Chapter 54

Chapter 54: The Uninvited Worker

The teahouse roared with laughter.

“Song Da, your abacus beads are clacking loud!”

“Who would’ve thought the fool betting on Su Da Lang was you!”

“You trust them that much?”

Song Da held his cup in both hands. The tea leaves drifted up and down in water that looked pale as clear broth.

Since Marquis Yong Chang Manor’s madam liked clear tea, even common teahouses had begun selling it.

“I didn’t trust them at first,” Song Da admitted. “It was the 1:10 odds that tempted me. But now… those ten sworn brothers have changed so much. Maybe that academy really will be built.”

By the door, a middle-aged scholar rolled his eyes, lips curling with thick disdain. “Unless roosters lay eggs, hens crow, and the sun rises in the west, that academy will never be built.”

Song Da slammed his cup down. “You mad scholar! What are you, some kind of fortune teller? Don’t run your mouth.”

The scholar didn’t even bother looking at him. “You can’t speak of ice to a summer insect. You small vendors naturally don’t know this: the Imperial Academy and Song Shan Academy are preparing a new round of admissions and recruiting teachers.”

The Imperial Academy recruited once a year. Song Shan Academy recruited twice—spring and autumn.

Adding an extra winter exam…

Who it targeted was obvious without saying it.

The scholar left a string of copper coins on the table and strode out.

On the second floor of Fu Quan Teahouse, Madam Niu—the Nation-Guarding General’s wife—nearly dropped her teacup.

“If that scholar is telling the truth,” she whispered, face tightening, “then all the Imperial Academy and Song Shan Academy need to do is add one condition before recruitment: no currently employed teachers may apply. In that case, Hundred Rivers Academy will never find a teacher.”

The young madam of duke cheng clicked her tongue. “Isn’t that too much? It’s only a small academy. Does Headmaster Wu—and the director—really need to be so ruthless?”

Madam Niu rubbed her temples, irritation gnawing at her far worse than when the Nation-Guarding General took his fifth concubine.

“On the surface, it’s Headmaster Wu clashing with the marchioness,” she said tightly. “But in truth, it’s His Majesty and…” She swallowed the rest and began pacing.

The young madam of duke cheng sighed, pinched up a pastry, then set it down again. “You still won’t make up with Xi Jun?”

Madam Niu crossed her arms and snorted. “She relied on being the boss young madam of duke ji manor and deliberately refused to rent a courtyard to the marchioness. The rent should’ve been a hundred taels—she demanded five hundred.”

“She has her own difficulties,” the young madam of duke cheng said, stirring the crushed pastry into her tea and letting it simmer. “Her eldest son is at Guo Zi College—right here in the capital. Not like your eldest son, studying far away at Yue Lu Academy.”

Madam Niu stared out at bare winter branches, lost in thought.

The winter wind was bleak—but in a small courtyard in the Southern Capital Suburbs, everything was blazing with activity.

“Brother, we’re here!” Chen Yi Xuan huffed as he directed servants to unload furniture from a cart. “My father said these tables and chairs are our congratulatory gift.”

Su Xuan Ming’s eyes swept over the pieces: elegant desks and rounded-back chairs teachers favored, long tables and stools used in schools, even shelves and stands for incense burners.

Once the courtyard was cleaned, they could move everything in and wouldn’t need to buy any other furnishings.

Jiang Guang Hai arrived with several large wooden crates on a carriage. “Brother, these are the books my father contributed. Hehe. He’s spent years pouring his private savings into books—this time he really bled.”

Su Xuan Ming didn’t dare set such precious books on the ground.

“Seventh Brother!” he said urgently. “Sit here and don’t move. Guard these books—that’s your greatest contribution!”

The day was already sliding away. If they didn’t get the courtyard in order before dusk, the cold would bite harder than any enemy.

“Yun Ting,” Su Xuan Ming ordered, “go to the nearby villages and hire a few more strongmen!”

Su Yun Ting dusted off his sleeves and surveyed the yard. All their brothers had arrived, along with thirty or forty household guards. Even if trouble came, they could handle it.

Only then did he relax. He climbed onto the carriage and flicked the whip lazily, rolling away toward the villages.

Once he was out of sight, a middle-aged man with a thick beard leaned over the fence and called out, “Young masters, do you need workers? I won’t take pay—just feed me two meals.”

Jiang Guang Hai narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you want money? Godmother said there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

The bearded man scratched the back of his head with a huge hand, eyes glinting as he tried to look harmless. “I fled famine to get here. I’m starving. People see my size and get scared—they won’t hire me.”

Su Xuan Ming studied him. Even hunched, the man stood nearly as tall as he did, shoulders packed with corded muscle.

If his cheeks weren’t hollow, you’d never believe he was a refugee.

“Fine,” Su Xuan Ming said. “If you’re here to demand money, you won’t get a single coin. But if you want to earn a full belly with your own hands—then I promise you won’t go hungry.”

Relief flashed across the man’s face.

He gave a light hop and cleared the fence in one smooth motion. He landed so softly it barely stirred the dust.

“Thank you, Young Master!” he said quickly. “My name is Li Da Niu. Just call me Da Niu!”

Su Xuan Ming’s gaze locked on the ground where Li Da Niu had landed.

No footprint.

Li Da Niu’s heart clenched. In his excitement, he’d forgotten to hide it. Su Da Lang might look foolish, but his eyes were sharp.

Su Xuan Ming clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Li Da Niu’s muscles tensed—ready to bolt—

But Su Xuan Ming only said, “You look strong as an ox, but you’re hollow inside. Don’t worry. From now on, eat until your belly is full.”

Li Da Niu froze, then broke into a grin so wide it nearly split his face. He bowed deeply. “All right! Thank you, Su Da Lang!”

Once set to work, Li Da Niu was a force of nature. Where others carried one load of tiles, he carried two—one on each shoulder—moving fast enough to make the rest stare.

Su Xuan Ming watched him for a moment, then laughed under his breath. Worth it.

Not long after, another pair arrived at the fence: a foreign boy and a large, dull-looking man.

Jiang Guang Hai raised an eyebrow. “You’re here looking for work too?”

The foreign boy hesitated, then nodded. In any country, if you wanted to learn a trade, you worked for free for years first—at least that was how it had always been.

“Fleeing famine?” Jiang Guang Hai asked.

The foreign boy stared at him in surprise, then nodded hard.

Jiang Guang Hai waved Su Xuan Ming over and jerked his chin toward the newcomers. “Another one. No—two.”

Su Xuan Ming looked the boy over. Sun-browned skin, delicate features, but hair so filthy and tangled it screamed hardship.

“No pay,” Su Xuan Ming said bluntly. “But you’ll eat your fill. Will you do it?”

The foreign boy quietly withdrew the hand that had been reaching for his purse and answered at once, “Yes. My name is A Le Chuan. This is my uncle, A Da.”