Oh heavens, there’s a madman here claiming he’ll pass three rounds of exams in a single year, transforming from a nobody to a scholar. Oh heavens, what is this madman saying? That the Grand Talent Selection is a joke? My god, those whose names are called at Donghua Gate are all blessed by the God of Literature, yet he says it’s nothing special. Oh heavens, oh heavens, even the county magistrate is just a licentiate, and when he meets the commander of Bean Gate, all he does is clasp his hands in greeting. Oh heavens, oh heavens, my heavens, could it be that a star of literature has accidentally fallen at Bean Gate?

　　Chief Foster ran off. He didn’t say a word, just turned and fled, afraid that if he stayed any longer, his head would explode.

　　Henry Clark wiped the rain from his face, shrugged, and went down the hill. He’d finished everything he needed to do today. The woman who cooked filled Henry Clark’s small cloth pouch with polished rice. The two of them also had such a pouch—this was a perk for the accountant and the cook, not really corruption, just that the two women had milled the leftover brown rice into polished rice.

　　Jack Clark and Clark the Third were, as usual, leaning on the window waiting for Clark the First to return. When they saw Clark the First’s figure and heard his voice, they were overjoyed, with people shouting and dogs barking in a lively scene.

　　Henry Clark took the cloth pouch from his waist and poured the polished rice into a small jar. This was a jar used for pickled vegetables at the worksite; there were four or five of them at home. Seeing his brother so happy, Jack Clark asked, “Did something good happen to you today?”

　　“No, I just bragged and scared someone silly. In a few days, I’ll have all sorts of math problems to do—so boring. You do them, just treat it as an exam.” Henry Clark glanced at the leaden sky outside the window; there was still no sign of the sun.

Chapter 12: The Way to Make Money

　　Henry Clark had discovered a new way to make money, and that was the real reason for his happiness. This opportunity was related to the mountain folk. He had keenly noticed that the mountain people weren’t actually poor, but were extremely short of daily necessities. Their clothes were all in tatters, and they were desperately lacking in cooking oil and salt. Henry Clark had heard the mountain folk say that when they hunted a wild boar, the weather was too hot to finish eating it, so they had to smoke it into preserved meat—some of which had been hanging from the rafters for three to five years.

　　What a great opportunity to get rich! The mountains were full of treasures. If he could use goods from Bean Gate to trade with them, he could quickly make sure Clark the Second and Clark the Third had plenty to eat, without having to fight with the laborers for those meager rations.

　　Before doing this, he needed to build a good relationship with Chief Foster. The main reason he’d bragged so much was to keep Chief Foster guessing about his true abilities, thus opening the way for his money-making plan.

　　Henry Clark took out all the money at home, ready to start trading the next day. The mountain man Lai Ba had said that as long as it was salt, they needed it—no matter how much, they’d take it all.

　　The adults didn’t dare approach, because if a mountain person was caught, the government would give a reward. There were always some ill-intentioned people thinking of turning them in for a bit of copper. Henry Clark was still a child, and when he drove the ox cart alone on the mountain road, only then would they dare approach. Otherwise, they’d rather go without salt than risk being discovered.

　　The next day, Henry Clark drove the ox cart into Bean Gate again. He exchanged all his money for salt, and also loaded brown rice from the granary for the laborers, carefully keeping the accounts. The storehouse clerk watched Henry Clark writing and signing on various documents with a grin before putting away the account books. They were starting to trust Henry Clark a bit. This kid never played tricks, but he also never let himself get shortchanged. The most impressive thing was that he could help them check the inventory, so the trick of “kicking the bushel” was never used on him. That’s why Henry Clark always got ten percent more grain than others.

　　Henry Clark had seen the “kicking the bushel” trick. When the official granary’s big bushel was filled, it was supposed to be a full load of grain. The law required that after leveling off the top, you had to kick it to shake off the excess. These black-hearted clerks, with one kick, could make a tenth of the grain fall out. It was said that some old hands could, with one kick, make a third of a full bushel spill out. This was their secret for skimming off the top.

　　“Clark the First, there’s a load of brown rice mixed with sand by the west wall. Do you want it? If you do, just take it—it’ll count as three-tenths of a load. I don’t have time to pick out the sand.” A clerk with a crooked hat came out from the inner hall and shouted to Henry Clark.

　　Henry Clark immediately grinned. What did “grain mixed with sand” mean? It was the result of their “kicking the bushel”—grain that had fallen to the ground and gotten dirty. If the head clerk found out, it couldn’t go back into storage, so it was piled outside. Since it couldn’t be used to fill any gaps, it ended up as a bargain for Henry Clark.

　　Without hesitation, he unloaded three bushels of grain from the ox cart, and with the clerk’s help, loaded the sandy grain onto the cart. The clerk gave Henry Clark a light slap on the back of the head and said, “You little rascal, you’re sharp. Go home and sift out the sand—this bag of grain is definitely more than a full load. Oh well, I guess I just like you.”

　　“I know you mean well, sir. The laborers at the worksite are starving—this is you giving them a bite to eat. That’s a good deed.” Now that they were familiar, Henry Clark joked with the clerk with a grin.