Chapter 8: Meeting Zhou Tong Again?

"Where can I find some old grain for sale around here?"

Xu Houxiang glanced left and right, then whispered, "Old grain? That’s really hard to come by these days!"

He wore a troubled expression. "Unless you go directly to the large grain merchants or the wealthy households, it’s truly difficult to find. And to be frank, much of what’s sold on the market as 'new grain' is actually old stock anyway. You need to keep your eyes peeled when you buy, or you’ll surely be cheated."

Xu shook his head helplessly. "If you’re looking for cheap, old grain, I doubt you’ll find it anywhere in Hongtu County. Besides, if you go around making such a fuss about buying old grain, and the authorities find out..."

Xu stopped mid-sentence, casting a meaningful look at Lu Chuan.

Lu Chuan collected his thoughts and instantly understood the implication. "I understand. Thank you for the warning, Brother Xu!"

"You’re a smart man. Just remember—in these times, if you want to survive, you must be careful, careful, and then careful again!"

With that, Xu Houxiang left, carrying the roe deer meat. Lu Chuan watched his retreating figure and shook his head with a sigh. His intuition told him that Xu definitely knew where to get it, but whether out of genuine kindness or caution, the man was unwilling to share his connections. It seemed that buying old grain wouldn't be as easy as he had hoped.

Dropping the money into his private storage space, Lu Chuan headed toward the grain shops. He visited three in a row, only to find that just as Xu had warned, every single shop was mixing new grain with old, yet selling it all at the price of new grain.

"Damn those profiteers!" Lu Chuan cursed under his breath. The price for this mixed grain was fifty coins per catty—the full price of new harvest.

"Boss..." Lu Chuan picked up a handful of the shriveled wheat from a sack. "Why is this grain being sold as a mix of old and new?"

"Ha! Are you kidding me? Where do you think I'm going to find that much new grain? Most of it is old. If I don't mix it, what am I supposed to do? Go out of business?" The boss, sitting behind the counter, looked up with annoyance. "Take it or leave it!"

"But selling it at the price of new grain like this—that’s a bit dishonest, isn't it?"

The boss waved his hand impatiently. "Go on, get out of here..."

"You think it's expensive? I think it's expensive too! The weather has been cold and dry this year; the harvest is poor. You’re lucky to even have old grain to eat!"

Lu Chuan was momentarily speechless. There was something odd about that statement. However, there was no immediate rush for the grain, so he decided to see if there were any other options. Just as he was about to step out, he heard a familiar, arrogant voice.

"Boss, the end of the year is almost upon us!"

A man walked in—an acquaintance. He was dressed in a black runner’s uniform, a blade at his waist, looking full of himself. Lu Chuan looked closely and recognized him: it was the same officer who had escorted the women to the village.

The officer noticed Lu Chuan as well. He gave a cold sneer and drew his blade slightly from its scabbard. "Heh, you little brat, we meet again?"

As it happened, Zhou Tong was on patrol nearby and, feeling bored, had decided to shake down the Cui Family Grain Shop for some silver to spend on wine and women at the Tingfeng Pavilion after his shift. He hadn't expected to run into Lu Chuan here. The thought that Lu Chuan had taken both of those beauties into his home—and a full day had passed since—made Zhou Tong’s heart ache with jealousy.

"What are you doing here?" Zhou Tong mocked. "Don't tell me your home has run out of food? In less than half a month, you'll need to pay the annual grain tax. Your household is responsible for three shi of grain, remember?"

Lu Chuan frowned. He didn't understand why Zhou Tong held such hostility toward him. He had never provoked the man; by all rights, they should have stayed out of each other's way. Even if he couldn't pay the tax, that wouldn't be an issue for another two weeks.

"That is no concern of yours, Officer," Lu Chuan replied coldly. "As for the tax, I guarantee not a single grain will be missing when the time comes."

"Men!" Zhou Tong’s lip curled at Lu Chuan's defiance. He shouted, and several bailiffs swarmed in from the street. "I suspect this man is a spy for the Turks. Take him away and interrogate him thoroughly!"

Zhou Tong smirked. *Trying to fight me? I have at least a hundred ways to dispose of you easily.*

He watched with excitement. Lu Chuan frowned. This was trouble. He wasn't afraid of Zhou Tong, but if he fought back, the consequences would be endless, especially since the man was an official. A plan formed in his mind.

"Wait..." Lu Chuan said. "You keep calling me a Turkish spy. Where is your evidence?"

Zhou Tong burst into laughter. "Evidence? My word is the evidence! He actually wants evidence!" He gestured to his men, laughing. "This is the funniest joke I’ve heard in years!"

Zhou Tong laughed until tears welled in his eyes. "Lu Chuan, oh Lu Chuan! Has farming made you stupid? Are you trying to laugh me to death?" The bailiffs joined in, howling with mirth.

Lu Chuan offered a faint smile. "Fine, I’ll go with you." He stepped forward willingly, looking at Zhou Tong with curiosity. "Where is the jail? Let’s go now!"

For some reason, Zhou Tong’s heart skipped a beat. He sensed something was wrong and grew wary. "What kind of game are you playing?"

"Heaven is my witness, I’m playing no games," Lu Chuan said cheerfully. "Officer Zhou is so concerned for me that he wants to throw me in jail, which would exempt me from paying this year’s grain tax. I’m overjoyed!"

Zhou Tong froze, then realized the trap. He glared at Lu Chuan with pure venom. *This man is cunning!* If he threw Lu Chuan in jail, the man could claim it was because of his imprisonment that he couldn't pay the tax. If his superiors questioned it, he would be held responsible! More importantly, if the superiors conducted a real investigation, it would be obvious that Lu Chuan wasn't a spy, and he would be left with no way to save face.

A cold sweat broke out on Zhou Tong's forehead.