked, looking the merchant up and down. Gwansoo removed his gat and gave a short bow.

"Merchant Nam, Lee Song highly recommended your guanz, Chef Cho, so I simply had to come by." Cho preened.

"I do make the best buuz this side of Silla, if I do say so myself. For two?" Song went to lay his last few coins on the counter, but Gwansoo stopped him, laying down a silver nyang.

"Wine and dumplings for two. And soup for my guards. Keep the change." He pointed to the two warriors behind them, who were warily looking around the yurtwagon. Cho's eyes sparkled and he greedily snapped the silver piece up.

"Of course, Master Nam! Two buuz and soup coming right up!" Song led Gwansoo to his usual spot at the back of the yurtwagon and took a seat. He patted his satchel where the doll was tucked safely away.

"Thank you again, Merchant Nam." Gwansoo slowly creaked his way down to the floor pillow and shuffled back and forth to get comfortable.

"I'm glad it was able to find a good home." Song hesitated, then blurted.

"Merchant Nam, what did you mean by 'a good merchant values profit more than their own life?'" He didn't point out that he'd heard similar, usually from Juwon… as an insult. Gwansoo pulled at his thin goatee, and pursed his lips.

"What do you know of the dao, young Lee?" Song frowned. What would a merchant understand of the dao!? He drew himself up proudly, and said, "Understanding the dao is one of the foremost duties of any cultivator. It's the flow and way of the universe, and how the Great Ones connect to all other things. My own Lee family studies the dao of the ram – of wild unrestrained vigor. We study it, understand it, and seek to connect to it through our qi to become closer to the Great One."

"Is that what your lessons say?" Gwansoo chuckled.

"That it's about growing stronger?"

"Isn't it?" Song frowned.

"A cultivator with strong enough understanding of the dao of the sword can cut their enemies using only a blade of grass."

"I would propose," Gwansoo paused long enough for Chef Cho to place a couple mugs of airag down, then continued.

"That the dao is not only about fighting. Just as there is a dao of the sword, there is also a dao of the merchant, or a dao of milking horses."

"Of milking horses?" Song scoffed.

"Is there not? You cannot tell me that there isn't a right or wrong way to milk a mare." Gwansoo smirked.

"That is what dao is. When you work against the dao, the universe attempts to correct itself. Sometimes this means a kick to the head." Song thought back to his first time trying to milk a mare, a task usually relegated to the branch families, and what a disaster it'd been. Milk. Everywhere.

"Then what's the dao of merchants?" Song asked, humbly. Last year he wouldn't have been interested in the point of view of a mere merchant, but after his time spent running about doing errands for the family, and all the recent blows to his pride, this was nothing. Gwansoo raised an eyebrow.

"Do you seek to become a peddler?" Song shook his head.

"No. I've come to realize many things in the past month. Maybe understanding your dao will better help me comprehend my own." He tugged subconsciously at his sleeves, pulling them down over the bright lines of his meridians. Gwansoo's eyes were drawn to the motion, and he pursed his lips.

"A merchant must value gold above all else. Even if it would bring harm to others; he cannot let that sway him. Anything else makes him a bad merchant, and he will soon find himself a beggar."

"But you gave me that doll for cheap! And just overpaid Chef Cho," Song protested.

"Isn't that against your dao?" Gwansoo took another sip of his tea.

"Ah, but there's more to it than that. A merchant must also value honesty, and a little charity now can mean a valuable repeat customer later. Too much greed can be a poison to a merchant just as much as too little." He pointed his thumb at the arguing peddlers.

"Look at them. They're all greedy to go east, even when they know that it may mean certain death. Their greed is larger than their pockets can hold; I know well enough to head back to Chengdu with the imperial escort. I also know that the price of goods is likely to go up in the short term, when the governor puts a halt on travel out of Chengdu until the grasswolves are dealt with. That means that while I may take a small loss, it won't be a big one.

This is another part of the dao of a merchant; understanding the needs of the market." The buuz dumplings arrived, and Gwansoo took a big bite, then huffed to cool his mouth. He sighed with pleasure, letting the thick meaty broth run across his tongue. He followed it with a swallow of airag.

"You weren't overestimating Chef Cho's skill. This is excellent. Amongst the best I've ever had."

"Ever?" Song held back a chuckle. Surely it wasn't that good. Gwansoo nodded.

"One of the perks of being a merchant. Much like a porter or an escort, I get to travel to many interesting places and try lots of interesting foods. Going to new places, learning about their markets, and trying their specialties is also part of my dao." Song considered the work he'd been doing as a servant of the Lee family. Had he truly been following the dao of a servant? Doing his best for the sake of the one he was serving? Or had he been doing it begrudgingly.

Perhaps that had been the lesson Juwon had wanted him to learn… He looked to where Chef Cho was busying himself over his wok. Was the Chef the best amongst his peers because he followed the dao of a chef? Always trying new cooking techniques, screaming at his workers, and never letting a chicken go when he'd chosen it for slaughter? What about himself, Lee Song, what was his dao? The dao of the stars? The dao of the lacrosse stick? The dao of the Stellar Crane?

His head was awhirl with the infinite possibilities as he slowly chewed on delicious buuz.