Chapter 282: Disaster Arrives (4)

The night deepened, the moon hung high overhead, and Zhong Piaoping had still not returned.

...And Wang Cheng had not returned either.

Le Wuya pushed open the window of the Niu Family Inn that faced the street, his gaze sweeping over row after row of rooftops, looking into the distance.

Moonlight spilled down like water, and the entire county town was bathed in the scent of medicine, appearing exceptionally peaceful.

Only a few days after the disaster, the streets had already returned to normal—a sign of how strictly the local officials ran things.

But that was exactly why it felt too quiet.

...So quiet that it seemed as if Wang Cheng and Zhong Piaoping had never existed in this world at all.

Qin Xingyue could wait no longer. He jumped to his feet: "Sir, I'll go find the two of them!"

Le Wuya did not answer. He merely tilted his head slightly, his index finger pressing down slightly, as if pushing the man's shoulder from across the room.

Qin Xingyue forced down the restless churning in his chest and sat back down in his original seat. His bad leg twitched like it was keeping time, tapping an uneven rhythm on the stone floor.

If it had been Jiang He who had gone out to gather intelligence, Qin Xingyue wouldn't have worried one bit.

First, Jiang He was quick and skilled.

Sure, Wang Cheng was one of the best constables, skilled with both saber and sword, but compared to men who'd actually fought for their lives on a battlefield, he just didn't have that killer instinct.

Second, Wang Cheng was far more composed than Jiang He.

That was his strength, but also his weakness.

Jiang He had once wandered off from the company in the wilderness for three days, on the young general's orders to find water for the Tianlang Camp.

On the morning of the fourth day, just as Qin Xingyue was crawling out of his tent, worried sick, he saw Jiang He—disheveled, with a dirty face and a look that said "no big deal"—holding a map to the water source, munching on a flatbread in front of his tent. When he spotted Qin Xingyue, he looked up with a blank stare: "Did good. Got any water?"

Jiang He was tough as nails—always had some weird luck on his side. He was also a few screws short, never playing by the rules, and was an expert at giving everyone around him a headache.

So even if he ran off to the ends of the earth, Qin Xingyue wouldn't worry this much.

But Wang Cheng was different.

He was too steady. He always thought everything through, like he wanted to have two backup plans for every single thing.

He followed orders to the letter and got things done, but he was always super considerate of other people's feelings.

Unless something had happened and he was stuck somewhere, he'd have at least sent word back by now.

The unease wrapped around his heart like a spider's web, pulling tighter by the second.

What was even stranger was that everything they'd seen and heard since entering the city seemed perfectly normal.

Qin Xingyue ran through every person and every event in his head, but couldn't find a single flaw.

—And that lack of flaws was what made it so unsettling.

Qin Xingyue had strength to burn, fists clenched, but he didn't know where to throw the punch.

Just as the anxiety was peaking, two soft knocks came at the door.

Le Wuya did not move, but Qin Xingyue shot up, limping three steps at a time to the door, and yanked it open—

Outside stood a young waiter with a panicked, confused look on his face.

He licked his lips and struggled to twist his tongue into proper official speech: "Honored guests, your meal's been reheated twice already. Any more and it'll be ruined..."

Le Wuya could tell from the footsteps alone it wasn't one of his men, so he turned around slowly: "Young man, come in and talk."

The waiter gave a quick "ai" and carefully edged past the murderous vibe coming off Qin Xingyue, squeezing into the room with a big smile on his face: "Sir, feel free to ask whatever you want."

Le Wuya countered: "So, what do you figure we are?"

The waiter seriously sized up the two men, then smiled: "My eyes aren't sharp, but I've seen plenty of travelers from north and south, and I know a little about reading faces. The two of you have purple aura around your brows—clearly men of wealth and status!"

Le Wuya smiled at that, fished a bit of loose silver from his pouch, and tossed it to him: "Sharp tongue you've got. That's for you."

While the waiter beamed and hurriedly bit the silver to test it, Le Wuya asked, trying to sound casual: "I'm thinking of opening a shop here in Dansui. Since you're a man of no small experience, help me figure—if I need to grease the wheels at the yamen, about how much silver would it take?"

"If you want to open a shop, first find a good spot, then treat the neighborhood headman to a meal, then file your paperwork with the Household Office and you're done." The waiter's eyes never left the silver as he answered, totally natural. "But if you're dealing in salt or iron, that depends on how good your connections are—you'll have to grease some palms. Those salt and iron permits are precious; our Master Zhou might not be able to swing them."

Le Wuya waved a hand: "Nothing that complicated. I just want to open a fur goods shop. By custom, how much is the 'tribute'? To be honest, I'm a bit tight on funds. If the price is too steep, I might as well inquire in another county."

The waiter said with a sincere face: "Our Master Zhou is an upright official—he never accepts bribes."

"Not even 'lamp oil money'?"

"Oh, you know about that too?" The waiter thumped his chest. "I've worked here three or four years now. At most, when the yamen runners come by for tea, we waive the tea fee, and drinks go on the tab, settled every six months. When they're short on cash, they might put off paying seven or eight tenths of it for a month or two. There's no other exaction beyond that."

"That's truly excellent." Le Wuya said to Qin Xingyue with a smile, "Looks like we've come to the right place."

With that, he instructed the waiter: "Bring up the food. We won't wait any longer."

The waiter, clutching his tip, left with a beaming smile.

Le Wuya made a gesture to Qin Xingyue.

Qin Xingyue understood at once. He silently stepped a few paces forward and, through the gap in the bamboo curtain, quietly observed the scene downstairs.

He watched as the waiter first tucked the silver into the pouch against his body, then ran downstairs. So delighted was he that his footsteps thudded heavily against the floorboards, earning a scolding from the accountant below: "Lighter steps."

After saying this, the accountant seemed afraid of disturbing the guests and glanced up toward the upper floor.

Fortunately, Qin Xingyue had stepped back just in time, avoiding that glance.

The scolded waiter shrank his head and ducked into a side room on the left side of the back hall.

In the blink of an eye, he emerged again, then slipped as if nothing had happened into a room on the right side of the back hall.

When he came out again, he was carrying a large tray laden with food.

Qin Xingyue had spent a long time working as a spy alongside Le Wuya. At this sight, a buzz went off in his head.

He had finally caught a hint of abnormality within all this seeming normalcy.

...This waiter, who had supposedly "worked three or four years" at the Niu Family Inn, didn't even seem to know which way the kitchen door faced!

By the time the waiter brought the food up, Qin Xingyue had already returned to his seat, his heart pounding violently.

And Le Wuya, stroking the windowsill, remained utterly unruffled.

This young waiter hadn't slipped up in any other way.

The only slip was that he knew what "lamp-oil money" meant.

The list of exorbitant levies was as long as the hairs on an ox, and lamp-oil money was one of them.

Some corrupt government offices, under the pretext of "needing lamps for night patrols," would extort silver from shops every month, calling it "lamp-oil money."

This tax was fairly under the table, often a secret deal between the yamen and shopkeepers or head clerks.

A young waiter whose job was just to greet and see off guests—when he heard "lamp-oil money," his first reaction wasn't confusion, wasn't "isn't lamp oil something you just have to buy?" but instead he could accurately point out it was one of the yamen's miscellaneous taxes?

Of course, you couldn't rule out that this young waiter was quick to learn and liked to ask around, or that he'd pieced together Le Wuya's back-and-forth questions and guessed this thing wasn't anything good.

That's why he'd sent Qin Xingyue to take a look.

Unexpectedly, that single look caught an even bigger flaw of his.

When the young waiter pushed the door open again, beaming, Qin Xingyue asked coldly, "Have the horses been fed?"

The waiter still smiled warmly: "Right you are, sir, mixed in bran and fodder early on, fed them plenty!"

Qin Xingyue fought back the goosebumps creeping up his back: "Fine, later bring some water for our master; he wants to bathe."

"You got it."

"Where's the latrine?" Qin Xingyue stood up. "I gotta go."

The waiter pointed the way.

Qin Xingyue went downstairs, entered the back courtyard, and when no one was watching, quickly lifted the curtain of the door the waiter had accidentally opened earlier and peered inside.

The waiter had originally gone to fetch food, but since Qin Xingyue had been standing far away, he couldn't rule out the possibility that someone had called him over to chat.

But with that one look, Qin Xingyue was eighty percent sure.

This was the woodshed—inside, aside from firewood, there wasn't a soul.

...But why, though?

The Niu Family Inn was the place they'd decided to stay at only yesterday, after Wang Cheng had asked folks from the neighboring county.

After he and the master had taken a turn around the city, they entered the Niu Family Inn, and it was this very young waiter who'd come out to greet them all enthusiastically.

Even if someone behind the scenes had arranged things in advance, they couldn't have calculated it this precisely.

...Unless every inn in Dansui County had planted government informants, just waiting to catch their prey.

Qin Xingyue's heart pounded with alarm. Forcing down his unease, he walked forward a couple of steps as if nothing were wrong, when he heard the sound of official gongs and heralds clearing the way.

A thought struck Qin Xingyue. He quickened his pace and, along with several other lodgers eating in the main hall, craned his neck to look outside.

At that sight, his blood ran cold.

...Wang Cheng?!

On the dirt road outside, a squad of soldiers and a man who looked like a Village Head were escorting a tightly bound Wang Cheng, heading straight toward them.

The front of Wang Cheng's blue cloth robe was soaked with blood, and a wound on his forehead was still dripping.

His face was pale, his steps unsteady, but as he passed Qin Xingyue, he didn't spare him a single look.

Qin Xingyue forced down the anxiety churning inside him and looked around with feigned curiosity.

Soon, he noticed a man who looked like a shopkeeper speaking in low tones with the Village Head in charge of the escort, handing over a small pouch of tobacco leaves.

The two exchanged a few whispered words, and the shopkeeper, with a smug look on his face, turned and came back.

A few curious onlookers immediately crowded around.

"Shopkeeper Chen, what's all this about?" Before Qin Xingyue could ask, someone else blurted out impatiently.

Shopkeeper Chen knew how to string people along. He squinted, smiled, and instead of answering, asked back, "You know those three profiteers hanging at the county gate?"

Someone quickly cut in: "Pah! Isn't it the rice seller Yan the Third, the cloth seller You the Second, and the vegetable seller Blackie Liu? That damned Yan the Third—the other day I went to buy grain, and the bastard jacked up the price of a sheng of rice by five coppers! Serves him right!"

But those eager for a good story weren't having it: "Don't interrupt. This guy looks unfamiliar—what's he got to do with those three?"

"This guy, he's got some nerve! Who knows where he popped up from, but he barged straight into You the Second's house, waving the government's banner to extort money, saying stuff like, 'If you fork over some silver, I'll get your man released.' But You the Second's wife heard he wasn't from around here, and while he wasn't paying attention, she grabbed a weapon and gave him a whack, then called the workers to surround him, tied him up good, and reported him to Village Head Wu, who then notified the authorities!"

"You the Second's wife has that kind of guts?"

"No kidding. Who'd dare pull a stunt like that these days? Must have lost his mind, right?"

"Men die for money, birds die for food, as they say."

Qin Xingyue stood there, frozen.

Cicadas shrieked noisily above his head, and behind him, the abacus in the Niu Family Inn's counting room clattered away.

The night breeze, with the summer heat not yet fully faded, swept past—yet it carried an inexplicable chill that surged fiercely. That chill, damp like well water, seeped bit by bit into his skin and blood, all the way down to his heart and lungs.