Edward Carter then stood up and respectfully bowed to David Bolton and everyone else: “A single conversation with you is worth more than ten years of study. Today, having received Uncle Bolton’s teachings, Edward Carter will remember them always and never dare forget.”

It wasn’t that he wanted to show off his learning, but that he truly felt respect. Setting aside General Cheng’s oath, the rest of what was said had truly shocked him. My god, so this is what the flourishing era of Zhenguan was really like—war, hunger, everywhere. David Bolton and the others had such low expectations: as long as there was no war and they could fill their stomachs, it was worth risking their lives. What right did someone like me, who eats meat with one hand and curses with the other, have to act superior in front of them? Young master? What a joke!

With a loud “boom,” those men all stepped aside, and David Bolton waved his hand like a windmill: “What could us poor folks possibly teach the young master? We’re just rambling nonsense. The young master is a man of great ability—surely destined for high office. Just being able to spend time with you is already a great blessing for us.”

It seemed that scholars were under immense pressure. According to historical records, at the beginning of the Tang dynasty, scholars made up only one or two out of every thousand people. Knowledge was never something ordinary families could hope for; the gates of learning were controlled by powerful clans. In this largely uneducated era, those who possessed knowledge held a higher social status, and it was the ordinary people, yearning for knowledge, who elevated them. This was clear from the way David Bolton addressed Edward Carter: brat, little rascal, Mr. Carter, young master—each title rising as his understanding of Edward Carter deepened.

High office? They really dared to dream, Edward Carter thought to himself with a wry smile. Are there ministers who can’t even read all the characters? The Zhenguan era was a time full of extraordinary people. As a complete novice in officialdom, if I ran into Li Er, Fang Xuanling, Du Ruhui, or Changsun Wuji, it would be suicide—I’d be sold out and still help count the money. A merchant? In a feudal dynasty, merchants weren’t even allowed to wear silk; having too much money wasn’t a blessing, it just made you a fat pig waiting to be slaughtered.

Section Five: Pluck a Hair to Benefit the World

Edward Carter lowered his head in thought, while the men around him anxiously awaited his decision. After all, this was a major matter. Just think about it: who wouldn’t treat the secret of making salt as a matter of life and death? How could it be given away so easily?

After waiting a long time, Edward Carter still hadn’t made up his mind. Disappointment showed on David Bolton’s face—he realized his request was too much. Gritting his teeth, he was about to say to forget it, that he couldn’t let Young Master Carter betray his ancestors.

Before he could speak, Edward Carter looked up, glanced at the eager faces around him, and smiled calmly: “I never imagined that something as simple as salt could be so important to you, to the Tang dynasty. I always thought it was just a seasoning, nothing more—its presence or absence didn’t matter much, just affected the taste of food. Now I realize that the gain or loss of salt is a matter of life and death. For the rise and fall of the Tang, if plucking a single hair can benefit the world, why wouldn’t I do it?”

“Young master, you agree?” David Bolton was overjoyed, immediately dropping to his knees. In an instant, only Edward Carter was left standing; everyone else bowed low.

“Uncle Bolton, what are you doing? If you want to learn, I’ll teach everyone—it’s not that hard. Uncle Bolton, I still prefer when you call me brat, Eddie. Don’t use ‘young master’ or ‘sir’—it just makes everyone uncomfortable, including me. Meeting all of you uncles and brothers at my lowest point was my good fortune. Otherwise, I’d have been eaten by wolves long ago—what young master, what sir?”

With the air cleared, the atmosphere became lively. One after another, they affectionately patted Edward Carter’s head and pinched his cheeks. Smiles of respect filled every face. Edward Carter’s mood instantly brightened.

After receiving a definite promise, David Bolton impatiently urged Edward Carter to write down all the tools and materials needed for making salt. With no paper or brush, he was so anxious he paced in circles. The two women looked equally flustered, and the soldiers beat their chests and stamped their feet, all complaining about not bringing writing materials.

Edward Carter quickly stopped David Bolton, who was about to cut himself for ink, took his dagger, and told the auxiliary soldiers to find two wooden planks. Using the dagger, he carved the words onto the planks. Though the writing was crooked, David Bolton hugged them like treasures, carefully wrapping them in his loincloth—no, in burlap. Two fully armed auxiliary soldiers carried the planks on horseback and rushed toward Lanzhou city. Of course, they also took half the salt as evidence.

“Uncle Bolton, it’s too dangerous to ride at night. There’s no rush—since I’ve agreed, sending it tomorrow won’t be too late.” Edward Carter couldn’t understand David Bolton’s urgency.

“You don’t get it. If we can make salt one day sooner, the army will be that much stronger. The Turks have invaded again—we can’t just watch those bastards run wild. One day, we’ll wipe them out. Living off vinegar cloth—this life is unbearable.”

“Vinegar cloth? What’s that? Is it edible?”

A nearby auxiliary soldier quickly pulled out a strip of vinegar cloth and handed it to Edward Carter. It was a four-finger-wide strip of cloth, hard as a board, like dried kelp, exuding a sour, rancid smell.

Good lord, Edward Carter let out a wail. How rough must someone’s mouth be to eat food cooked with this stuff? No wonder David Bolton was so upset when he saw me use salt on meat, and so happy he cried when I agreed to teach them how to make salt. A tough guy crying like a baby in swaddling, and you can’t even comfort him—anyone who tries gets punched. Well, so be it. I’ll teach them how to make salt. If I can help, it’s a good thing.