Chapter 224: The Wind Rises (Part 3)

Chapter 224: The Wind Rises (Part 3)

The Zhang family's opera performances had only been halted for a few days before the music and dancing resumed with renewed vigor.

At that, Yuan Zijin couldn't help but marvel: "His precious uncle's about to bite the dust, and he still has the leisure to listen to opera?"

Recently, Zheng Miao, who'd stormed off in a huff, had quietly sent over a large batch of fresh crabapples.

Le Wuya had packed the fruits into large baskets and handed them to Zhong Piaoping yesterday, to be loaded onto the Qi family merchant ship at Tongzhou Harbor. He'd kept a dozen or so fresh, pretty ones for himself, packed them in a small basket, and planned to use them as prizes for the top ten in today's archery and riding drills among the garrison soldiers.

At that, Le Wuya stuffed a fruit into his mouth: "The Emperor's word is law, decreeing that the Three Judicial Offices handle the case. He's nothing but an idle country gentleman without official rank or position—how far would he dare to reach? How far can he reach? Could he possibly reach into the Emperor's own bedchamber?"

Yuan Zijin, chewing on his crabapple, mumbled: "Crude!"

Le Wuya continued: "Besides, in matters like this, folks are scared they can't put distance between themselves and this fast enough. If they can save even one of the uncle-nephew pair, that's a win. And honestly, being cold-hearted and ungrateful is a hell of a lot more comfortable than playing the dutiful nephew."

Yuan Zijin, who'd always set great store by blood ties, rolled his eyes: "That's twisted logic!"

Le Wuya didn't bother arguing. He turned and called out: "Qin Xingyue!"

Qin Xingyue limped over: "Yeah?"

"Take a load off! Don't come over, I'm just hollering!" Le Wuya put his hands on his hips, took a deep breath, and bellowed: "Have all the beggars been sent out? Did you make sure they know the drill?"

Qin Xingyue obediently stopped in his tracks, his tone carrying a smile: "Boss, you think I can't handle this? My leg's busted, but my brain's still here!"

Le Wuya: "What I want is the spare iron stuff from folks' homes—not the farm tools, trunks, or pots they're using right now. Be careful when you're collecting, keep your eyes peeled, and don't grab everything in sight. If anyone dares to steal from folks and bring it to me to pass off, my prison's short on labor!"

Qin Xingyue: "You got it!"

"Alright, get to it!"

Just as Qin Xingyue was about to hobble off happily, Le Wuya remembered something and quickly added: "Iron nails—don't forget, I want iron nails, the more the better! Pay top dollar! I've got cash!"

Hearing this, Qin Xingyue turned back around, his eyes nearly shining with excitement: "Yes!"

Even as he answered, he silently added the title he'd been longing for.

You got it, Little General.

Yuan Zijin squatted on the steps, munching his crabapple with relish.

Back when he was the Yuan family's Second Young Master, he wouldn't have touched such cheap fruit.

His gaze followed Le Wuya, watching him blaze like a flame from one end of the courtyard to the other.

Just then, garrison soldier Lu Ming led three or four smoke-blackened soldiers back to the compound.

The strapping young men were so filthy they looked like they'd been dug up. No sooner had they sat down than they were gulping down well water.

Le Wuya walked over and shoved a crabapple into each of their hands.

They all grinned at Le Wuya, all teeth and eyes, looking utterly shameless in their delight.

Yuan Zijin let out a "pfft" of disdain and turned his head away, chewing on the crabapple stem, pretending not to care while secretly perking up his ears.

Lu Ming's voice, full of admiration, drifted to his ears on the wind: "Boss, what you said really works!"

Holding half a crabapple, he explained to the other garrison soldiers: "Now the main bands of mountain bandits have all run off. The few stragglers left are cunning as hell! They duck into some cave, and the moment we leave, they're back to causing trouble; if we chase them in, they can use the terrain to ambush us. Just five or six old and weak leftovers can hold back at least a squad of our men—it's a real pain in the ass."

"But the boss is clever—he taught us to tie cloth strips to bamboo poles, poke them into the caves, and check the airflow first to see if it's a dead end or a through-cave. If it's a dead end, we shout for them to come out. If they won't, we burn grass mixed with wolf dung to smoke them out. If they still won't come out, we toss in a Thunderclap Bomb, collapse the entrance, leave two guys to watch for a few days, and pull out once there's no movement inside."

"If it's a through-cave, we burn grass and let the smoke out. Once we see where it comes out—if it's a one-in, one-out cave, we toss a Thunderclap Bomb and collapse both openings."

"If it's one entrance with multiple exits, we send men to block all the other openings, sealing wherever the smoke comes out, then blast the bigger entrances, leaving only a few passages wide enough for one man at a time. Then we cut down anyone who comes out, one by one. That's a real one-man defense against ten thousand!"

Lu Ming had read some books, and now he was even quoting the classics.

The other garrison soldiers listened, blood boiling, their heads full of "toss a Thunderclap Bomb and blast it," all eager to volunteer for bandit hunting.

Soon, Le Wuya shooed away the group of half-grown lads who were all obsessed with playing with firecrackers: "Scram, scram! My Thunderclap Bombs are precious, and I know you lot—you'd blast a sparrow if you saw one. A bunch of wasteful brats who don't know the price of anything because they've never run a household!"

Le Wuya shooed away the grinning bunch of wasteful brats, turned, and saw Yuan Zijin still sitting there, grinning like an idiot in his direction for no reason.

—In Yuan Zijin's eyes, Le Wuya was full of fire when he was joking around with folks, with a wild charm all his own.

Le Wuya had no idea what little schemes were spinning in his head. He strode over, pulled him up, slung an arm over his shoulder as natural as anything, spun him halfway around, and kicked him in the ass—a smooth series of moves: "Xiao Zhong's ship sets sail this afternoon. If you've got time to dawdle here, you'd better get to the dock and see him off!"

"...Oy!" Yuan Zijin glanced at the sundial and saw that time was indeed running short. He jumped up immediately, puffing with indignation: "It's all your fault! I was going to leave right after eating the fruit!"

He hurried a few steps, then couldn't help but look back, just in time to see Le Wuya cradling the small basket, counting the crabapples.

He had fed one to Yuan Zijin and another to Lu Ming's group upon their return, leaving eleven in the basket.

Le Wuya picked through them, selected one with a scar, and popped it into his mouth. Then, holding the ten flawless fruits, he headed straight for the training ground.

Seeing this, a big smile bloomed on Yuan Zijin's face.

He knew it—though he had stumbled in by accident, he had truly come to the right place!

With that thought, his spirits soared, and he scampered off happily.

...

Before Tongzhou Harbor, spring light was radiant, a scene of bustling prosperity.

The desolation and bleakness Le Wuya had seen upon his first arrival had been swept away entirely.

Ships crowded the harbor, masts standing like a forest. Porters and laborers, drenched in sweat, unloaded cargo in a steady stream, piling it into hill after hill on the dock.

On the shore, carts and horses came and went in an endless stream—some carrying loads, some hauling goods, some buying, some selling. On the river, boatmen and oarsmen shouted work chants that echoed across the water.

Inspection officials in blue official robes walked with hands clasped behind their backs, patrolling back and forth, while Yamen Clerks called out loudly to maintain order.

The scene was chaotic yet orderly.

And amid the hundred melodies and thousand voices were mingled the cries of riverside peddlers and food stalls:

"Gardenias! White magnolias—"

"Strength for hire! Loading and unloading, carrying bundles aboard ship, fair prices!"

"Pork zongzi! Plenty of filling, delicious—one is enough to fill you up!"

"Little wontons! Tongzhou's dried-shrimp wontons..."

Some lilting, some loud, some warm, some joyful.

The many voices wove together into the magnificent tableau of Tongzhou's canal dock today.

On the second floor of a teahouse along the river, the newly hired storyteller sang and played with vivid expression, holding the tea drinkers completely spellbound.

The seats near the stage had long been packed, while those by the windows remained largely empty—too noisy outside to catch the lyrics clearly.

Two men sat at separate tables by the window.

One had unremarkable features, save for a strikingly prominent hooked nose, so prominent it seemed to crowd out his eyes.

At the table behind him sat a wary-looking young man.

Both were dressed in refined attire, and at first glance, they looked like two merchants who had stopped ashore to rest.

Out of the corner of his eye, the hooked-nose man watched the young man, who was looking around restlessly, as if sitting on hot coals. He spoke coldly, “If you insist on being so shifty, next time ask Zhang Meng’an to send someone else.”

The young man froze for a moment, then forced himself to sit still, saying, “My father said the old master’s spies are all over the city; I must tread carefully.”

The hooked-nose man sneered, “Tongzhou Port is now crowded with travelers. You’re just here to hire a storyteller to take home—who would suspect anything? Isn’t there an old saying in your country? ‘Familiarity breeds indifference; strange things lose their power when you ignore them.’”

The young man rubbed his nose.

He was none too happy himself.

As the son of Steward Zhan, he used to throw his weight around Tongzhou Prefecture.

Now he was like a rat in the streets!

He straightened his back but still lowered his voice, muttering weakly, “My father said not to underestimate that Wenren Ming Ke—treat him like the god with the third eye!”

The hooked-nose man: “…”

He didn’t get the joke.

So, dropping the small talk, he cut straight to the point: “Wenren Ming Ke’s scorched-earth tactics leave us no way to survive. Lately, our old and weak brothers left in the mountains can’t hold out either—they say he’s so thorough he’d flood a rabbit hole. I’m taking some brothers who got out to the island. Ask Master Zhang to send more produce out to sea. Here’s the location.”

He shoved a map into Young Zhan’s hands and ordered, “Commit it to memory. Don’t take it with you.”

Young Zhan lacked courage, but he was loyal to a fault.

He was, after all, destined to take over from his father as steward of the Zhang household.

Only if the Zhang family prospered for generations could he keep his own rice bowl full.

Mindful of what his father and the master had told him before he came, he didn’t reach for the map: “My father said, whether you need produce or anything else, we can supply it. But he also said that the officials are cracking down on ship inspections, and more patrols are out on the rivers. Wenren Ming Ke has a stranglehold on Tongzhou—even a passing rat has to show ID and prove where it’s from. Our Zhang household is already being watched closely; we need to play it safe. So we’ll have to ask Master Xi to have your people handle the pickup and delivery—the Zhang household will step aside. After all, everyone in our family is being watched, and if we mess up your business, we can’t take the blame. Wouldn’t you say so, Master Xi?”

The hooked-nose man, addressed as “Master Xi,” let out a laugh: “Oh? Is Zhang Meng’an trying to weasel out?”

“If he were pulling out, the master wouldn’t have sent me to see you,” Young Zhan said, mustering his courage and growing more fluent. “His uncle is in prison now, and Wenren Ming Ke is basking in his victory over him. The master doesn’t like that, which is why he’s willing to bankroll you…”

At the crucial point, his voice dropped to almost a whisper: “…Those cannons for the ship—you know their value on the black market. The master didn’t buy thirty of them all at once and give them all to you? He just needs you to come get them yourself. Please understand the master’s situation.”

A cold glint flashed in Master Xi’s eyes, but he said no more.

He tucked the map back into his sleeve: “We’ll meet at the usual spot. Tell your master this: I want a way out, and he wants Wenren Yue dead. Since we’re after the same thing, ask Master Zhang not to hold back. We’re all in the same boat—if someone doesn’t row, this boat won’t get far. Understand?”

Young Zhan nodded repeatedly, but Zhang Kai’s sinister voice echoed in his ears:

“…How many officials have died over losing just one piece of land?”

“That Wenren Yue, in his haste for quick results, doesn’t get the value of taking it slow. He backed the Japanese pirates into a corner, and that’s why they’ve struck back so fiercely. Once the Japanese pirates seize Tongzhou’s canal port, and he loses both territory and troops, he’ll be escorted to the capital to await execution in autumn!”

“Those garrison soldiers, when it comes down to it, are Wenren Yue’s private troops. Would new officials even be able to command them?”

Young Zhan knew this was a matter of life and death, but he was in the same boat, whether he liked it or not.

In the warm spring sunlight, he felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him, and he shivered.

Hugging himself, he looked out the window and happened to see a young man in fine robes tearing down the street, like an unstoppable cannonball, crashing headfirst into a dark-skinned youth who was tallying up his goods with his back turned.

If it weren’t for the guy’s quick reflexes and raw strength in grabbing him, they both might have fallen in the water.

Master Xi followed his gaze, and his expression grew darker by the second.

“The Qi family merchant ship,” he murmured. “…And that little brat from the Yuan family.”