Chapter 53: Just Enough

After the chief guard of the He family, Yuan Qing, was killed, the position remained vacant for some time. Only recently had Feng Miao been appointed as his successor.

On his first day in office, Feng Miao was surrounded by his brothers for a celebratory drink at East Market—never expecting to run into Yang Xuan there.

“That man has luck on his side, actually becoming the Chief Constable.”

After several rounds of wine, Feng Miao was feeling bold and spirited. “So what if he’s the Chief Constable? If I wanted to deal with him, it would be a simple matter.”

Someone remarked, “He’s still a student at the Imperial Academy.”

Feng Miao sneered, “What, is he going to stay inside the Academy forever?”

He Huan had recently been beaten mercilessly by his father and was still recovering from his injuries. Bored during his convalescence, he alternated between reading and pondering his adversaries. Yang Xuan’s name naturally came up…

“If not for Yang Xuan, we could’ve killed Yan City that night. There’d have been no need for such a public spectacle… He was nearly assassinated by a lunatic right outside the Imperial City.”

He Huan was still vexed by the incident, and Feng Miao, newly in power, was eager to make a name for himself on his master’s behalf.

“I’ll request instructions from the young master,” Feng Miao decided. He thought using Yang Xuan as the spark to mark his new tenure was perfectly fitting.

When seeking amusement, one must keep the revelry rolling. After drinking themselves senseless in a restaurant, they headed to the brothels of Pingkang Ward…

Ordinary people’s daily rhythms are to rise with the sun, work, return home at dusk, eat, and sleep. The brothels, however, kept a different schedule—sleeping at sunrise, starting work at sunset, eating…

During the day, the brothels had few customers. The courtesans, forced to work, were naturally irritable and soon fell asleep after some perfunctory effort.

As dusk fell, the moonlight was enchanting.

Customers began to fill the brothels.

A shadow flitted across the courtyard wall, astonishingly swift.

A filthy face, tattered clothes…

The foolish grin remained, but the eyes had turned sharp.

After glancing around, the man darted to the right.

The brothel, as its name suggests, was a multistoried building, with a row of wooden pavilions from which all manner of sounds now spilled.

The man reached the base of the building but did not stop. With a light step, he leapt up and grasped the second-floor window ledge with precision.

It was hot, so the window was open. He listened to the breathing of the two people inside, then slipped in effortlessly.

Moonlight shone by the bed, and two pairs of shoes lay on the floor.

A couple lay on the bed, not embracing due to the heat. The man leaned over for a closer look…

Feng Miao awoke with a start, only to see a filthy face…

And a short knife.

…

At dawn, Yang Xuan awoke.

He got out of bed and stretched. Most of his injuries had healed.

Ah, youth.

Yang Xuan opened the door and stepped outside.

In the morning light, a dark figure huddled beneath the steps, arms around his knees, dozing.

Yang Xuan was startled. “Who’s there?”

Cao Ying, already up and out for a stroll, dashed over. The old thief was even faster, brandishing his broadsword as he came.

Clang!

The old thief pressed his blade to the figure’s neck, while Cao Ying placed a hand on the figure’s head…

But the figure seemed oblivious, turning around and holding something up with delight. “For you.”

It was an opened wooden box, reeking of blood, enough to make one retch. Inside lay a grinning, contorted head.

“Isn’t that Feng Miao?”

After the previous day’s conflict at East Market, the old thief had investigated and confirmed Feng Miao’s identity.

That man had bared his teeth at Yang Xuan just yesterday; now, he bared them again—only this time, they were stiff and lifeless.

A chill ran from the top of Yang Xuan’s head to the soles of his feet.

“For you.” The shadowy figure grinned happily, utterly unconcerned about the blade at his throat.

That foolish smile…

“My lord, this fool ate your sesame cake yesterday.” The old thief, a seasoned scoundrel, now found his knees weak. “If he’d slipped into your bedchamber…”

As the day brightened, the filthy beggar knelt on one knee, looking up, beaming with joy as he held up the wooden box. “For you.”

Let’s talk this out… Yang Xuan’s lips quivered. “Alright.”

Leaving the head for the old thief to deal with, Yang Xuan began his questioning.

“How did you find this place?”

“I heard you talking about Yongning Ward, Chen Qu.” The beggar sniffed.

“You searched every house here?” Yang Xuan asked.

The beggar shook his head. “I felt my way here.”

Felt his way… Cao Ying crossed his arms, feeling a chill.

“Get up.” Yang Xuan couldn’t read this beggar at all.

The beggar stood, and Yang Xuan asked, “Where are you from?”

The beggar shook his head.

Mother said, never reveal where you’re from.

“What do you do?”

“I look for food.”

Yang Xuan was at a loss, so he asked casually, “Where are your parents?”

Such a fool, whose parents would let him roam free?

Mother said, this one can be answered.

“I’m called Wang Lao’er. My father was a merchant. The last time he went out to do business, he never came back…”

“What sort of business?” Cao Ying interjected.

The beggar ignored him. “Father died. Mother was hurt trying to recover his body. When she returned, she grabbed my hand and said…”

He mimicked a woman’s voice, “Son! We have too many enemies. You can fight them, but you’re slow-witted. I’m afraid you’ll be tricked…”

A beggar who could decapitate the He family’s guard and search the houses of Chen Qu’s neighborhood in the dead of night must be quite skilled.

“So why did you come to me?” Yang Xuan asked.

Wang Lao’er scratched his head, grinning foolishly. “Mother told me to go to Chang’an. She said merchants are all sly. I’m slow, so they’d trick me into working for free.”

“Mother said, don’t steal, or you’ll get caught. If you have to, beg. The first person who gives you meat—follow him. If he gives you a second meal, treat him as a brother…”

Wang Lao’er looked up. “Mother said, if you eat someone’s food, you must work for them, or you won’t be able to eat for long… Will you still give me meat?”

Yang Xuan nodded. “Yes.”

Wang Lao’er was overjoyed. “I want lamb.”

“Alright.”

Yang Xuan asked, “Where’s your mother?”

Wang Lao’er blinked. “Mother held my hand and said…”

“She wanted to care for me forever, but… I must live well; she’s watching me from below…”

He nodded, smiling through tears.

From that moment, Wang Lao’er had no mother.

“Go bathe.”

Yang Xuan gestured to the old thief to arrange a bath and clean clothes for Wang Lao’er.

After they left, Cao Ying remarked, “His father’s business… probably not above board, was it?”

Yang Xuan nodded. “His mother got badly hurt recovering the body and sent Wang Lao’er to Chang’an to avoid disaster. It means their enemies would track them home.”

Cao Ying said, “He’s a fool.”

“We’ll see,” Yang Xuan replied, uncertain.

When Yi Niang heard the story, she felt sorry for Wang Lao’er and personally prepared a pot of lamb noodles.

After bathing and changing, Wang Lao’er’s skin was quite fair, and with his silly grin, there was even a hint of handsomeness.

“Time to eat.”

Yang Xuan sat at the head, the others below.

The lamb noodles were delicious. Yang Xuan bowed his head to eat…

He noticed the room was unusually quiet and looked up.

The bowl was large, and the noodles plentiful. Wang Lao’er picked up half the noodles with his chopsticks, lowered his head…

Slurp…

He chewed and swallowed furiously.

Soon, he picked up more.

Slurp…

He lifted the bowl, draining it in one gulp.

He set it down and looked at Yang Xuan. “Is there more?”

Yang Xuan nodded.

Wang Lao’er fetched another large bowl, filling it to the brim with broth.

Slurp!

Slurp!

He threw back his head and finished it in one go.

“Is there more?”

Yi Niang stood up, shivering. “I’ll make more right away.”

Had they adopted a bottomless pit?

After breakfast, Wang Lao’er sat on the steps, basking in the sun, utterly content.

“Actually, fools are happier than normal people,” Zhuque mused, playing the sage today.

“Why’s that?” Yang Xuan was puzzled.

“Because they’re always happy.”

“But they’re fools.”

“People drink, gamble, whore, smoke—for pleasure. Isn’t that foolish?”

Yang Xuan was speechless.

“He’s a beggar,” Cao Ying reported after investigating Wang Lao’er’s background. “He’s listed as a fugitive peasant.”

A fugitive peasant—those who flee their home region to avoid taxes.

“So, a beggar,” Yang Xuan nodded. “Is he really a fool?”

Cao Ying replied, “I think…”

“He’s a fool,” the old thief squatting nearby declared in an expert tone. “The real thing.”

“What can he do?” Yang Xuan asked.

“Manual labor,” said the old thief.

Cao Ying sneered. “Isn’t that your job?”

The old thief coughed. “Or odd jobs.”

Yang Xuan cut off their bickering. “He seems quite skilled. Who’ll test him?”

“I will!”

The old thief wanted to show off before his lord, but Cao Ying beat him to it.

Cao Ying and Wang Lao’er faced each other.

Yang Xuan acted as referee. “No killing, just a friendly bout.”

Cao Ying placed one hand behind his back, smiling. “Come on!”

The old thief praised, “Such bearing—no wonder he calls himself a gentleman.”

Wang Lao’er looked to Yang Xuan.

After two meals of meat from Yang Xuan, Wang Lao’er felt he’d found a home. Mother had said, as long as this man didn’t hit him, he should listen to him.

Yang Xuan nodded.

Cao Ying smiled.

The old thief squatted nearby, plucking grass out of boredom.

Yi Niang idly wondered what to cook for dinner…

A shadow flickered.

A halt.

Cao Ying’s hand was only halfway to his waist when a fist was already at his chest.

The force of the blow ruffled his hair, sending it flying.

Old man! This must be an illusion—Cao Ying thought he was seeing things. “You…”

Everyone stared, dumbfounded.

Bang!

The fist tapped Cao Ying’s chest.

Splurt!

Cao Ying spat blood.

Wang Lao’er stepped back, still grinning, but there was a vague aura about him—subtle, indescribable.

“Just a friendly match.”