Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life-Chapter 17: First Steps into Qing Shi

The black wheat bun was dry and hard, scraping his throat until it ached.

Su Ming nibbled at it in small bites, like a squirrel stashing food for winter; every motion showed how precious it was to him.

The remaining road felt so stifled the atmosphere could be wrung dry.

Zhao Rui hunched on the cart board, covering his head with a ragged coat, saying nothing. He looked like a plucked rooster that could no longer fluff up.

Old Qian’s whip arm had lost much of its strength; he kept glancing back at the empty cart bed and letting out long sighs.

Only the mule still trod tirelessly, the creaking wheels the lone soundtrack of the journey.

Su Ming swallowed the last bite of bun, drank some of the slightly cool water from his waterskin, and turned his gaze to the distance.

At the edge of the horizon, a faint blue-gray line appeared.

As the mule cart drew closer, that line thickened and rose, until it resolved into an imposing city wall.

The wall was built from massive bluestone blocks, each stone mottled and weathered by wind and rain, like the wrinkles on the face of a taciturn old soldier.

“Arriving at the Newcomer Village main city—Qingshi Town,” Lin Yu’s voice carried a flicker of interest.

The mule cart stopped at the end of the line before the city gate.

People and vehicles entering the city formed a long serpent: farmers pushing wheelbarrows of vegetables, itinerant merchants carrying crates, and several ornate carriages with curtains tightly drawn, giving off an air of aristocratic unapproachability.

It was the first time Su Ming had seen so many people.

A jumble of sounds poured into his ears like boiling porridge: hawking cries, bargaining voices, the lowing and snorting of oxen and horses, the rumble of wheels...

A complex smell hung in the air: livestock dung, the sour stench of sweat, and an indistinct tantalizing aroma of food drifting from the city.

All of it excited and at the same time instinctively tensed his body.

He reflexively pressed his hand against his chest, where one or two or three qian of silver were hidden, and that cold skinning knife.

That was all the courage he had.

“Don’t be nervous, relax,” Lin Yu soothed. “What you need to do now is observe and learn. Watch their clothes, listen to their accents, analyze their identities. This is a real world, far more vivid than anything in your books.”

When it was their turn to enter, a sallow-faced city guard sauntered over and prodded the cart board with the spear in his hand.

“Where from? What business in the city?”

Old Qian hurriedly fumbled out a few copper coins and, wearing a smile, handed them over. “Captain, they’re from Su Family Village, bringing two young gentlemen into town to seek schooling.”

The city guard weighed the coins, then glanced at the two boys on the cart.

His eyes fell first on the disheveled, listless Zhao Rui, then at the raggedly dressed Su Ming, and a trace of contempt crossed his face.

“Seeking schooling? Looking like this?” He scoffed, waving his hand. “Move along, move along! Don’t block the way!”

Zhao Rui’s body twitched; the coat slipped from his head, revealing a face flushed bright, but he did not jump up to argue as he used to.

A bandit’s blade is far sharper than a city guard’s mockery.

The mule cart creaked through the gate.

Darkness fell for a moment, then the scene burst into light.

Qingshi Town revealed itself before Su Ming without reservation.

Wide streets were likewise laid with enormous bluestone slabs, polished smooth and shining by the years. Lining the roads were row upon row of shops.

Restaurants, teahouses, cloth shops, rice stores, pawnshops... signs of all kinds swayed in the breeze.

People jostled shoulder to shoulder, neatly dressed. Men wore silk shirts, women sported silver hairpins; even the children wore brand-new cloth and chased each other through the crowds.

The prosperity made Su Ming feel as if he’d stepped into a surreal dream.

He had never seen such tall buildings, such bright fabrics, nor smelled such enticing steamed meat bun fragrance.

He stood at the roadside like a small weed uprooted from rural soil and suddenly planted into a wealthy flowerpot, utterly out of place.

“Disciple, tuck away that country-bumpkin look! Yes, exactly like that, keep your head down, watch the road. Show a little humility and timidity—it's in line with your current persona.”

Zhao Rui jumped down from the mule cart as well.

The moment his foot hit the familiar bluestone, the confidence that came from being the Village Chief’s son seemed to return a little.

He straightened his torn clothes, lifted his chin, and resumed that haughty posture.

Seeing Su Ming’s “dumbfounded” expression, the resentment inside him finally found an outlet.

“Hmph, peasant!” Zhao Rui’s voice was low but full of deliberate disdain. “Eyes all wide? Never seen anything before? This is Qingshi Town!”

Su Ming only silently withdrew his gaze, making no reply.

His silence, to Zhao Rui, was assent—a sign of inferiority.

“Don’t you dare talk nonsense when you meet my aunt, or you’ll embarrass my father!” Zhao Rui grew more animated, as if loud boasting could wash away the humiliation of the road. “My aunt handles the records at the county academy; she manages the student registrations for the whole town. Whether you can be registered as a Child Scholar depends on her good graces!”

Old Qian drove the cart to a designated carriage depot, then led the two through a maze of alleys.

Su Ming walked and silently committed the route to memory.

His mind was a dry sponge, greedily absorbing everything around him: which shop clerks looked most alert, which alley reeked the worst, which beggar in the corner seemed the most dangerous...

When they passed an herbalist’s shop, his steps suddenly paused.

A bamboo plaque outside the medicine shop displayed various herbs drying in the sun.

“Stop.” Lin Yu’s voice turned suddenly serious. “Look at the plaque on the left, third row—see the plant that looks like dry grass with blackened roots?”

Su Ming scanned it.

It was an unremarkable withered weed: yellowed leaves, shriveled roots, mixed among higher-quality herbs as if tossed in casually.

“This is ‘hei jie cao’,” Lin Yu said, a hardly noticeable excitement in his tone. “It’s worthless on its own, a poor herb for feeding livestock. But look closely at its root—doesn’t it have a faint ring of silver veining that other hei jie cao lack?”

Su Ming focused and indeed saw, on that shriveled black root, a hair-thin circle of silver lines that was barely visible in the sun.

“This is a mutated specimen subtly nourished by residual spiritual energy! The spirit energy content is negligible, but it proves one thing!”

“Near Qingshi Town there must be a spiritual energy node! Even if it’s a nearly exhausted micro-node!”

Lin Yu’s voice was like Columbus discovering a new world: “This is a clue! It’s the spark of hope for our ‘spiritual energy prospecting project’! Boy, remember this medicine shop, remember what that plant looks like! This is our first major breakthrough!”

Su Ming’s heart thudded wildly in response.

“What are you gawking at? A pile of rotten grass—what’s so interesting?” Zhao Rui snapped impatiently and shoved him aside. “Move on! Dawdling country bumpkins are country bumpkins, you don’t even know herbs!”

He cast a contemptuous look at the cheap herbs at the medicine shop entrance.

Su Ming straightened after the shove but felt no anger. He glanced back at the shop named “Hui Chun Hall” and etched its location into his mind.

After winding through a few more alleys, Old Qian stopped before an imposing residence.

A vermilion wooden door stood between two stone lions, and a plaque above the lintel read “Zhou Residence.”

Zhao Rui immediately straightened, and then stamped the door knocker with a loud “bang bang bang.”

“Who is it?” came an impatient voice from inside.

After a moment, a side door creaked open and a footman in a green cap peered out, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he surveyed them.

When he saw the tattered Zhao Rui and Su Ming, and Old Qian beside them, his brow immediately furrowed.

“Beggars, move along! This is the Zhou Residence, not a charity!” the footman waved irritably, about to close the door.

“Impertinent!” Zhao Rui’s face flushed dark. “Open your dog eyes and see who I am! My aunt is the second madam of your house! Go inform them at once and tell them Zhao Rui from Su Family Village is here!”

The footman hesitated, reexamining Zhao Rui with suspicion.

“Su Family Village? Zhao Rui?” he sneered. “Wait here.”

With that he slammed the door shut with a bang.