Chapter Nineteen: Establishing a Foothold (Part One)

Feng Xiaobao was, at heart, a true man of action. Once he resolved to return to his old trade, he set out the very next day to the southern market for a grand purchase, buying two handcarts full of medicinal herbs and another cart of pharmaceutical apparatus, bottles, and jars for storing the medicine.

He then found a house in the rear garden of the Temple of the Old Lord, cleaned it thoroughly, arranged the herbs, and restored two rooms, connecting chimneys to prepare for heat processing.

The next phase of operations involved Old Zhang, the elderly caretaker, who hired two local women of good reputation—Madam Zhang and Madam Bai—to clean, cut, crush the herbs, and refine honey.

The herbs brought back had to be cleaned to remove rotten roots, broken branches, and decayed parts to avoid compromising the efficacy of the medicine.

Next, the herbs were finely chopped with cutting knives, then crushed in a stone mortar with a pestle.

Refining honey was essential, for traditional Chinese medicine pills were palatable only when made with honey, which, being rich in sugar, suppressed bacterial activity and aided preservation.

The purpose of refining honey was to remove impurities, kill microbes, evaporate moisture, and enhance stickiness. Since honey often contained traces of beeswax, microorganisms, and bee dust, all difficult to remove by hand, it had to be placed in a copper pot, brought to a boil, skimmed of foam, filtered through gauze, then heated gently to evaporate excess water until it was sticky and could be drawn into threads when pinched between the fingers.

Northern honey had less moisture, southern honey had more, but the finest honey came from the Western Regions, with the least water and best suitability, though at the highest price. Feng Xiaobao selected northern honey after careful consideration.

He taught the two women the methods and guided their work; their first batch was successful, and they exclaimed joyfully, “Thank you, young master, for imparting these skills.”

These were tedious, laborious tasks, and naturally, our comrade Xiaobao entrusted them to the women.

It was nothing remarkable. Feng Xiaobao smiled silently; the most critical task was compounding the medicine, which he did in a sealed room, away from prying eyes.

A family secret recipe—if it belonged to a great clan, the entire area would be sealed off, and workers would have no contact with outsiders.

He weighed the proper amounts of herbs, placed them in a pot, stir-fried them over a gentle flame until their color deepened, added the refined honey (usually in a ratio of four parts herb to one part honey), rapidly mixed to coat the herbs evenly, fried until the mixture no longer stuck to the hands, then set it aside to cool before rolling it into pills the size of a longan fruit.

When stir-frying herbs with honey, a gentle flame was used to prevent scorching.

Thus, frying herbs was a delicate task—one could not rush it.

Once the pills cooled, they were sealed with wax for storage—a single “Strength Pill” was thus complete!

He also prepared a batch of dog-skin plasters, but only once, because their smell was overpowering and unsuitable for city processing.

Previously, he had always worked in the countryside or open fields, but that was no longer possible.

He followed a routine: morning exercise for fitness, and after about three days, a wooden dummy for Wing Chun practice was delivered from a bamboo and wood shop in the southern market, allowing him to train indoors.

After breakfast (purchased by Madam Zhang), he set to work, rested at midday, resumed in the afternoon, and continued until eight or nine at night. Time flew by, and he suddenly realized he had been working for a week straight.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Feng Xiaobao surveyed the pile of pills with a sense of accomplishment, akin to a farmer admiring his harvest at autumn’s end. Moreover, he fancied he saw countless Kaiyuan copper coins flying toward him—an excellent feeling! The satisfaction of labor, he mused, must be just this.

Yet it was exhausting. In the past, Feng Dabao had worked alongside him and handled most of the key tasks—especially stir-frying herbs with honey. Now, everything fell on him alone, and it was especially taxing!

Ah, when could he become a loathsome slave-owner, acquire some slaves, and thus profit without toil, freeing his time for more important pursuits?

In the Tang Dynasty’s feudal society, slavery persisted: client laborers, household retainers, and servants—all belonged to this class. Maidservants could be bought and sold at will (even in the Song Dynasty, the famous poet Su Dongpo sold a pregnant concubine to someone else). Killing a maidservant required only a report to the authorities, who would allow it without question.

Household retainers originated in the chaos from the Eastern Han to the Three Kingdoms; peasants depended on powerful families, able-bodied men were conscripted as house guards, called “household retainers” or “client laborers.” They enjoyed more personal freedom than slaves, usually had families (slaves needed their master’s permission), and spent two-thirds of their time working for the landlord, with the rest allotted to their own plot for subsistence (slaves’ lives and belongings belonged entirely to their master). Retainers were obliged to serve their master, sometimes as soldiers or simply as slave soldiers.

Once one had retainers, one had absolute power over their lives and deaths, and under the shadow of mortality, there was no fear of them leaking family secrets.

For now, it was best to shelve such dreams, keep achievements hidden, and focus on making medicine!

After Feng Xiaobao’s busy week, a string of happy events arrived.

It was a happy occasion for Xuanqing, but Feng Xiaobao shared in it as well.

The first event was the official opening of the Temple of the Old Lord’s gates to welcome worshippers!

This was a significant religious event in Xiushan Ward; word spread quickly, and people flocked to the temple to offer incense and pay homage.

It also stirred echoes throughout Luoyang City.

Xuanqing was the last disciple of Li Chunfeng, a legendary figure. Li Chunfeng, knowing he had revealed too many heavenly secrets, lived in extreme low profile, and in recent years, rarely appeared due to ill health; yet public interest in him only grew.

Today, his disciple appeared, presiding over the Temple of the Old Lord. The temple’s founder, Li Er, shared the Tang imperial surname, and the royal family honored Li Er as their ancestor and respected Daoism. For these reasons, many great families sent junior members (high-ranking officials seldom attended, as their status was unmatched—unless Li Chunfeng himself presided) or trusted stewards.

On that day, crowds surged, incense burned fiercely!

The altar in front of the Hall of Three Pure Ones, normally empty, was covered in ash by day’s end.

Witnessing such unprecedented prosperity, Old Zhang, deeply attached to the temple, was moved to tears of joy!

The day’s activities were simple—just incense and worship of the Three Pure Ones. Due to the crowd, nothing more could be done, yet the incense income reached three hundred thousand copper coins!

To convert: one tael of gold equals ten taels of silver, which equals ten strings of copper coins, or ten thousand copper coins. Thus, three hundred taels of silver—a substantial amount! At the time, a dou of rice cost three hundred copper coins, so the income could buy a thousand dou, each weighing about 6.25 kilograms, totaling 6,250 kilograms of rice—an impressive profit.

The money belonged to Xuanqing; Feng Xiaobao gained valuable connections.

Standing beside Xuanqing, he greeted worshippers with the air of a half-host, collecting name cards and offerings.

Thus, Feng Xiaobao became acquainted with the four wealthiest bosses in Xiushan Ward, the ward chief, and family members of several minor court officials residing there—the highest rank among them a sixth-grade officer!

Previously, he couldn’t hope to meet such officials, not even a seventh-grade county magistrate (unless he was involved in litigation).

In addition, he met many clan juniors, stewards, and managers; the stack of name cards nearly wore his hands out.

There were also enthusiastic neighbors—some respected elders whose word commanded action, some burly and courageous, some like the infamous Wang Po, adept at gossip and tongue-lashing anyone who crossed her, undefeated in verbal battles.

Suddenly, he knew far more people, and couldn’t help sighing—if he and Feng Dabao had known so many before, no one would have dared to touch them lightly!

For now, he simply exchanged polite greetings.

He recorded the offerings one by one, finding the Chinese numerals cumbersome, so he used Arabic numerals directly. When Xuanqing saw the clarity of the accounts and heard Xiaobao’s explanation, his eyes lit up!

Arabic numerals only entered China in the 13th or 14th century, and weren’t widely used until the early 20th. Now, seeing them in use, Xuanqing’s sharp gaze immediately grasped their purpose, and he was more convinced that Xiaobao was a man from the future and a saint blessed by purple energy.

The opening of the temple gates was the first happy event; the second was Feng Xiaobao’s debut in selling medicine at the southern market.

He took his pills and excitedly set up a stall in the Tianqiao district!

“Bang, bang, bang!” He struck his gong basket and called out, “Hey, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, come have a look! Xiaobao is passing through your noble neighborhood, not for fame or profit, only wishing for everyone’s health. My pills may be small, but their effects are great!”

His voice drew a crowd; Tianqiao’s patrons loved anything novel, and soon he was surrounded.

Seeing the sea of faces, Xiaobao steadied himself—this was his first time running a stall alone. To warm up, he performed ten somersaults in a row!

He gave it his all, but applause was sparse.

Then he demonstrated his family’s three styles of boxing and performed with a staff—his punches were precise, his staff moves vigorous, and he believed he showed skill.

Yet, the audience’s response was lukewarm; cheers were few and the applause scant.

The capital’s citizens were discerning, having seen everything—what could Xiaobao’s mediocre skills offer? There were plenty more skilled than he. Trying to win their admiration with this level—he’d better think again.

Indeed, true skill is revealed in adversity; Tianqiao’s martial artists saw at a glance that deceiving the capital’s people wasn’t easy.

Feng’s boxing and staff were popular in small towns, but not here—there were many better.

Seeing the reaction, Xiaobao was glad he had a backup plan. He quickly called two strong men to help set up a wooden post, as thick as a sea bowl and five feet tall.

He then used the post as his target, displaying Northern-style Pi Gua palm and Tan Tui!

Pi Gua palm was broad and powerful; the wind from his strikes was strong.

Tan Tui was fierce, like an iron hoe tilling the earth; his kicks resounded against the post, shaking the ground.

This was real kung fu, and crucially, the audience hadn’t seen it before. At last, the demanding capital crowd was satisfied, rewarding him with enthusiastic applause!

With the stage set, Xiaobao began his performance:

“Today, Xiaobao descends from Kunlun (boasting about himself), arriving in this noble place to sell secret remedies.

Those ill, come for treatment; those well, come for healing.

Hey—if you have money, support with funds; if not, support with your presence!

Take a look, see for yourself!

In my left hand, dog-skin plaster; in my right, immortal pills. I’ve traveled the world to help others, walked all the rivers and lakes to heal the wounded.” (The crowd, hearing this young fellow’s lively pitch, laughed.)

“This dog-skin plaster cures bruises, is best for aches and numbness, and for stiff joints. Please examine and smell it!” (He tore open the package, showing the genuine materials, then let them smell the strong medicinal aroma.)

“The Strength Pill, after consumption, brings vigor and robust health. Today, Xiaobao is here to forge a good bond with you all, asking nothing—take these pills for free, try them at home, and if you find them effective, come back tomorrow and honor me by paying only the cost price.”

Feng Xiaobao employed a strategy of giving first and charging later, betting that everyone’s love of freebies would lead them to try the medicine, and once its efficacy was proven, they’d return eagerly with their Kaiyuan coins the next day.

Yet, he underestimated the capital’s citizens—they were not so easily pleased, which explained why so many veteran performers failed at Tianqiao.

When Xiaobao distributed the Strength Pills, he found that, despite being free, few people reached out—only a handful took them!

“If you just hand me something, isn’t it embarrassing to take it?”

“You give me something and I eat it—what if it makes me sick? Can you afford the risk?”

“Young man, this trick doesn’t work—others hand out freebies for three days straight, you only one. Too amateur!”

…

Hearing all these voices, Xiaobao broke into a cold sweat. He hadn’t expected the capital’s people to be so hard to please, their standards so high, and their trust in him so low. In desperation, he shouted, “Who can bring me a male dog and three female dogs?”