Chapter 6: Bartering for Grain

“Just ask under the big tree—don’t go knocking on people’s doors. If no one wants to trade, just come back,”
Father Yu reminded her.

Yu Nuan agreed, hoisting the snake meat and preparing to head into the village.

But just as she turned to leave, Father Yu called her back again.
“Make a stop at Little Wu’s place at the end of the village.
That boy pulled you out of the pit yesterday—forget trading the meat, bring it to his family instead.”

As he spoke, he even moved to place the piece of snake meat he was holding into the basket—
after all, a life-saving favor was greater than anything.

Yu Nuan paused, her hand holding the basket tightening slightly.
She searched her memory—but came up blank.

“How about I give them the pair of rabbits instead?”
She’d originally planned to raise them as a breeding pair, but now that idea was out the window.

Father Yu considered it—live animals did seem more meaningful than a chunk of dead meat.
He sat back down on the stone slab with the snake meat in hand and nodded. “Alright…”

The sun was high, the perfect time for an afternoon rest.
Beneath a large tree wide enough for three people to encircle,
a group of village women and elder ladies were sitting, chatting away and laughing occasionally.

Yu Nuan carried a basket on her back and a small woven one in her hand, tiptoeing up behind them.
She crouched behind the tree and quietly eavesdropped for a bit.

Fortunately, the village’s “information station” wasn’t spreading anything too ruinous about her…
Whew.
Not too bad.
At least she wasn’t that infamous yet.

“Ahem!!”
Yu Nuan cleared her throat and stepped out from behind the tree.

“Yao Niu, dear!”
Two sharp-eyed old women spotted her and greeted her with warm smiles.

“Where are you off to?” one of them asked.

“We just butchered a big snake at home. I heard the meat is especially nourishing and tastes great…”
She gave them a harmless, sweet smile as she spoke.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. You look so skinny,” one of the women said with sympathy.

“There’s more at home. I came to see if any aunties might want to trade for grain.
This kind of snake meat isn’t common—it’s a real tonic. How many times a year can you even get to eat it?”

The women went quiet for a moment, whispering among themselves.
Then Granny Liu spoke up first, “So what do you want in exchange?”

“Rice or flour is fine, or even vegetable seeds. Just look how fat this snake is!”

Without caring about their gasps, Yu Nuan lifted the leaf to reveal the half-a-person-long chunk of meat.

Granny Liu’s eyes shifted—her daughter-in-law had just given birth recently and was struggling with low milk supply.
Even after boiling their precious stash of eggs a few times, it hadn’t helped.

The baby wasn’t growing properly without milk, and brown sugar water was expensive and caused inflammation.
She didn’t want to slaughter her few hens, and old hens didn’t help with lactation anyway!

But she’d heard that snake meat was just as effective as rooster meat in boosting milk production…

Yu Nuan saw that Granny Liu was the most straightforward of the group and did some mental math.
In this era, pork was actually cheaper than chicken.
Chicken went for 18 to 25 wen per jin, while pork was around 15 to 22 wen per jin.

She wasn’t sure why pork was cheaper, but it was the case.
Among meats, pork was the most affordable, while wild snake meat raised in nature was definitely pricier.

“This meat’s around four to five jin. If you want rice, then twelve jin. For white flour, nine jin…”

Market prices were:

White rice: 9 wen per jin

Old or rough rice: 5 wen per jin

White flour: 8 wen per jin

Because both rice and flour required processing, they weren’t cheap.
In regions where people preferred noodles, white flour was even more expensive.

But in this village, few could afford white flour.
Most people lived on coarse rice or yellow/black flour.

Black flour was cheaper—anywhere between 2 to 4 wen per jin.
Pure black flour made from bran and grain husks had the worst texture and cost only 2 wen.
Yellow flour, made from mixed grains and husks, cost about 3 to 4 wen per jin.

Considering the best irrigation channels ran through the village fields,
most households probably had some surplus grain—unless they were lazy or disabled.

“You cheeky girl! This isn’t the marketplace, and you’re charging that much?
I’ll give you six jin of rough rice and five jin of yellow flour—deal or not?”

The voice came from another old woman—Yu Nuan quickly searched her memory: that should be Aunt Zhang.
Aunt Zhang only had one son, and despite marrying years ago, she had yet to have a grandchild.
She was likely hoping this meat would nourish her son and help him produce an heir.

“This…”
Yu Nuan hesitated on purpose and stole a glance at Granny Liu.

“Yu Nuan, how about this—five jin of rice, five jin of yellow flour, and a pack of seeds.”
Granny Liu offered immediately.

“Oh come on, Granny Liu! Why didn’t you say so earlier if you wanted to trade?”
Aunt Zhang snapped.

“And who said I couldn’t speak now?”
Granny Liu shot back.

“You—!”

Yu Nuan stayed silent, letting the two argue it out.

Eventually, Granny Liu made her final offer:
“Six jin of rice, eight jin of second-grade yellow flour, and two packets of vegetable seeds. That’s the best I can do.”

She was clearly determined.

Aunt Zhang sighed and backed down—grain was precious, especially with few working hands at home.
They hadn’t had a grandchild in years, and she had originally hoped to borrow some of Old Man Yu’s luck—
he had one vine that bore ten gourds!
Forget it. She’d rather take her son into the mountains to search next time.
If that girl could bring back so much for one snake, she wasn’t about to be a sucker.

“Deal!”
Yu Nuan smiled—it was a good trade. She hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly.

While Granny Liu went home to fetch the grain, a bunch of women surrounded Yu Nuan,
asking about Yu Mother’s childbirth.

She just smiled and said nothing, thinking to herself:
Nothing escapes the village intelligence network.

She had no desire to get entangled with them, especially in times like this.
Her home was far enough from the village, anyway—
even if rumors spread, they wouldn’t drown her.
So long as no one spit directly at her door, she’d shut it tight and live her life.

After the trade was done, she casually asked about the Wu family’s location.
The ladies were quite forthcoming and gave her directions.

Leaving the chattering group behind, she headed toward the foot of the mountain at the edge of the village.
Carrying the grain she’d just traded for, Yu Nuan finally felt a bit more secure.
Her space still had emergency supplies, so they wouldn’t starve anytime soon.
But she couldn’t just take things out of nowhere—it was too hard to explain.

Mixing in some of this real, traded grain would make everything look more reasonable.

The path was quiet, and she didn’t see many people.
She finally reached the most remote wooden house at the village’s end.
She looked up and gave it a once-over.

This family lived in the same direction as the Yu family, both near the mountain’s base—
one at the southern foot, the other to the north, far apart but still in line.

She set down her basket and knocked on the door.
No response for a while.

“Anyone there? Hello?” she called out.

“Who is it?” a child’s voice answered.
A moment later, she heard someone unbolting the latch.

A little boy around five or six peeked out cautiously, standing on tiptoe behind the cracked door.
“You are…?” he asked, eyes wide and blinking.

Yu Nuan paused for a second—this must be the child of her rescuer.
He looked bright and adorable, those big eyes blinking like stars.

“Where’s your father?” she asked gently.

The boy just blinked at her silently, uncertain and shy.

Ah, probably too young and unfamiliar with strangers.

She gave up trying to chat and lifted the rabbit from the basket.
The rabbit, though bound, was still quite lively.

“When your dad gets back, tell him this is from the Yu family at the mountain foot,” she explained.
Whether the kid understood or not… who knows…

She gently pushed the basket through the crack in the door and set the rabbit down inside.
Then she helped the boy close the door.

On the way home, her steps were quick and light.

Reaching the base of the hill, she pulled out a bag of white flour from her space
and mixed it into the yellow flour Granny Liu had given her—stirring it until it blended.

She also tore open a small packet of salt and pinched out a thumb-sized amount,
wrapping it carefully in a leaf.

Outside the earthen house, Yu Father and Yu Mother sat, deep in conversation.
Both wore serious, troubled expressions.