Edward immediately hugged the leather pouch tightly and pointed: "There!"

Brian Clark followed the direction and looked over. About a hundred meters away, a sign was hanging, but no matter how he looked at it, it didn’t resemble the character for "wine." He wanted to ask more, but realized Edward had already disappeared.

As he got closer, he saw that the character on the sign was indeed "wine," but it wasn’t in Qin script, nor was it from any of the Six States. Instead, it was...

"Wine? Oh my, is this oracle bone script?"

He seemed to have seen quite a few similar signs earlier? So all that clueless searching was actually a kind of "at the end of the lights" joke?

Chapter 0012 Military Ranks and Wine

Probably due to the constraints of the Qin army, the vendors’ tents didn’t appear chaotic. The variously sized vendors spaced their tents apart, keeping the walkways three meters wide, with two meters between each tent.

Whoever came up with this militaristic layout, it made one thing clear: the spacing between tents was for fire prevention. Even if one tent caught fire, it wouldn’t quickly spread to others. At least two meters gave people enough time to react.

Weaving through the crowd, Brian Clark soon arrived at the tent with the cloth sign bearing the oracle bone script for "wine." He noticed this four-cornered white tent was slightly larger than the others. Each side was five meters long, with the sides blocked off and a three-meter-wide gap left in the middle. A gray cloth was stretched overhead to block the sky, and inside, wooden planks had been fashioned into several cabinets, each filled with jars of various shapes.

Several young attendants in red short-sleeved linen shirts were enthusiastically greeting customers. A middle-aged man, about forty years old, dressed in tight black attire, stood nearby. Unlike the attendants who only wrapped their hair with a strip of cloth, he wore a leather helmet and stood there looking rather cool.

Brian Clark scanned the jars and found that porcelain ones were rare; most were wooden barrel jars. That made sense—porcelain is fragile and hard to transport. Most jars had some writing on them, and those "wine" characters in different scripts seemed to have some special meaning?

The middle-aged man in tight attire glanced at Brian Clark in his officer’s uniform, his gaze lingering for about three seconds, mainly focusing on the head and the willow catkin on the upper body armor, then looking at other Qin soldiers approaching.

Though it was only three seconds, that scrutinizing look made Brian Clark quite uncomfortable. Taking advantage of the moment, he put the helmet and the bamboo tube stopper into the leather pouch.

So what was Brian Clark’s current outfit? The front part of his hair was parted in the middle, looking very smooth, while the back was coiled and raised high on the right side, then neatly wrapped with thick red hemp rope in circles to stand upright. His armor was black linen with some leather guards, important parts sewn with copper plates, and the leather and copper were stitched with red hemp rope. On his belt, a bronze sword about eighty-five centimeters long hung on the right, and a leather pouch about forty-five centimeters long hung on the left.

This was the typical attire of a basic Qin army officer, with the only difference being a red willow catkin about three centimeters long on the chest, which officers without military rank did not have. The willow catkin would flutter when walking or in the wind.

The willow catkin seemed to be a special item used by Qin soldiers to distinguish military ranks when wearing armor. And apparently, there was a rule that one could not be an officer without a military rank.

A first-rank Gongshi (leader of ten) wore armor without a willow catkin. A second-rank Shangzao (leader of fifty) had a red willow catkin about three centimeters long. A third-rank Zanniao (leader of a hundred) had a red willow catkin about five centimeters long with a copper ring pendant. A fourth-rank Bugeng (leader of five hundred) had two strips of white velvet tassels on each side of the leather armor. A fifth-rank Dafu (leader of a thousand) had two white velvet tassels with copper pendants.

These were the decorations Brian Clark could distinguish; he hadn’t seen officers above the rank of leader of a thousand.

The middle-aged man in tight attire seemed to notice something, his brows moved, and then he smiled. Before even stepping forward, he raised his arm in a bow and walked out with a humble posture.

Just as Brian Clark was about to step forward, the middle-aged man blocked his way, causing him to frown. Following the man’s gaze, he saw that a leader of a hundred was coming to visit.

Their conversation was nothing special—one flattered, the other accepted it all and praised the shop’s wine.

The soldiers who had formed a circle had unknowingly made way, looking on with envy as the leader of a hundred was welcomed into the tent.

Of course, Brian Clark also stepped aside. After the leader of a hundred entered, he moved closer again, seriously examining the wine jars with different scripts, unsure how to choose.

The various scripts ranged from rounded to vigorous. Before he could ask, an attendant came over to introduce them.

Brian Clark didn’t understand what the attendant was saying. Before he could speak, the quick-witted attendant switched to the Qin dialect: "Do you want Qin wine? Zhao wine? Yan wine? Chu wine?"

So far, Brian Clark had only tasted laokang. That was what he intended to buy, but the attendant’s introduction piqued his curiosity.

The attendant sang out, "Qin wine, oh, is astringent and bitter; Zhao wine, ha, is as fierce as a horse; Yan wine, ah, is smooth as it goes down the throat; Chu wine, like water to drink."

Touching the knife coins in his pocket, he wondered about the purchasing power of this currency: "What are the prices for each?"