The other guards of Master Feng escorted the five men away, while the stationmaster warmly and respectfully welcomed Master Feng inside. However, Master Feng insisted on letting the displaced commoners return first.
Such a benevolent official deeply moved the people.
“Come, come—let’s draft a joint petition,” a few steady and composed elders naturally took the lead in rallying the crowd.
The people hurried inside, and the commotion at the gate soon dispersed.
Wang Shi’qi turned around and saw the girl already sitting by the bonfire, just as she had been when he had gone over earlier to boast about securing a room. It was as if nothing had happened at all…
“…These are household servants… Let their master punish them…”
The night breeze carried Steward Cao’s words over.
Wang Shi’qi snapped out of his daze and saw Steward Cao speaking to a few guards. Naturally, the guards preferred to avoid trouble and quickly agreed.
“Cheng Jiao-niang, you—what exactly are you doing?” he shouted, striding toward her.
The earlier commotion hadn’t disturbed Ban Qin in the slightest. While others were fighting, shouting, and passionately pleading, she had already prepared dinner.
A simple, warming meal for travelers—“Passing Immortal” stew.
Ban Qin knelt on a cushion, serving the freshly rinsed vegetables and meat to Cheng Jiao-niang.
So Cheng Jiao-niang looked up and replied matter-of-factly:
“Eating.”
Eating?!
Wang Shi’qi felt fury surge through him.
“Let’s see you eat this!” He kicked over the low table in front of Cheng Jiao-niang.
Ban Qin shrieked.
Fortunately, the small pot was on her side, and Cheng Jiao-niang’s table held only bowls, chopsticks, and plates—all of which she was already holding. The overturned table sent only the plates clattering to the ground, avoiding the disastrous splatter of scalding broth.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Steward Cao was the first to grab Wang Shi’qi, delivering a sharp slap across his face without hesitation.
Wang Shi’qi was stunned.
In all his life, this was the first time he had ever been slapped—no, the first time he had ever been hit at all…
And by a servant, no less!
“Guards! Guards!” Wang Shi’qi screamed as soon as he regained his senses, flailing at Steward Cao. But how could he match Steward Cao in a fight? Besides, someone had already seized his arms.
“Young master, young master—let’s talk this through!” the old servant pleaded.
Wang Shi’qi only grew more enraged.
Who’s the one not talking things through? They struck first! I’m the one who got hit! How the hell else am I supposed to “talk this through”?
He opened his mouth to shout again, but the old servant cut him off.
“Lady Cheng, Lady Cheng… This time, we acted rashly…” he hurriedly apologized.
Wang Shi’qi stared at the old servant in disbelief, then glanced at the other attendants—only to see them all bowing their heads in silence, intimidated by the Zhou family’s men closing in around them.
One beating, and they’re already cowering in fear of the Zhou family?
“Sit down,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
No sooner had she spoken than Steward Cao shoved Wang Shi’qi to the ground, sending him crashing onto his backside with a painful thud. Wang Shi’qi let out a howl.
Yet, to his astonishment, the old servant rushed forward as if relieved.
“Thank you, my lady! Thank you!” he repeated, bowing repeatedly.
Wang Shi’qi was both furious and bewildered.
“Have you lost your mind? Your master just got beaten, and you’re thanking them?” he yelled.
Huh… Yes, why did I instinctively feel the need to thank her?
The old servant paused for a moment, confused by his own reaction. But as a seasoned servant, he trusted his instincts in such situations.
“Young master, we were indeed too reckless earlier,” he whispered urgently to Wang Shi’qi.
“Reckless? Nothing is more reckless than your master being struck! Cheng Jiao-niang, mark my words—this betrothal is off—” Wang Shi’qi roared, struggling to stand, only to be forced back down by Steward Cao’s iron grip on his shoulder.
Before the old servant could respond, someone approached.
“Miss, it’s Master Feng,” Steward Cao reported.
Everyone turned to look. Sure enough, the lean, scholarly official was walking toward them, still cloaked in his traveling hood—clearly, he hadn’t yet retired to wash or rest, but had come straight after speaking with the stationmaster.
“Here he comes! See what you’ve done—publicly ruining a man’s reputation!” Wang Shi’qi sneered.
Cheng Jiao-niang glanced at him.
“So you can tell that I was publicly ruining his reputation?” she remarked. “Not entirely stupid, then.”
Wang Shi’qi gaped at her.
“Then can you also tell that he’s here to thank me for saving his life?” she added.
Saving his life?!
This girl wasn’t just a fool—she was outright insane!
Wang Shi’qi tried to lunge up, but Steward Cao’s unyielding grip kept him firmly in place.
As they spoke, Master Feng approached and bowed deeply to Cheng Jiao-niang.
“I, Feng Lin, thank you, my lady, for saving my life,” he said.
Wang Shi’qi’s face froze in shock.
He actually…
“You honor me too much, Master Feng,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, rising to return the courtesy. “It was merely my servants acting foolishly and causing trouble, so I stepped in to discipline them.”
Master Feng’s gaze shifted to the old servant.
“Thank you, my lord!” The Wang family’s old servant immediately stepped forward and kowtowed. “We acted recklessly and nearly brought about grave consequences.”
Huh…?
Wang Shi’qi stared at the old servant, feeling utterly bewildered—
What in the world are these people talking about?!
Master Feng removed his hood, revealing a face as lean and refined as his figure.
“Your servants acted out of kindness, my lady, but mine may not have had the same good intentions,” he said with a sigh.
“Kindness can sometimes lead to unintended harm,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “But that does not make it wrong.”
“It depends on whether the intent was genuine or not,” Feng Lin countered, his gaze sharp as he studied her.
Cheng Jiao-niang remained silent.
The moment stretched, the night wind howling between them.
She didn’t take the bait? Feng Lin frowned slightly, puzzled.
“Had you not intervened in time, my lady, I would have faced grave trouble,” Feng Lin continued on his own.
“It was merely a matter of disciplining my servants. There’s no need for you to dwell on it, my lord,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Feng Lin studied her for a moment, his expression tinged with curiosity.
“Are you traveling from the capital?” he asked.
This was already the third conversational thread he had attempted—clearly aiming to prolong the exchange—yet the young lady before him showed no intention of inviting him to sit.
“Mm,” Cheng Jiao-niang responded.
Such a reply was nothing if not succinct.
“Might I ask which family you belong to?” Feng Lin inquired with polite curiosity. “I, too, have come from the capital.”
“An ordinary household, not worth mentioning,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Feng Lin took no offense and simply smiled.
“The hour is late, and you are, after all, a lady. The stationmaster has prepared a room—perhaps you would like to retire for the night?” he suggested earnestly.
“Thank you, my lord, but that won’t be necessary,” she declined.
Feng Lin’s gaze swept over the surroundings—the already pitched tents, the large pot steaming with fragrant heat—then nodded without pressing further.
“Then I shall not delay your rest any longer,” he said, cupping his hands in salute.
Cheng Jiao-niang returned the gesture.
With that, Feng Lin took his leave.
The post station had prepared a fine room, and though Feng Lin had washed away the dust of his journey, the weariness on his face remained.
“My lord, some tea,” his attendant said, offering a bowl. “The meal has also been prepared and brought in.”
Feng Lin glanced at the food laid out on the low table but shook his head, appetite gone. His expression darkened as he accepted the tea.
“Have they talked?” he asked.
The attendant shook his head.
“Those men insist they acted solely to honor you, with no ulterior motives—let alone anyone behind it,” he replied.
Feng Lin let out a cold laugh.
“Honor me?” he said, slamming the teacup onto the table with a thud. “Do they take me for a fool who can’t see through their schemes? Their intentions might as well be shouted from the rooftops!”
His anger could no longer be contained. He stood and began pacing.
“Driving commoners out in the dead of night—is that how they ‘honor’ me? No! They’re roasting me over an open fire!”
“…Had they succeeded, mark my words—before dawn, impeachment memorials from nearby officials would have flooded the capital like snowflakes! Before I even set foot in Taicang Circuit, the Censorate would have dragged me back to the capital in chains!”
“…And those petty soldiers and clerks? They’d wash their hands of it, take a slap on the wrist, while I—their superior—bear the brunt of the heavens falling!” The more he spoke, the fiercer his fury grew.
“Do they think I’ve never seen this trick before? When Liao Haifeng was sent to investigate Su-zhou’s salt tax, what happened? The moment he arrived, he admired the snow over a meal—only to be impeached by local officials for ‘harassing the people’ and hauled back to the capital. Instead of uncovering salt fraud, he was scrutinized inside out and exiled to Yue-zhou. And why?”
“…All because he dared to praise the snowy scenery, merely adding that some thatched huts spoiled the view. So what did those officials do? They ‘honored’ him by tearing down the huts—after forcibly evicting the villagers! Was that ‘respect’? No! It was a blade planted in his back! They knew Liao Haifeng had no vice except a scholar’s penchant for poetic flourish—and they used it to gut him!”
The attendant followed closely behind, murmuring urgent pleas for his lord to calm down.
“Now I see why the Taicang Circuit Fiscal Commissioner’s Office was so ‘kind’ as to send men to escort me personally,” Feng Lin sneered, his laughter sharp with irony. “What a finely played trick! And to think they even colluded with the Divine Battalion troops!”
“My lord, this assignment is truly treacherous—no wonder others refused to take it…” the attendant sighed.
The Fiscal Commissioner’s Office controlled funds and grain—the juiciest of posts. Any move against it would disrupt countless vested interests, with enemies both visible and hidden baring their fangs.
“How can one cherish personal safety over duty to the state?” Feng Lin said sternly. “Do they think such ploys can intimidate me? If anything, I should thank them for the warning!”
The attendant nodded, then added with relief:
“Thank heavens that lady intervened when she did. Had it not been for her sense of justice, my lord, this situation could have ended disastrously.”
Feng Lin nodded, a trace of lingering fear in his expression.
Had no one stepped forward at that critical moment, even his own intervention would have been too late to salvage the situation. He’d have been stabbed in the back—fully aware yet powerless to counter it.
At the mention of the young lady, Feng Lin’s expression turned pensive.
“Truly a chance act of justice?” he murmured to himself. “In times like these, does such selfless intervention still exist? And from a girl, no less?”
“Perhaps it was the young master beside her who orchestrated it…” the attendant ventured.
After all, the loudest speaker isn’t always the most formidable—true authority often lies with the silent one.
Feng Lin immediately shook his head.
“That man is nothing,” he said dismissively. “His features may be striking, but his eyes lack spirit.”
A faint smile touched his lips as he added:
“But that young lady? Though she appears unassuming, her gaze is sharp, her words precise—not a single drop of water could slip through.”
The attendant blinked, baffled—he hadn’t noticed any of that…
“She claimed it was because her servants were implicated, hence her intervention,” he said. “It does seem plausible. Had the incident escalated, you’d have faced punishment, my lord, and those servants would’ve suffered too. Who knows which capital family she belongs to? If dragged into this, she’d inevitably face trouble. Easier to avoid extra strife.”
Feng Lin nodded.
“True enough. Strangers meeting by chance share no bonds—she certainly wasn’t acting for my sake,” he chuckled, then shook his head.
The conversation, coupled with the narrow escape, eased Feng Lin’s tension.
“My lord, eat something and rest early,” the attendant urged, seizing the moment.
Feng Lin nodded and sat down, straightening his robes.
“I wonder what delicacies that lady prepared,” he mused suddenly, a faint smile curling his lips. “The aroma was rather enticing.”
The low table was set, and Ban Qin served the freshly reheated meal while Steward Cao and the others had already gathered around the large pot, eating heartily.
Holding her bowl and chopsticks, Cheng Jiao-niang glanced at Wang Shi’qi.
“Since we’re traveling together, it’s best you heed me. My rule is: never surpass a third time,” she said.
Wang Shi’qi’s expression darkened, and he sprang to his feet.
“Is that a threat? Heed you? Your rules? Cheng Jiao-niang, what right do you have to impose rules on me?” he shouted, jabbing a finger toward Steward Cao. “Listen well—unless you break that lowborn wretch’s legs for striking me today, don’t even think about stepping into the Wang family’s gates again!”
With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off.
“Young Master! Young Master—!” The old servant called out urgently.
Wang Shi’qi ignored him and quickly strode away. The old servant chased after him for a few steps before stopping, signaling the other attendants to follow while he hesitated for a moment before turning back.
“My lady,” he said, kneeling and bowing respectfully. “I beg your indulgence toward my young master. He is inexperienced in worldly affairs, and our family sent me to look after him. This time, I failed in my duty. The blame lies not with him but with my lack of foresight—I was deceived and caused you trouble.”
He pressed his forehead to the ground in a deep kowtow.
“No thanks are necessary,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “This matter isn’t particularly serious. Even if it had truly escalated, nothing grave would have befallen you. At most, some words would have been exchanged, and a bit of money spent to settle it.”
Well… that’s true.
After all, they wouldn’t have suffered like that unlucky official. At worst, they’d have been reprimanded for disturbing the people, fined some silver, and the servants might have taken a few strokes of the rod—nothing more.
Of course, the old servant wasn’t foolish enough to say this aloud.
“No, no, it’s not that simple. You went out of your way for us, my lady, and we’ve troubled you greatly,” he said, kowtowing again.
“It was no trouble,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “I simply dislike complications—especially those that delay my journey.”
So, she acted to eliminate the trouble before it could even come knocking?
The old servant thought to himself, raising his head to study the young lady before him.
“But… what if that official hadn’t been reasonable?” he couldn’t help asking.
What if the man had been as arrogant and unreasonable as those petty clerks and soldiers?
“Then tonight’s joint petition would have been filed against him,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, her gaze steady on the old servant. “As I said, this matter was only about you foolish servants.”
In other words, it had never been about chivalry or justice.
Nor about who was right or wrong.
If the official had been a fool, she would have aided the clerks and soldiers in ruining his career—and with that assistance, they would have had no reason to implicate the Wang family’s servants.
If the official had been sharp-witted and quick to react, she would have helped him counterattack, preserving his standing while crushing the clerks and soldiers. In that case, the official would owe her a debt of gratitude—and certainly wouldn’t trouble a few unrelated servants.
Either way, the outcome was the same: her path remained unobstructed.
The old servant shuddered.
This young lady… calculates every move like a game of Go—three steps ahead before the first stone is even placed.
The old servant remained kneeling on the ground, his emotions in turmoil.
Had those petty clerks known how this would unfold, they would never have chosen the Wang family’s servants as their pawns.
If not for that one line—“We noticed Young Master Wang also faces difficulties with food and lodging, so we thought we might collaborate…”—their scheme might have succeeded by now.
Fate is fickle—a single sentence can lead to entirely opposite outcomes.
Truly, disaster springs from careless words. One must always weigh their speech with caution.
