Eldest Daughter of a Farming Family: The Entire Mountain is My Farm
Eldest Daughter of a Farming Family: The Entire Mountain is My Farm – Chapter 7

Chapter 7: How Much Did It Sell For

Dawn was just breaking.

The whole family got up early, too excited to sleep, thinking about how much money the honey could fetch.

“Jie, don’t forget my chicken leg!”

Just before they left, Meng Shiqiao reminded her.

“Alright.”

Meng Ling and her father carried baskets on their backs and headed for town.

Shen Shi stood outside the courtyard gate and reminded them, “Be careful on the road.”

The two nodded and disappeared into the morning mist.

Following the river east led to the county town.

It was 30 to 40 li (15–20 km) from the village to town. The mountain paths were tough, and a trip to the county wasn’t easy. Occasionally, they ran into people from other villages along the way.

“Dad, how much farther? My feet hurt.”

After walking for an hour, Meng Ling’s soles were sore. She plopped down on a roadside rock.

Her father also found a rock and sat down. “See that mountain? Cross it and the county town will be right there.”

Meng Ling remembered he said the same thing half an hour ago.

Looking at the mountain was enough to exhaust even a horse, let alone a person. Her feet were nearly blistered. Thankfully, she was used to mountain roads, or she wouldn’t have lasted this long.

After resting, they continued on. Another half hour later, they finally reached the main road.

“Daya, once we’re on the main road, we’re almost there.”

Meng Ling had become immune to that line. She believed only the sight of city walls meant they were truly close.

The sun was already high when, after over two hours of walking, they finally saw the county town’s walls.

They didn’t quite match the image Meng Ling had in her mind. Made of rammed earth and just under two zhang (~6.6 meters) tall, the walls were full of little pits from wind and rain.

“So this is Qingping County!”

It was Meng Ling’s first time in town. For some villages farther out, even walking all day wouldn’t get you to the county. Many people never visited a county town in their lifetime.

At the gate, a few soldiers were stationed. People were lining up in small groups to enter. After a routine check, the father and daughter were allowed in.

Meng Liang had only been to the county town a handful of times.

Once inside, they headed straight for the marketplace.

The market was bustling, full of shouting, clucking chickens, quacking ducks, arguing voices, and all sorts of chatter.

They had come late, so good spots were gone. They searched for a place where someone had just finished selling.

They didn’t bring much—just needed a small space.

After looking around, Meng Ling saw a man nearby packing up.

“Dad, there’s a spot.”

She pointed at the tanned man who was nearly done packing up.

As soon as he left, Meng Ling quickly placed their basket down to claim the space.

It wasn’t large, just enough for two baskets. She took out the honey and began setting up.

To the left was a man selling chickens. His bamboo cage held five or six chickens, each weighing about two jin (~1 kg). Someone had just bought one.

To the right was an elderly woman selling pancakes. The smell made Meng Ling’s mouth water and her throat bob.

Meng Liang noticed and called to the old woman, “Auntie, two pancakes please!”

The old woman either had bad hearing or it was too noisy to hear him. Only when he waved in front of her eyes did she react.

“Two for four wen!”

Her hearing may have been poor, but her voice was loud.

“Daya, fill your belly first.”

Meng Ling took the pancake—about the size of a bowl—with a crispy shell and soft, slightly salty inside.

“Tastes pretty good.”

They ate while setting up.

The honey was stored in bamboo tubes, sealed tightly with lids. A small sample piece was displayed for customers.

Next to the honey, they set out some small bamboo baskets and sieves.

“Daya, keep an eye on things. I’m going to ask around about prices.”

“Okay!”

After Meng Liang left, the man selling chickens started chatting.

“Girl, you’re selling honey?”

Meng Ling smiled. “Yes, honey! Uncle, do you want to buy some?”

Upon hearing it was real honey, the man quickly waved his hands. “Girl, we poor folks can’t afford that. That little piece alone could buy one of my chickens.”

Seriously? That valuable?

“Uncle, how much are your chickens? If I sell the honey, I’ll come buy two.”

The man smiled happily. “Alright, little girl, keep your word. Chickens are 15 wen per jin.”

Meng Ling grinned. “Deal!”

She estimated: the honeycomb here could produce about 2.5 liang (125g) of honey. If chickens were 2 jin each, she could trade a jin (500g) of honey for six chickens.

“This stuff is really that valuable?”

Meng Ling was amazed. Probably because Qingping County had low honey production.

But high prices weren’t always good—fewer people could afford it.

Just as she expected, many asked about the price, but when she said it, they all left shaking their heads—didn’t even try bargaining.

Some well-dressed people even asked, but none made an offer.

She began to wonder if she had overestimated the price, or if the chicken seller didn’t know the market either.

She just hoped her dad would come back soon.

But she waited and waited and still no sign of him. So she kept calling out to sell:

“Honey! Selling honey!”

After yelling for a while, only people asking the price showed up—no buyers.

“Isn’t there even one rich person with taste?”

Meng Ling grew frustrated. Not used to yelling, her throat was almost hoarse, so she squatted down to rest.

Just then, a middle-aged man’s voice rang out.

“Little girl, how much for the honey?”

Why little girl? Girl is fine.

Without looking up, she replied, “One jin for 190 wen.”

The man opened a bamboo tube and said, “That’s a bit pricey, but your container is well made.”

Only then did Meng Ling look up. The man was slightly bent forward, dressed in fine brocade, clearly wealthy, and holding a jar of honey.

Behind him stood a man in his twenties, likely a steward based on his attire and manner.

Definitely rich.

Meng Ling quickly responded, “If you buy a lot, I can lower the price a little.”

The man asked, “How much do you have?”

“Eight jin.”

She pointed to 16 bamboo tubes.

Her father had made them the day before, lined with beeswax and looking neat—each one held half a jin of honey.

“I’ll take them all—185 wen per jin,” the man said calmly.

“All of them?”

Meng Ling couldn’t believe it and asked again.

The man nodded slowly.

“Alright, I’ll weigh them now!”

He nodded to the steward. “You pay her.”

The steward stepped forward.

Meng Ling was thrilled. Finally found a buyer with good taste. Otherwise, who knew how long it would take to sell?

She weighed one tube—it was two liang—then poured more in to make a full jin and a bit extra.

Once she finished weighing, she packed it all into a basket for the buyer to carry.

She told the steward, “1,480 wen total. The basket is a gift.”

The man nodded, clearly pleased.

“If you have more honey in the future, deliver it to the Li residence on Banzi Street. The old lady there loves it.”

He reminded, “Use the back door.”

“Got it!” she replied cheerfully.

The steward took the honey and pulled out silver pieces from his pouch.

“Silver!”

Meng Ling had never seen it before. Luckily, her dad had borrowed a scale from the village chief—otherwise this deal wouldn’t have happened.

She weighed it—1 liang, 4 qian, and 5 fen.

“How much short?” asked the steward.

“Three fen.”

He added 30 copper coins.

The chicken seller next to them looked on with envy.

Just then, Meng Liang returned.

Beaming, he ran over. “I searched the whole market—not one other person selling honey. I even ran into someone I used to sell to. You won’t believe the price!”

“Daya, we won’t go hungry this year!”

Seeing how excited he was, Meng Ling smiled. “Yes! Not only grain—we can even eat meat!”

He was too happy to notice the honey was already gone.

“Let’s try selling two jin today,” he said, then turned to check the basket—and froze.

“Daya, where’s the honey?”

Meng Liang’s heart sank. It was gone. He was sure they’d undersold it.

He blamed himself for coming back late. If only he’d been faster.

Meng Ling smiled. “Sold out!”

Hearing that, Meng Liang nearly fainted from the shock.

“Dad, are you okay?”

She quickly caught him. Maybe he was too excited and the blood rushed to his head.

Even the nearby chicken seller was startled.

“I’m fine!”

Meng Liang took a deep breath and slowly recovered.

He urgently asked, “How much did it sell for?”

Leave A Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

@

error: Content is protected !!