Chapter Forty-Seven: The Butchers’ Retaliation

Chapter Forty-Seven: The Butcher Gang’s Counterattack

“Mother, how was the price offered by the broker today?”

Wang Rouhua said with some concern, “It’s gone up by another forty percent. My son, why don’t we just sell the land? We’ve already made enough.”

Tie Xinyuan glanced at the endless stream of diners, then turned back to his mother. “Selling isn’t out of the question—it’s just a matter of timing. If we back off now, we’ll have to keep backing off in the future.”

“You heard him, didn’t you? He just threatened you. If anything happens to you, no amount of money will matter to me.”

“Mother, let’s wait a little longer. Look, their tall building won’t be finished until at least next year, so time is on our side. Besides, look across from the building—that’s a huge pig farm. The owner of the building may not even be focused on us right now; the pig farm is the real issue. No customer wants to finish a meal and then see a herd of filthy pigs right outside the restaurant, much less endure the stench. So, if they want to finish that tall building, the pig farm has to go first.

And the pig farm is the Butcher Gang’s lifeblood. They’ll never give it up. There are not just pigs here, but sheep too. They chose the West Water Gate because it’s convenient for coming and going from the city, and because the land is cheap. The problems we’re facing, the Butcher Gang is also facing. Neither of us can afford to buy such a large plot of land elsewhere in the city for a shop or a pig farm.

So, the first ones who won’t be able to hold back will be the Butcher Gang. Look—from our shop, don’t you see the beams and pillars they just built are already crooked? That means the Butcher Gang has made their move.”

Wang Rouhua looked for a long time in the direction her son pointed, but couldn’t see anything wrong with the newly erected beams. Tie Xinyuan fetched a string, tied a weight to it, and let it hang straight down. Then he had his mother align her sight with the plumb line to the pillar.

Surprised, Wang Rouhua said, “It really is slanted. But, son, master craftsmen don’t make such mistakes. Maybe your string is crooked?”

Tie Xinyuan chuckled. “Mother, every house in the world starts out with this string to check if it’s upright. It might look crude, but it’s one of the most accurate tools there is.”

Wang Rouhua squinted with one eye, examined it again, then sat up straight and smiled. “Good, good! With Chief Tu of the Butcher Gang standing in front, we’re nothing in comparison. When Chief Tu can’t hold out any longer, we’ll sell the land to whoever offers the highest price. Then we’ll go to Zhaozhou, and neither Chief Tu nor the building developers will be able to do a thing. Since your aunt won’t remember our sisterly bond, I have no reason to hold onto sentiment either. In business, those who get sentimental always lose out. When you pass the imperial examination one day, we’ll return openly and see what they can do to us.”

Tie Xinyuan gazed thoughtfully at the large plot of land to the right of their shop. “Mother, if we could get that land, build a small dock behind it, and wall it off, we’d have our own world here. What I can’t figure out is, this place isn’t suitable for building basements or anything underground—so why are those people spending so much to build a basement? And it’s not a small one.”

Wang Rouhua waved her hand to drive away the flies that pestered her son. Though late autumn was near, the flies were still a nuisance.

After returning home, Tie Xinyuan fetched a book titled “Construction of the Eastern Capital,” an excellent work produced by the Imperial Office of Works. This book detailed the entire structure of the capital, and to Tie Xinyuan’s delight, it even contained the origins and layout of the underground drains.

Whoever the knowledgeable master was, he had painstakingly explained the history and construction of the city’s sewers. This was a great convenience for Tie Xinyuan—and perhaps for others with different intentions as well.

Mother was right: the West Water Gate area was a haven for peddlers and laborers. Dirty and chaotic as it was, it was a livelihood for many. If a tower rivaling Fan Tower were to rise here, it would certainly change the neighborhood’s character, but it would also affect the livelihoods of over a hundred thousand people.

The Butcher Gang, risking the wrath of powerful men to sabotage the construction, relied on these hundreds of thousands. If a noble clashed with a single commoner, he would have the upper hand. But if he clashed with hundreds of thousands, the emperor and the authorities would not hesitate to make an example of the noble to appease public anger.

The emperor and the officials had a different sense of justice from the common people. Universal justice might apply to everyone, but not to every situation. Often, there were two ways to handle the same matter—ultimately, it all came down to interests.

Why Mother’s sister was entangled with the owner of the new tower Tie Xinyuan did not know, but it seemed clear that the Wang family would suffer because of it.

Tie Xinyuan drew many lines through the “Construction of the Eastern Capital,” one of which ran right through their own home.

He had always been a schemer, and because of his experience, he saw things more darkly than most. Ordinary people saw only principle; the clever saw only profit and loss; but a schemer looked for the underlying cause.

The West Water Gate was a poor district—land was cheap, but the cost to improve it would be high. Coming from a future era, Tie Xinyuan knew that building a high-end community wasn’t done overnight. A concept was intangible, born in the mind, only valuable if it became reality. The tower being built was just a concept—the environment would determine if the investment succeeded.

For now, Tie Xinyuan saw no chance of this concept ever materializing. So why were people building this tower here?

He never doubted the intelligence of the Song elite. Even as a soul from a thousand years in the future, he did not underestimate the people of this era. He believed that, over the centuries, the intelligence of the Chinese people had not changed much—Song people were no less clever than those who came after.

From that point on, Tie Xinyuan’s life became busier. He had to visit Master Guo, and after returning from school, he would check on the group in the abandoned garden.

Yang Huaiyu had become completely unkempt—his beard was an inch long, his once-clean warrior’s outfit now ragged and covered with haphazard stitches from the girls who had tried to mend it.

Little Qiao’er had begun holding a knife—literally. The lame veteran had tied a steel blade to his hand, so whether dressing or eating, he was always gripping a long knife.

Xiao Fu’er and the others continued hammering wooden stakes. This time, the work was harder—they had to stand atop the stakes to hammer the higher ones. According to the old soldier, some of the stakes would reach four meters high.

Tongzi had lost his spirit. Other than mealtimes, when he showed some energy, he lay silently on a tattered mat, staring blankly at the sky.

Tongban hadn’t worked either. After locking himself in his house for two days, he’d gone out drinking. Last night, when Wang Rouhua and her son returned from the noodle shop, they found Tongban sprawled at the door with a wine jar, snoring thunderously.

Tie Xinyuan approached Tongzi. “If you want to go home, just go.”

Tongzi’s face flushed. “My father kicked me out. I said I wouldn’t go back.”

Tie Xinyuan smiled. “It’s good to have backbone and pride, but you have to know when it’s worth it. In front of some people, having backbone and pride is a joke. For example, in front of my mother, I’m a little rascal. This morning I swore not to speak to her, but by afternoon we were laughing together again—as if my words were nothing but hot air.”

“So you think I should treat what I said to my father the same way—as if it were just hot air?”

Tie Xinyuan laughed. “You know you only said those things out of anger, so why not let it go? Go home. Your father was drunk and sleeping at the door last night. It’s pitiful.”

Tongzi jumped up, but after taking a few steps, stopped awkwardly. “Come with me?”

“Afraid your father will beat you?”

“Maybe he will, but it’s fine. I’ve been away, and he’s been even more exhausted alone…”

When Tie Xinyuan accompanied Tongzi home, Tongban was sitting on the doorstep drinking. Seeing his son, he threw down the wine jar and scolded, “So you finally came back? The Liu family’s job has been delayed two days already!”

Tongzi dashed to the printing shop, shouting as he ran, “It’s all right—I’ll work all night and have it done by morning!”

Tongban’s dark face twitched. He carefully put away the wine jar, retied the leather apron hanging above the door, and smiled at Tie Xinyuan. “Brother Yuan, once I finish this job, I’ll treat you to meat pies.”

“All right, I’ll have two.”

“Deal! I’ll buy a stack and we’ll have a proper feast.”

Hearing the clatter of the printing shop, Tie Xinyuan left and headed for the West Water Gate.

Everything there seemed perfectly normal. The workers kept digging, pouring cart after cart of lime as if to lay a waterproof layer.

Looking up at the imposing building taking shape, Tie Xinyuan was convinced it was doomed to fall, sooner or later.