Chapter 225: The Storm Intensifies (IV)

Chapter 225: The Storm Intensifies (IV)

If Le Wuya were here, he would surely understand Master Xi's bone-deep hatred for these two.

First, those so-called invincible Japanese pirates, who had always run wild, were now forced to cower behind their walls by five hundred inexperienced garrison soldiers, left to watch helplessly as Qi Hongzhuang raked in profits along the coastal shipping lanes, their eyes burning with hatred.

Second, it was none other than Old Tiger Yuan Weiyan who had chased the bandits of the southeastern coast all the way to Japan.

Now, although Yuan Zijin had adopted the alias "Yuan Xiao'er" and followed Le Wuya with no official rank or title, the mere surname "Yuan" was enough to put these men on alert—they'd been scared out of their wits by Yuan Weiyan before.

Who would have thought that the war god everyone feared like a tiger could have produced such a dumb, clumsy idiot?

And Zhong Piaoping, held in Yuan Zijin's arms, had always been extremely sensitive to malice, almost to the point of jumping at shadows.

Zhong Piaoping suddenly looked up, his eyes shooting up like lightning, locking onto the second floor of a nearby teahouse.

The sun was blazing, and within that narrow window, the figure inside was too blurry to make out.

Zhong Piaoping thought about going over to check it out, but he was on duty and couldn't just walk off.

Just as he hesitated, the figure flashed past the window and was gone.

Yuan Zijin sensed something was up and leaned in to ask, "Hey, what are you looking at?"

"Nothing, I'm just being jumpy." Zhong Piaoping turned to Yuan Zijin, his expression serious. "I won't be in Tongzhou, so you've gotta be extra careful."

Yuan Zijin waved it off: "Who am I? I'm Yuan Xiao'er, the greatest in all the land—"

Zhong Piaoping slapped a hand over his mouth, choking off the rest of his sentence, his eyes calm but sharp as he stared straight at him.

Yuan Zijin shrank back a little and shut up.

Usually, he could do whatever he pleased around Zhong Piaoping, who was like a cotton ball—soft, and never got mad.

But somehow, whenever Zhong Piaoping got serious, he folded.

Even in front of that damn Ming Ke, he'd never been this well-behaved.

Yuan Zijin mumbled into Zhong Piaoping's hand: "Fine, fine, I'll be careful."

Zhong Piaoping released his hand and pulled something off his belt, handing it over: "I heard your old man was handy with hand axes. I made you a sheath for one—try it out and see if it works."

Yuan Zijin's eyes lit up and he grabbed it fast, checking it out.

The sheath was beautifully made, fit his build like a glove; with a natural drop of his hand and a bend of his elbow, he could pull the hand axe from his belt easily.

He'd even added a locking clasp that hooked securely onto his belt so it wouldn't slip.

Yuan Zijin was satisfied but wouldn't admit it: "Ugly as hell, heh heh."

Thanks to Le Wuya's teaching, Zhong Piaoping had long stopped caring about what people said—he only cared about what they did.

Seeing Yuan Zijin put it on right away like it was a treasure, a small smile crept onto his face.

Yuan Zijin twisted his hips proudly, showing off for a good while before remembering to ask the details: "This leather's pretty nice. How much was it?"

Zhong Piaoping named a price.

Yuan Zijin immediately freaked out: "No way, no way—your monthly grain ration is just a pittance—"

Zhong Piaoping covered his mouth again.

Zhong Piaoping said calmly, "You gave me a gift, so you can pay me back, right?"

Yuan Zijin thought about it and figured that made sense.

But after Zhong Piaoping let go, he still grumbled a couple of complaints: "You're getting bolder and bolder, daring to cover my mouth."

Zhong Piaoping: "If you don't like it, you can pull my hand away. You're strong."

Yuan Zijin kept both hands obediently at his sides, muttering, "If I hurt you, you'd just go running to Ming Ke to tattle, wouldn't you? You're his precious little darling now—I'm not falling for that."

Zhong Piaoping smiled and shook his head: "I wouldn't."

Yuan Zijin studied the quiet, gentle Zhong Piaoping before him, and a warmth stirred in his heart.

Everyone said Xiao Zhong was cold right down to the bone, but he just didn't see it.

He was clearly a straight-up honest guy.

Zhong Piaoping said softly, "You should head back too. Isn't the master still having you write that essay on wiping out the pirates?"

Yuan Zijin checked the sun and figured it was about time.

He wasn't a free man anymore; he had a ton to do.

But he just couldn't make himself leave.

Since coming to Le Wuya's side, the only person his age Yuan Zijin had to hang out with was Xiao Zhong.

He really didn't want to say goodbye, especially knowing the rivers were full of hidden dangers and pirates lurking around...

However, Zhong Piaoping had his own tasks to attend to, and after a few more exchanges, soldiers on the ship called his name a few times, clearly needing him for something.

Seeing this, Yuan Zijin had no choice but to say goodbye, dragging his feet.

Before leaving, he shouted loudly, "Make sure you eat lots of fruit! I've heard that people who work the rivers and seas get blood stasis if they don't get enough veggies and fruit!"

Zhong Piaoping smiled gently: "Okay."

"You've gotta grab them—don't let anyone push you around and take them!"

"Okay."

After watching Yuan Zijin leave, the warmth in Zhong Piaoping's eyes slowly froze over, and he shot one more dark look at the teahouse.

He summoned a soldier and pointed toward the teahouse: "Take two men to the Yingbin Teahouse and find out who's sitting behind that second-floor window. Make sure you get a good look at them."

He paused, then added, "If the person's gone, make sure to get a detailed description from the tea master while he still remembers, and get the info back to the master before we set sail. Got it?"

That garrison soldier, who'd been completely won over by Zhong Piaoping since the river battle, obeyed without a word and took off.

Zhong Piaoping walked toward the main ship.

As he stepped onto the gangplank, the fishy river wind lifted the hem of his robe.

He stopped for a moment.

He and ships, it seemed, had some kind of connection.

Before stepping onto the ship that would carry him away from Nanting, he was a useless, good-for-nothing wastrel.

When he disembarked, he had grown up overnight, yet he had also become a rootless tumbleweed.

However, in the end, it was all too late.

All he could do was make himself more valuable as best he could, so he wouldn't be ashamed to meet his parents in the afterlife.

He paused only for a moment before continuing toward the ship.

Because he remembered that the main cannon's mount hadn't been oiled yet.

...

Yuan Zijin, his mind elsewhere, moseyed back to the government office.

On the way, he happened to come across a squad of men in garrison soldiers' uniforms, setting up a tented stall on a corner of the busiest street in the southern city—moving chairs, tables, hanging signs and banners, working up a sweat.

Yuan Zijin approached: "Hey, what's all this?"

"Oh, Brother Yuan!" The man he called out to grinned at him. "The magistrate told us to come collect scrap metal!"

Yuan Zijin let out an "ah," remembering that Wen Ren Ming Ke had mentioned it earlier while bustling about the office today.

He asked, "Is this to patch up weapons?"

"Yeah, our weapons take a beating in battle. Patch 'em up and they're still good to go." The garrison soldier raised the sign he was holding, which bore a drawing. "Old horseshoes, old pots, old hoes, iron strips from the corners of household chests, old hooks used for air-drying cured meat—the magistrate takes 'em all, as long as folks are willing to donate. If someone gives more than five catties, we have to offer some compensation—the county magistrate's wife sent over a bunch of scrap cloth, so we can swap some cloth scraps for 'em."

Another garrison soldier chimed in, adding, "The magistrate also said iron nails are the most urgent need, so we're paying top price. Good nails fetch a hundred wen a catty, but rusty ones are junk—thirty wen a catty, tops."

Yuan Zijin pursed his lips.

He wasn't some clueless rich kid anymore. He spoke up: "What regular household has that many nails? Even if you ripped out every rafter, bench, and bed, you still wouldn't come close, right? Why doesn't he hit up the official or private workshops instead?"

"The magistrate checked into it. He said going the official route would run at least a hundred twenty wen a catty. Keeping a household going ain't cheap, so every little bit saved helps."

As he spoke, the garrison soldier glanced at the hook-sheath on Yuan Zijin's belt, noticing the metal hook attached to it, and joked, "Brother Yuan, we haven't made a single deal today. How about that hook of yours—"

Before he could finish, Yuan Zijin clutched his side and stumbled back several steps: "Don't even think about it! This was a gift—I wouldn't swap it for a hundred taels of gold!"

The garrison soldiers burst into laughter: "From your sweetheart, huh?"

Yuan Zijin: "Beat it, beat it, beat it."

With that, he clutched his hook-sheath like it was stolen goods and hightailed it out of there.

...

Hearing they could barter and trade old for new, the locals were naturally all for it.

The reason was simple.

The folks in Tongzhou had been burned bad by the Japanese pirate raids.

If it came to a real fight and the city went on war footing, the commander in charge would send soldiers to tear down folks' houses to patch up the city defenses and build defensive equipment, and they'd just have to cry and take it.

Now, with Tongzhou booming more every day, and the magistrate willing to invest in city defenses without any hint of strong-arming, folks were happy to dig out their old scrap. It was a way to do their part, and they'd get some useful cloth scraps in return—these days, not everyone could afford cloth.

And Zhang Kai, who was always glued to his opera tunes, surprisingly went against his usual ways and voluntarily coughed up over a hundred catties of half-used copper and iron, claiming he wanted to "back up the magistrate," putting on a big show of sucking up to Le Wuya.

Anyone could see he figured his patron was about to fall and was desperate to get in good with the prefect and find a new patron.

Le Wuya gladly took it and, in return, sent three catties of cloth scraps to the Zhang house as a token of thanks.

He was all smiles with the common folk, but toward hidden enemies, he was as merciless as a scythe through weeds.

After the trade tax was waived, merchant ships kept piling in.

Le Wuya dispatched Mu Jiazhi, known for being a stickler for the rules, to run inspections, with a particularly sharp eye on fresh produce and fruit.

Ships hauling fresh produce had to have their cargo lists checked, and they needed permits from both ports plus maritime shipping papers before they were allowed to set sail. Additionally, Mu Jiazhi would put a squad of soldiers on board to ride along.

As for other cargo ships, most also carried fruit and vegetable provisions.

Mu Jiazhi was stone-faced and ruthless about it, sending soldiers aboard to count heads and check everyone one by one.

If they found the stored produce way more than the crew could eat, then there was trouble—they'd have to go to the government office to explain themselves, and the excess would be seized.

Of course, even under such high-pressure inspections, smuggling and illicit transport remained unavoidable.

But Le Wuya had struck with thunderous force, catching these bandits completely off guard and capturing many tongues alive.

He was no gentleman.

After employing some unsavory methods, these tongues spilled every bit of intelligence they knew.

Based on this intelligence, Le Wuya sent out troops to occupy over a dozen secret harbors and hidden inlets in Tongzhou that the Japanese pirates frequently used.

In this way, the bandits entrenched on the islands, plotting their future counterattack, found themselves cut off from supplies.

Meat and seafood were certainly not lacking, but the devouring power of nearly a thousand mouths was not to be underestimated.

After gnawing through the island's wild vegetables and the seaweed from the nearby waters, they were somewhat dumbfounded.

Winter had just ended, spring was just beginning, so wild fruits were naturally unavailable, and they simply didn't have time to clear land and plant vegetables.

Master Xi remained steady and composed.

Because Zhang Kai had given him quite a lot of money.

This desolate island was the closest to Tongzhou, so sourcing goods from Tongzhou was naturally the most convenient.

But with ships and money in hand, they could buy produce from other places—it just took more time to transport, and the quantities brought in were quite limited.

In short, people like Master Xi never lacked for fruits and vegetables.

Whenever any stragglers slipped through, with ten or eight crates of produce making it to the island, they all went to the upper echelons as tribute.

Of course, the Japanese ronin also enjoyed priority.

That was only natural.

After all, there was still seaweed in the sea—they could scoop some up and eat it, and it wouldn't kill anyone.

...

One evening.

With no visitors at the scrap metal collection stall, the two garrison soldiers on duty were chatting idly when suddenly, two men with sallow complexions and scarred faces walked in.

The man at the front stammered, "A pound of nails, for—for a hundred wen, right?"

The garrison soldiers nodded: "That's right."

"Cash?"

"Cash."

The two men put their heads together, muttered for a while, but didn't hand over any goods—just turned and left.

The two garrison soldiers exchanged glances, feeling pretty baffled.

But they clearly remembered Qin Xingyue's instructions: "If anyone comes asking about nails, but doesn't buy and looks shady, come get me."

The next day, Qin Xingyue sat in the shed, shamelessly propping his hurt leg up on the table, using a straw hat to cover his face as he dozed.

When someone came in with heavy footsteps, shoving the curtain aside, Qin Xingyue peeked out from under his straw hat and casually glanced at the newcomer.

The visitor looked around, then pulled a packet of nails from inside his shirt.

Qin Xingyue hefted it in his hand—about two pounds.

He opened it up and made a face of disgust: "These are old nails. The boss said..."

"They're old, but not rusty! We polished each one before coming—they're good nails!" the man hurriedly explained, the motion stretching his dry, blistered lips, but he didn't dare complain about the pain, instead forcing an ingratiating smile, "Sir, sir, please have mercy."

Qin Xingyue singled out one particularly unusual nail from the pile.

He casually picked it up and pressed it in his palm.

That's right.

It was a nail for securing cannon mounts.

The boss is really... really...

He wasn't well-read, and after racking his brain for a while, he couldn't find the right words, so he gave up.

Qin Xingyue pretended to be picky: "Where did you get these nails? You didn't steal them, did you?"

The man made up a lie on the spot: "Truth be told, sir, I picked up old nails outside the blacksmith camp. They were all bent at first, and I straightened every one by hand. Sir, considering I've worked hard even if I don't get any credit, please have mercy."

Qin Xingyue glanced at him, opened the money jar beside him, took out a hundred-wen string of coins, thought for a moment, then grabbed another string of ten wen, and pushed them both toward him: "If you're willing to work hard, that's a good thing. You look so thin—take this ten wen, it'll get you a couple more buns. Remember, don't go telling anyone else."

The man's eyes lit up, and he took the two strings of coins, nodding and thanking him profusely.

—These scouts and underlings sent to spy within Tongzhou Prefecture only had a few big coins for food, no proper ID papers, and had to sleep under bridges at night—they really had no other way to scrounge up money for extra grub.

They also didn't dare get close to that rich man Zhang, asking him for a couple of coins—word was that the magistrate had his eye on him, and getting too close to him might get them busted.

If it weren't for Li Si and Wang Wu—who'd come back to the island yesterday and tipped him off about this way to make money—with his gums that kept ulcerating and healing, over and over, in another ten days or two weeks, his teeth would probably start loosening.

He wasn't even in the worst shape.

His uncle had come to the island with him, and after going nearly twenty days without vegetables or fruit, his joints ached like crazy—he'd been bedridden for two or three days already.

A hundred wen could buy quite a few fruits to sneak back.

Qin Xingyue looked at his eyes, which were glistening with tears, and smiled: "...If there are more out by the blacksmith camp, go get more."

"Next time you come, I might not be around. So I'll tell the others—just say Brother Le sent you. As long as you say that, they'll spot you a bit more cash. Got it?"

Author's note:

Yaya: He's gotta thank us for this.