Chapter 2402: Get Lost as Far as You Can!

Chapter 2402: Chapter 2120: Get Lost as Far as You Can!

Ancient scholars who dared to write a book named “Classic of So-and-So” were exceptional individuals, and if such a classic could withstand the test of time without being forgotten, then the author must be the most exceptional of exceptions. Clearly, according to this theory, Sang Qin belonged to the ultimate mastery within this field.

In ancient times, experts of this level typically dominated their field for centuries. Among contemporaries in the same discipline, they would outshine everyone else effortlessly.

“I must say, it seems like you always manage to find all kinds of intriguing figures,” Chen Xi mused, stroking his chin. As the original author of the “Water Classic,” words that might sound like bragging to others were merely descriptive of him when it came to water management, a field in which he was trustworthy.

“Haha, it’s all through friends’ recommendations. I have friends all over the world, so if there’s a need for someone specific, we just share the criteria and everyone helps look around the world,” Liu Yan replied with a hint of pride. He truly had friends everywhere, allowing him to locate any specialist in a given field using his extensive network.

“But compiling detailed dossiers for specialists of various professions is really troublesome,” Liu Yan grumbled. The two people who most needed to recognize others were Liu Yan and Liu Bei. If Liu Bei recognized someone incorrectly, it was no big deal. However, misrecognition on Liu Yan’s part could be disastrous.

For noted scholars, if Liu Yan met you once and then misrecognized you, it would imply to that scholar that Liu Yan didn’t regard them as important, leading to a series of chain reactions.

Thus, Liu Yan couldn’t afford any mistakes in recognizing people. To prevent errors, after every gathering, Liu Yan would make a record of who attended, where they were from, who they were well connected with, and who he should introduce to one another, including their abilities.

Over time, Liu Yan created an increasing number of dossiers, making the network of relationships more complicated. Consequently, Liu Yan became more adept at handling these relationships, often assigning people tasks suited to their expertise, demonstrating that he not only remembered them but also knew what they excelled at. Asking for their help, he’d remind them, “I haven’t forgotten you. Don’t be shy, help me out, and let’s have a drink later.”

In essence, relationships are something you cultivate. Nearly all noted scholars found Liu Yan reliable. Although he often acted clueless and sought their assistance in handling things, he was someone worth confiding in and forming a deep connection with.

Once the network extended far and wide, Liu Yan could call upon it when urgently seeking specific talents. Besides having some unique talents himself, someone within his circle would inevitably recommend him individuals he hadn’t interacted with before but were renowned elsewhere.

Naturally, there were also instances where, after Liu Yan, the grand scholar made a request, people would proactively visit him. Quite frankly, those who had the courage to visit weren’t ordinary figures. Without notable skills, visiting Liu Yan would be awkward for both parties.

Sang Qin was one of those who came to see Liu Yan personally. It wasn’t as if no one had recommended Sang Qin to Liu Yan; it’s just that upon hearing that Sang Qin was already eighty years old and still in Luoyang, Liu Yan declined immediately. At eighty, risking a long trip could have dire consequences, and who would be responsible if something happened?

Other scholars in the Luoyang area thought the same. Even though Sang Qin was proficient in hydraulic construction, he was, after all, aged. If something happened after he was invited, his family wouldn’t be forgiving. Thus, the topic was dropped—until Sang Qin came himself!

Sang Qin had his eldest great-grandson drive him from Luoyang without stopping, conveying, “Are you not treating me as one of your own? For such a large-scale water conservancy project, not having me to consult is to disregard my expertise.”

Liu Yan was frightened and began explaining incessantly. How could anyone explain why this eighty-year-old gentleman was so energetic? In any case, from that time on, the elderly gentleman lived in Liu Yan’s home. Liu Yan didn’t mind, “If you enjoy staying here, then stay here.”

“So, does that mean there’s no issue with the water conservancy side?” Chen Xi pondered for a while before asking.

“Elder Sang is quite old now, though he remains exceptionally skilled in his field. The present generations of the Lelang Royal Family and the Li Family of Sichuan and Shu have been completely impressed by him. However, although he’s still physically strong, he can’t rapidly complete some designs,” Liu Yan explained. Sang Qin was brilliant, but ultimately, no one could withstand the passage of time. He had grown old.

Regarding water network construction, Sang Qin’s insights were keen, and his methods were unique. Combined with his extensive experience navigating the Central Plains’ rivers, he almost had targeted plans as soon as he was involved. But in the end, age had caught up with him, and his energy was no longer what it used to be.

“There’s no helping it; time spares no one. Let the Li Family and the Wang Family handle the planning and design, and then have Elder Sang assist with modifications,” Chen Xi sighed.

There’s no help for it—an eighty-year-old man with mental clarity and good memory is already remarkable. Yet, he had reached the twilight of his years. Chen Xi could even discern why he endured the tiresome journey from Luoyang—it was to validate himself.

To prove oneself, for over eighty years, being unable to turn one’s wisdom into accomplishments, finally resigning and awaiting the end. But when old and near the grave, seeing an opportunity, struggling to seize it—even planning to revise the previously drafted Water Classic again.

In one’s lifetime, there are many things one can resign oneself to—yet equally numerous things one cannot. Elderly individuals like Sang Qin who believe they have let go of worldly concerns suddenly leap forward when a chance to fulfill the ideal presents itself, realizing they hadn’t truly let go.

“It’s challenging for anyone. Let’s go; take me to see those tomb robbers,” Chen Xi sighed. Still not yielding at eighty—Chen Xi had only encountered a handful of individuals for whom personal ideals and the posterity of family were so important. Though aged, their innate wisdom and spirit shone through.

“To avoid future regrets, it’s better to make an effort now,” Chen Xi remarked, raising his hand with a smile. Sang Qin, Zhao Qi, Sima Jun—were these people weak? Not at all, while they were young, in their fields of expertise, they were among the top few, unparalleled, yet they never took that final step.

“Yo, Chen Zichuan, you’re all about making an effort now, but why do I just not believe it?” Just as Chen Xi was feeling invigorated, a mocking voice full of arrogance chimed in.

“Yuan Gonglu, why don’t you return to the Northeast, or go back to Yangzhou or even Yizhou!” Chen Xi stared resentfully at Yuan Shu. The military parade had concluded more than three months ago, almost four, yet Yuan Shu seemed rooted in Ye City, refusing to leave.

“Why return to the Northeast? That place has three-foot-thick ice and nearly freezes people to death,” Yuan Shu retorted, rolling his eyes. “It’s unbearably cold there.”

Chen Xi rolled his eyes in return. It was merely thirty or forty degrees below freezing; without adequate preparation, one would quickly be chilled throughput. But back then, he had made it clear: double walls, double doors, heated kang beds, woolen blankets, woolen clothes, and heavy quilts. As long as construction followed his method, there would be no issues.

“But okay, because of the prior agreement, everyone constructed everything as outlined and it worked out. Although only one crop was hastily planted, the soil’s fertility was sufficient to ensure adequate food supply,” Yuan Shu stated nonchalantly, shrugging off the wintering phase.

“Since things are good, why don’t you return to the Northeast?” Chen Xi asked, exasperated, “And let me be clear: I have no money to lend you, nor do I want to be a guarantor for the Yuan Family.”

Yuan Shu had been trying to negotiate for months, aiming to borrow money from Chen Xi. Though the borrowing proposal was sound—using the Yuan Family’s reputation as collateral with reasonable interest—Chen Xi outright rejected Yuan Shu’s loan plan. “If you wanted to borrow a bit less, maybe I’d grudgingly agree. But borrowing seventeen billion coins? Get lost, Yuan Shu, just get as far away as you can.”

“Hey, hey, why can others borrow money, but I can’t? Is there an issue with my collateral? Is there an issue with the interest rate?” Yuan Shu exploded with frustration.

“You’re borrowing way too much. Ordinary folks borrow a little, conduct small businesses with it, which I see as helping to flourish the market environment. But you’re asking for seventeen billion all at once—no loans!” Chen Xi snapped. “And since you’re not even telling me what it’s for, why should I lend you?”

“Trade secrets can’t be revealed! Give me the money, then I’ll tell you!” Yuan Shu retorted, disgruntled.

“Go back and read my Money Exchange principles ten times over. Without a plan, I won’t approve it. Anyway, the amount you want is too large, and more importantly, a twenty-percent interest rate isn’t worth it to me; I’d rather do it myself!” Chen Xi replied crossly.

While it’s true that significant transactions can yield substantial profits, if you consider the actual profit margin ratio, it’s not as high as some might assume. It’s true for both the current era and the next—because not many financial markets can sustain funds of such magnitude.

A twenty-percent interest rate would be excessively high during peaceful times. Even regular mortgage-based commercial loans only carried about seven percent interest. In cases of insufficient collateral, lending rates would increase by sixty to seventy percent, reaching about twelve percent.

Considering Yuan Shu’s status, using the Yuan Family’s name as collateral would classify as excellent clients by modern standards, warranting a much lower six percent interest rate. Nonetheless, this period vastly differed from modern times.

For example, Chen Xi calculated that if he issued government bonds, offering investors a fourteen percent return rate wouldn’t result in any loss. This indicated that Chen Xi’s actual return rate was over twenty percent. Thus, Chen Xi believed that lending to Yuan Shu for a twenty percent return didn’t compare to managing it himself.