Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Timid Gentleman

Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Timid Gentleman

Master Luoshui had hinted to Mother for the fourth time that it was time to sell the shop. The first three times, she replied firmly, but this time she didn’t object.

Prince Pu had formally taken over the perilous building, and now everyone knew it belonged to the Pu family, who planned to rebuild it. Even the boisterous Butchers’ Gang had fallen silent.

In the Song Dynasty, princely lords didn’t wield much power, often less than a prefect, but the Pu family was an exception.

“Prince Pu” was just a common name; he was actually the Prince of Runan. Runan belonged to Yuzhou, the foremost of the Nine Provinces, and Runan lay at its heart, historically known as the “center of heaven.” This alone showed how much the late emperor favored his nephew, Zhao Yunrang.

Zhao Yunrang repeatedly insisted he was just a princely lord, unworthy to guard the center of heaven, and tried to relocate his fief to Puyang. After several unsuccessful petitions, he abandoned the idea. Yet for reasons unknown, the people of the capital seemed to have forgotten his title as Prince of Runyang; whenever “Prince Pu” was mentioned, everyone knew it meant Zhao Yunrang.

Tie Xinyuan also felt it inappropriate for Zhao Yunrang to move to Puyang, for Runan was the center of heaven, while Puyang, anciently known as the Imperial Hill, was reputedly the capital of one of the Five Emperors, Xuanyuan, and thus held imperial prestige.

The Song’s “Records of Mountains and Rivers” made this clear.

With such an ambitious cousin, Emperor Zhenzong seemed blind to it. Princely lords with military command were traditionally taboo, yet Zhao Yunrang had commanded Ningjiang Troops for over ten years. Even as head of the Court of Imperial Lineage now, the Ningjiang Troops continued to send generous birthday gifts each year—a fact well known in the capital.

With fourteen sons, Zhao Yunrang was not someone to provoke; this was common knowledge in the capital.

“When the river opens at Kaifeng, the Jiangning Troops will enter the capital to deliver gifts to the Prince of Runan. By then, if your family hasn’t relocated or sold the shop, it will be in danger.”

Such were Master Luoshui’s exact words…

Danger arrived even sooner than he’d predicted, and those involved acted with greater shamelessness…

Last night, Seventh Brother’s Noodle Shop caught fire…

Tie Xinyuan and Mother rushed there in the middle of the night, only to find flames engulfing half the sky. The fire patrol tried their best, but it was useless; the blaze grew fiercer.

Wang Rouhua calmly stopped the three hysterical women from rushing in to fight the fire, assuring them repeatedly that a new shop would soon open. Only then did they cease their futile efforts and collapsed together, wailing. The work at Seventh Brother’s Noodle Shop meant everything to them.

“Thankfully, no one was hurt,” Wang Rouhua said, smiling at her son’s composed expression.

“But this wounds the heart! This is our family’s foundation!”

Wang Rouhua laughed. “You are the true foundation of our family. What’s a broken shop? If I can open one, I can open ten, or a hundred. Lately, I’ve been worried they’d harm you. Now it seems they’ve been merciful—only burning the shop, not hurting anyone. That’s fortune enough.”

Tie Xinyuan merely smiled at his mother. Showing anger was pointless; better to live with cheer.

Seventh Brother’s Noodle Shop was large. It began as a single storefront, then expanded by purchasing neighboring properties, becoming a shop with three large bays. All made of wood, they burned well, and the fire only began to subside at dawn.

The fire patrol arrived late—only when the blaze was fully ablaze and uncontrollable did they begin their efforts. Despite this, Wang Rouhua packed a generous bundle of copper coins as thanks. This time, the patrol was understanding, accepting the gift without complaint, and pushed their water cart away, still half full.

Officials did not ask how the fire started. Instead, they berated Wang Rouhua, shouting that she must remember “the air is dry, beware of fire,” and threatened severe punishment for any future negligence.

When the fire was out, the three women entered the ruins to salvage what they could. After searching for a long time, all that remained was half the burned shop sign—nothing else usable.

Tie Xinyuan noticed his mother’s hands trembled, but her face remained calm. She dealt with the aftermath, then, accompanied by Sister Gu, returned home, leaving the rest to her son.

Tie Xinyuan handled the ruins roughly. He gathered day laborers to pile the unburned wood and set it ablaze anew, telling the neighbors that they were welcome to collect any fallen tiles. By noon, all that remained of the shop was a few broken walls.

After thanking the neighbors, Tie Xinyuan habitually visited the nearby pig farm.

Winter was peak season for pork sales, so the pens were full. Old Liang huddled in a low shack by the brazier, gulping wine bowl after bowl. He hadn’t been seen for a dozen days and looked much more haggard, his short beard bristling like a hedgehog.

Seeing Tie Xinyuan enter, Old Liang waved dismissively. “If you like pigs, go look. Come spring, you won’t see so many.”

Tie Xinyuan didn’t go to the pens, but ducked into Old Liang’s shack, cheerfully watching him drink, and even poured him a fresh bowl from the warmed jug.

“Is your shop no longer needing pork? Never mind, just say so. It’s not your mother’s fault. Who could have guessed such an untouchable person would come here? It’s not breach of contract.”

Old Liang drained his bowl, looking somewhat defeated.

“My family deals in pork—how could we not need it? Even if we can’t open here, Mother will find somewhere else, and you’ll still deliver pork to us.”

Old Liang nodded. “Yes, your mother’s trade is food. Although there are many poor folk around the West Water Gate and business is good, soon there’ll be no poor folk left. She’ll follow them elsewhere, inevitably.”

“You won’t leave?”

“I can’t. There’s nowhere in the capital better than West Water Gate. Damn it, a royal relative competing with pig butchers for land—what kind of nonsense is this?”

“The land Mother bought won’t last either…”

“That’s your mother’s plot set aside for your house. At minimum, you could build a two-courtyard home. Finding such a flat, good piece of land in the capital isn’t easy—even for an insider like me. A pity.”

“When their perilous building is finished, your pig pens will surely be demolished—it would spoil the view, and that’s no trivial matter.”

Old Liang, slightly drunk, ground his teeth. “I’d love to burn the perilous building to the ground…”

No one could burn it, nor dared to try. Old Liang’s words were mere venting. Tie Xinyuan knew burning it wasn’t difficult—the challenge was avoiding the Prince of Runyang’s retaliation.

Zhao Yunrang’s vengeance didn’t care for culprits; he’d randomly mark a circle on the map and enact indiscriminate revenge on all within. The Tie family would struggle to escape his chosen circle.

Beside the perilous building lay a river, making fire-fighting easy. The ice was thin now, offering little obstacle; only when the river froze solid enough for carts would it be feasible to set a fire.

The pigs in the pen slept huddled together, indifferent to Tie Xinyuan’s presence, as if enjoying an especially peaceful slumber.

Old Liang had no plans to move the pig farm soon, which was good news for Tie Xinyuan. As long as the pigs remained, he’d have his chance to take revenge.

When it came to arson, the Song Dynasty’s methods were crude—pouring oil and setting fire to houses.

Returning from the pig farm, Tie Xinyuan encountered Master Luoshui, who stood with hands behind his back, surveying the ruins. “It burned very cleanly.”

Tie Xinyuan nodded. “They poured oil on it. If it didn’t burn thoroughly, how could those people answer to their master?”

Master Luoshui’s face flushed, then he said, “It’s just as well. That shop wasn’t good. Your mother should be able to build anew. If you need my help, just say.”

“But once the canal thaws, I’ll be heading to Luoyang. Tell your mother to choose a new site quickly; I’ll help with the design.”

Tie Xinyuan looked at him closely. “I think you should leave the capital before the river freezes solid.”

Master Luoshui nodded. “You’re right. I, Luoshui, thought myself clever, but a child sees more clearly. Perilous building, perilous indeed—I’d best not let Luoshui fall into real water.”

He then lifted a heavy bundle from his carriage and handed it to Tie Xinyuan. “This is my pay for work on the perilous building. It’s yours and your mother’s now.”

Tie Xinyuan struggled to hold the bundle. “What does this mean?”

Luoshui crouched and looked at him earnestly. “Tell your mother: consider the shop as if I burned it—this is my compensation. Take this money and rebuild or buy a new shop elsewhere. Do not, under any circumstance, take this to the authorities. Never, never!”

Tie Xinyuan felt a warm glow in his chest. Master Luoshui was perhaps the first true gentleman he’d met since coming to this world.

Yet this gentleman was a timid one. Tie Xinyuan watched as he took the carriage not into the city, but along the West Water Gate road, leaving the city altogether. If he wasn’t heading to the nunnery, he must already be on his way to Luoyang.