Chapter 66: Contradiction (1)

Chapter 66: Contradiction (1)

The village elders were clearly well-prepared, as if by prior arrangement, opening with a spate of insincere pleasantries and concluding with the respectful handing back of the land deeds.

After a morning and half an afternoon, more than half of the deeds for the latrine plots had been returned.

Le Wuya was extremely courteous, inquiring of each in turn whether the yamen needed to subsidize them for the construction costs of the latrines.

Those who could become village elders, while some were greedy, were not fools.

To ask the yamen for money at a time like this—how short-sighted would they have to be?

They came with smiles and left with smiles, but as if by unspoken agreement, all shared the same thought:

...Master Wenren is not someone to cross.

Though they had tasted a bit of sweet profit from the latrines and earned some silver, their operation hadn't run long enough to break even.

Counting it all up, they had effectively poured in their labor and money, worked their tails off for half a year, earned great merit for Nanting County, and forged a fine official reputation for the Master.

As for themselves, they got nothing in return.

Most importantly, no matter how one calculated it, none of this could be pinned on the Master.

It was their greed that had given rise to the many disputes surrounding the latrines.

Though Ding Zhe had started this trouble, the root of the disaster was their avarice, which had made the conflict escalate and intensify—a conclusion that was foreseeable from the start.

The Master had at most spread the matter throughout the city, delivering the news to every village elder's ears with remarkable speed—and that's all.

They had fought among themselves, only to end up working for the Master's gain, and now had to say all sorts of nice things and put on smiling faces to return the deeds, for fear that the Master might refuse to accept them...

If this truly bore the Master's mark, then...

The village elders dared not think any deeper and instead turned their gaze toward the East City.

—If we can't do anything to the Master, we can still do something to you, Ding Zhe.

...

After ushering out the eighth village elder, Le Wuya let out a yawn.

Having watched this tedious charade eight times, he was tired of it.

He passed the task on to the sociable Deputy Magistrate Sun.

Today, at most by tomorrow, they'd probably all be recovered.

Those who wished to avoid trouble had been returning their deeds in a steady stream; even if some were reluctant to let go, what could they do against the general trend?

Le Wuya, clicking away at his abacus, stepped out of the yamen.

...

Sheng Youde, the Head Beggar of Nanting, was drinking at a wine stall behind the City God Temple.

He wasn't particularly fond of peace and quiet, but when he drank and ate meat, he always had to keep away from the beggars under him—otherwise, he'd lose face.

Just as he raised his bowl to drink, he suddenly felt a light tap on his left shoulder from a fan.

As he looked to the left, Le Wuya sat down to his right, joking, "Your men are useless."

Sheng Youde stared at Le Wuya, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, stunned for a good while, sensing something was off.

But since the Master had broached the topic first, he couldn't very well not answer, so he stopped thinking about it.

He knew what he was referring to and said with a wry smile, "Master, I told you long ago..."

...

Shortly after the latrines were completed, Le Wuya came to find Sheng Youde and said bluntly, "Do me a favor."

After hearing Le Wuya's instructions, Sheng Youde was baffled: "You want me to send people to... count those entering the latrines?"

Le Wuya naturally had his reasons and arranged directly: "Station two men at each latrine entrance, taking shifts. One copper coin for each person who enters. At the end of each day, they report the count to you, and the next day, you come to the yamen to settle payment with He Qingsong. Report anything unusual; if not, collect the money and leave. It's that simple."

Sheng Youde caught the implication in Le Wuya's words: "Master, it's not just counting, is it? It's surveillance?"

Le Wuya said coldly, "Don't pry."

"Wouldn't dare, wouldn't dare. If anything unusual occurs, I'll report it to you immediately." Sheng Youde probed, "Master, but this surveillance must have a scope, right? Who are we watching? For what? How long?"

Le Wuya countered, "I'm handing you money, and you're refusing?"

Sheng Youde sensed something off in that tone and quickly nodded: "Steady income, such a good deal—Master, giving me this job is a great honor. But if I mess it up..."

"You're thinking about how to fool me before you've even started?"

Sheng Youde hastily explained: "Master, you don't know, the lowly classes can be quite cunning—they love to deceive. Take these latrines, for example: if a hundred people go in a day, a short-sighted one might report a hundred and twenty; a greedy one, two hundred. It's hard to verify, you see..."

"I don't like that talk—swallow it back." Le Wuya pointed his fan at him. "What's wrong with the lowly classes? High or low, every trade has its rotten apples, and every trade has those who go down in history. If I looked down on you, why would I be sitting at the same table?"

Sheng Youde forced a smile: "Yes, yes, I'll swallow it. Master, please give your orders."

"Clean the donkey hair out of your ears. I've said all I need to say—what more orders do you want?"

Sheng Youde: "..." Huh? That was it?

Le Wuya saw his hesitation: "It's a pretty good deal, isn't it?"

Indeed.

Not to mention the beggars could count.

If they earned a copper for each person entering a latrine, they'd naturally devise all sorts of counting methods on their own.

Knotted ropes, tally marks—where there's a will, there's a way.

The Master was buying their eyes, ensuring that every person entering the latrines was watched carefully.

As long as they paid close attention, any suspicious character wouldn't escape their notice.

But things couldn't be that simple.

He waited quietly for Le Wuya to continue.

Sure enough, Le Wuya took a sip of tea and said, "Don't get too excited—I'll lay out the ugly truth first."

"You can certainly try to fool me, slack off, find a corner to nap, and at day's end, make up some number to deceive me and swindle money from me..." Le Wuya said, "I have my ways of testing whether they've done their job. If they haven't, Brother Youde, I'll be having words with you. And that money—I'll want it back in full."

"Just by not punishing us, you're already showing great mercy." Sheng Youde said in a breezy tone, pressing his luck. "Sir, this is such a sweet deal—when does it end?"

Le Wuya stood up, gave Sheng Youde's left shoulder a light tap with his soft silk fan, giving him goosebumps:

"Until I get what I want."

...

From that day on, small incidents kept cropping up around the latrines.

Ruffians brawling, thieves stealing—most got caught and scuffled right there on the spot, so the beggar lookouts had little chance to do anything.

Sheng Youde had even wondered how this test was supposed to work.

It wasn't until today, when the magistrate made a big show of hauling in two beggars, that Sheng Youde finally figured out what the so-called "test" really was.

From how they acted in court, Sheng Youde knew they must have been up to some shady business like drawing pay without working and cooking the books.

Sheng Youde had always known the magistrate's money wasn't easy money. So he put on a cheeky grin and said, "Sir, my men screwed up. I'll give you back every cent you paid me, as agreed."

"Is it your men who failed..." Le Wuya leaned in, asking in a low voice, "or is it that you don't take my business seriously?"

Sheng Youde's heart lurched, and he scrambled to smile: "Sir, how could I dare?"

Le Wuya placed a dog-eared notebook with scrawled handwriting on the table and nudged it toward him with his fan: "Have a look at this."

Sheng Youde smiled: "I don't read much, sir..."

Le Wuya flipped a page open for him with his fan.

When he saw what was in the notebook, Sheng Youde's face changed a little.

The notebook had clearly been around a while, with coarse paper, dog-eared and frayed edges, meticulously recording the daily number of people entering and exiting the latrine where the trouble happened, and anyone who looked suspicious.

The records started on the exact same day Le Wuya had last visited Sheng Youde.

Sheng Youde could barely read, and the person keeping the records couldn't read at all.

For suspicious folks, he'd drawn simple pictures to show what they did.

For example, if ruffians got into a fight, he'd draw two little stick figures duking it out.

Just yesterday, the recorder had drawn a little comic strip.

A little figure was poking his head out of the latrine gate, looking around.

Then the figure left the latrine and locked the door behind him.

Soon, some new little figures showed up around the latrine, saw the lock, and left.

In the next drawing, the figure came back from somewhere, looked around, opened the door, and slipped inside by himself.

Putting this together with what happened today, how could Sheng Youde not get it?

Near the latrine where today's trouble happened, the magistrate had planted another spy working for him!

And that person was damn diligent.

Sheng Youde was at a loss for words, forcing a stiff laugh: "With a spy this good, why would you even need..."

He choked on the rest of the sentence.

Right—with a spy that good, why would he need Sheng Youde at all?

He looked closer and saw the handwriting was clumsy, about as good as his own beggars'.

His panic rose: "...If I may ask, where did you get these spies of yours?"

Le Wuya rested one hand on the back of the chair, and with that handsome civil-official face, he put on the condescending air of a military officer: "You're still worrying about that?"

Sheng Youde felt a chill run down his spine and couldn't find the words.

Because he suddenly realized why he'd felt so uneasy when Le Wuya first came over:

He hadn't told a soul he was coming to this quiet spot to drink.

...So how did the magistrate know he was here?

Watching the expressions flit across this man's face, Le Wuya found it amusing.

He decided to pour more fuel on the fire.

"Ah, Brother Youde, let me ask you something." Le Wuya wore a look of genuine curiosity. "You had people following me for half a month—why'd you stop recently? Was it because I went to the post station to see the imperial messenger that day and scared you off?"

Sheng Youde's heart jolted, his knees gave out, and he slid off the stool onto the ground.

The wine stall owner was momentarily stunned at the sight.

Then, to Sheng Youde's surprise, he looked at Le Wuya as if they were old acquaintances.

Le Wuya waved a hand, and the owner lowered his head, pretended not to notice, and went back to work.

Seeing Sheng Youde's growing shock, Le Wuya flashed a grin: "Boss Wu, you know him—he's a good guy. Last time, some thugs tried to poison his wine to blackmail him, but I saw through it. I caught the extortionists, and now... they should be just about at their place of exile."

Hearing this, the wine stall owner gave a respectful bow: "Thank you, Magistrate, for your kindness."

Le Wuya lifted his chin and fixed his gaze on Sheng Youde, whose face had gone pale: "Sheng Youde, you understand what I mean now."

"You're still in Nanting not because you're deeply rooted here, but because I think you're still useful."

"Dragon Boat Festival is coming up. A local snake that can't catch mice—I'll drive it away with realgar."

"We don't keep idle people in Nanting, Brother Youde. Got it?"

After this scare, Sheng Youde completely dropped his contempt for this man, not even noticing the sweat pouring down his face: "Y-yes, sir..."

Le Wuya tapped the crude drawing with his fingertip: "Find out who this person in the drawing is. Investigate it yourself. When you find out, come report to me at the yamen."

He leaned closer to Sheng Youde: "Remember, you only handle what I tell you to handle. Don't poke your nose into anything else."

Sheng Youde looked up, pale-faced: "...Magistrate, you already know who's in the drawing, don't you?"

This was drawn by his spy—all he had to do was hear the spy's report to know who the sneaky figure was, right?

Le Wuya's smile was dazzling: "Yes, of course I know who it is. So now I'm testing you."

"This is the final test. If you get it wrong, then you're really useless."

...

Leaving the crestfallen Sheng Youde behind, Le Wuya walked with light steps along the streets of Nanting, crossing half the small town on foot.

Chang Xiaohu's mother, Mrs. Su, along with Blacksmith Jiang and Carpenter Yu, warmly tried to drag Le Wuya into their homes for a meal, but he declined, pleading official business.

Hu Wen and Hu Wu had just stepped out of the lacquerware workshop and greeted him enthusiastically.

The stall owner who brewed an excellent chili sauce shoved a jar of it into Le Wuya's hands and dragged him to see the new shop he had acquired, sheepishly asking if Le Wuya could write a plaque for his shop. Le Wuya readily agreed.

Many former beggars, with the yamen's help, had secured legitimate jobs. At the sight of Le Wuya, they grinned from ear to ear and eagerly stepped forward to pay their respects.

In Nanting, there were many eyes willing to keep watch for him and countless hands willing to work for him.

From today onward, he could probably add Sheng Youde to that list.

Using the Village Elders' squabbles over the latrine pits to reclaim all the pits while taming Sheng Youde in the process—that was killing two birds with one stone.

As for that third target...

Near the yamen, Le Wuya grabbed the scribe who had just gotten off duty: "Is Scholar Ming still at the yamen?"

The scribe, though good for little, was at least devoted to his family.

At that moment, holding his young son in one arm and a box of hot pastries for his family in the other, he replied with a serious expression: "Your Honor, I have no idea."

Le Wuya: "..." What the heck do you actually know!

But seeing the boy, around four or five years old, staring at him with eager eyes, Le Wuya couldn't scold the dad in front of the kid. He bought a candied hawthorn skewer as a little gift, then turned and entered the yamen, to see if Wen Ren Yue was still there.

Le Wuya walked all the way to the study and found the lamp still lit, and felt relieved.

Wen Ren Yue was frugal and always turned off the lamp before leaving.

After pacing back and forth outside the study door, Le Wuya waited until his breathing evened out, then peeked inside cautiously.

When Wen Ren Yue returned from brewing tea, he saw Le Wuya peeking in.

Wen Ren Yue, holding the teapot in one hand, felt a playful impulse and messed up Le Wuya's hair from behind.

Le Wuya: "?"

He turned around, bewildered, and pressed a hand to the spot that had been tousled: "...Missing my head?"

A head that's always thinking must be tired.

Wen Ren Yue just wanted to give him a rub.

Seeing his prolonged silence, Le Wuya vaguely guessed his intention.

He stared steadily at Wen Ren Yue and said sincerely: "...If you miss it, you can have it back."

Now, he had already accomplished so much.

Even if he left, with his current abilities, he could keep the peace and order going.

It was a shame he wouldn't get to see Wen Ren Yue become the top scholar.

Suddenly, Wen Ren Yue's face changed, and he said sharply: "Brother Gu, watch your words!"

A normally gentle, big guy suddenly blowing up scared Le Wuya.

Le Wuya thought, oh no.

He's definitely mad.

Author's note:

A Yaya who's completely oblivious to positive feelings.