“Young Allen, you can't say that. When it comes to matters of life and death, we can't just make wild guesses. It's never wrong to take precautions early. If those fierce government soldiers from Central Tang don't come, at worst, everyone just loses a few days' earnings. But if they do come, then the whole family, young and old, will have to risk their necks.”

Jason Allen let out a sigh and said helplessly:

“Fine. I got up early and ran three streets just to come here for noodles. I can't go back hungry. Second Miller, today I'll explain everything to you so you can do business with peace of mind.”

Second Miller listened, half believing, and leaned in. Jason Allen sat down at the table, directing the nearby Mrs. Miller to keep boiling water, and quietly said:

“You know what my old man does for a living, right, Second Miller?”

“Who in this Hechang City doesn't know that Mr. Allen has been in the grain business for decades, even trading with other countries?” Second Miller replied immediately.

Jason Allen spread his hands and said:

“As the saying goes, before the troops move, the provisions go first. Central Tang suffered floods and poor harvests last year, so grain prices have been bullish—oh, no, I mean rising. But last month, the price of grain suddenly collapsed. So what war are they talking about? It's all just rumors!”

Second Miller was confused and couldn't help but ask:

“The cattle and sheep market is outside the west gate on the first and fifteenth of every month. What does that have to do with sending troops? Young Allen, you're a learned man, but we're just rough folks!”

“Ugh... I've been here so long and still can't change the way I talk.” Jason Allen couldn't help but wipe his sweat. “If I don't change my ways, one day I'll be accused of spreading rumors and drowned in a pig cage!”

“All right, simply put, Central Tang had a disaster last year, so their surplus grain must be almost gone. Now, during the lean season, if they want to attack our heavily fortified Hechang City, they'll need a lot of troops, which means they must prepare provisions and supplies in advance.”

“But right now, even here and in Central Tang, grain prices are falling instead of rising. That means no one's buying up grain on a large scale—so Central Tang must be using their government reserves to stabilize prices. So what war? Are the government soldiers supposed to eat clay for rations?”

Jason Allen paused his words, and after finishing his explanation in one breath, he saw only the blank look in Second Miller's eyes and could only sigh deeply—illiteracy is truly scary. But after a while, Second Miller shook his head, looked at Jason Allen with admiration, and sincerely said:

“No wonder you're an educated man. I didn't understand a word you said, but it still sounded amazing.”

Jason Allen could only sigh, realizing he had nothing more to say. But the next second, Second Miller's actions made his eyes widen, because this seemingly honest and simple man suddenly grabbed a familiar old customer walking by:

“Hey, Fourth Harris, when you came over just now, was Mr. Allen's grain shop open?”

“Of course it was.”

“And what about Mr. Howard's pawnshop?”

“Business is booming!”

“And the Chunfeng Drunken Tavern run by the brother-in-law of the constable Captain Howard?”

“When I passed by, Second Howard was whipping a lazy worker.”

“I see...”

“Wife! Boil water, set up tables, knead the dough! Why haven't you served tea to Young Allen yet?”

“Aren't we supposed to go back to our hometown to visit relatives right away?”

“Visit, visit, visit! Why not just go reincarnate? All the richest families in Hechang aren't panicking, so why should a poor noodle seller like me worry?”

“.....”

Hearing this exchange, Jason Allen couldn't help but roll his eyes. As expected, the wisdom of the working people is boundless—they have their own ways to survive. Turns out, the one lacking common sense is himself. He hadn't sat for long before the noodles he ordered were brought over.

The noodle soup was covered in red oil, the snow-white noodles swimming like fish, topped with large slices of tendon-rich, reddish-brown beef, each piece as big as a palm but thin as paper, almost translucent. A few drops of vinegar made it tangy and spicy, so delicious that he was soon sweating all over.

If it felt a bit greasy, there was also a local specialty: green-skinned, purple-hearted radish—cheap and tasty. For just one more coin, Second Miller would slice it thin and serve it on a plate. Crisp and juicy, freshly pulled from the old well and chilled to the core, it was sweet and refreshing, quenching the heat and leaving you feeling cool and satisfied.

Every time Jason Allen finished eating, he would be drenched in sweat, so he'd sit at the stall for a while, chatting and enjoying the river breeze. But just then, a young fellow in a green robe and cap suddenly ran over from across the street. Spotting Jason Allen, he shouted excitedly from afar:

“Master! Master! The results for the student exam are posted—you passed!”