Poisonous Peasant 'Concubine' Ch 35 - Hyacinth in Bloom

Chapter 35 — Can I Place a Custom-Made Order?

It was midday, and rural folk generally didn’t have the means to eat lunch, so the market was still bustling. As the ox cart drove out of town, they happened to run into two other carts filled with villagers heading home. Naturally, there were people from Lingjia Village among them. Seeing the large bundles piled on Ling Jingxuan’s cart, the women couldn’t help pointing and whispering to one another. The cheerful atmosphere the group had enjoyed was instantly shattered. The only one who could still smile was Ling Jingxuan—and whether that smile came from the heart was anyone’s guess.

“Brother Han, isn’t there a kiln shop at the market near the village entrance?”

As they neared the junction of several villages, Ling Jingxuan suddenly asked. He remembered seeing one there when they passed by earlier that morning.

“Yes. Old Wang’s kiln—the jars, bricks, and tiles he fires are all pretty decent. Are you looking to buy jars or tiles?”

Along the way, they’d learned that Ling Jingxuan had recently made some money selling fish. Han Fei figured he might be planning to buy tiles to repair the house.

“Some jars. Brother Zhao, please stop the cart in front of that shop later.”

Ling Jingxuan could tell what Han Fei was thinking, but he didn’t explain further. Building a house wasn’t urgent. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making money. Only when he had enough money would his stingy little bun stop objecting to building a proper brick-and-tile house. He had no desire to keep living in a thatched hut—if nothing else, winters here weren’t like those of the twentieth century, with global warming bringing mild seasons everywhere. Real winters here were brutally cold. No matter what, he had to get the house built before then.

“Big Brother, you’re buying jars again? Did the jam really sell?”

Ling Jingpeng finally remembered the jam business when he heard that.

“Yeah. They even placed an order—coming to pick it up tomorrow. Buying more jars ahead of time can’t hurt.”

Since Zhao Dalong and Han Fei were outsiders, Ling Jingxuan didn’t want to say too much. People were selfish by nature. At one or two taels per jar of jam, who could guarantee they wouldn’t stab him in the back once they knew?

At heart, Ling Jingxuan still didn’t fully trust human nature—just like at the moment before his death, when the man who loved him deeply had repeatedly invited him to leave together, only for him to refuse again and again.

“That makes sense. As long as it sold, that’s good. I’ll stay and help you, then—I’ll head back tonight.”

Ling Jingpeng didn’t think much about it. He nodded and made his decision.

Before long, the ox cart stopped in front of a crude shop with all kinds of fired pottery spread across the ground. Calling it a shop was generous—it was really just an enlarged street stall. Jars and tiles covered the front area, and a simple shed stood behind it. With farm work in full swing, business didn’t seem great; there wasn’t a single customer in sight. To prevent the goods on the cart from being stolen, Zhao and Han stayed behind this time, while Tiewa eagerly jumped down along with the two buns.

“Hey, isn’t this Brother Xiao Peng? What’re you buying today?”

Seeing Ling Jingpeng, a burly man in his thirties warmly stepped forward. He was Old Wang, the one Han Fei had mentioned. Since Ling Jingpeng had come with Ling Chenglong just yesterday to buy quite a few jars, he still remembered him.

“Brother Wang, this is my elder brother, Ling Jingxuan. We want to buy some more jars.”

Ling Jingpeng flushed slightly, scratched his head, and spoke shyly.

“Your elder brother… then that must be—ah… sorry, sorry, this stupid mouth of mine. What kind of jars would you like, Ling Gongzi?”

Old Wang wasn’t from Lingjia Village, but he’d heard about Ling Jingxuan’s situation. Though he’d reflexively blurted out something inappropriate, there was none of the contempt or disdain in his eyes that villagers from Lingjia Village showed—the kind of look one gave ants beneath their feet. Ling Jingxuan didn’t take offense at the slip-up and smiled instead.

“The same kind of pottery jars you sold yesterday—the ones about the size of salt jars. I’d like a hundred of them. Do you happen to have that many in stock, Brother Wang?”

“A hundred?!”

Two gasps rang out almost simultaneously—one from Ling Jingpeng, the other from Old Wang. Both wore expressions of utter disbelief.

“Yes. One hundred.”

Facing their nearly stunned stares, Ling Jingxuan nodded solemnly.

“Brother, why do you need so many—”

“I know what you want to ask. We’ll talk after we get home.”

Raising a hand, Ling Jingxuan cut off Ling Jingpeng’s questions and gave him a reassuring look. Walking beside them, Ling Wen also tugged lightly at his sleeve. He was young and didn’t have as many twists and turns in his mind as his father, but at the very least he understood one thing—wealth should never be flaunted. Whatever big money their family was about to make absolutely couldn’t be known by others.

“Okay.”

After looking at his elder brother and then lowering his head to glance at his young nephew, Ling Jingpeng decisively stepped aside. He trusted his big brother, and he trusted his nephew even more. Without absolute confidence, even if his brother agreed, his nephew would never stand by and let it happen.

“Brother Wang, do you have them in stock?”

Seeing this, Ling Jingxuan asked again, his gaze sweeping over the jars scattered across the ground. The jars were very common—surely a hundred wouldn’t be a problem?

“Yes, yes. A batch just came out of the kiln today. They’re a bit bigger than the ones you bought yesterday—this kind here. Take a look, see if it works?”

Coming back to his senses, Old Wang bent down as he spoke and picked up a jar with an opening about the size of a coarse bowl. Ling Jingxuan took it, examined it from every angle, and nodded.

“This works. Brother Wang, can you deliver them to my home?”

He still had to head into the mountains that afternoon to pick wild fruit, cook jam, and also boil medicine for Ling Jinghan. He truly didn’t have time to haul jars around.

“No problem. I’ll personally deliver them later.”

Old Wang was a straightforward fellow and agreed without hesitation. Ling Jingxuan then suddenly asked, “Do you still have those long-necked, big-bellied jars?”

“No, those are gone. You probably know already—they’re hard to make and expensive. Ordinary folks don’t buy them at all. The twenty you bought yesterday were from a batch I fired last year. Back then, I went to the county seat and heard wealthy families used them for flower arrangements. I found it interesting, so I made a few.”

Shaking his head, Old Wang let out a helpless sigh. Ordinary jars sold for just a few wen each, but those cost twenty wen apiece—and even then, he’d sold them at a loss. In the countryside, who would be willing to spend twenty wen on a jar that was basically useless?

“Hmm… then can I place a custom order?”

After a brief pause, Ling Jingxuan stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“I want them larger—each one should hold about ten jin of wine. All fired white. On the belly of the jar, carve a dark-colored ‘Ling’ character, and on the bottom, carve the four characters ‘Ling Family Wine Workshop.’ If you can also fit them with matching wooden stoppers, that would be even better. Do you think you could make them?”

When he’d visited the general store earlier that day, Ling Jingxuan had also inquired about the state of alcohol. He’d learned that grape wine didn’t yet exist in the Qing Dynasty—at least, it wasn’t common. So he planned to make more grape wine himself. As for specially fired wine jars—this was all about branding. If he was going to do it, he would do it properly: make it one of a kind, unforgettable to anyone who tasted it, and ensure that the Ling name stuck firmly in people’s minds, laying a solid foundation for large-scale sales in the future.

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Translator: LazyHermitGal