Chapter 173: Zhang Yu’s Laborious Earnings

The setting sun painted the sky in hues of crimson and gold, casting long shadows across the bustling marketplace. Zhang Yu, sweat beading on his brow, diligently wiped down his meager stall. Today had been a trying day, a relentless battle against frugal villagers and shrewd merchants, all eager to haggle for the lowest possible price.

He sighed, counting the meagre copper coins that lay scattered within his worn leather pouch. It was a paltry sum, barely enough to replenish his dwindling stock of medicinal herbs. Ever since he had committed himself to aiding the poor and afflicted of Willow Creek Village, his own coffers had grown increasingly bare.

His innate constitution, attuned to the subtle energies of the earth, allowed him to identify rare and potent herbs hidden deep within the surrounding mountains. These herbs, when properly concocted, could alleviate the suffering of the sick and wounded. It was a noble calling, a path he had chosen willingly, but it was proving to be a difficult one.

He remembered the words of his old master, a reclusive hermit who had taught him the ancient art of herbalism. “The path of healing is a path of sacrifice, Zhang Yu. Wealth will never be yours, but the gratitude of those you aid will be a reward beyond measure.”

Gratitude, he reflected, did not pay for rice.

He adjusted his worn tunic, the coarse fabric clinging to his sweat-soaked skin. The villagers were grateful, yes, showering him with heartfelt thanks and the occasional offering of fresh vegetables or a handful of grains. But these small gifts were not enough to sustain him, especially now that he had taken on the responsibility of supporting his ailing aunt.

“Aiyo, Zhang Yu,” a gruff voice startled him. A burly farmer, his face etched with the lines of hard labour, approached his stall. “My old back is acting up again. Got any of that special liniment you brewed last week?”

Zhang Yu forced a smile, pushing aside his worries. “Of course, Uncle Li. Just the thing to ease your aches.”

He rummaged through his herbs, carefully selecting the ingredients for the liniment. He measured and mixed, his movements precise and practiced, his mind focused on easing the farmer’s pain.

As he handed over the potent concoction, Uncle Li pressed a few extra copper coins into his palm. “You’re a good lad, Zhang Yu. Always helping those in need. May the heavens bless you.”

Zhang Yu watched him hobble away, a small flicker of hope rekindling within his heart. Perhaps, he thought, the heavens were listening. Perhaps, if he persevered, he could find a way to balance his calling with the necessities of life. The path was arduous, the earnings meager, but he would not falter. He would continue toiling, continue healing, and continue to strive for a better tomorrow, one copper coin at a time.