Chapter Twenty: So It Was a Betrothal Gift

PS: Due to some program confusion in the previous chapter, it caused some misunderstanding for everyone. Jie Yu has reorganized the confused parts and posted them again. Please read it once more.

Grand Tutor Pang’s words do make sense, but once they come from that cunning old fox, their meaning changes. The reason he abandoned his luxurious life to endure hardship in Zhao Pu’s dilapidated residence was to demonstrate to the emperor and all the courtiers his unwavering loyalty to the Song Dynasty. To this day, he refuses to disclose his political views, not even to someone as young as Tie Xinyuan.

Although the defeat at Haoshui River cost the Song Dynasty dearly, that was the nation’s failure, not an individual’s. He, like Zhao Pu, would remain loyal to the country, ready to accept whatever punishment the royal family imposed without complaint.

Thinking of this, Tie Xinyuan smiled wryly. Important figures are always so complicated. He only wanted a teacher wise in the ways of the world, not to devote his whole life to the Song. Even if Zhao Zhen had shown great kindness to his mother and him, it could never mean the surrender of himself forever. Debts to others can be repaid, but selling one’s own freedom is quite another matter.

After carefully wiping the table, Tie Xinyuan habitually glanced at the burly black man leaning against the wall, his body swaying with fat, and sighed deeply.

Chapter Twenty-One: So It Was Tuition All Along

When reading “Water Margin” in the past, Tie Xinyuan had seen the infamous Niu Er in the chapter where Yang Zhi sells his saber, thinking that such hoodlums were just a novelist’s invention—never expecting he’d encounter a real-life version of him in the streets of Tokyo, as if haunted by a ghost.

Tie Xinyuan had seen many such ruffians in his previous life. If you swapped the lion tattoo on Niu Er’s body for a dragon or a tiger, replaced his lone tuft of hair on a bald head with something dyed in garish colors, and exchanged the sharp dagger at his waist for a watermelon knife, Tie Xinyuan honestly wouldn’t have seen much difference.

Those trying to make a living around the West Water Gate were all laborers or small traders; anyone with a bit of money would never choose to settle here. Every night at midnight, slaughtered livestock and poultry—pigs, sheep, chickens, ducks, geese—would enter the city through the West Water Gate, carried by boat from the wharf to all corners of Tokyo.

With countless interests tangled up here, myriad factions both large and small had arisen. The Seventh Brother’s Noodle Shop happened to fall within the territory controlled by the Lion Gang.

Because his mother needed to buy pork regularly, she had always hoped to have the shop placed under the Butchers’ Guild’s protection. That way, with business dealings between them, the Butchers’ Guild wouldn’t charge the shop heavy guild fees.

During one supply run, his mother explained her intentions to the Butchers’ Guild manager. As a result, the guild sent someone to negotiate with the Lion Gang.

The outcome was that a member of the Butchers’ Guild lost a hand to Niu Er of the Lion Gang, and the Seventh Brother’s Noodle Shop ended up having to pay one string of cash a month in guild fees, enforced personally by Niu Er.

The Butchers’ Guild was no match for the Lion Gang, so his mother’s shop couldn’t be listed under the Butchers’ Guild. To make peace for the injured guild member, his mother paid an additional two strings of cash in compensation, losing sleep for several nights over the incident.

Niu Er managed half the street and ought to have been wealthy, yet he always wore the same long robe year-round, his shoes so worn his toes poked through, his body exuding a sour stench that made it hard to breathe when near him.

How could someone like that be allowed to deal with his mother? Seeing Niu Er striding over, Tie Xinyuan greeted him with a smile and pointed to the big tree near the Sweetwater Well. “Let’s talk over there. It’s cooler.”

Niu Er didn’t object. He glanced at the few customers cooling off in the shop, then turned and went to the Sweetwater Well.

“Time to pay your guild fee,” Niu Er said, sprawling under the tree, legs spread wide, completely unconcerned.

Tie Xinyuan smiled. “We do owe the fee, but I’d like to ask: didn’t my family just pay fifteen days ago? Shouldn’t it wait until next month?”

Niu Er chuckled. “I’ve had bad luck gambling and I’m out of money. Of all the shops in West Water Gate, yours is the only one doing good business. Who else should I ask?”

Tie Xinyuan frowned. “You’re breaking the Lion Gang’s rules. If your boss finds out, he won’t be pleased.”

Niu Er grinned, his voice hoarse. “Your mother broke the rules first. Since your shop’s on our turf, why go to the Butchers’ Guild? You think those pork sellers can back your mother up? Boy, hand over the money quietly. If you weren’t a widow and an orphan, I’d have razed your shop to the ground already.”

Tie Xinyuan considered for a moment. “Fine, I can pay you. But I want to know—when will this sort of extortion ever end? If we have to hand over two strings of cash every month, there’s no point in running this shop at all. All our earnings would go to you.”

Niu Er glared. “You dare leave West Water Gate? Careful, I’ll raid your home!”

Tie Xinyuan laughed. “No one but the emperor can raid my house. You’ve been around West Water Gate so long—don’t you know that story? I’d worry you’d be cut down by crossbows before you even stepped through my door.”

Niu Er paused, frowning. “Your family is the one living under the imperial city walls?”

Tie Xinyuan nodded.

Niu Er glanced at the noodle shop, then softened his tone. “The royal family can’t protect you forever. Business here follows the rules. Even the Crown Princess’s shop pays guild fees. For three months, your fee will be doubled, but after that, it returns to normal.”

Talking to Tie Xinyuan, one could easily forget his age. At least Niu Er had always treated him as an adult. Kids raised on this street all grew up quickly; compared to those hawking goods with baskets on their heads, Tie Xinyuan was only a little younger. Children of the poor become heads of households early; street-smart kids were nothing special in West Water Gate.

Tie Xinyuan got up to leave, but halfway there he turned back, crouching down to look at the dozing Niu Er. “That extra string of cash—isn’t it just for yourself?”

Niu Er opened one eye. “I made it clear enough—I lost at gambling and need money. Unless you dare report me to the boss?”

Tie Xinyuan squatted so they were eye to eye. “You’re a man of rules. Every merchant here knows that. Why aren’t you the Lion Gang’s boss?”

Niu Er grinned. “Kid, I heard everything you said the other day. Gave it some thought—if I tried to break away now, I’d be dead in no time.”

“Isn’t your martial skill the best in the Lion Gang?”

Niu Er’s mouth split in a wide grin. “I crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. The others are just rabble.”

“Then why aren’t you the boss? Isn’t brute strength all that matters in your world?”

Niu Er waved a hand dismissively. “They’ve got numbers!”

Tie Xinyuan nodded, understanding, then went back to the shop, swinging his rag. One way or another, tomorrow he’d have to give Niu Er a string of cash.

In the afternoon, dark clouds rolled in, and soon it began to rain, driving off the day’s swelter. Wang Rouhua, dozing at the counter, lifted her head and, seeing her son busy about the shop, rested her chin on her hands to nap a bit longer.

She trusted her son to run the shop. He had never once miscalculated the accounts—not just the daily small sums, but even the annual ledger had never been wrong.

The shop was packed with people sheltering from the rain, Niu Er among them. Someone asked, “Niu Er, are you going to be the Lion Gang’s boss now?”

Niu Er sneered, ignoring the question. There are always idle gossips stirring up rumors.

Tie Xinyuan counted out a string of cash behind the counter, didn’t bother to wrap it up, and struggled to hand it to Niu Er. “Here’s the fee you wanted.”

A grocer, his head wrapped in a green kerchief, exclaimed, “Brother Yuan, didn’t your mother already pay this month’s fee? Why pay again?”

Tie Xinyuan only smiled and said nothing.

Niu Er snatched the cash, hung it around his neck, and squinted at the grocer. “What, you have a problem with that?”

The grocer’s face went white, and he waved his hands as if turning wheels. “No, no, whatever you say.”

Niu Er glanced at the darkening sky. When the rain eased, he strode out into it, the heavy string of cash swinging on his neck, moving quickly.

“Looks like Niu Er really will become the boss…” the green-kerchiefed grocer muttered, watching him go.

Dusk fell. It was time for everyone to go home for dinner—no matter how hard the rain fell, there was no more reason to linger.

People gradually left the shop. Wang Rouhua arranged for two women to stay the night, fetched a raincoat, and she and her son dashed home laughing under its cover. The fox, struggling with a small money pouch on its back, trudged after them through the rain. Seeing the mother and son already far ahead, it let out a pitiful howl, then ran after them with all its might.

His mother never once asked about the string of cash. She trusted her son’s judgment; if he gave money to Niu Er, he must have had his reasons. She never believed anyone could fool her child.

“Yuan, I asked around. Mr. Liang from Shangtu Bridge agreed to accept you as a student, but I heard that the entrance gift can’t be too light—it needs to be accompanied by a three-color present.”

Tie Xinyuan smiled. “Mother, you needn’t worry. I already paid the tuition to my teacher today—a whole string of cash.”

Wang Rouhua glanced warily at the door and whispered, “Son, isn’t Xia Song about to be executed? You can’t take him as your teacher now—you’ll be implicated.”

After finishing his gruel, Tie Xinyuan replied, “He won’t die. The Song Dynasty has never executed a grandee, and Xia Song is a major figure among the scholars. I want to win you an official title, Mother. Following Mr. Liang from Shangtu Bridge won’t get me there. Only by studying under Xia Song is there a chance.”

“Even if he isn’t beheaded, he’s in dire straits now; his fate can’t be good.”

“Mother, if Xia Song hadn’t fallen on hard times, would I have had the chance to become his student? Even if he’s unlucky now, his learning is genuine. Do you think his knowledge is inferior to Mr. Liang’s?”

“Of course Mr. Liang can’t compare—he’s not even fit to carry Xia Song’s shoes. Back in those days…”

Tie Xinyuan noticed his mother trailing off, her face pale. After a long hesitation, she finally said, “Xia Song is not a good man.”

Tie Xinyuan laughed. “I never planned to invite a good man to be my teacher. If my own nature is unsound, I ought to find a learned and wise teacher to correct it. But if I’m already a good boy, then I need to learn a few tricks for self-preservation, so I won’t be sold one day without even knowing it.”

“Yuan, Xia Song really isn’t a good man. If you can find another teacher, don’t study under him.”

Tie Xinyuan smiled. “If you don’t explain, how would I know?”