Zhu Yujian frowned as he stared at the violent rush of the river ahead.
"This is bad," he said slowly. "We were careless. None of us properly accounted for the Yangtze Three Gorges. If these vessels cannot be hauled upstream, our transport fleet will be stranded here."
The current roared in agreement, slamming against the hulls as though to mock their planning.
Zhuge Wangchan rubbed his temples.
"Do we turn back to Anqing and ask Shi Kefa to lend us divine river boats?" he muttered. "But a round trip would cost far too much time. Sichuan will not wait for us."
The two of them stood there worrying like scholars who had miscalculated an examination question.
Meanwhile, Zhu Cunji was doing something entirely different.
He was admiring the scenery.
The cliffs of the Three Gorges rose steep and magnificent, wrapped in mist, layered like brushstrokes from a divine painter. The river carved through the mountains like a blade of light. The phrase "picturesque rivers and mountains" felt almost inadequate.
"Magnificent," Zhu Cunji breathed.
Beside him stood a Puppet Tianzun, equally transfixed.
Li Daoxuan, viewing everything through the box, felt a surge of satisfaction. He had once seen advertisements for seven-day Yangtze cruises costing over five thousand yuan. Now he was touring untouched Three Gorges scenery for free.
Five thousand yuan saved.
Absolute profit.
He was still savoring this triumphant calculation when something tugged at his awareness. In the midst of this majestic natural landscape, there was a small but jarring discord.
Movement.
On the riverbank.
Zhu Cunji pointed. "Look. Someone is waving at us."
Everyone turned.
Near the swiftest stretch of current stood a thin man in ragged clothes and straw sandals. His garments were barely fit for autumn, much less winter. One glance was enough to understand his condition.
A laborer.
He waved both arms frantically.
"Come closer! Quickly, come closer!"
Zhuge Wangchan did not hesitate. "Bring the boats nearer. Let us hear him."
The fleet edged toward the bank.
The man's face lit up at the sight of so many vessels.
"Sirs!" he shouted. "Do you need porters? We can pull your boats upstream!"
A collective realization struck the deck.
"Porters."
Of course.
The Yangtze Three Gorges had relied on boat trackers since as early as the Sui Dynasty. It was an ancient, brutal profession carved into the riverbanks themselves.
Zhuge Wangchan's eyes brightened. "Timely indeed! Yes, we require your services. How do you charge?"
The man grinned, revealing uneven teeth.
"A small boat costs thirty-three copper coins. A medium boat sixty-six. A large boat ninety-nine. Most of your fleet appears to be small boats, so most will be thirty-three."
Zhu Cunji nearly jumped.
"What? Thirty-three copper coins?"
His tone startled the man.
"Is… is it too expensive?" the man stammered quickly. "Ten men pull one small boat. Thirty-three coins split among ten men. Each gets three coins. Sir, truly, it is not expensive."
Zhu Cunji stared at him.
"Did I say it was expensive? I was about to say it's absurdly cheap."
The man blinked.
Zhuge Wangchan tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Ten men split thirty-three coins," he said slowly. "That is three coins each. What of the extra three coins?"
The man scratched his head awkwardly.
"Well… those are mine."
Understanding dawned.
A middleman.
Zhuge Wangchan's brows knitted. He was about to rebuke the man for skimming earnings from laborers when Li Daoxuan stepped slightly forward and spoke in a low voice.
"The existence of middlemen is necessary."
Zhuge Wangchan paused. "Necessary? Is he not profiting from their labor?"
Li Daoxuan shook his head gently.
"Most porters are illiterate and poor communicators. They cannot negotiate terms or seek out clients effectively. This man connects labor to opportunity. He organizes them, brings work, coordinates payment. If he did not exist, they might earn nothing at all. If his cut were excessive, then yes, that would deserve criticism. But three coins? That is equivalent to one porter's share. He is one of them. He handles the talking. They handle the pulling."
Zhuge Wangchan nodded slowly.
"I see."
He waved toward the man.
"Very well. The job is yours. Gather your people."
The man's face lit up with relief and excitement. He cupped his hands and shouted toward a crevice in the nearby rocks.
Moments later, men began emerging.
Dozens of them.
It was winter, yet they wore only thin layers. When they reached the riverbank, they stripped without hesitation, wrapping their meager clothing around their waists. Their bodies, darkened by sun and wind, gleamed bronze under the pale light.
One of them shouted in Sichuan dialect, "Ropes ready!"
Thick ropes were tossed down.
The sailors hurried to secure them to the bows. On shore, ten men grouped together for each small boat. They lifted the ropes onto their shoulders in practiced motion.
The middleman stood aside, shouting instructions.
"Keep close to the bank!"
"Steer carefully!"
"Slow and steady!"
The chant of the porters rose rhythmically as they leaned forward, muscles straining, straw sandals digging into the mud.
On the boats, the sailors coordinated carefully, keeping tension balanced.
Slowly.
Painfully.
The vessels began to move.
The current fought them every step, but man and rope and wood persisted together.
At last, they cleared the most violent stretch of water.
From the decks, those watching could see the red marks carved deep into the porters' shoulders. Faces contorted with effort. Breath coming in ragged gasps.
"This work…" someone muttered. "It is inhuman."
Three copper coins.
For that.
Silence settled across the fleet.
But on shore, the porters were smiling.
They had completed one boat. That meant three copper coins per man. Enough for six large steamed buns. Enough for a family dinner. And this fleet was enormous.
Today, perhaps they would earn one hundred copper coins total.
They would not starve for several days.
They ran back upstream to their starting point, shouting eagerly.
"Another boat! Another!"
Zhu Yujian leaned over the railing.
"Aren't you exhausted?" he called out. "You were gasping just now. How are you back already?"
The porters grinned but struggled to articulate the answer.
The middleman answered instead.
"A fleet this large is rare. They wish to seize the chance while it lasts. Better to be tired today than hungry tomorrow."
No one on the boats spoke.
Zhu Cunji suddenly straightened.
"Raise the price."
The middleman blinked. "What?"
Zhu Cunji's voice boomed.
"I will pay from my own purse. Raise their wages."
The middleman looked confused.
Zhu Cunji shouted toward the porters.
"For each small boat, you will receive one hundred and ten copper coins. Each man will get ten coins!"
For a heartbeat, the porters froze.
Then joy erupted across their faces.
Ten coins each.
More than triple.
But just as quickly, that joy flickered.
Their expressions shifted.
Excitement gave way to something else.
Anxious disbelief.
A few even turned pale.
Zhu Cunji frowned. "What is wrong? Are you not pleased?"
One porter swallowed nervously and asked in a small voice,
"Sir… will you really pay us?"