Chapter 118: Stormy Clouds
Outside the Window, autumn winds blew bleakly, swirling up a few withered leaves that battered the window lattice, making a rustling sound, which only accentuated the sorrowful and lingering sobs inside the room.
“Old Chen?”
Cheng Bin was stunned upon hearing this, his brows suddenly knitting into a frown, his voice carrying a trace of barely perceptible hesitation,
“What happened to Old Chen?”
“What happened!?” Xiao Man suddenly threw herself into Cheng Bin’s arms, her warm, soft body filling his embrace.
She twisted her waist like a water snake, almost burrowing into Cheng Bin’s chest.
Her voice carried a sobbing tone, piteously saying: “You don’t know, that man came to the painted boat to listen to music, took a fancy to me, and insisted on groping me…”
She lifted her face, tears glistening: “Later, later, he even tried to force himself on me! I’m a pure courtesan! How could I endure such humiliation? Fortunately, my mom heard the noise and burst in in time; otherwise, how could I have the face to see you again, sir!”
“Is that so?”
Cheng Bin’s eyes flickered intensely upon hearing this, his face alternating between dark and light.
In his mind appeared Old Chen’s face, weathered by wind and frost, always carrying a somewhat wooden and honest expression.
Old Chen was always proper and steady, not one to talk much usually; by rights, he shouldn’t be so reckless. Could it be…
Doubts surged in his heart, and he immediately stood up: “Wait here, I’ll go ask Old Chen!”
Cheng Bin immediately stood up, but Xiao Man grabbed him, her fingertips turning slightly white from the force, her voice pleading,
“Sir, don’t stab at my heart again! If you confront him, no matter if he admits it or not, once this scandal gets out, how can I have the face to live in this world? I’d rather drown myself!”
“No! I won’t ask, I won’t ask.” Cheng Bin’s heart tightened, and he hurriedly pulled her back into his arms, comforting her softly.
“Sir, let’s go, far away to a high-flying place, find a quiet spot; you till the fields, I weave cloth, have a few fat boys, and continue the incense for your Old Cheng family.”
“This…”
Cheng Bin showed hesitation: “But my possessions…”
Cheng Bin had struggled for most of his life to buy a small house in Wuqing County and had a decent errand; how could he abandon them?
And going to the countryside to be a dirt-rich landlord would also be a huge expense.
But as soon as he saw the delicate beauty in his arms, his heart softened again.
Cheng Bin hesitated for a moment, as if making a great resolution: “If worst comes to worst, I’ll sell my post, pawn the house, and borrow some silver from the money house?”
A flash of triumph quickly passed through Xiao Man’s eyes, immediately replaced by thicker anxiety,
“Sir, you mustn’t; I’m just a cheap life with no father, no mother, no one to care for me—how am I worth that? Just now I was blinded by lard, speaking without thinking; sir, don’t take it to heart.”
Cheng Bin let out a long sigh, pulling Xiao Man, who had seven parts grievance and three parts coquetry on her face, into his arms.
“Don’t worry about this; I’ll think of a way. With you by my side, I’m willing to do anything.”
Seeing this, Xiao Man naturally buried her face in his shoulder, a sly glint passing through her eyes.
Talk of selling the post and borrowing couldn’t come from her mouth.
Otherwise, it would surely alert Cheng Bin.
He had to convince himself, think of it on his own.
She would half-push half-accept, go with the flow.
And it would be done.
“It’s just a pity that Chen Shun’an has a heart of iron, repeatedly not taking the bait; otherwise, a fifty-year-old widower, how could he withstand my eighteen techniques of rubbing, twisting, grinding, and pinching? Sooner or later, I’d have him owing massive debts and send him to the west! After eating his one bill, Landlord Zhao would surely give me the antidote…”
“Why would I need to put up with this cripple, pretending and dawdling…”
Xiao Man didn’t know what she thought of, but under her almond eyes, a vicious glint passed.
……
“This vixen indeed harbors evil intentions and schemes, even trying to slander my innocence.”
Chen Shun’an quietly trailed behind the bedroom rooftop of Cheng’s house, his legs hanging from the eaves like an upside-down bat, his eyes sharp and alert, ears slightly moving; even with just a sliver of window gap, he clearly heard the movements inside the room.
After Chen Shun’an left, the more he thought, the more something felt off; he always worried this vixen would get angry from embarrassment and bite him back.
So he found an excuse to inform Lin Shou Zhuo and the others, left midway, and doubled back here.
Now seeing this, it was indeed as Chen Shun’an expected!
Seduction failed, and she counterattacked—this was bullying an honest man!
From the bedroom gradually came the faint rustling sounds of undressing, accompanied by some lingering, warbling voice.
Chen Shun’an naturally had no such voyeuristic habit; his figure lightly leaped and floated, landing in the dark alley behind like a withered leaf, vanishing in an instant.
At the alley entrance, passersby occasionally felt a sudden darkness overhead, as if a gray shadow flashed over the eaves; they looked up in startled suspicion, rubbed their eyes, found nothing, and thought they had seen a ghost.
Returning to the Grit Well, he pushed up that heavy unicycle water cart, and Chen Shun’an made another trip to Scholar Ma’s home.
After the Beginning of Autumn this year, the temperature dropped sharply, and the weather grew increasingly cold.
The bustling crowds on the street, even the wealthy ones, were basically wearing robes and padded jackets.
Chen Shun’an heard Scholar Ma say that this year’s weather was abnormal; in summer, dark clouds pressed over the city, black clouds rolled, yet it often went half a month without rain.
And the sudden cold after the Beginning of Autumn, according to his observations and calculations, probably before the twelfth lunar month, the Grand Canal would freeze over.
At that time, canal transport would be cut off, north-south goods flow blocked, prices soaring, various chain reactions; it would likely freeze and starve countless to death again.
Scholar Ma suggested Chen Shun’an stockpile grain and make clothes, apply pepper mud to walls, prepare charcoal fire in advance, and plan early.
In the end, rubbing his hands, he bashfully borrowed five taels of silver from Chen Shun’an again…
Chen Shun’an, who peddled small loans, got fleeced instead; helplessly generous, he finally left the mixed courtyard, pushing the unicycle onto the main street.
Chen Shun’an largely believed Scholar Ma’s ‘prophecy’.
But now, he was clearly preoccupied with other thoughts.
Xiao Man was too professional, everything about her screamed oddity.
The flower boat Chen Shun’an visited that time wasn’t a high-end brothel, just an ordinary pleasure house.
The prostitutes there, after a few years of training by the madam, could write a few characters, recite a few poems to boost their value, then hurriedly debut.
But Xiao Man’s enunciation was uniquely different, soft and crispy, proficient in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting; she was simply like a white lotus blooming in mud and filth.
It was only because Chen Shun’an turned hostile and denied; anyone else would have few who could resist.
Who had cultivated Xiao Man’s literary elegance?
She schemed so deliberately to approach Cheng Bin—was it for money or to kill?
If Chen Shun’an had been even slightly soft-hearted, today’s Cheng Bin might have become today’s Chen Shun’an?
“The Sacred Dynasty has outstanding people and spirits; whether man or ghost, all are acting—how is there another little trap?”
Chen Shun’an showed a helpless expression, pushed the empty cart back to the Grit Well, and skillfully propped up the cart shaft with a wooden fork.
After waiting a moment, seeing San Dezi return to load water, Chen Shun’an went up to him and said,
“San Dezi, I need to trouble you with something: help me scout some information, get the lowdown on a person.”
San Dezi was stunned, then patted his chest like offering a treasure, grinning,
“Brother Chen, whatever it is, just say it! There’s no info in Wuqing County I can’t dig up; no wind or grass escapes me.”
Moments later, San Dezi hurried away.
Chen Shun’an took over San Dezi’s errand, delivering water for him several times.
Dusk fell, the last bit of daylight by the Grit Well swallowed up.
Street shops lit lanterns, and the water carriers here at the Grit Well also clocked out one after another.
San Dezi returned to the Grit Well with a slightly tense expression, glanced at Chen Shun’an who seemed just to have woken up, and said gravely,
“Brother Chen, I found out: those painted boats and flower boats we frequent, book sheds, tea houses… all entertainment spots have, more or less, one person’s shadow behind them.”
“Who?”
“Zhao Guanghui.”
Chen Shun’an’s pupils suddenly contracted sharply, the doubts in his heart instantly connecting, many vague clues seeming to find direction.
San Dezi continued: “He’s not necessarily the landlord boss, but connects through funding, providing manpower, helping block fists.”
I followed this line and found many who owed usury to the Guanghui Money House; before vanishing, they either redeemed a sentimental prostitute; or thought they found a bargain but ended up on the King of Hell’s Account, only to get badly burned; or simply squandered a fortune in the Bao Ju, piling up debts!
San Dezi and Chen Shun’an exchanged a look, both understanding the dark business behind the Guanghui Money House.
Set up traps, force bankruptcy, then directly grab people to repay!
“Brother Chen, you gotta stay far from the Guanghui Money House, don’t touch the King of Hell’s Account; if you’re short on money, I’ll lend it to you—bite the bullet, even a few hundred taels of silver I can come up with…”
San Dezi couldn’t help advising.
He knew practicing martial arts was a money pit, a bottomless hole, and feared Chen Shun’an straying off path.
“Don’t worry, I know.”
Chen Shun’an’s expression unchanged.
In the next two days, the newly established Wuqing Stick Bureau showed astonishing efficiency, utterly different from the usual government offices’ procrastination and tedium.
Funds ample, personnel in place, all parties’ wills unified and harmonious.
An invisible patrol inspector net quickly spread, dividing patrol areas, transferring manpower from the Outer Department, covering the whole county, checking unfamiliar martial artists, verifying missing persons.
First-rate experts from the Inner Department took turns leading teams to the Banye Ferry Crossing, Bewitching Bay, Funiu Water Marsh, and other waters, setting up sentries along the riverside, dagger traps, recruiting skilled swimmers among fishermen to dive and search, watching for suspicious activity.
But yesterday an accident occurred: a first-rate expert from a folk martial arts school, during a routine patrol at Bewitching Bay, accidentally encountered a demon, fell into the water, life and death unknown.
Became the Wuqing Stick Bureau’s first sacrificed first-rate expert.
And this seemed to thoroughly confirm Yuan Miao Zhu’s words that day.
Wuqing County was in peril.
Everyone’s hearts felt like a stone was pressing down, heavy.
Meanwhile, the Guo Lu Society crowd seemed to have evaporated from the human world; even if the Wuqing Stick Bureau turned the entire county upside down, nothing was found.
Now though it was autumn, the temperature cool, but after four or five days, the corpses of the Xin Character Hall Master and others exposed at the Vegetable Market Intersection had begun to gradually rot.
Fortunately, martial artists were strong and robust, with vigorous qi and blood, which greatly reduced parasites and eggs in their bodies, extending the preservation time of their remains.
Not to mention the Xin Character Hall Master gathering muscle strength, He Yu Shu, who slew two bandits; placed in some remote backwater, they were nearly living diamonds, true arhats, whose corpses after death could be used enshrined as filth guardians.
So these few corpses were still relatively intact, without maggots biting.
