Chapter 4 Black's Question: You're quite famous!
Hei Fu is simple-minded and works very hard.
Even though Django couldn't access the system's cafeteria yet, Hei Fu was still happily eating a cornbread. The cornbread was made from coarse grain flour, so rough it was a bit hard to chew, but for Hei Fu, it was a rare delicacy. He held the cornbread carefully, afraid of dropping a single crumb, chewing each bite meticulously, as if savoring some rare delicacy.
that is......
This appetite seems a bit too good.
Jiang Ge watched as Hei Fu swallowed a whole cornbread bun in one gulp, then took another from the basket in front of him. The basket, which had been piled high with cornbread buns, was now half empty. She couldn't help but frown, thinking to herself: at this rate, the grain reserves in Songyang County probably won't last much longer.
"004, when will you start providing meals? If you stop providing meals soon, I won't be able to feed everyone." You have to understand that Songyang County is currently short of money and food. If we hire a few more yamen runners with big appetites, they'll eat Songyang County out of business sooner or later.
004 glanced at the host's 500 points and began to play dead.
Django sighed and turned to look at Blackie.
Hei Fu was holding his second cornbread, eating it with great relish. His face was covered with crumbs from the cornbread, making him look somewhat comical, but his eyes were full of satisfaction and gratitude.
Hei Fu swallowed the cornbread in his mouth and asked, "Magistrate Jiang, why did such a good thing fall into my lap?"
Hei Fu considered himself to be an unlucky person, otherwise he wouldn't be on the battlefield. He hadn't eaten his fill in a long time. Military rations could keep him alive, but not fill his stomach. There were 600,000 Qin soldiers in this war. It could be said that Qin had exhausted all its strength for this battle that was destined to be recorded in history. The fate of the soldiers was like dust that was raised and floated up to a high place, but still fell down insignificantly.
Their fate was predictable.
Hei Fu stroked his swollen belly, wondering who Magistrate Jiang really was and why it was him.
He looked down at his rough hands, covered with calluses and scars, marks left by years of fighting. He had never imagined that he would one day live such a life—with food to eat, work to do, and even a stable salary.
Django smiled and tapped the system screen, bringing up a projection of "Black Husband's Letters": "Why did I choose you? Because you're very famous!"
The ethereal image of yellowed bamboo slips appeared in the air, a sight that astonished Hei Fu. His eyes widened as he stared at the writing on the slips, as if seeing his own past reflected in them. It was a letter he had written to his family on the battlefield, the handwriting messy yet filled with longing and concern for them.
"Two thousand years later, your family letters are still on display in a museum."
Hei Fu trembled as he touched the illusory words in the air: "On the day of Xin Si in the second month, Hei Fu dares to bow again and inquire whether Mother is well?" The scales of his armor rustled: "This...this is my family letter!"
"Later scholars relied on this to study the Qin Dynasty, to study the lives of ordinary people, the military system, prices, and writing." Jiang Ge swiped the screen, bringing up a price comparison table. "You said in your letter that a summer garment cost three hundred coins, and a spring garment two hundred and sixty coins..."
004 A pop-up shop interface appeared at the opportune moment: [System Shop Product Introduction (Paper Version)] 1 point. To make it clearer for Hei Fu, she gritted her teeth and redeemed one. The paper book slammed onto the stone table, raising a cloud of dust. Hei Fu carefully picked up the book, opened the first page, and found it densely covered with descriptions and prices of various products.
“One shi (a unit of dry measure) of unpolished rice in Songyang County costs four hundred coins.” She turned the page. “If you exchanged your entire monthly salary of two hundred and eighty coins for rice, you could buy seven dou (another unit of dry measure).” Seeing the sudden brightness in Hei Fu’s eyes, she added, “But I recommend this—”
The online store switched to the grain and oil section, where vacuum-packed Northeast rice gleamed white under the moonlight. Hei Fu's fingers pierced through the projection, lightly cupping the ten-pound bag of refined rice: "Such fine grain, in Xianyang, only General Wang Jian… no… even General Wang Jian probably hasn't seen such snow-white grain…."
"The price is thirty points, which is equivalent to thirty coins." Jiang Ge deliberately used Qin Banliang to convert, "Your monthly salary can buy nine and a half bags."
Hei Fu suddenly stood up, his sword sheath hitting the stone bench.
He paced back and forth seven times—the usual number of steps Qin scouts used to measure distances—and suddenly exclaimed, "I request an advance on my salary from the magistrate!"
“The system doesn’t allow credit, but…” she brought up the employee benefits page, “when we get paid, we can also choose three discounted items each month.”
When Hei Fu saw the price tag for the refined salt, "1 point per bag," this man who hadn't uttered a sound even after breaking three ribs on the battlefield, suddenly had tears welling up in his eyes. The Qin army's monthly salt ration was less than two ounces, while here it only cost a few points to buy a bag. His hand trembled as he pointed at the bag of refined salt, his voice choked with emotion: "This...is this really salt?"
Django nodded and smiled, "Of course it's salt, and top-quality refined salt at that. Your monthly salary can buy many bags, enough for you and your family."
A tear glistened in Heife's eyes. He lowered his head, trying to compose himself. He knew he had finally found an opportunity to change his fate.
"Can this really be exchanged for wages?" he asked, pointing to the Treatise on Febrile and Miscellaneous Diseases.
The description below states: "Treats colds caused by wind and cold."
"This is called 'Treatise on Febrile and Miscellaneous Diseases,' written by Zhang Zhongjing. You can find prescriptions for most diseases in it. Books like this are more valuable than gold in the store." Jiang Ge swiped to the medicine section. "You can buy this amoxicillin. It treats typhoid fever and also has antibacterial and anti-inflammatory properties."
Blackie didn't understand what "killing bacteria" meant, but he understood typhoid fever. Many people in his hometown had died from typhoid fever, including his relatives. If this medicine had existed then, perhaps he wouldn't have died.
Hei Fu's fingertip hovered over the "twenty points" price tag, his heart filled with excitement. He knew the medicine's value far exceeded its price. If he could bring this medicine back to the Qin Dynasty, it might save many lives.
"Such treasures, could they be...?"
"No rush, you can buy it when you get your salary."
A note from the author:
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Balancing work and writing... I'll find a regular time to update from now on, please bookmark me!
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