"We don't have any white flour. Would you like sorghum or cornmeal instead?" a skinny old man asked. He was perched on a square boulder, clutching a large porcelain bowl as he spoke to Top Scholar Lv, who was inquiring about buying grain.
"Aren't all your fields full of rice? How can you not have white flour? We're paying, not robbing you," Top Scholar Lv said, sounding indignant.
Coarse grains were edible, but they were nothing like refined flour in taste. Besides, it wasn't his money they were spending, so there was no need to pinch pennies.
The old man shook his head like a rattle-drum. "It doesn't work that way. The white flour is all reserved for the officials' grain tax. If we can't deliver, they'll drag my son off to do forced labor."
"Little Daoist Master, what do you think?"
Top Scholar Lv turned, casting a questioning glance at Li Huowang, who was busy stroking Mantou the dog's head.
