Chapter 14: Prone to Losses

The secretary stayed up all night reading Chen Fan’s policy proposal; in fact, he possessed the skill of speed reading. Yet Chen Fan’s treatise struck him so deeply that he reviewed it repeatedly. He kept reading until dawn, and only then, remembering he had to work, took the proposal to the main hall, intending to submit it to the county magistrate for review—but he was reluctant to part with it. He spent the entire morning respectfully copying it by hand, carefully organizing and preserving the original manuscript before finally heading to the magistrate’s study to deliver the proposal.

“Master Cao, I have something to report,” the secretary announced.

“Speak,” the magistrate replied.

“Recently, Chen Fan wrote a policy paper on how to govern our county. I reviewed it in advance and found it exceptionally well done, so I present it to you for your perusal.”

“Oh! Is that so? Chen Fan has only been working here for a couple of days, and he’s already able to compose such a proposal? You must have been instructing him closely these past days! Wait a moment—this is your handwriting! Is it really Chen Fan’s work?”

“Master, I would never speak falsely to you. The original manuscript is on my desk. If you doubt me, I can bring it to you shortly. It is not my ambition to claim credit; this is truly Chen Fan’s own effort. I am unworthy of praise.”

“Very well, bring it to me later. After I review it, I will pass it on to the county deputy.”

The magistrate examined both manuscripts and found them identical. Holding the secretary’s copy, he began reading aloud, accustomed as he was to the secretary’s handwriting. After forty-five minutes, he handed the secretary’s copy back, instructing him to deliver it, then took up Chen Fan’s original manuscript to savor it once more. A long-lost smile finally appeared on his stern face.

The clerks in the main hall were puzzled by Chen Fan’s absence that day. His colleagues had already prepared a commendation document for him and a reprimand for Xia Ya, intending to sneak a peek and let Chen Fan polish them. Yet by noon, with no sign of him, they left the papers on his desk.

Meanwhile, Chen Fan was still wandering the streets. Though dressed in official robes, he was inherently a modest man. His attire served only to declare his current status—he feared retribution from Huang Ya and his gang. Still uneasy, he wore the sword gifted by Li Xing at his waist.

Passersby cast envious glances his way, for he was a government official, a servant of the state, and quite handsome. Many women felt their hearts flutter and dared not stare too pointedly. Some men recognized him and shamefully took a detour. The women who recognized him suddenly smiled warmly, clearly pleased.

Chen Fan patted the money pouch in his chest pocket; a hundred copper coins, still quite full. He did not know where the market was, nor where the taverns lay. Yet as he walked, some familiar routes stirred faint memories. Even if unsure, he figured following the crowd would lead him to the right places.

He observed the street’s flanks—mostly dwellings with thatched roofs. Few carriages or livestock passed by. The roads were stone-paved but uneven and worn, suggesting considerable age.

Approaching the market’s center, shops grew more numerous, with taverns and inns scattered everywhere. Some grand mansions began to appear as well.

Chen Fan arrived at the East Market Gate, noting shops there sold meats and some pricier goods—cloth, jewelry, furniture.

He first entered a cloth shop to gather information. The shopkeeper was a middle-aged man, stout with a round, prosperous face, dressed in fine clothes. Seeing Chen Fan enter, he sized him up, recognizing the official robes, and approached to inquire about his purpose.

“Welcome, sir! Please come in! We have the finest fabrics here! How much and what quality are you looking for?”

“Show me around first. I intend to purchase cloth on behalf of the government office for official robes. Please introduce the various qualities—we’ll need a range.”

“I understand. Different ranks require different garments, don’t they? Rest assured, sir, only three shops in this entire county can supply such quantities. I guarantee our prices are fair and our quality excellent.”

Chen Fan said nothing and began browsing the shop, examining the fabrics. All were clearly priced; the cheapest fabric was 300 copper coins per bolt.

The owner followed, handing pieces to Chen Fan.

“Sir, take a good look. The workmanship is superb! We employ the finest weavers and use the best silk. We have thousands of acres of mulberry groves nearby, raising countless silkworms, and many looms running full tilt daily. Supplying the government’s modest demands is no challenge at all. If you have any questions, feel free to ask—I will answer truthfully.”

Chen Fan sensed something amiss.

How did the shopkeeper see through that he intended only to browse without buying? (Note: “Browsing without buying” is akin to window shopping.)

He realized he had underestimated the locals. This shopkeeper had been in business many years, encountering all kinds of people, and his skill in reading others was masterful.

Seeing his intention uncovered, Chen Fan dropped the act.

“Actually, I was sent by the county magistrate to investigate local livelihoods and learn more about the county’s conditions.”

“Oh, I see! Sir, no need to conceal anything—ask away.”

“Do you see the blue signs at the entrance?”

“Yes. I noticed a few shops use blue signs, but not many. Most use green.”

“Your observation is sharp, sir—you may not know the reason. Shops operated by the government or imperial court bear blue signs. Private businesses use green. The richer the owner, the darker the sign’s hue. If the government office needs cloth, they can come directly with official documents to collect it.”

“Wow! So this is a state enterprise!”

“Oh, I see! Pardon my ignorance, sir!”

Chen Fan had indeed reviewed the ceremonial office records and county annals. He had seen there were 55 green shops and 19 blue ones. At the time, he mistakenly likened it to stock market colors—red stocks being risky, green being safe investments.

Now he realized he had been hasty and understood little of the county’s culture.

He planned to consult locals more broadly to better grasp the nation’s character.

After questioning the shopkeeper, Chen Fan explored other places to gather further details. He did not intend to eat at the office, preferring to learn more about the situation.

Yet thinking of the two sisters, Yue Rou and Yue E, he decided to return and dine there, so he could bring them some official provisions.

Seeing the sun nearing its zenith and the approaching mealtime, he hurried back to the office.