Ordinary candles for daily use weigh about five qian each, which is around twenty-five grams.
With one jin of beeswax, you’d add one liang and five qian of mugwort powder. Aside from the loss during production, one jin of beeswax yields roughly ten pairs of candles.
When Kang He brought Pickled Duck to the City, he had managed to save up forty candles in total.
That day, after finishing the morning chores at home, Kang He and Fan Jing took a bath, changed into clean clothes, and set off together from home to the County Town to deliver Pickled Duck.
Fan Jing carried the Pickled Duck on his back, while Kang He carefully wrapped dozens of Medicine Candles in cloth, packed them into the Money Box, and placed it at the bottom of his basket, covering it with ordinary burlap.
Each of them carried a basket and wore a straw hat as they headed to the County Town.
It was noon, the hottest time of the day, and by the time they reached the County Town, they were drenched in sweat.
Kang He and Fan Jing washed their sweaty feet by the riverside, then stepped onto the bluestone streets, heading toward Zou Fulang’s place. Each step left a wet footprint, but by the time they reached the shop, the sun had already dried them out.
At midday, the whole street was nearly deserted. The young clerks were either dozing off or hiding in the alleys to catch a breeze and cool off.
“So hot at this hour, and you still come to deliver Pickled Duck? Must be sweltering for you.”
The shop assistant saw the scorching heat outside. Water splashed on the road would dry up in less than a quarter of an hour—no one wanted to go out at this time.
There was only one customer in the shop, and Boss Lang was upstairs, napping with a fan in hand. No one would blame them for being lazy; the clerks were all slumped in the corners, dozing.
Only one person was left standing guard, taking turns.
When someone came into the shop, they thought it was a customer. Seeing it was Kang He, everyone relaxed.
The shop assistants had long been familiar with Kang He’s face; seeing the couple come together, they greeted them.
No wonder, since this was Boss Lang’s customer, and they all bought Pickled Duck from the Fan Family—how could they not recognize them?
“After the autumn harvest, we’re busy with farm work from morning to night. Only at this time do we have a bit of free time. Sorry to disturb Xiao Ergē’s rest.”
“Don’t mention it. We’re half-asleep and half-awake anyway. If Boss Lang catches us, we’ll get scolded.”
The assistant spoke while bringing out two bowls of tea.
Kang He took out the Pickled Duck and Songhua Egg, explaining their purpose to the assistant.
The assistant counted them. Seeing none were damaged, he went to the counter to get the Money for Kang He.
Kang He took a sip of cold tea and asked, “Is Zou Fulang in the shop today?”
The assistant replied, “He’s resting upstairs. He’s probably asleep at this hour—I don’t dare disturb him. He knows the price for Pickled Duck, and I’ve settled with you according to the count. He won’t blame me.”
Kang He nodded, saying, “Unfortunately, I have something I need to see Zou Fulang about today.”
The assistant asked, “Did you bring new honey?”
“Not exactly.”
Kang He didn’t want to reveal too much, so he handed the assistant two copper coins. “Please trouble Xiao ErgÄ“ to go for me.”
The assistant, having received the coins, was willing to risk a bit of scolding. He said, “I’ll go deliver your message, but I can’t guarantee he won’t lose his temper and refuse to see you.”
Kang He agreed, then waited with Fan Jing on the first floor.
After a while, they heard scolding from upstairs. Soon after, the young assistant came down with a glum face.
“He cursed me up and down, but he’s calling you up now. Just watch your words.”
Kang He thanked the assistant and went upstairs with his things.
Zou Fulang was sprawled on a cool bamboo couch, fanning himself with a jade-bone fan. Though he’d half-sat up, his eyes were still stuck shut with sleep.
His hair at the temples was messy, clumped together with sweat from his midday nap.
“Why aren’t you at home playing dead at this hour? What brings you to the City?”
Zou Fulang, disturbed from his nap, was clearly displeased. His words were a bit sharp, and he didn’t even open his eyes as he heard someone coming upstairs.
Kang He, seeing this, spoke kindly, “If it weren’t for something good, I wouldn’t dare bother you at this time.”
Hearing this, Zou Fulang finally lifted his eyelids and gave the couple a glance, grumbling, “If it’s not good enough for my taste, next time you pass by my shop, don’t even try to come in for a cup of water. I’ll tell my assistants not to give you any.”
He finished, then gestured for them to take a seat.
“So, what have you brought that made you run all the way here in this heat?”
If it were anyone else, Zou Fulang, enjoying his comfortable nap, probably wouldn’t have agreed to see them. But remembering how he’d missed out on the Pickled Duck before, he worried he might miss out on something good again.
Kang He didn’t waste time. He took out the candle he’d shown Fan Jing earlier and handed it to Zou Fulang. “Zou Fulang, you run such a fine Candle Shop and have seen plenty—please take a look at this candle for me.”
Zou Fulang examined the candle. At first glance, there was nothing special about it. The candle’s body was well-polished, smooth and round, but in his shop, even the more expensive candles were just as glossy.
He couldn’t see any special merits, so he sniffed it, but didn’t notice anything.
Kang He, seeing this, didn’t rush to boast. He struck the fire-fold, lighting the candle, and said, “There’s no point in bragging. Good or bad, I’ll leave it for you to judge.”
At first, Zou Fulang didn’t notice anything unusual. He thought this young man was probably exaggerating.
But after a moment, he caught a much stronger scent of mugwort, which seemed to intensify as the candle burned. He unconsciously straightened up.
He carefully examined the candle again, his interest piqued. At first, he’d only caught a faint mugwort fragrance and thought the candle had been stored with mugwort, absorbing the scent.
Unexpectedly, once lit, the mugwort aroma grew even stronger. Most surprisingly, the candle burned cleanly.
If you put something inside a candle, it’s hard to avoid smoke. Even with all his years in the candle business, he’d never seen a candle this good.
“Where did you get this treasure?! On hot nights like this, there are so many mosquitoes. Lighting this candle releases mugwort fragrance to drive them away—how wonderful!”
Zou Fulang turned the candle over in his hands, obvious delight on his face.
Kang He said, “If it’s good, that’s all that matters. Why worry about where it came from? I can assure you, this candle is clean and aboveboard—not some shady item.”
Zou Fulang laughed. “You’re always clever.”
He knew full well that people like to keep the source in their own hands—otherwise, how would they make Money? As a businessman, he understood.
“It’s rare that you think of me when you have something good. Tell me honestly, how many do you have?”
Kang He replied, “It’s good stuff, but there’s not much. I wonder if Fulang would be willing to accept my rough candles?”
“If I turned up my nose at these candles, you’d just go sell them elsewhere. We’re old acquaintances—I won’t play those tricks with you. However many you have, I’ll take them all!”
Kang He smiled. “Zou Fulang is straightforward, but I wonder what price you’re willing to offer. I’m just a simple man, counting on a bit of Money to support my family.”
Zou Fulang thought for a moment. In earlier years, he’d sometimes buy loose candles to sell in his shop, but as his business grew, he had steady suppliers and didn’t buy from outsiders anymore.
But these rare Medicine Candles—even those at Jinbao Hang would snap them up if they saw them. He’d be a fool to let them go.
He said, “You name your price.”
Kang He shook his head. “I’m just a country man—at home, we still use oil lamps. I’ve barely used candles myself, so I don’t know the business. I’ll have to rely on Fulang to set the price.”
His words made it clear the candles came from elsewhere.
Zou Fulang guessed as much—Kang He probably didn’t make them himself. Most rural households used oil lamps, rarely candles, and few knew how to make them.
Making rough candles wasn’t unusual, but even he found these candles remarkable. They were likely made by a family specializing in the craft—he just didn’t know how Kang He got his hands on them.
Cats have their ways, mice have theirs—everyone has their own path. No matter how Kang He got them, as long as they ended up here, it was his luck.
Kang He surely knew these were rare and wanted to sell them for a high price. If Zou Fulang tried to cheat him, he might not get a second deal.
Besides, he’d dealt with all sorts in business and could tell at a glance—Kang He wasn’t some clueless bumpkin, not easily fooled.
After some thought, Zou Fulang said, “I’ll give you five hundred coins per pair of candles!
Kang Xiaoge, we’ve known each other a while. I trust your character and will give you a good price. If someone else brought me good goods, I wouldn’t be so generous.”
Kang He said, “That’s just what I think of Fulang. Because I trust your character, I brought these to you—otherwise, I wouldn’t have. Whatever price you give, I’ll accept.”
It was a fair price, and he was satisfied. If he tried to haggle for more, the rarity of the goods might draw unwanted attention, and merchants could get greedy.
Kang He just wanted to make some honest Money.
If he tried to compete, even if he was clever, he had no power or backing. No matter how smart he was, how could he stand up to those with influence?
A lot of Money seems easy to earn, but without support, it’s dangerous—he could easily end up as someone else’s prey.
Zou Fulang saw this and was satisfied as well. “You’re straightforward, and so am I. Let’s keep working together.”
Kang He took out the Money Box and handed over the forty candles, receiving exactly ten strings of coins.
Zou Fulang checked the candles carefully. He was still worried—this was the first time he’d bought such candles, and he couldn’t be sure every one was as good as the one Kang He had shown.
If even one was bad, he’d lose over two hundred coins. Even with a solid foundation, he couldn’t afford such reckless losses.
Still, he knew Kang He’s mother-in-law often set up a stall in the County Town, so if there was a problem, he could easily find them—it wasn’t a one-off deal with someone who’d vanish.
Kang He also told Zou Fulang that if any were defective, he could keep them for Kang He to see, and Kang He would repay the Money.
Only then did Zou Fulang feel at ease. Both were careful with this transaction.
As they left, Zou Fulang gave Kang He a box of eight ordinary candles for household lighting.
He was happier than worried—luckily, he hadn’t slept through and missed this.
Kang He thanked him and left with his things.
The young assistant, seeing Boss Lang’s unconcealed joy, came over to ask what the good news was.
Zou Fulang said proudly, “Just mind your own work—your reward will come soon enough.”
Leaving the shop, Kang He and Fan Jing carefully pocketed the Silver, then went to the Money Shop and exchanged it for a ten-string Jiaozi.
The heavy Silver was now a light Jiaozi, which Kang He folded carefully and tucked into his shirt pocket, feeling much more secure.
Fan Jing was amazed—he’d expected a good price, but never imagined the candles could sell for so much.
If the shop was willing to buy at such a high price, who could imagine what they’d sell for?
They didn’t know that, after getting the Medicine Candles, Zou Fulang immediately called in his Candle Craftsman to carve and decorate them.
The newly crafted candles were wrapped in fine silk, placed in ebony boxes, and sent to the Gonghu Fushang in the City, earning great favor.
Once they hit the market, a pair could sell for several strings of coins.
Such expensive goods made people gasp, but they still fought to buy them—even bidding against each other.
The wealthy might not use them themselves, but when they saw something rare, they had to have it—if only to use as gifts or to open doors.
Even when Kang He later learned that the Medicine Candles sold for such high prices, he didn’t feel the least bit envious.
First, after being refined again, the candles were no longer as rough as when he sold them. Second, without Zou Fulang’s connections and skill, how could they have sold?
He earned the first cut, others earned the second—both sides profited. That was the best outcome.
But that’s all in the future; let’s not dwell on it now.
That day, after selling the candles for a good price, Kang He and Fan Jing were both delighted. As usual, they went to buy some food to take home.
Since Fan Jing started working with Hu Sansha slaughtering pigs, he often brought home some meat, so they didn’t need to buy fresh pork to store.
With all the autumn work, Fan Jing mostly cooked the meat he brought home, so there was often meat on the table and they weren’t so desperate for it.
They hadn’t bought meat in the County Town for quite some time.
Fan Jing told Kang He not to buy pork, but if not pork, then mutton—which cost twice as much as pork. It was so expensive it made your teeth hurt, and if he brought some home, he’d surely get scolded.
After thinking it over, they decided to buy two fresh Qingyu to stew at home.
Fan Jing agreed. Since he hadn’t been to the mountains much lately, they rarely had fish.
Kang He’s cooking was excellent. Whenever he stewed fish, Chen Sanfang would always use the leftover fish broth the next meal to knead dough and make noodles.
“Hey, isn’t Xin-ge working at the antique shop? How about we go see him?”
Kang He and Fan Jing wiped the sweat from their brows and bought a bowl of iced mung bean water from a street vendor, sharing it as they walked.
Suddenly, Kang He remembered Fan Xin, who was working in the County Town.
Fan Jing didn’t think there was much to see in Fan Xin’s work, but since Kang He wanted to go, he agreed.
So Kang He bought him a bowl as well, asking for extra ice so the mung bean water would still be refreshing by the time they arrived.
Fan Xin had been working in the County Town for some time, starting even before Fan Jing apprenticed.
Just recently, Zhang Jingui had brought home his first wages, buying things for the family.
He left early and returned late every day, so Kang He and Fan Jing rarely saw him.
They headed for the Dou Shui Xiang Chengxin Antique Shop. Shops selling such expensive goods were always bright and tidy; you could spot the sign from far away.
Kang He, holding the mung bean water in one hand and Fan Jing’s hand in the other, walked briskly over.
Before they even reached the shop, they heard a commotion inside.