Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Someone Stirred Up Trouble

When people were exhausted past reason, they either went limp—or they got strangely jumpy, like sparks in dry grass.

The moment that man spoke, it lit something.

Countless eyes turned toward the Xie family. Many of those stares weren’t just hostile. They were desperate.

“Exactly,” someone muttered. “I heard they’ve worshiped it for years. If it’s so divine, why hasn’t it shown itself?”

“In jail,” another said, voice hoarse, “I heard the jailer say the Xie family’s household god called down rain to put out a fire before they were locked up. So why isn’t it working now?”

A prisoner jolted upright and grabbed the speaker’s sleeve. “Really?”

The man nodded, not fully sure himself. “That’s what I heard. Supposedly it showed signs.”

People nearby—those resting closest to the Xie family—twisted around to stare.

Then someone crawled straight to Old Madam Xie and slammed his forehead into the dirt.

“Old Madam Xie! Please, have mercy! Beg the Xie family deity to show its might—send down rain!”

One person begged, then another, then a dozen. Before long, a cluster of prisoners surrounded the Xie family, kowtowing and pleading for rain as if the Xies kept clouds in a jar.

Old Madam Xie’s brows drew tight as she watched the agitation rise.

The Xie men stood at once, forming a protective ring. The women pulled the children close, shoulders pressed together, eyes scanning for sudden movement.

Xie Yu Chuan rose from where he’d been half-lying and sat up slowly. His gaze sharpened and locked onto the instigator.

The man had a high brow ridge and thin cheeks, with eyes that glittered like a shopkeeper counting coins. When he met Xie Yu Chuan’s icy stare, he flinched—then forced himself to cough twice and lift his chin as if stubbornness could pass for righteousness.

“Who doesn’t know you Xies brag all day about your deity?” he shouted. “Real or not, you sure talk big. So bring it out. Let us see it. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah!” voices echoed.

The yamen runners, busy repairing gear and checking straps, saw the commotion and strode over with whips in hand.

A lash snapped down—no one cared who it struck—and the leader cursed as he came in.

“What are you howling about? If you don’t want to rest, go stand over there! Are you trying to rebel?”

A prisoner who caught the whip screamed, “Constable, it wasn’t me! It’s them! They’re begging the Xie family deity to make it rain!”

“Begging for rain?” The yamen runner blinked like he’d misheard.

The instigator pointed at the Xie family and yelled, “They claim they have a household god! If it’s that powerful, making a little rain should be easy! Then you masters wouldn’t have to work so hard either!”

Xie Yu Chuan let out a cold laugh. “Idiot.”

That was the wrong thing to say in front of men who’d been selling water like it was imperial nectar.

The yamen runners who’d just made their profits froze for half a breath—then their faces flared.

A whip cracked across the instigator’s back, making him stagger.

“Whether we’re suffering or not,” one runner snarled, “who asked a dog like you to worry about it?!”

Another runner stalked toward the kneeling prisoners, pointing and cursing. “The Xie family doesn’t have any damn deity. Stop spouting nonsense and sit down!”

“If you’re thirsty, go figure it out over there. If you don’t follow the rules, don’t blame my whip for not having eyes!”

Crack! Crack!

Whips snapped against the ground.

The crowd that had been pressing in around the Xie family scattered instantly, like water on hot stone.

The lead runner in charge was surnamed Liu, given name Kan. His family had once been butchers—killing pigs until adulthood. Somehow his father had latched onto the yamen’s chief clerk and pulled strings to get Liu Kan placed as a bailiff. He strutted through the streets with his colleagues, loud and proud, like the city belonged to him.

He was violent, strong, and useful for keeping troublemakers down. That was why a superior had recommended him for this escort mission.

It was Liu Kan’s first time escorting prisoners, and he’d already run into several fallen wealthy households—three or four that had once been top families in the capital. People like that only had to let something slip, and it could feed a low-ranking yamen runner for half a lifetime.

Liu Kan knew exactly how long the road was.

He wasn’t in a hurry.

As for this “Xie family deity”… he scoffed inwardly. Pure nonsense.

If the Xie family really had a deity protecting them, would they be reduced to this—old and young dragging chains through the dirt?

He didn’t believe a word of it.

After the prisoners were cowed back into place, Liu Kan ran into Xiong Jiu Shan and a few superior officers returning.

The old yamen runner beside Xiong Jiu Shan asked, “What happened?”

Liu Kan answered, “A few prisoners were courting death and making a scene. They went to the Xie family prisoners and kowtowed, begging for rain. I drove them off.”

“No trouble?” Xiong Jiu Shan asked, already tired just hearing “Xie family.”

“No trouble,” Liu Kan said, unconcerned. “A few lashes and they behaved.”

Xiong Jiu Shan frowned but said nothing and walked off.

Liu Kan didn’t get it. He grabbed the older runner and muttered, “Boss—was Official angry? Did I say something wrong?”

The old runner shook his head. “No. Not your fault. Go do your job. Keep an eye out—we’ve only just left the city. Don’t let trouble start.”

“With me here, Boss can relax,” Liu Kan bragged. “I’ll keep it clean.”

The Xie family had been trying to preserve strength. Then they’d been surrounded and pressed by a mob.

All drowsiness vanished.

They stayed alert, every nerve taut.

At some point, Xie Wu Ying guided Zhang Da Yi and his mother over to sit close to the Xie family.

The commotion had been crushed, but the looks in the crowd had changed. Some prisoners stared with doubt, some with resentment, some with hungry blame. The instigator held a hand over his lash wound and hissed through clenched teeth.

“I’m telling you,” he spat, “with a creepy family like the Xies around, none of us will make it to the north alive.”

That one sentence hooked more bitterness.

Without anyone noticing, prisoners who’d been sitting near the Xie family edged away.

Still, some wouldn’t let it go.

“Does the Xie family really have a household god?” someone demanded.

The Xie family didn’t answer. Not a single one.

Their faces were dark.

Every word stabbed straight into them.

They had traded away the deity’s seat for a chance to live. And since the moment that seat was surrendered, the Xie family deity had never appeared again—never offered even a scrap of miracle.

The sudden rains that had once fallen over the Protector Duke Manor’s ancestral shrine felt like a dream now.

Maybe the household god had abandoned them.

The Xie family pressed their lips tight, silent. Xie Yu Chuan glanced at his relatives, then at his grandmother’s shadowed face, and finally lifted his eyes toward the man pressing them.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” he asked.

When Xie Yu Chuan narrowed his eyes, the stare hit like an arrow.

The man swallowed, stammered, and didn’t dare push further.

Xie Yu Chuan’s gaze swept the circle. Several pairs of eyes snapped away immediately.

Old Madam Xie sighed, long and heavy. Weariness sank into her features.

Xie Yu Chuan understood at once what was knotting her heart. His fingers brushed the items Tu Hua had provided, and he weighed when it might be best to tell the family about the Ming family god.

Then, suddenly, a delighted voice rang in his ear.

“Thank heavens! The front door finally opened!”