"No, Uncle, that's not what I meant. My father said this is for Uncle, along with these dried mushrooms and dried meat. He always drinks the wine brewed by Uncle, so of course he should do his best if Uncle needs anything!" David Thompson hurried over and took the load off Uncle's shoulder.

"I knew it, my brother-in-law does big business, he doesn't care about this small change! When did you get back? How come I didn't hear a thing?" Mrs. Bolton-Brooks hid the money pouch behind her back, massaging her husband's back as she forced a smile.

"I just got to the crossroads and saw you rushing out of Old Liu's house like your hair was on fire. I called you several times, but you didn't hear me. I was wondering what was going on—then I came back and found out you went to take advantage of someone else's misfortune!" Michael Bolton shot his wife a glare and scolded angrily, "Old Liu's family digs up medicinal herbs to sell, and they barely make a hundred coins a year. Now look, you cleaned them out!"

"This was a fair deal. If it were someone else, they couldn't even buy it at this price. Who doesn't know that in the past few days, there's been a shortage of raw hides in the market!" Mrs. Bolton-Brooks, hearing her husband's complaints, started pounding his back even harder. "Besides, last year when you were sick, didn't Old Liu's family sell us their ginseng at a sky-high price? We're all doing business—why should I care about their hardships!"

"Gently, be gentle!" Michael Bolton grimaced from the pounding. Realizing he couldn't out-argue his wife, he gave up on the topic. Glancing at David Thompson, who was carrying the basket of vegetables into the kitchen, he whispered to his wife, "He came all this way, and every time it's a risky business. Don't be so greedy. We've already taken two raw hides from him, that's a big favor we owe. If we swallow the cost of the other two hides as well, even the God of Wealth would scold us for having no conscience!"

"A big favor? That bow—Master Zhao in the county town offered three strings of cash for it and you didn't even bat an eye before giving it to him. He's family, why make such a fuss!" Mrs. Bolton-Brooks put on a look of being willing to risk her life but not her money, and deliberately shouted loudly.

"You woman!" Michael Bolton, afraid his nephew would overhear and feel bad, quickly pulled his wife to the corner of the yard. Blocking the sunlight with his body, he lowered his voice and scolded, "How can you say that? All these years, has my brother-in-law ever come back without bringing us dried goods from beyond the frontier? Their whole family is so kind, and we always take advantage but never say a good word—don't you think that's heartless? And as for Xuguan, which month does he not come over to help? He treats us like his own parents. Among all our relatives, with so many scholars, who else is as conscientious as him?!"

"I know you blame me for not giving you a son!" Mrs. Bolton-Brooks shrank into the corner, aggrieved. After struggling for a while, she finally gave in, reluctantly untying the money pouch hidden at her back. She peeked inside, gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and handed it over, mumbling tearfully as she did, "He said himself he didn't want it, you heard him. Besides, if I hadn't bargained, your brother-in-law couldn't have sold it for so much!"

As she spoke, tears were already falling from the corners of her eyes. "Here, give back however much you want. Just pretend I didn't see anything!"

"Ah, you woman!" Michael Bolton cursed helplessly. He picked up the money pouch to find David Thompson, only to discover that his nephew had already left at some point. A few chickens drained of blood, two baskets of dried mushrooms, a bundle of dried meat, and two raw hides were all neatly stacked under the window. Bathed in the autumn sunlight, they gave off a warm, cozy feeling.

Volume One: Ballad of the Frontier

Chapter One: A Flourishing Age (Part Four)

Fleeing from Uncle's house as if escaping, David Thompson realized he had nowhere to go. There were few boys his age in the nearby villages; those from well-off families had long gone to study at the academy, while those from poorer backgrounds had to follow their elders to the fields as half-grown laborers, or lower themselves to become apprentices in shops to save their families a mouth to feed. It was still morning, and except for the loafers and ruffians in the county town, no one had time to waste.

Letting his horse go where it pleased for a while, David Thompson came up with a good idea. He quickly ran home, led the blue-and-white mule back to the stable, gave it fresh fodder and water, then rushed to the kitchen to grab some dry food to fill his stomach. After that, he returned to his small room, took off his long robe, changed into a short hemp outfit, picked up the bow Uncle had given him yesterday, grabbed half a pot of arrows he usually practiced with, and eagerly headed for the great Qing Mountain outside the village.

In Shanggu, the local people were a mix of Han and Hu, and the folk were tough and bold. The world had only recently become peaceful, and prominent families still kept the tradition of having their young men learn swordsmanship and archery. If a young man from the clan made a name for himself in the military, the whole family's status would rise rapidly. Even if they couldn't win glory on the battlefield, when bandits came to rob, the elders could organize them to defend their homes.

David Thompson's archery was among the best in his clan. He couldn't shoot through a willow at a hundred paces like in the legends, but within fifty paces he could hit seven out of ten shots. Occasionally, with a stroke of luck, he had even managed to hit a fleeing rabbit at a hundred and fifty paces. But today his luck was terrible. He shot and retrieved more than twenty arrows, using them over and over, until the fletching was almost worn off, but didn't hit a single living thing. The "precious bow" his aunt claimed was worth three strings of cash was extremely hard to use—he could barely draw it fully, and the limbs trembled slightly, always throwing off his aim just as he managed to line up a shot. After only half a day, even with his usual strength, David Thompson was so tired his arms were weak and the skin on his fingers was rubbed raw. If he hadn't been worried about the bow's value of several thousand coins, he would have unstrung it, removed the ears (see note 1), and smashed it on a rock for firewood.

Seeing the sun already slanting westward above the treetops, David Thompson had no choice but to trudge down the mountain, dejected. The great Qing Mountain stretched for hundreds of miles, and after dark, wild beasts often roamed. He didn't dare linger too late when hunting alone. As he walked, he suddenly heard rustling in the underbrush. Looking up, he saw a plump roe deer darting past thirty paces ahead on his left.