Chapter Fifteen: The Art of Bargaining

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “Thank you for your trouble.”
Li Changqing responded apologetically, “Mr. Lin, if I get any leads, I’ll let you know immediately.”

After hanging up, Tang Xiaoyu, who had just finished her meal beside him, dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin, her movements slow. “Was that Mr. Lin? He’s having a hard time too. What a pity.”

Li Changqing felt much the same. In the past, he’d also been a kind-hearted man—otherwise, he wouldn’t have accepted Lin Zhixin’s commission for nothing more than a single Lang coin.

“Let’s go out for a stroll.”

Tang Xiaoyu immediately became suspicious. “Li Changqing, why do you want to go shopping again? I’ve noticed you’ve been spending more and more freely lately.”

Li Changqing didn’t answer. He pulled on his black trench coat, grabbed his cane from the corner, and then held out his soft felt hat to Tang Xiaoyu.

“You still haven’t washed this hat…” Though she looked reluctant, she nevertheless burrowed into the hat.

The materials for talisman crafting at home were nearly depleted after a few days of practice; it was time to go out and restock.

Li Changqing took a bus and returned to the Ancient Incense and Antiques Market. After getting off at Babao Street in the eastern district, he walked the familiar streets.

The primary materials for drawing talismans were paper and cinnabar—the latter being vermilion, and the former lampblack ink.

The price of paper wasn’t particularly high, but cinnabar was outrageously expensive. In his previous life, a gram of cinnabar went for about five to thirty-five RMB.

But in this world, a single gram cost a staggering one hundred Lang coins!

A whole jin of cinnabar was an astronomical fifty thousand Lang coins!

It was practically daylight robbery.

Still, if he wanted to master the General’s Arrival Talisman quickly, he couldn’t afford to scrimp here.

After walking nearly a hundred meters, Li Changqing returned to the same incense shop as before. It was the most luxuriously decorated on the street, and its supply of cinnabar was ample.

Once again, the charming saleslady greeted him.

“Sir, are you here to buy incense?” Dressed smartly in a black business suit, she approached with a radiant smile.

He was a real customer; last time he’d bought incense by the jin, earning her a handsome commission.

Li Changqing clasped his hands behind his back, looking around at the various Buddha statues in the shop. “Hello, I’d like to buy some cinnabar.”

“Cinnabar?” The saleslady blinked in mild surprise, her smile growing even warmer. “How many grams would you like, sir?”

“Half a jin, please.”

“Li Changqing, you’re out of your mind! You must be crazy!” came Tang Xiaoyu’s voice from inside the hat. If she weren’t worried about scaring the beautiful saleslady, she would have leapt out and dragged Li Changqing from the store then and there.

The saleslady’s face froze; her smile vanished completely.

A jin?

Did anyone really buy cinnabar in such quantities?

Li Changqing could easily imagine what she was feeling. It was as if a customer had walked into a gold jewelry shop and said, “Give me half a jin of gold.”

He had thirty thousand Lang coins left, plus the down payment from Hu Xiong, totaling forty-five thousand—enough for the purchase.

Cinnabar was essential for him. Buying in bulk might also get him a better price.

“Miss? Miss?” Li Changqing called softly.

The saleslady finally snapped out of her shock. She composed herself, and this time her smile was genuine, not the professional mask—after all, the commission would be substantial.

“Sir, half a jin is twenty-five thousand Lang coins at the market price of one hundred per gram. Are you sure you want half a jin—not half a liang?”

She had to be certain the young man wasn’t making fun of her. If he really wanted that much, they’d need to source it from other shops; their in-store stock was nowhere near enough.

“Of course.” Li Changqing nodded with a smile. “But with a price tag of twenty-five thousand, I think we can negotiate a bit.”

The saleslady grew cautious. “We can’t do sixty-five percent off like last time. I’m authorized to offer you a ten percent discount.”

Still smiling, Li Changqing picked up a stick of incense and sniffed it. “Forgive me, but even with a ten percent discount, it’s still too expensive. Cinnabar is precious, but few people buy in such quantities. Besides, this could become a long-term business relationship. Give it to me at seventy percent of the price, and I’ll buy all my cinnabar from you in the future.”

He’d looked up cinnabar online and learned that its high price stemmed from scarcity, not demand. Despite its value, it wasn’t comparable to hard currency like gold—most of its use was medicinal, with some applications in rituals, but not many buyers.

The saleslady frowned and began calculating on her phone.

“To be honest, seventy percent is almost our cost price. How about eighty percent?”

“Seventy-five percent.” Li Changqing replied smoothly. “I’m not one to haggle much; let’s settle it at that.”

The saleslady couldn’t help but grumble inwardly—so this wasn’t haggling? Last time he’d driven her down to sixty-five percent, this time seventy-five; if that didn’t count as bargaining, would he only be satisfied with a knife at her throat?

Seeing her hesitation, Li Changqing reminded her, “You know, beautiful lady, yours isn’t the only shop on this street selling cinnabar.”

“Alright, it’s yours—but if you need more in the future, you must buy from me.”

“Of course.”

After a quick calculation, the saleslady said, “Half a jin of cinnabar at seventy-five percent is eighteen thousand seven hundred and fifty Lang coins.”

“About those fifty coins…”

“Sir, I really can’t go a single coin lower.”

“Very well…”

She poured him a cup of tea. “Please wait a moment. We don’t have enough cinnabar here; I’ll call the owner to get it from other shops. It’ll be here in half an hour.”

She turned and disappeared into the shop—presumably to make the call.

Inside the hat, Tang Xiaoyu was astonished. “Li Changqing, you’re amazing! You brought the price down from twenty-five thousand to eighteen thousand—saved over six thousand Lang coins!”

“I didn’t drive it down to the limit,” Li Changqing replied, shaking his head as he sipped his tea.

“That wasn’t the limit? I thought the saleslady was about to cry.”

“Xiaoyu, this is business. She’s actually pleased. If I’d really hit their bottom line, she’d have phoned the boss for approval. Since she could agree on her own, there’s likely another ten percent left to bargain for.”

As a straightforward man, Li Changqing had to admit—his previous reluctance to haggle was only because the purchases had been too small.

He’d have to study up on bargaining techniques in the future…