Chen Shuiwen said a great deal.
Chen Nuo didn't interrupt.
He just listened quietly, accurately extracting the useful information from his uncle's words.
First, the world was in a bit of chaos, and refugees had already started to appear.
Second, the price of grain was truly getting higher and higher!
Finally, six hundred taels of silver was the bare minimum needed to secure the monopoly rights for their own village.
Also, the amount of grain they had purchased wasn't small. If they were frugal, it, along with the remaining autumn harvest, would be enough to get the entire village through the summer planting season.
The immediate crisis of survival, at least in terms of food, could be considered resolved for now.
But they still needed to prepare for a rainy day. For the foreseeable future, grain would be as good as hard currency—the more, the better.
Chen Nuo mulled it over for a moment. 'There's not enough money.'
