Chapter 73: Means of Transportation

“Actually... Father...” Having just refused Old Liu’s suggestion and exchanged all the farmland for wasteland, Liu Yitiao worried that Old Liu might be upset, so he wanted to explain himself. But as soon as he began, Old Liu waved his hand to interrupt him. Looking at Liu Yitiao, he said, “Yitiao, you don’t need to say anything more. I understand. From today onward, you have your own land, which makes you a real adult. You have the right to decide how to allocate your land. All I can do is offer a few personal suggestions; the rest is up to you. No matter what choice you make, I’ll support you.”

“Father...” Seeing Old Liu so rarely open-minded, Liu Yitiao felt a small surge of emotion. He thought Old Liu was, after all, a decent father.

“All right, all right, since it’s settled, let’s not bring it up again.” With his hands behind his back, Old Liu entered the house and instructed, “Go wake your mother and prepare something to eat. We need to get to the county town soon to buy things, there’s no time to waste.”

“Yes, Father,” Liu Yitiao replied, and slipped into the inner room.

After breakfast, the father and son each shouldered a basket and set out.

They walked.

To be honest, after spending so long in the Tang Dynasty, Liu Yitiao was almost sick of walking. Back home, he’d take a taxi or a bus, or at worst, ride a bicycle. Now, wherever he went, whatever he did, it all depended on his own two feet. Slow, yes, but by day’s end, the stench of sweat from his feet alone could knock out two oxen.

No, he had to get some sort of vehicle, or else the pace and the smell would torment him to death.

But what should he buy?

A carriage? Too expensive, he couldn’t afford to keep it.

An ox cart? Well, he’d probably walk faster himself.

A donkey? Ah, if only he could get a mule. Liu Yitiao suddenly recalled that hybrid creature between horse and donkey.

A mule is the offspring of a stallion and a jenny, or a jack and a mare—a new kind of animal. Faster than a donkey, smaller than a horse, yet stronger than both. It was the perfect beast for family travel and transport. Unfortunately, in this era, mules were rare.

So in the end, Liu Yitiao’s only option was a donkey.

He hurried two steps to catch up to Old Liu, walking shoulder to shoulder, and proposed, “Father, while we’re in town, let’s buy a donkey. It’ll help carry goods and be useful for longer journeys. With it, we won’t have to work ourselves so hard.”

“A donkey?” Old Liu paused, catching his breath, and frowned. A donkey cost at least a string of silver—not a small sum. Was it really worth it just as a means of transport? He rejected the idea outright: “No need. Buying one is hardly useful, it’ll only waste feed. There’s no point.”

Liu Yitiao had expected Old Liu’s reluctance. Old Liu was the type who liked to keep his money in his hand, never spending unless absolutely necessary. The price of a donkey was almost equal to a year’s savings.

He shook his head. Negotiating with Old Liu about buying a donkey was a mistake—not just about money, but about different attitudes toward spending. Like clothes: some people are content with anything, others insist on brand names. It’s not a matter of right or wrong, just a difference of perspective.

“But if you really find it tiring, buying one isn’t a problem.” Old Liu suddenly remembered his son was soon to marry, and said, “When you take Chu Chu back to her family, you’ll need it. Our family isn’t wealthy, but we can’t let a young lady walk all the way home, can we?”

“Huh?” Old Liu’s thoughts zipped ahead so quickly; how did he leap from buying a donkey to the new bride visiting her family? Liu Yitiao’s only intention was to get a ride, nothing to do with in-laws.

“All right, hurry up,” Old Liu urged. “We’ll be there in less than half an hour. Didn’t you always carry a full basket of cabbages to town before? You never complained then, so why feel tired now with just an empty basket?”

Liu Yitiao rolled his eyes at Old Liu. Who’d believe carrying hundreds of pounds of cabbage wasn’t exhausting? He’d only done it before because he had no money and was forced to. Even when he could barely breathe, he’d keep walking.

Seeing Old Liu getting ahead, Liu Yitiao lifted his basket and hurried after him.

Upon reaching Sanyuan County, Liu Yitiao had business at the county office, so Old Liu didn’t accompany him. The two agreed on a time and place to meet and went about their own affairs.

Normally, opening a workshop was handled by specialized departments, not directly overseen by Li Zhizhi, the assistant county magistrate. Still, with his support, the process would be much easier.

Li Zhizhi received Liu Yitiao in the drawing room—a private meeting.

Just yesterday, he had sent off Li Ji and the other officials from the capital. With both his body and mind, Li Zhizhi felt a deep relief; no more days spent worrying about mishaps. So, when he met Liu Yitiao, he was in a relaxed, cheerful mood.

Seated in the main hall, Li Zhizhi smiled at Liu Yitiao and said, “It’s been a few days, young Liu, and you look even more energetic! Haha, are those nightsoil collectors you took over last time behaving themselves?”

“Thanks to your blessing, everything’s going well.” Liu Yitiao bowed in thanks. “Last time, I would have struggled to gather enough fertilizer for my fields without your help.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Li Zhizhi waved his hand. “It was a mutually beneficial affair—didn’t you also save the county office quite a bit of money?”

He smiled, lifted his tea bowl and took a sip, his gaze resting on Liu Yitiao. “You didn’t come just to thank me, did you? If there’s anything you need, speak freely. As long as it’s within the law, I’ll do what I can to assist.”

“Thank you for your kindness, sir.” Liu Yitiao rose and bowed. “To be honest, I wish to open a workshop.”

“A workshop?” Li Zhizhi’s brows rose. “Young Liu, are you thinking of leaving farming for commerce?”