Chapter 125 Destitute and Helpless Refugees
The shop owner was a middle-aged man wearing a slightly worn blue shirt and a square scarf. He looked rather thin and was practicing calligraphy behind the counter.
Seeing a customer enter, he merely raised his eyes slightly, without immediately rushing forward to greet them as a typical merchant would, and simply said:
"Please feel free to look around. Call me when you find something you like."
He then lowered his head again and continued to focus on the words he was writing.
Scholars have their own integrity, and books don't need to be promoted to everyone like other goods.
Those who come here are all literate people; they will naturally buy what they need.
Jiang Ling didn't mind and continued reading on her own.
This bookstore isn't big, but it has a fairly complete selection of books.
However, it naturally cannot compare with modern bookstores.
She first selected a fine-textured, appropriately sized stone inkstone, then chose two wolf-hair small calligraphy brushes and two mixed-hair brushes suitable for beginners.
Then she looked at the ink sticks. She didn't know much about ink, so she picked one that was reasonably priced and had a faint pine soot smell.
"Xiao Ran, come and see which paper you like?" Jiang Ling called out.
Jiang Ling's general store also sells paper, but none of it is suitable for writing calligraphy.
Xiao Ran curiously went over and looked at the various types of paper with different materials and prices on the shelf, feeling somewhat at a loss.
In the end, Jiang Ling chose a stack of reasonably priced, evenly textured rough-edged paper for him, suitable for daily writing practice.
Finally, she went to the bookshelf and looked for books for early learning.
The primers of this dynasty did not yet include works like the "Three Character Classic" or the "Hundred Family Surnames".
Some of them are works like "Elementary Learning", "Enlightenment Record", and "Thousand Character Classic".
Xiao Ran will be living in this era from now on, so naturally she needs to learn about things from this era.
Being too unconventional at such a young age is actually not good for him.
She picked up a copy of the Thousand Character Classic, its pages yellowed but still well-preserved, and flipped through it. The characters inside were neatly printed using woodblock printing, but the clarity was naturally incomparable to modern printed materials.
"Boss, how much are these books?" Jiang Ling asked, taking the selected items to the counter.
The shopkeeper then put down his pen, carefully counted the items, and then took out his abacus and started typing away.
A moment later, he gave a number.
Even though Jiang Ling was mentally prepared, she couldn't help but secretly gasp in surprise.
The price is indeed exorbitant, especially those few thin primers, which cost several hundred coins, almost equivalent to one or two months' worth of food for an ordinary farming family.
No wonder the ancients often said, "The poor study literature, the rich study martial arts." In such an era, reading and writing were not something that ordinary families could easily afford.
Xiao Ran stood nervously to the side, and when she heard the price the shopkeeper quoted, her face turned pale.
"Sister Jiang, this is too expensive! I... I'll save up and buy it myself. I can't let you spend any more money!"
Sister Jiang had already done so much for him, giving him a monthly allowance of one tael of silver for only a few days of work. He already felt guilty about it.
Sister Jiang even traded her precious glasses for the opportunity for him to learn to read and write, so how could she let Sister Jiang spend money again?
Jiang Ling knew that his meager salary was already used to support his family, so how could he possibly save any money?
“Xiao Ran, we’re teaching you to read and write so you can better support the shop and contribute to it in the future. Naturally, the shop should pay for it; how can we expect you to pay out of your own pocket?”
The shop owner, who had been expressionless, couldn't help but show a hint of surprise when he heard Jiang Ling and Xiao Ran's conversation.
He looked up and carefully examined Jiang Ling and Xiao Ran, only then noticing that although Jiang Ling's clothes were neat, they were not fancy, and Xiao Ran was dressed like a waiter.
How could a female shop owner who runs a grocery store be so generous as to sponsor her shop assistants to learn to read and write?
This was truly rare among the ordinary merchants he had ever met.
His usually expressionless face softened slightly, and his tone became less indifferent, carrying a hint of barely perceptible emotion:
"This lady is kind-hearted and willing to support her son's education; it's a virtuous deed."
He pondered for a moment, then adjusted the abacus again and said, "How about this, the writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone will be at their original price, but these primers... let's give you a discount, round it up to a whole number, one tael of silver will be enough."
He quoted a price that was significantly lower than before.
Although it's still not cheap, it's a rare deal.
If there's a bargain, why not take advantage of it?
Jiang Ling smiled and thanked her, "Thank you for your kindness, shopkeeper."
After paying, Jiang Ling and Xiao Ran carefully wrapped up the newly purchased stationery and books, thanked them again, and left Wanban Bookstore.
The sun was setting in the west, and its rays were beginning to sink lower.
The carriage started again and headed towards the city gate.
The closer they got to the city gate, the more somber the atmosphere became.
A large crowd had gathered outside the city gate, and faint sighs and the cries of children could be heard from afar.
Jiang Ling lifted the carriage curtain and glanced inside. When they entered the city that morning, there were only a few scattered refugees squatting against the walls.
They had already formed large groups, probably numbering in the hundreds.
After leaving the city gate, Xiao Ran went to the tea stall and led back the oxcart.
The tea stall owner stepped forward to help him tie the oxcart to the back of the horse-drawn carriage, so that the oxcart could follow the horse-drawn carriage slowly.
Looking at the surrounding refugees, he couldn't help but say, "Sigh, so many people have gathered again... The officials will come out and drive them away soon. It's like this every day lately."
He's already used to it.
Most of them were dressed in rags, looked emaciated, and had families to support. Their only possessions were a small bundle carried on their backs.
Whether sitting or lying down, their eyes were empty and desperate as they stared at the tightly closed city gate, as if waiting for a hope that would never come.
The temperature dropped rapidly in the evening, and a cold wind began to blow. The refugees were only wearing thin, tattered summer clothes, which were not enough to keep out the chill of the autumn night. Many of them shivered in the cold wind.
The carriage continued its journey.
The driver, Old Qian, sighed and explained to Jiang Ling inside the carriage:
“Miss Jiang, don’t look too much. These are all refugees from the north. I heard that the locust plague in the north is particularly severe this year. There was already little rain and poor harvests. The locusts have made things even worse. Many places have no harvest at all… Alas, I don’t know how many people have starved or died of disease on the way.”
His tone carried a numbness and helplessness born of someone accustomed to suffering.
Jiang Ling peered through the crack in the car window at the scene outside, feeling a surge of intense sorrow and shock in her heart.
Having grown up in modern society, she had never seen such a tragic scene.
The documentaries on TV are nowhere near as impactful as one ten-thousandth of the despair I feel right now.
Those figures huddled in the cold wind, those bewildered and helpless eyes, seemed to be waiting for death to come.
A woman on a haystack is biting her finger, turning her blood into milk to feed the baby in her arms.
Jiang Ling subconsciously touched the few leftover pastries and some copper coins from her breakfast. A strong urge made her want to get off the carriage immediately and do something.
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