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Tang Zhijun was about to head out, unaware of what prices to expect, he knew he needed to ask around first.

“Alright, off you go.”

Tang Zhinian once again made sure to seal the greenhouse, especially during these times, you could never be too careful. Who knew if it would snow in the next few days? They’d been toiling all winter, and just when their vegetables were ready for market, a snowfall now would render all their efforts pointless.

A little undercut in vegetable price is tolerable. They’ve had a successful harvest this year and could make a few hundred yuan. Let alone making any profit, at the very least, they could pay off their debts and secure a few plastic greenhouses. If they plant again next year, they would start making money.

Tang Zhijun, being frugal about money, walked all the way to the wholesale market. For the past few years, they’d been bringing their village’s produce to this market to sell. Cycling would make it a half-hour trip, walking, however, might take up to an hour and a half.

Once he arrived at the market, he made a quick tour around it. The volume of vegetables was inherently low at this time, and there were not many people around, including vendors selling coriander. He circled around a few times but saw no coriander vendors, leaving him clueless as to how much coriander was selling for.

Determined not to walk for an hour and a half in vain, he found a spot and sat down.

Frozen from the cold, his hands and feet started to go numb. It wasn’t until he moved around for a bit that he saw a man pulling a tricycle laden with bundles of coriander.

He was about to approach when several people beat him to it. They quickly surrounded the man inquiring about the price of his coriander.

The coriander seller jerked his head and lifted his chin, as if he was peddling gold, not vegetables.

“Eight cents a pound, no haggling.”

Tang Zhijun stood there, completely dumbstruck.

What, what?

He swallowed hard. Eight cents, eight cents, a pound?

The coriander was in pretty bad condition, with yellowish-green leaves, unwashed, and likely lumpy with soil. He knew this as a farmer himself. To increase the weight during winter, vendors would add some soil to the bundle and sprinkle it with water – the dirt wouldn’t come off no matter how much you shook it.

Yet, such poor-quality coriander could fetch eight cents. He almost choked on his own spit.

He’d thought one cent would have been too much, but eight cents was utterly unexpected. To make matters more exciting, usually, the better the quality, the higher the price. Their own crops were so fresh and crisp, if such poor quality coriander could fetch eight cents, wouldn’t theirs sell for an entire yuan?

“Big Bro, Big Bro …” he hurried over and stopped a vegetable vendor. His jovial demeanor and sweet talk swearing, “big bro,” helped him develop a quick rapport.

“Big Bro, why is the coriander so expensive? In prior years, wasn’t it just a penny or two? How did it suddenly skyrocket to eight cents?”

“Ahhh…” the vegetable vendor also sighed.

“There are fewer farmers growing it now, only a handful among a few villages in a 10-mile radius. Greenhouses are required, but given the snowfall in recent years, greenhouses collapse. So, not many people planted this year, leading to a vegetable shortage. So, an eight-cent or even a one-yuan price tag doesn’t seem that exorbitant.”

Tang Zhijun listened closely, taking all of it to heart.

“So, Big Bro, can you still buy our product?”