Ju Shou had proven himself reasonable and capable, at least for now. Still, Zhang Xin had no intention of allowing the Shanggu Wuhuan to unify anytime soon. That matter could wait.
The four men continued discussing trade arrangements in the hall. Though it appeared to be a joint discussion, Zhang Xin mostly listened in silence.
Wei You's experience far surpassed his own—this was a chance to learn.
But the more he listened, the more unsettled he became.
One sheep for one shi of grain?One cow for one stone of salt?
Zhang Xin was stunned.
In Yuyang, grain currently sold for about fifty coins per shi. Even with last year's war, prices could fall to thirty coins after a few stable years.
A sheep was worth around three hundred coins.Salt—about five hundred coins per stone.A cow? At least three thousand coins, sometimes as high as eight thousand in the south.
By that calculation… this trade yielded profits of six times or more.
Yet Ju Shou's face showed nothing but gratitude.
Zhang Xin suddenly felt like a complete novice.
He had once thought doubling or tripling profits was impressive. But these men—these refined scholars—were extracting margins that would make even the most ruthless merchants blush.
And the most unbelievable part?
It was all perfectly legitimate.
Once terms were settled, Ju Shou and the others took their leave. Zhang Xin gave them a few warnings before dismissing them, then turned to Wei You with a look of disbelief.
"My lord," he asked, "why would the Wuhuan agree to trade one sheep for one shi of grain?"
Wei You blinked in confusion.
"A sheep feeds one person for ten days. One shi of grain feeds them for a month. Why wouldn't they agree?"
Zhang Xin fell silent.
Was that really how the world worked?
Wei You stroked his beard and chuckled. "They only agreed because the Governor promised to teach them farming. Otherwise, they wouldn't accept such terms."
He continued, "When the Governor last opened trade, profits were only four or five times. Once they become self-sufficient, those profits will disappear. Naturally, we raise prices while we still can."
Four or five times… merciful?
Zhang Xin nearly choked.
So even Liu Yu—who seemed so upright—had this side to him.
Still, Wei You added, "They agreed so easily this time because they fear your reputation in Youzhou."
Zhang Xin forced a modest smile. "My achievements are all thanks to the Governor's support."
Wei You nodded approvingly, then stood to leave.
After seeing him off, Zhang Xin returned to the prefectural gate—only to notice a Wuhuan man speaking with the guards.
"Why didn't he leave with the others?" Zhang Xin asked.
Niu Feng stepped forward, spoke briefly with the man, then brought him over.
"My lord, he claims to be a messenger from Qiuliju."
"A letter?" Zhang Xin raised an eyebrow.
The Wuhuan envoy hesitated when he saw how young Zhang Xin was, but upon noticing his official robes, quickly bowed and handed over a silk letter.
Zhang Xin read it—and froze.
"Has Qiuliju really fallen this low…?"
After his defeat, Qiuliju had fled to Liaodong and gathered what remained of his forces. But constant attacks from Gongsun Zan had left them desperate.
Now, he was begging to return to Liucheng.
He promised obedience. Tribute. Compliance with Han law.
The tone was almost humiliatingly submissive.
Zhang Xin thought it over.
The Wuhuan forces were no longer strong enough to threaten him. If anything, keeping them under watch might be more beneficial.
"Very well," he said at last. "I will write to the Governor of Liaoxi to arrange your resettlement."
He paused, then added coldly, "Tell Qiuliju this: I will open a trade market in Yuyang soon. If your people need anything, they may trade for it."
"But if they dare to plunder again…"
His voice hardened.
"I will personally lead an army to destroy them."
The envoy immediately dropped to his knees, knocking his head against the ground in gratitude before hurrying off.
Zhang Xin returned inside, wrote the necessary letter, and resumed his routine.
Days passed.
Then one afternoon, Wang Meng rushed in with urgent news.
"My lord—the official you sent has returned… with Zhao Yun."
Zhang Xin shot to his feet.
"Zilong is here?!"
In his excitement, he didn't even bother putting on his shoes.
"My lord, your shoes—"
"I don't need them!"
"Your hair—"
"Forget it!"
Barefoot and disheveled, he sprinted toward the main hall.
Inside, a young man in his early twenties sat waiting. His features were refined, his bearing calm yet alert.
Zhao Yun.
Zhao Yun had been quietly observing his surroundings, wondering what kind of man this new prefect would be—
When suddenly, a wild-looking figure rushed in.
Before he could react, the man grabbed his arms, eyes shining with excitement.
"You… are Zhao Yun?"