Chapter Fifty-Two: The Fourth Chapter of Release

“You’re a generous customer.”
The manager of the Zhou family’s stall beamed and quickly instructed his workers to count out the silver coins and bind up all twenty chickens, handing them over for Su Yang to take away.

Now, with eighty hens at home, as long as they were well fed, they’d lay eggs nearly every day. Each family member could have two, though Taohua and Meihua would get a bit more. As for protein, eggs were all they had; pork was becoming scarce, and even the newly purchased maids needed nourishing.

A chicken that once cost two hundred wen now fetched twenty taels—a testament to the profits of wartime. Yet, this silver didn’t belong to his own family, so he felt no pain spending it. The Song family’s fortune exceeded eight thousand taels, and he’d spent only five hundred today, sweeping up lard, firewood, sugar, and some less-than-fresh fruit and vegetables at the Zhou family’s market.

After making sure he wasn’t being followed, he returned home and released the twenty chickens into a special courtyard where someone fed, guarded, and cleaned up after them daily.

He had only just returned when news finally broke of the Song family’s massacre. A squad of constables entered the Song residence to search for clues, and Dongmen Qing was notified as well.

Dongmen Qing, with his countless wives and concubines and an indeterminate number of fathers-in-law, felt little sorrow—even though this was his principal wife’s own father. Only Yue Niang wept and wailed; Dongmen Qing, annoyed, went off to the brothel for diversion.

In these chaotic times, the destruction of homes and families was commonplace, and it was impossible to find out the culprit. Outwardly, Dongmen Qing still urged the constables to solve the case quickly, bring the murderer to justice, and bring peace to the spirits of the dead.

But in less than an hour, news came from the yamen: the Song family had been wiped out by the recently captured rebel soldiers—seven or eight of eighth rank strength, over twenty of ninth rank. For such a force, eliminating a household like the Songs was easy.

Dongmen Qing had no doubts. Even if he did, what was the point? The dead were gone, and none of them were important figures. He had an explanation for Yue Niang as well.

Outside the Wang family residence.

Another middle-aged man had come to sell his daughter. Su Yang checked her aptitude: Grade D. He bought her with two catties of grain. The price didn’t matter; what mattered was that the girl entered a wealthy household and would never starve again.

Her name: Dongwu.

Like the other maids, she was thin and small, but her features were not unattractive; after some time, her beauty would bloom. He brought her home and had Doukou instruct her in household rules.

As for Li Doukou, now that she hosted the mind-controlling parasite, she had become one of his hidden assets.

Su Yang set out at noon.

Wu family’s pancake shop.

Wang Po’s teahouse.

Shops on both sides of the street were shuttered. Su Yang knocked at Wang Po’s door; there was no response. The old, creaky door yielded with a push, and he entered from the back.

A foul stench soon filled the air.

Inside, Wang Po had become a puddle of flesh, collapsed on the floor, dried blood pooling around her—clearly murdered, her household grain looted. Besides Wang Po, there was a man’s corpse with graying hair; clearly no youngster, likely her lover, his clothes still in disarray.

So much for gathering information from Wang Po or enlisting her help; he’d have to personally knock on Pan Yinlian’s back door.

Dongmen Qing had his eyes on both his mother-in-law and sister-in-law, pressing hard. In a few days, Su Yang would have to visit Dongmen Qing’s home as a guest, and Dongmen Qing would surely request a return visit.

Refusing would be difficult; if Dongmen Qing, infuriated, tried to use force on the women, his sixth-rank martial ability would be no match. The only recourse would be to set someone else on him.

Knock, knock, knock!

From outside came the sound of a brass knocker pounding against the wooden door. Footsteps echoed in the courtyard, but the door remained closed.

“Who is it?”

Inside, Wu Dalang called out.

“Oh, I’ve come to buy pancakes. Yours are the best—I couldn’t resist.”

“We’re not selling lately. Move along.”

“Master Wu, don’t worry. I brought my own flour. Could you make me some? We’ll split them—half for you, half for me. What do you say?”

With flour as precious as gold, any pancake maker would be hard-pressed to refuse, but Wu Dalang’s impatient voice soon responded: “Not making any, not for now. Be on your way.”

With that, Su Yang heard Wu Dalang retreat into the house.

His younger brother was chief constable—how could they be short of food? Before the rebel siege he still ran his pancake business, partly out of habit, partly because he didn’t know what to do with himself at home. Better to get out and about.

“Damn it.”

Su Yang frowned. The fish wasn’t biting. From the nearby alley, Shen Lian emerged—his strength had just reached the eighth rank a few days prior.

“Su Yang, Wu Dalang is the chief constable’s own brother. Best not to provoke him.”

Shen Lian spoke.

“Don’t worry, Brother Shen. I know what I’m doing.”

“By the way, how many days are you on duty here?” Su Yang asked.

“After the rebel siege, I took the chief constable’s side for my own safety. Once I reached eighth rank, he assigned me here to guard his brother. One man per shift, seven days each, four men in all. Today’s the second day. Every time, he picks an eighth-rank constable for this post—shows how much his brother means to him.”

Shen Lian sighed. “I may be eighth rank now, but I’m still a constable. Who knows when I’ll be assigned to defend the city walls and end up dead on the battlements?”

“If that happens, I’ll leave my sister in your care. But if you die before me, what becomes of her?”

“Brother Shen, rest assured. No matter who else dies, I won’t go first. I’ll come find you for a drink in a couple of days. I’m heading back for now.”

With nothing achieved today, Su Yang could only go home and think of a new plan.

Wu Dalang’s courtyard faced the street in front, with a residential neighborhood in back, where Su Yang had just been. He circled from the neighborhood to the street, intending to return home that way.

Creak, creak, creak...

As Su Yang, disappointed, walked along the street, a window on the second floor suddenly opened. A vision of beauty appeared behind the curtain, peering down as if searching for her beloved.

Slender as a flower, delicate as jade, with willowy waist and soft, creamy skin—her eyes glistened with feeling, her whole bearing radiating sensuality. Her body seemed made of water, fitting perfectly in an embrace; a few strands of hair framed her cheeks, adding to her allure.

“Hmm...!”

Pan Yinlian had just opened the window when she caught sight of Su Yang passing below. Her gaze, brimming with emotion, fixed on him, her heart fluttering with excitement and confusion.

As Su Yang drew closer, Pan Yinlian grew more anxious.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. She grabbed a bamboo pole propped against the window and swung it at Su Yang below.