Chapter 50

Chapter 50: A Lion’s Big Bite?

The covered boat glided with the current of the Hui Min River, slipped past the first bridge—Yi Nan Bridge—and was already nearing Guang Li Water Gate, about to leave the city.

The boatman’s palms were damp on the oar. “Young Master Su… do we keep going?”

Su Xuan Ming pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The cold had drained the color from his lips.

He glanced at Su Yun Ting beside him and tried again. “Second Brother, your health isn’t good. Go back first. The Hui Min River is wide and long—we don’t know how much longer we’ll be on this boat.”

Su Yun Ting shoved his hands deeper into his sleeves, shivering as he spoke. “We share blessings, we share hardship. I’m going with you.”

Su Xuan Ming and Jiang Guang Hai moved without a word, both edging toward the doorway to block the worst of the wind for Su Yun Ting.

As they passed through Guang Li Water Gate, a voice rang out behind them. “You’re leaving the city?”

Su Xuan Ming stood and shouted back, “Yes! Go home. Stop following us!”

The busybody shook his head with stubborn certainty. “No! A whole crowd is waiting for my news. Even if you go to the ends of the earth, I’m still coming!”

Once the boat cleared the water gate, the riverbanks lost the city’s bustle.

Beyond the reeds, the fields were winter-dead and yellow. A few squat houses clung to the plain, scattered like dropped stones, crouched low to the ground like beetles.

Only one city wall separated them, yet inside and outside felt like two different worlds.

“The Southern Capital Suburbs has plenty of farmers,” the boatman offered, sensing the air had gone heavy. “There are gardens and estates, too. The most prosperous is the meng family’s Embracing Green Villa.”

“The meng family?” Su Xuan Ming asked. “The one people call the House of a Hundred Good Deeds?”

He’d heard Jing Niang mention them before.

“That’s right,” the boatman said. “The meng family has opened several nursery halls. They’ve taken in a lot of orphans. Folks around here praise them endlessly.”

With that small thread of conversation, the boat drifted downstream, farther and farther from the capital.

When Su Xuan Ming looked back, the city’s towers had collapsed into a dark speck on the horizon, too distant to see clearly.

The boats that had once crowded behind them were gone. Only two or three remained, stubbornly trailing in their wake.

“Young masters,” the boatman said, checking the sky. The clouds were thickening, and winter daylight never lasted. “Up ahead is Si Li Bridge. After that, there won’t be another bridge for more than eighty li.”

He swallowed, then pushed on. “In this weather, without supplies… we can’t spend the night outside.”

“We should turn back,” he urged. “Si Li Bridge was paid for by the meng family. It’s wide and solid—nothing’s going to stop us anyway.”

From behind, the busybody shouted too. “Young Master Su! Let’s go home! Maybe you misunderstood the marchioness!”

All eyes turned to Su Xuan Ming.

He gripped the gunwale so hard his knuckles blanched, staring at the river as it wound away into the gray distance.

There was no end in sight.

“Row to Si Li Bridge,” he said at last. “We’ll take a look. If it won’t work… we go back to the city.”

The boatman let out a long sigh and drove the oar harder.

The busybody scrambled to keep up, still muttering. “This Young Master Su won’t turn back until he hits a wall. Si Li Bridge is that tall, that sturdy—how could it possibly…”

He didn’t get to finish.

His eyes bulged. “How—?!”

Ahead, under the gaze of everyone on the water, the stone arch of Si Li Bridge gave way with a thunderous crash.

They were far enough away that no debris reached them, but boulders slammed into the river, throwing up white spray. The shockwave rocked the boat violently, tossing it side to side.

Su Xuan Ming braced himself and burst into laughter, loud and unrestrained. “This is it! This is the place! Mother was right—this is the place!”

When the waves settled, the boatman found a slightly flatter stretch of bank and brought the boat in.

“Boatman,” Su Xuan Ming said, voice sharp with urgency now, “wait here. We’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t dare risk spending the night in the wild. He repeated himself twice more before he finally turned away.

The boatman—still pale from the bridge collapse—nodded so fast it was almost frantic. “All right. All right!”

Su Xuan Ming scanned their surroundings. A harvested field spread out around them, stripped bare for winter.

Not far away sat a ramshackle courtyard fenced with thin reeds and broken boards.

Its wooden gate—barely waist-high—had caved in on one side, hanging crookedly as if it might fall at a touch.

It looked abandoned.

The northwest wind worried the wood until it squealed, a thin, eerie creak that raised the hairs on the back of Chen Yi Xuan’s neck.

“This…” Chen Yi Xuan swallowed. “Building an academy out here… can it really work?”

Su Xuan Ming strode toward the courtyard anyway. The others hesitated for a heartbeat, then followed.

“Is anyone home?” Su Xuan Ming called, stopping at the gate.

Silence answered.

Su Yun Ting grabbed the fence and vaulted into the yard, leaning into a window with no paper screen. “Brother. No one inside.”

He shoved the gate.

The old wood gave way with a heavy thud, crashing down and kicking up a cloud of dust that washed over his face.

Su Yun Ting coughed, covered his nose, and made a quick circuit of the empty rooms. He stumbled back outside, hacking. “No one’s lived here for ages. It’s completely bare—there isn’t even a bed plank. Hah. Even a rat would come in and leave empty-handed.”

For a moment, the excited young men fell into a stunned silence.

Had they found the wrong place?

“Who are you?” a rough voice snapped. “What are you doing at my house?!”

An old farmer stood at the edge of the field, slightly hunched, his face lined and weathered. Scraggly whiskers clung to his upper lip and chin. He stared at them with open suspicion, a hoe gripped in both hands.

Su Xuan Ming cupped his fists and bowed. “Elder, are you the owner of this courtyard? We want to rent it.”

The farmer swung the hoe like a warning. “Get lost! Don’t push people too far! I got fooled once—do you think I’ll fall for it twice?!”

He looked old, but the hoe cut the air with fierce strength. Even Chen Yi Xuan—who had been in enough brawls to know danger—didn’t dare test him.

“We’re not swindlers!” Chen Yi Xuan blurted. “I’m Chen Yi Xuan, the young master of the Vice Director of the Court of Imperial Banquets!”

The farmer sneered without slowing. “Today, even if the King of Heaven himself comes, I’m not renting this place!”

Li Ming De nearly had his foot crushed. He couldn’t strike back at an old man, and the frustration burned in his chest. “Elder, why are you being so unreasonable? Do you even know who my godmother is?”

“Hah!” The old farmer spat. “Even if your godmother is the Empress Consort, I’m not afraid!”

In the end, age and breath caught up with him. He stopped, panting hard, the hoe still held like a shield.

Chen Yi Xuan shouted over him, “My godmother is Marquis Yong Chang Manor’s madam!”

At that, the farmer’s expression eased—just a fraction—though wariness still clung to him. “Marquis Yong Chang Manor’s madam? Truly?”

Li Ming De yanked Su Xuan Ming and Su Yun Ting forward. “This is Marquis Yong Chang Manor’s eldest young master, and this is the second young master.”

The farmer looked them over—Su Xuan Ming with his rich-boy face, Su Yun Ting pale and frail as a winter chick—and finally seemed convinced.

“For Marquis Yong Chang Manor’s madam’s sake,” he said, “I won’t rent you this courtyard.”

Their hearts sank—until he added, “But I’ll sell it.”

He jabbed the hoe toward the surrounding land. “With the sixty mu of fields around it, it’s six hundred taels. Not negotiable.”

The busybody arrived at a run, scandalized. “Old man, are you out of your mind? Even top-grade farmland is only three taels a mu! Even in the capital outskirts, it wouldn’t go past five!”

He threw his hands up. “Sixty mu and a broken courtyard, and you want six hundred taels? Why not just rob people in the street?!”

The old farmer lifted his chin, shameless. “Take it or leave it. If it weren’t Marquis Yong Chang Manor’s madam buying, you could offer a thousand taels and I still wouldn’t sell.”