Chapter 190 Fragrant Chicken Soup

Chapter 190: Rich Chicken Soup

Song Tingzhou chuckled, "What's the problem? It's not like there's anything you haven't seen."

Meng Wan felt a rush of blood to his head. "Ah! Put your clothes on quickly! It's still broad daylight, and the house is full of people!"

"Heh." Song Tingzhou, rarely in a playful mood, decided to tease him. Without drying off, he simply draped a long gown over himself and hugged Meng Wan. "Wan'er, don't you miss me?"

Meng Wan tilted his head and rubbed his cheek perfunctorily against Song Tingzhou's face. "I do, I do, how could I not? But there are people outside, and soon they'll call you out for dinner. Get dressed properly." His voice was coaxing, but his eyes kept darting to Song Tingzhou's waist and abdomen.

Song Tingzhou lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips against Meng Wan's. Before long, they were tangled in a passionate kiss. Song Tingzhou's gown hung open, and as Meng Wan pressed against him, a certain change became quite apparent.

With a faint sound of wet kisses, Meng Wan stumbled as he was led to the bedside, half-straddling Song Tingzhou, dizzy from the kisses, his mind a blank.

"Dad! Food, Dad! Grandma, food!"

A Yan's childish voice rang out from outside the door, his little hands thumping the door panel.

Meng Wan braced his hands between them, panting lightly. "Change clothes. Let's go out."

Song Tingzhou gave his reddened lips one last nibble. "Mm, you go out first." He needed a minute to cool off.

Meng Wan straightened his clothes. "Good A Yan, stop knocking, or your hands will get sore."

A Yan rubbed his little hands, saw him come out, and quickly ran off to find Chang Jinhua. "Grandma! Food, quick! Dad's here!"

Chang Jinhua's voice came faintly from the kitchen. "A Yan, don't rush! Grandma's rice has only just been put on to steam."

Meng Wan laughed and cried at the same time. "You little rascal, A Yan, daring to trick your dad!"

A Yan had learned one of Meng Wan's tricks: if he didn't want to hear something, he pretended not to. Knowing the food wasn't ready yet, he simply ran off to the small courtyard to find Chu Ci.

"Brother! Food!"

After a while, Song Tingzhou changed clothes and came out. Meng Wan, sitting on a bamboo chair in the yard, peeled a tangerine for him. "After you attended the banquet in Xiwu Prefecture, what did Prefect Liu say? Who was there?"

The October tangerines were perfectly sweet, almost never sour. Song Tingzhou could down one in a single bite. "All the county magistrates under Xiwu Prefecture's jurisdiction and the sixth-rank Vice-Prefect were present. Only the Assistant Prefect pleaded illness and didn't come."

"Was it the Vice-Prefect?" Meng Wan said in surprise.

Song Tingzhou said meaningfully, "The Vice-Prefect of Xiwu Prefecture is young and promising. Hu Ti of Shakeng County is his cousin. For now, it seems to be him."

That sentence carried many layers of meaning. Meng Wan hissed, then continued, "And then? What happened?"

Song Tingzhou twisted a damp cloth to wipe Meng Wan's hands, his voice flat. "He begged me, as a fellow official in Xiwu Prefecture, to go easy and let Hu Ti off the hook."

"Ah?" Meng Wan was genuinely shocked this time.

Did that mean all the blame was being shifted onto Hu Ti?

"And Chen Chong and Chen Yunmo? What about the Tin Mine Village? None of it was mentioned?" His rapid-fire three questions showed he really didn't get it.

Song Tingzhou traced the corner of Meng Wan's eye with his fingertip, seeing it wide with surprise. Seeing his anxious expression, a smile curled on his lips. "What's the rush?"

Meng Wan held his big hand against his cheek. "I'm just worried you'll suffer at their hands."

In fact, Meng Wan's concerns were not unfounded. On his way to the banquet, Song Tingzhou had already encountered an assassination attempt, but with Ge Quan present, it was nothing dangerous. This assassination felt more like a test or a warning.

After the banquet, there had also been veiled verbal sparring, with threats and insinuations coming from all sides.

However, from Prefect Liu's banquet, Song Tingzhou had also learned many things. At the very least, Prefect Liu and his Vice-Prefect were not on the same side. Prefect Liu seemed more like he was protecting himself and had to organize the gathering. His words were mostly cautionary, suggesting he knew something but didn't dare to expose it. In contrast, the Vice-Prefect, who was only two ranks higher than Song Tingzhou, seemed quite confident.

Song Tingzhou did not tell Meng Wan about the assassination attempt. "I won't let them get the upper hand, but with their higher rank, they can still make trouble for me."

Meng Wan grew impatient. "Then what do we do? If they straight-up intercept your memorials, we've got no other way."

A county magistrate like Song Tingzhou had to strictly follow official procedures, submitting memorials through higher-ups layer by layer. He wasn't allowed to go over their heads and submit directly. Unless it was a very special case, doing that would get him severely punished for overstepping. It would also incur the displeasure of higher officials, ruining his record and pretty much killing his chances for promotion.

Song Tingzhou gently stroked his cheek, his smile warm. "Wan'er, you're too busy and it's gone to your head. We've got the people. They're the ones who should be worried. As long as I'm in Heshan, what can they do if I just keep them locked up?"

He'd gone to that trap of a banquet, but only to save face for his superior. As for everything else, if he just didn't play along and acted clueless, what could others do to him?

Meng Wan still worried something might go wrong. "In another year, you'll have been in Heshan County for three years. Could they mess with your performance reviews and recommendations?"

For now, Prefect Liu seemed to be tentatively trying to win Song Tingzhou over, but Song Tingzhou wasn't stupid enough to fall for a few sweet words and devote himself to the Prefect. Being polite and deferential to your boss is one thing, but that's it.

Song Tingzhou said calmly, "After this year is over, they won't be able to mess with anything."

Meng Wan silently exchanged a look with him, then suddenly his eyes curved. "When you've got absolute power, they don't stand a chance."

Their eyes met, and a thousand unspoken words turned into a knowing smile. The mood was warm and intimate, leaving no room for anyone else.

"Dad! Dad! Real food! Real food!" A Yan, panting, came running over for the second time to call Meng Wan to dinner.

Meng Wan propped his elbows on his knees. "I don't believe you. You tricked me. I'm never trusting you again."

A Yan: "!"

A Yan's eyes went wide in shock—he never expected things to be this serious. His round eyes instantly filled with tears. Just as his mouth started to pucker for a cry, Song Tingzhou scooped him up and slipped a tiny slice of tangerine into his mouth.

A Yan's mouth moved on its own, and he forgot all about crying. "Dad, more tangerine. I want lots more."

Song Tingzhou lifted him onto his shoulder and headed toward the main hall. "Let's eat first. Let's go find little brother Tong'er and call him to eat, too."

"Okay, but my big drumstick can't go to him, boo-hoo."

Meng Wan followed behind. "You can eat your own chicken leg. The pheasant your Uncle Ge brought back is even more fragrant. Tong'er and I will eat the pheasant legs."

Just hearing the description, A Yan's drool soaked the fabric on Song Tingzhou's shoulder. He struggled up in Song Tingzhou's arms, excitedly saying, "I want it! I want pheasant legs!"

Meng Wan looked troubled. "Ah? No way. Those were hunted by Tong'er's dad for Tong'er."

A Yan humbly said, "I'll trade with Tong'er, just one. I'll eat it in tiny bites."

Meng Wan could fool adults without breaking a sweat, and handling a kid was a piece of cake. "Alright. I'll ask Uncle Ge later if that's okay."

—

After Song Tingzhou returned, Meng Wan's plan to build the lotus root workshop went even smoother. Since the workshop was smaller than the sugar workshop, it didn't need land outside the city. Song Tingzhou allocated a piece of vacant land within the city to Meng Wan, plenty of space for the lotus root workshop.

As for He Niang and the others locked in the county jail, they were more troublesome. Technically, as former exiles, even after finishing their hard labor, they weren't allowed to leave the area they were exiled to.

But Chen Chong and his crew had worked with Hu Ti to erase He Niang and her group's household registrations. Officially, they were dead, so they couldn't do any kind of work.

But now under Song Tingzhou, Meng Wan wanted to help them, hoping to get Tang Jinshuang on his side. But just restoring them to commoner status could cause problems later.

After much deliberation, Song Tingzhou simply had Chief Clerk Qiao register them as artisans, exclusively for the Heshan Lotus Root Workshop. They still couldn't leave the area freely, but it was like a quasi-official gig, not recognized by the imperial court, but they were considered craftsmen within Heshan County.

Now, they had no choice but to work for Meng Wan, even if they didn't want to. And compared to being forced into covert prostitution before, this was already way better.

Among the trafficked young men and women, half entered the sugar workshop, and the remaining half, along with Tang Jinshuang, He Niang, and others, have been making lotus root powder in the front yard of the Song residence. They are waiting only for the workshop to be completed by the end of the year before they can move in.

Meng Wan offered modest wages, after all he had to provide for their food and drink, and the workshop wasn't making a profit yet. In the first year, he might even lose money. He could raise their pay later, once real profits came in.

He paid the craftsmen generously, and they were willing to work hard. By the end of the year, most of the workshop's buildings had taken shape, with only finishing touches left for after the New Year.

Seeing those young men and women living under someone else's roof, constantly nervous and scared, Meng Wan had the workers complete the first building—a dormitory.

At the innermost part of the workshop, against the wall, a long row of rooms had been built, each square and neat. Two people per room, each furnished with two beds, two wardrobes, and a small table—not spacious, but enough to live in.

"If any of you have friends you'd like to room with, pair up in twos and draw lots to decide which room you'll take," Meng Wan said. Taking advantage of a clear day, he personally led Tang Jinshuang's group of six and the ten or so trafficked young men and women to the workshop.

"Are all these rooms for us?" The trafficked young men and women were all local farmers from Xiwu, too poor to put food on the table. Their whole families had squeezed into a single room, so they'd never had separate quarters. They were overjoyed.

Tang Jinshuang, He Niang, and their group of six were different. They had grown up in luxury, some even more worldly than Meng Wan. They had lived a life of silks and satins, and had also sold their bodies in the filthiest alleys. Having experienced both the dark and the light of the world, their hearts were as hard as stone, and they were far more suspicious than trusting.

"Why is Meng Fulang going out of his way to help us? Forgive our ignorance, but we truly don't see what value these broken bodies of ours still have. We beg you, Meng Fulang, for an explanation." Tang Jinshuang's voice remained cool, but through their time together, he had developed a certain goodwill toward Meng Wan. However, since it concerned their future, he couldn't help asking bluntly.

That was his nature—hard and sharp—and years of suffering had not softened him in the slightest.

In contrast, He Niang was more tactful. Her eyes dropped slightly, her gaze falling downward. "We know that Meng Fulang and the County Magistrate have saved us out of kindness. We already have no way to repay this debt of gratitude. Now you have specially found us such good lodgings—it really troubles our conscience."

The six of them looked at Meng Wan with flickering eyes, clearly not trusting him. Just before, when they were making lotus root powder at the Song residence and squeezed together on a communal bed in the side room, they had felt at ease. But now, moving to the workshop, they suddenly suspected Meng Wan's motives.

If it had been someone like Fang Jinrong, a spoiled young master, he would probably have thrown these people out to fend for themselves. But Meng Wan genuinely wanted to use them. Now he was the knife, and the others were his fish, his labor—why should he be angry?

It was only that the carrot he dangled wasn't big enough.

Meng Wan calculated everything clearly in his mind, letting none of it show on his face. Instead, he said firmly: "Why cling to the past? You are all in the prime of your lives. Will you do everything from now on with nothing but bitterness? I called you here to work in the workshop, that's true. But with my reputation in Heshan now, do you think I couldn't find workers for the workshop otherwise?"

Tang Jinshuang opened his mouth to speak. "We didn't mean—"

"Exactly," Meng Wan interrupted coldly, a hint of annoyance on his face. "As fellow young men, I only wanted to point out a clear path for you. If you still feel uneasy and think that Chen Yunmo and I are cut from the same cloth—that building this workshop is a trick and using these rooms to keep you as prostitutes is the real goal—then the gate is to the south. Please, feel free to leave."

Tang Jinshuang and the others were at a loss. One of the younger ones almost started crying. "We are not ungrateful people. We've just been deceived too many times, and we can't bear to have someone be good to us without expecting anything in return. Call us worthless if you want, or beat me to vent your anger—I don't want to leave."

Hearing this, Meng Wan softened a little. He explained earnestly, "You may have been trapped in a narrow place and haven't heard that I built a sugar workshop outside the city, where only young men and women work. I don't intend to scheme anything from any of you. I only want to do what little I can to improve the lot of young men and women, to prove that we are not just dependent on men—we can contribute to building the Yu kingdom. Perhaps thousands of people won't understand, calling it a pipe dream, but I don't want one day to be accused by a young man or a woman."

In the vast workshop, among the twenty or so people, there was dead silence.

Tang Jinshuang parted his lips, a glimmer of awe in his eyes. His legs trembling, he suddenly knelt on one knee, voice quaking with emotion he could barely contain: "Tang Jinshuang, fifth-generation descendant of the Tang clan of Lin'an Prefecture, wishes to offer his humble strength to the Master."

Who could hear such words and not be moved?

A gentleman would die for one who knows him. But these people had only shallow knowledge—how fortunate were they to gain the pity of a man of great wisdom like Meng Fulang?

Only by giving their all could they hope to touch even the hem of Meng Fulang's garment. For the sake of what Meng Fulang had said today, even if the path ahead led to an abyss of ten thousand feet, what was there to fear?

Meng Wan saw the flicker of hope rekindled in their eyes and was quite satisfied. With spirit, people would find the will to go on. What he wanted from them was their knowledge and upbringing, not just empty shells.

Otherwise, as he had said, why choose them when he could hire anyone?