In Shandong (3)
We patted our full bellies as we left the Golden Rooster Pavilion.
I had no idea who the chef was there, but damn, that was tempting.
I should bring my parents here sometime.
Everyone except Jin Yu Warrior, whom I'd assigned a separate task, headed off toward their original destinations.
Our destination was Jenan's docks.
Jenan was the most developed city in the lower Yellow River region and home to the dock closest to the sea.
That meant seafood galore.
It was fun strolling through the markets piled high with it all.
"Why are we here, young master?"
Seo-u Warrior's question earned him a grin from me.
"Truth is, this was the real destination all along. Let's see..."
I scanned the docks and pointed to one inn.
"Let's check that place out."
Palgap, spotting it, freaked out and asked me,
"You're really going in there?"
"Yep."
"You know what that place is, right?"
"I do."
I grinned wider.
"It's the sailors' inn."
"And you still wanna go? Can't we skip it?"
Sailors had their go-to inns, pretty much set in stone. Why? They were cheap—first and foremost.
When traveling by sea or river, timing the tides was crucial.
Get it wrong, and you'd be stuck at the inn for days.
Plus, sailor gigs were mostly short-term contracts.
Once one ended, you'd hole up at the inn until the next came along.
Given their thin wallets, they had no choice but to pick the cheapest dives. No way the food or facilities were anything special.
And after weeks on a ship? Bathing was a pipe dream.
The Yangtze was tolerable, but the Yellow River was all muddy sludge, and plenty of sea sailors mixed in too.
So the stench from their gear—and them—was overpowering.
Some used scented pouches to mask it, but mixed with body odor? Nightmare.
That was part of why Palgap was grossed out, but the real issue was danger.
Ship work was grueling, high-risk stuff with a big chance of dying on the job.
So a lot of sailors blew their pay the same day—live for today types.
Sure, some saved up to become ship owners or switch careers.
But fights broke out often, and they got nasty.
Palgap was just worried about my safety.
But was anywhere truly safe?
And sitting idle wasn't my style anyway.
"Don't worry. They've got their own code. They ignore outsiders unless you start something."
"Huh?"
"Non-sailors aren't 'crew.' Something like that."
"What a weird rule."
They looked like a rough bunch from the outside, but sailors had tight bonds and strong loyalty among themselves.
Makes sense—surrounded by water, you rely on each other or you don't make it.
Of course, exceptions always exist.
"If you don't wanna go, stay back. No big deal."
"N-no, sir! I'm going!"
Palgap clenched his fist tight.
Whoa, no need to get that resolved...
Just to be safe, I warned the guards too.
"And no drawing swords in there, got it?"
"Understood."
We stepped into the nameless inn.
A wave of stench hit our noses instantly.
All eyes turned our way.
But they scattered quick once they clocked we weren't sailors.
That was why I'd dressed up a bit.
I scanned the room and locked onto one spot.
There he is.
A guy in the corner, slurping noodles like his life depended on it.
This place's noodles? Broth with zero meat flavor and maybe a fingernail-sized chunk if you were lucky.
I pulled out the chair across from him and sat.
Only then did he look up.
Skinny as a rail, but those eyes burned sharp and fierce.
Handsome enough to turn heads, too.
I ordered tea. He met my gaze but said nothing.
The server brought it soon enough. I dipped my finger in and wrote a character on the table.
"...!"
His eyes went wide as saucers.
"I'll handle it for you. And this might be your last shot."
He bit his lip.
"I'll help you. So help me in return."
"..."
"If you're in, come find me at Cheongsan Guest Inn within five days."
"...What's your name?"
A bit slurred, but clearer than expected.
"Eun Seo-ho. That's me."
I left tea money on the table and stood. Then walked out.
About fifteen minutes later?
Seo-u Warrior asked,
"That guy—was he a martial artist?"
Sharp as ever, Seo-u had pegged him.
"That's your read?"
"Yes. He tensed up when he saw our swords. But his energy felt off—not like imperial martial artists."
He continued,
"His hands scream lifelong training. And once he realized we were warriors, he instinctively eyed exits."
I nodded.
"Spot on. But 'warrior' fits him better than 'martial artist.'"
"Pardon?"
"Didn't catch his accent? He's no imperial subject."
A connection from my past life's memories.
He was from the Dai Viet Kingdom.
A foreigner working as a sailor in Shandong to make money.
To buy back his enslaved family.
He'd been the scion of a martial house there.
But falsely accused of treason, his clan fell.
By law, women and boys under fifteen from traitor families became slaves.
He and his brother were young enough to survive.
He ended up a combat slave. During a sea battle, he fell overboard.
Woke up on a remote island.
Rescued by a passing ship.
His chance to escape and live free.
But family weighed on him. He vowed to earn redemption money and free them.
Treason slaves could buy freedom—for a fortune, naturally. And slaves couldn't earn, so it was moot.
Prideful warrior doing menial labor? Must've been hell.
No choice, though.
Dai Viet bordered the empire, so close—anyone spotting his slave mark could turn him in for bounty, ruining his plans.
Hence, hiding his origin martial arts.
And working far-off in Shandong.
Then opportunity knocked.
He saved an imperial royal caught in a storm.
The royal pitied him, helped gather redemption funds. He returned to Dai Viet.
But his dream shattered.
Everyone dead.
Brother fell in combat as a slave. Mother and sister from overwork.
Worst? They'd died less than a year prior.
Just one year earlier, and he could've saved them.
Yeo Eung-am Warrior asked,
"So you're recruiting him as a martial artist, my lord?"
"Not quite."
"But didn't you call him a warrior?"
"He is, but I've got other plans. His face screams 'trade king.'"
"Huh?"
Palgap looked baffled.
"You read faces now, young master?"
"Yep."
"What's mine say?"
"You'll serve well, eat good, live long."
Palgap tilted his head.
"Huh, that tracks."
Love how straightforward he is sometimes.
I chuckled, but Myeongjong Warrior sounded concerned.
"Word is, the sea routes to Dai Viet are brutal."
"True."
Changun Warrior cocked his head.
"Wait, doesn't Dai Viet border Yunnan or Guangxi Provinces? Can't we just go overland? Why sail?"
Seo-u Warrior, ex-caravan leader specializing in the south, explained.
"Overland's a nightmare—way worse."
"Hauling goods through those deadly jungles and sheer cliffs? Pure hell."
"Got it."
"So that's why him..."
I nodded.
"But still."
Yeo Eung-am Warrior pressed,
"Wouldn't it be easier to recruit or hire locals already trading there?"
Trade with Dai Viet was ongoing, after all.
"So far, it's been them coming here."
Why?
No need for us to go there.
Trading with visiting Dai Viet merchants beat hauling goods the other way—way more profit.
"But we need a new approach now."
Luxuries only so far, but things had changed.
Merchants on both sides hated losses.
Try buying grain from Dai Viet traders here? They'd jack prices multiples over local.
Cheaper to go direct and buy there.
"Sea routes are ship owners' lifeblood—think they'll spill easily? Plus, finding ones who know Dai Viet runs is tough now. Haven't gone long-term. He's key to cracking that."
He knew the routes linking empire and Dai Viet cold.
That's how he saved the royal in the storm—and paved his trade future.
Learning of his family's deaths, he nearly ended it all. But other clansmen slaves nagged at him.
So he used redemption funds as startup capital for trade.
To earn big and free them.
He didn't know it, but he had a knack. Years later, trade king of Dai Viet.
Right around my past death.
"But will he show in five days?"
"Yeah. He will."
I said with conviction.
"Prideful warrior who loves his family."
I returned to the inn.
"You're late."
Father's words had me cup my fists and bow.
"My apologies. Things took longer than expected."
"No matter. Your face says it went well."
"Yes. And I've got something important to discuss."
Father read my expression and nodded.
"To my room."
"Yes."
Moments later.
I entered Father's room.
"Speaking of, where's Mother?"
"Ah, off to see the lady of Gwangjun Merchant Group. Arrived yesterday."
"Ah, got it."
So Branch Leader Bokyun's with her too.
Father personally brewed and poured my tea.
"Thank you."
I sipped.
Father's brewing was top-notch.
Less like a pro merchant lord, more like skills beaten into him by Grandfather's nagging...
"So, what is it?"
"Father, we need to build ships."
"Ships, out of nowhere?"
He tilted his head.
"Don't we already have plenty?"
"Not riverboats. Big trade ships for Dai Viet."
"..."
He fell silent a beat, then nodded calmly.
"Alright. Let's build some."
Eh?
I'd expected shock, questions.
This reaction—what?
Why so chill?
In my past life, major Dai Viet trade kicked off later.
Courtiers griped direct imperial trade hurt prestige. Emperor hired merchant groups instead.
Those groups struck gold.
I recalled Father's unusually bitter look hearing the news.
"Why the stare?"
"Huh?"
I snapped out of it.
"You're so calm... like you saw this coming."
"Ah..."
Father nodded.
"Seo-ho."
"Yes, Father."
"Do you know why our group is called Eunhae Merchant Group?"