Chapter Eighteen: Lin San, the Broker

Lin San had thought that Qin Zhen was either Chen Shu’s lackey or perhaps his nephew, but to his surprise, Chen Shu actually called Qin Zhen his brother.

Having spent much of his life on the road, Lin San was worldly enough to understand the weight that the word “brother” carried among soldiers. Only those who had staked their lives together would speak from the heart and call each other brothers.

At once, he set aside any thoughts of condescension, stepped forward, and extended both hands in greeting.

“A pleasure to meet you, young Qin! I’m Lin San, but just call me Old Lin.”

While Lin San was sizing up Qin Zhen, Qin Zhen, too, was observing Lin San. The man’s hands were rough, and one of the webs between his thumb and forefinger was calloused—a clear sign of years spent gripping a blade.

“Don’t be fooled by my brother’s age—just the other day, he shot and killed a bear!” Chen Shu boasted.

A bear?

Lin San’s eyes flickered with understanding. “I heard on my way here that a young man in a nearby village had killed a bear. I didn’t expect it to be you, young Qin! My respects! I never imagined that at such a young age, you would have such courage. Truly admirable! Given time, you will surely soar to great heights!”

“Not at all, not at all! Uncle Lin, you’re joking. Everyone knows that of all these villages within ten miles, you’re the one with the most connections and ability. Compared to you, I’m just playing around. In the future, I’ll be counting on your guidance!” Qin replied with a dazzling smile.

Chen Shu was momentarily stunned.

“When did you learn all this smooth talk?” he asked.

Qin Zhen replied with a straight face, “It comes from the heart—it’s beyond my control!”

Lin San laughed and agreed, “Exactly!”

“Oh, cut the nonsense!” Chen Shu waved dismissively, unwilling to banter with the two, and pointed toward the pile of hides nearby. “The hides are all over there. Go take a look and give us a fair price, alright?”

“You still don’t trust me?” Lin San made a mock bow and led his men to count the hides.

“What’s Lin San’s background?” Qin Zhen asked in a low voice.

Even in their brief interaction, Qin Zhen could sense Lin San’s smoothness. But unlike Liu Quan’s timorous slipperiness, Lin San’s manner seemed more a habitual courtesy.

“He’s a well-known middleman in Jiangnan, specializing in buying hides for the wealthy families,” Chen Shu explained. “Lin San’s got a good reputation—he’s fair, doesn’t cheat the elderly or squeeze prices, and is known for his integrity around here.”

“A middleman?” Qin Zhen’s mind stirred.

Hides were a sensitive commodity. Animal skins weren’t just for medicine, food, or clothing—premium hides could be made into leather armor for soldiers.

A middleman was, in essence, an intermediary. They bought goods based on the requirements of the buyer, sought out matching sellers, and pocketed the difference.

Local authorities usually kept a tight grip on the private trade of hides, but then again, anyone who dared work in this business had to be someone with powerful connections.

“How do you two know each other?” Qin Zhen asked.

“We played cards together once. The dealer was cheating, so we burned down his gambling den.” Chen Shu spoke as if it were a trivial matter.

“You were already this broke, and still went gambling?” Qin Zhen was taken aback.

“Don’t be fooled by how I look now—back in the day, I drew a soldier’s pay and ate state rations! Gambling was nothing; I’ve played at far higher stakes!” Chen Shu’s face showed a flash of pride.

By now, Lin San had finished counting the hides.

“These are good hides, Chen. Most of them are whole, and nearly all were taken down with a single arrow.” Lin San looked at him suspiciously. “When did your archery get so sharp?”

“Nothing but diligent practice,” Chen Shu replied solemnly.

Qin Zhen understood well enough not to ruin his friend’s moment and simply watched Chen Shu show off.

“So, these hides should fetch a good price?” the old village chief asked eagerly.

“Of course.” Lin San grinned and started counting on his fingers. “Normally, we buy rabbit hides by the jin—a few coins per jin. But your village’s hides are such good quality, I won’t buy by weight, but by the piece. We’re all familiar here; I can’t let you take a loss. Three coins per hide. Is that acceptable?”

“Absolutely!” The village chief nodded so vigorously he seemed about to bow.

Honestly, the price was fair. Last winter, other middlemen had come to the fishing village to buy hides, offering only one coin per jin—daylight robbery! The village chief had nearly burst a blood vessel from rage.

Sell, and you lost money.

Don’t sell, and they’d rot in your hands.

Compared to those middlemen, Lin San was a saint.

Qin Zhen probed, “Besides hides, do you buy anything else?”

Lin San hesitated, then replied, “Medicinal herbs, wild mountain goods—that sort of thing.”

There wasn’t much else to be found in these poor mountain valleys.

“How about cloth?” Qin Zhen asked.

The village spinning machines ran daily, and the finished cloth was piling up. Qin Zhen was looking for a way to sell it off. He’d originally intended to use Scar Brother’s network and deliver the bolts himself.

But you couldn’t trust a tiger to share its skin; caution was necessary.

Traveling unfamiliar roads, what if Scar Brother lured them into the mountains and had them killed? Who would they complain to?

Lin San, with his connections, offered a much safer route.

“Cloth?” Lin San’s face lit up.

In his mind, only wealthy families in the county could afford spinning wheels and produce cloth. The fishing village was so poor it had nothing but dirt—how could they possibly make cloth?

“I can buy, but it depends on quality,” Lin San replied with a smile. “You seem like a straightforward man, so I’ll be honest. You know how little we can carry on the road, and there’s danger at every turn. If we don’t make money, why risk our necks?”

He was simply stating the truth. Middlemen always bought what paid best.

“Old Lin, you don’t know—my brother invented a kind of spinning machine. The cloth it makes is finer than anything worn by Flower Sister at the brothel. It’s definitely worth money!” Chen Shu boasted.

“Oh?” Lin San clearly didn’t believe it.

Producing fine cloth took skill, materials, and expert spinners—all interconnected. He couldn’t imagine the fishing village as a source of quality fabric.

Still, out of habit, he smiled and said, “Then I’d like to see it for myself.”

Chen Shu looked at Qin Zhen, who said after a moment’s thought, “Uncle Lin, please wait a moment. I’ll have someone bring the cloth.”

Out of caution, Qin Zhen didn’t mention the spinning machine. In times like these, people would kill over a few fish—how much more for a money-making machine like that?

Better safe than sorry.

Soon, Qin Zhen came running back with the cloth.

At the sight of the fine, meticulously woven fabric in Qin Zhen’s hands, Lin San’s eyes, previously indifferent, suddenly lit up.