Chapter 27: A Pin Dropped Could Be Heard

At this moment, even Chanshi, who should have been finishing the fourth piece of music, stopped playing her zither. Yet, no one dared to utter a word. On the contrary, the entire hall was so silent that the falling of a pin could be heard; everyone was waiting with bated breath for what Zhou Cai would say next.

Zhou Cai was stunned.

This was not a ploy to draw attention, nor was he struggling to find ways to praise the ginseng to save the Zhou family’s reputation. He was genuinely, deeply shaken by the quality of the wild mountain ginseng before him.

Four palm-shaped compound leaves had fully matured, and a fifth was beginning to take form. The main root possessed distinct, characteristic features, indicating that it had long since entered its prime. With its rounded reed and the clear sign that it was on the verge of flowering and fruiting... every trait told him that the quality of this ginseng was exceptional. Judging by its age, it had easily surpassed fifty years, perhaps even pushing toward the eighty-year mark as it developed its fifth leaf.

Before arriving in Ningguta, Zhou Cai had spared no effort to learn the art of assessing ginseng, and he had heard many tales. Yet, this was his first time seeing a specimen of such superb quality. It was almost as if it had stepped out of the legends he had heard.

After all, for wild mountain ginseng, reaching fifty years was already a rarity. Generally, a thirty-year-old root was considered high-grade. Even within the imperial palace of the Xuan Kingdom, there were few specimens that reached fifty years, and as the years passed, they became increasingly scarce.

Yet here, he was looking at a wild root between fifty and eighty years old, and by the looks of it, it had been harvested only recently. When the box was opened, the scent of the ginseng had rushed to his senses—something the stored specimens in the palace could never compare to.

It was precisely because the quality was so extraordinary that Zhou Cai stood frozen, at a loss for words. He realized that the flowery praises he had prepared were utterly useless. The words he had readied were insufficient to describe the quality of this root; if the words could not match its beauty, it was better to say nothing at all.

"Hmm? What is wrong with him?"
"Is he trying to think of how to describe it on the spot?"
"Heh, even if he wants to exaggerate, there’s no need to stay silent for so long and keep us in suspense."
"Sigh, a youth is but a youth. Even if he is the son of an imperial physician, so what? Finding ginseng is not like treating an illness; it depends entirely on fate."

In the guest area, seeing that Zhou Cai remained silent for a long time, the crowd grew impatient, and whispers began to rise. Even Zhou Wenbing, seated at the head, grew anxious, silently cursing Zhou Cai in his heart: "The man has brought out the ginseng, you’ve seen it—just say something! Good or bad, you must at least give a word." He thought this, but he could not say it aloud, or he would be slapping his own face. Thus, he could only fret in silence.

While Zhou Wenbing could not speak, Zheng Denggao had no such reservations. With a malicious smile, he said, "What is the matter, Shopkeeper Zhou? Is there something wrong with this root?"

Zheng Denggao was, of course, unhappy. He had hoped to use today’s events to give the Zhou family a stern warning, ideally forcing them to retreat and leave Ningguta entirely. He had not expected someone to step out and disrupt his plan to humiliate the Zhou family. Fortunately, it seemed the ginseng brought by this youth, Jia Ping'an, was highly problematic.

It made sense—as the descendant of a disgraced, exiled physician who had only arrived in Ningguta a few days ago, how could he possibly possess a high-quality root? He must have brought some worthless, small scrap to curry favor with the Zhou family. It was just a pity that the quality was so poor that even Zhou Cai, a man who understood ginseng, was left speechless.

Everyone had been curious, but no one wanted to be the first to speak. Now that Zheng Denggao had broken the ice, others immediately followed suit: "That’s right, Shopkeeper Zhou! How old is this root, and what is its quality? Say something!"

Spurred on by the crowd, Zhou Cai seemed to snap out of his trance. "This... as for exactly how many years old this is, I cannot be certain. Perhaps my fellow merchants would like to take a look and judge for themselves?"

Zhou Cai had spoken, but he had used a term for age that implied a much higher caliber, a nuance that was lost on the crowd. Hearing that they could examine it themselves, they were not about to be polite. One by one, they crowded forward, eager to see what was going on.

They rushed in, each with their own motives: some were there to watch the chaos, some to kick a man when he was down, and others driven by genuine curiosity. Many shopkeepers who understood ginseng swarmed forward, leaving Jia Ping'an, the man who had presented the root, like an outsider pushed to the periphery.

Jia Ping'an was not troubled by this. A calm smile remained on his face, and he even stepped back two paces to make room for others to come forward.

Silence.

The hall fell quiet once more.

At this moment, regardless of their hidden agendas, everyone who saw the ginseng felt as though their mouths had been sealed. They stood there, unable to say a word. Among them were many knowledgeable individuals who had seen specimens of several decades or even a century. But a seventy-year-old root as fresh as this one, radiating its own natural aroma, was a sight most had never witnessed.

Precisely because it was their first time, many were too stunned to speak. Since the founding of Ningguta and its transition to a center for the ginseng trade, such old roots had become increasingly rare. Even when encountered, they were rarely preserved in such pristine condition.

Look at those fine root hairs—not a single one was broken, and there wasn't even a bent fiber among them. With such quality, it was hard enough to find, let alone one so fresh and of such high maturity.

"What is happening?"

So many people had crowded around, yet they all stood frozen as if struck by a paralysis spell. Seeing this, a bad premonition arose in Zheng Yugong’s heart. If the quality of the root were poor, there would be no shortage of people mocking it. But there was none! Everyone who saw the root looked utterly shocked, which spoke volumes. Zheng Yugong felt an itch of impatience, but due to his status, he did not squeeze in to look. He believed the truth would be revealed soon enough.

After what felt like a long time, someone finally spoke: "I believe this root is at least seventy years old."

This single sentence opened the floodgates.

"Nonsense! It has already grown four compound leaves, and the fifth is near maturity. It’s at least seventy years old; I’d say closer to eighty."
"No, if it were eighty, the fifth leaf would have fully emerged. It looks to be about seventy-five to seventy-eight years."
"Look at the maturity of that fifth leaf; it must be seventy-seven years."
"I think it’s seventy-eight or even older—it’s on the verge of full maturity."

In an instant, the crowd was buzzing with debate. As they spoke, the expressions of many onlookers began to shift. Those present, even if they didn't know how to assess ginseng, understood the basics. Seventy or eighty years—that was clearly an item of immense value. To think this youth actually had the luck to harvest such a treasure; it was truly enviable.

Soon, many eyes began to converge on Jia Ping'an. Yet, the youth remained unhurried and composed, a calm smile still gracing his face. He showed no sign of the shyness one might expect from being the center of attention, nor did he display the arrogance of one being surrounded. He acted as if the matter had nothing to do with him at all.

How many people were there? How much noise were they making? Back when he had risen from a secretary to a high-ranking official delivering reports, he had faced hundreds, even thousands of people. Had he ever shown a hint of nervousness or flushed in the face? He had long since mastered the art of maintaining his composure and keeping his true depths hidden. This behavior had become etched into his bones—never stage-frightened, never swayed by joy, anger, or sorrow. His mature temperament allowed him to face all of this with ease.

Jia Ping'an was simply acting naturally, without any pretense. The others, with the exception of Chanshi, had long since stopped looking at him. After all, unless a peerless beauty was standing before them, men tended to focus entirely on the matter at hand. A seventy-something-year-old ginseng root was enough to mesmerize these men.

In contrast, Chanshi was the only one not focused on the ginseng; she was watching the youth who had brought it. A young gentleman, handsome and radiant... That alone was not enough to capture Chanshi’s attention. Given her reputation in Ningguta, countless men sought to meet her, and many were quite handsome. When one sees beautiful things too often, one naturally develops an immunity.

However, those handsome youths and gentlemen all carried a trace of immaturity. It was a lack of depth—despite their fine clothing and attempts to act worldly, they were merely putting on a show. They could not truly emulate the effortless, wind-swept calm of a mature man. Chanshi herself had lost count of how many times she had caught men stealing glances at her, only to be caught in the act, leaving everyone in an awkward position.

Beyond the youths, there were certainly many adult men who sought to win her favor, but they too often lacked this singular, profound composure.