Several days later.
Ripples spread out in concentric circles, water waves refracted, bending the spear blade.
Liang Qu stepped into the stream, the water swaying and scattering the hazy reflections as he pulled out a starch-coated copper coin from his pocket.
The square edges of the copper coin were tinged with darkening verdigris, while the frequently worn edges gleamed with a slick golden light.
This was something Liang Qu had found inside an old, worn hemp garment.
It had been a long time since he had worn that ill-fitting hemp robe, and just as long since he had used copper coins—most of the time, he used silver coins or even silver notes to settle accounts.
Things that many fishermen and farmers would deal with all their lives were just a negligible fraction to him, something he could easily dismiss and almost forget its size and weight.
