Chapter Fifty-Four: Can’t Win in a Fight, Can’t Outrun Either

Chapter Fifty-Four: Can’t Win a Fight, Can’t Outrun Either

“That’s enough, let’s talk about this at home, alright? Khak, khak, khak—” Another bout of wrenching coughs wracked the man before his voice rose again. “He really… tonight, he almost, he almost caused a disaster. But… but after all, he didn’t… didn’t actually hurt the master… khak, khak…”

“Climbing over the wall in the dead of night to commit violence, caught red-handed—and you say he only ‘almost’ did something wrong?” Madam Wang was a rare, formidable woman. She clung to the flaw in her husband’s words and pressed relentlessly, “Would you rather he actually killed someone, and our whole family paid with our lives for him? Oh, Wang, how did I end up so unlucky, marrying a heartless man like you? Ruined my whole life and now you’d have our two children suffer with me too—” Her wails became sobs of despair.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, that’s not what I meant! Khak, khak, khak…” Clearly wracked with guilt toward his wife and children, Wang Maobo dared not scold her, only coughing and pleading softly, “Khak, khak, khak, let’s go home. Once we’re there, you can deal with him however you like—you’re his elder sister-in-law, and that’s like a mother. Khak, khak, but for now, let’s go pay our respects to the master, and see just how much trouble Second Brother has caused tonight. At least then we’ll know what can still be salvaged!”

“Salvaged? You still want to help him salvage things? You’re sick as a dog—what are you going to do for him?” Though Madam Wang’s heart ached for her husband, she was more afraid of their family being dragged deeper into disaster. She snatched a bundle and hurled it at Wang Maozhong, tied to a tree. “Here’s what you brought home today—take it back! However you pay the master, with money or your life, that’s your affair. Leave us out of it.”

The bundle struck Wang Maozhong’s chest, then tumbled to the ground and came apart. The muddy earth, still wet from recent rain, was suddenly strewn with glinting objects: a silver lamp, a silver pot, a copper bowl, a copper spoon, several bright gold ingots, and fifty or sixty coppers. Under the torchlight, each item gleamed temptingly.

As for Wang Maozhong, whether from the beating he’d received from Zhang Qian earlier or for sheer shame before his family, he’d hung his head in silence from the moment his elder brother entered, not so much as opening his eyes, even as Madam Wang pelted him with the bundle.

Seeing him feign death only deepened Madam Wang’s bitterness. She stepped forward and, with a dull thud, knelt in the mud, kowtowing forcefully. “Second Brother, our family has suffered enough. Please, let us go! Even if your brother owed you in a past life, he’s repaid it by now. If you can’t care for your brother or me as a sister-in-law, you have a nephew—he’s the only one left to carry on the Wang family name! I beg you, please, please…”

“Up, get up—he’s tied to the tree, what are you forcing him for? Khak, khak…” Seeing his wife go too far, Wang Maobo hurried forward, coughing, and pulled her arm, “The disaster’s done. Even if you scold him to death, it won’t undo it. Khak, khak…”

“There you go again! You always say that! If you hadn’t, would our family be like this now…” Madam Wang was determined to cut ties with Wang Maozhong, her cries growing hoarse.

As husband and wife quarreled endlessly, Zhang Qian emerged from the main hall, now dressed in a padded long robe. He cast a glance at Wang Maozhong’s swollen, beaten face—so battered it was impossible to tell its color—and then smiled, asking, “What’s this? Husband and wife quarreling? Are you family of the one tied to the tree? Earlier tonight, he suddenly charged at me with a hammer, looking to take my life. I can’t fathom what I did to offend him. That’s why I had you brought here—to ask, what grudge lies between us?”

Before he’d finished, Madam Wang’s cries abruptly ceased, and Wang Maobo released her arm, bowing with hands clasped. When Zhang Qian said Wang Maozhong had tried to kill him with a hammer, both their faces turned ashen. But when he pressed for the root of their enmity, their faces darkened from white to purple, and both bowed even lower, speechless.

“It has nothing to do with them. I, Wang, heard you wanted to take my niece as payment for her family’s debt, so I came to deliver you a lesson.” From the silence, Wang Maozhong suddenly lifted his head and declared loudly, “They know you forgave their debt and are grateful to you. But I know full well that’s just your ploy to make them offer up their daughter willingly. As long as you hold the IOU, you can go back on your word anytime you please. I’ve seen too many like you—playing the saint but holding the whip! You’re no different!”

“Shut up! The master isn’t that kind of man!” Wang Maobo, furious and anxious, strode to the tree and raised his hand to slap his brother—but seeing his face so swollen, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Madam Wang, less sentimental, rushed forward and pummeled Wang Maozhong. “You fool! Is it your business what happens with our Erya? The master has already forgiven our debt, sparing us from famine. Even if he hadn’t, it’s only right to repay what is owed! Who needs you meddling?!”

Wang Maozhong remained silent, taking the blows. Only when she tired of beating and scolding did he open a slit of his swollen eyes, looking at Zhang Qian. “You see? They truly knew nothing. I slipped out while they slept to find you. Now that I’ve fallen into your hands—kill me, or hand me to the magistrate, either way, it’s my doing, not theirs. Don’t implicate them!”

“Second Brother, you said it!” Madam Wang’s eyes lit up. She grabbed her husband’s arm and dragged him toward the door. “Let’s go home. He’s twenty-two—he should have his own household by now. Tonight’s mess is none of our concern.”

“Enough! Will you stop already?” Though so ill he could barely stand, Wang Maobo planted his feet like roots. Try as she might, his wife couldn’t budge him. “He’s my brother, blood is blood—even if he has his own house! If you want to leave, you take the children. I can’t abandon him now!”

“So you’ve grown bold, Wang Dalang! If I hadn’t slaved away these years, you’d have been begging with the children by the roadside…” Stunned that he’d rebuke her in front of everyone, Madam Wang released his arm and sat in the mud, wailing.

“Be quiet!” Having scolded her once, Wang Maobo found courage for a second time. He barked at her, then turned to his children, coughing, “Yizhi, Erya, help your mother home! Don’t let her make a scene here! Khak, khak…”

Bent double, he coughed so hard he could barely breathe.

Madam Wang, worried for her husband, hastily wiped her tears and got up to pound his chest and rub his back. But Wang Maobo shook her off and staggered over to pick up the silver lamp, silver pot, copper bowl, copper spoon, gold ingots, and copper coins Wang Maozhong had brought home that evening. He bundled them together, then, swaying, carried the package to Zhang Qian.

His son and daughter tried to help him, but he pushed them away until he stood three feet from Zhang Qian. Only then did he accept their support, bowed low, and knelt. “I was out borrowing money this afternoon and not at home, but my wife told me everything the master did. Your generosity will never be forgotten by the Wang family. Tonight my younger brother, drunk, tried to harm you—a crime deserving death. I dare not beg for him, but would like to offer these possessions as compensation for what he broke, and for any injured servants.”

He assumed his brother, skilled in martial arts and carrying the ancestral gold hammer, must have been outnumbered to be captured. Surely, many servants had been injured. It was best to pay for the damages and medicine now, then beg for his brother’s life, lest the master, enraged on his servants’ behalf, seek fatal vengeance.

But before Zhang Qian could respond, Wang Maozhong suddenly shouted, “That’s all for supporting you and your illness! How can you give it all away? I only broke a window and two doors—one gold ingot is more than enough!”

“Silence!” Wang Maobo, shocked, scolded his brother harshly. “Even if it’s just a few doors, the compensation is up to the master! You climbed the wall to kill—attempted murder is a capital crime! Any sum to buy your life is justified!”

“If he wants to kill me, let him! You keep the money for your health!” Wang Maozhong, not daring to argue, pleaded hoarsely. “Brother, just listen to me. I owe you so much. I finally have a chance to repay you—who knows if I’ll get another!”

Tears began to stream from the thin slits of his swollen eyes.

“If you die, how will I ever explain to our parents?” Wang Maobo, voice choked with tears, scolded him, then turned back to Zhang Qian and knelt in the mud. “Master, he attempted murder. His fate is in your hands. However you judge him, I will not resent it. Yet, shameless as it is, I beg you to spare him. From now on, my life is yours to command—slave or soldier, as you wish!”

“Brother, no! We already have one slave in the family—we can’t have a second!” Wang Maozhong cried out in remorse.

“I can’t just watch you die!” Wang Maobo glanced at his brother, tears streaming.

“Husband, what do we owe him, what?!” Madam Wang could bear it no longer and flung herself on her husband and children, sobbing.

Even the servants around them, who had hated the Wang family, now turned away, eyes red.

Zhang Qian, for his part, was filled with mixed feelings: envy for such brotherly love—something he’d never known in either of his lifetimes—and relief that fate hadn’t given him a brother like Wang Maozhong. Otherwise, even with a system and a wise old mentor, he’d have been dragged to ruin!

He sighed and spoke gravely, “Enough, stop crying—as if I’d really done something terrible to your family!”

“Master Zhang, your mercy…” Wang Maobo, hearing the hope in his words, knelt upright and prostrated himself.

“Wait, I need to clarify something!” Zhang Qian raised his voice, fixing Wang Maozhong with a stare. “You said I was scheming—pretending to forgive your brother’s debt to force them to offer their daughter. Who told you I was so base? Just because I didn’t return the IOU then and there? You’re not a pig—I only passed through by chance, how could I have the IOU on me? If I’d brandished it then, that would be truly two-faced! You’re over twenty, why don’t you use your brain?”

Wang Maozhong was left speechless, bowing his head as if to bury it in his collar.

Beside Wang Maobo, his eldest son Yizhi suddenly lowered his head, his breathing short and tense.

Wang Maobo, trained in martial arts, still had sharp senses despite his illness. Hearing his son’s abnormal breathing, he realized who had incited his brother that night—and his heart burned with anger. But however angry, he couldn’t turn over his own son. All he could do was bow again in the mud and plead, “Master, our family has wronged you. Please, show mercy and spare my brother. I’m willing to sell myself as your servant for life!”

“I wouldn’t dare use you as a slave!” Zhang Qian had seen the performances of Wang Maozhong and Yizhi and sneered. “Even if you’re loyal, what if your brother or son comes after me later—could you really strike them down?”

“Master, I’ll change my name to Zhang and cut all ties with my brother!” Wang Maobo, realizing Zhang Qian had seen through his son’s part, kowtowed again. “As for my son, he’ll stay with his mother—from now on, he’s no business of mine!”

“Husband…”

“Father—!”

His wife and children clung to his arms, wailing. Wang Maozhong, full of regret, collapsed against the tree, kneeling and pleading, “Master, just kill me! I’m the cause of all this. Spare my brother and nephew, I beg you!”

“I don’t want to kill anyone tonight, nor ruin my own reputation!” Seeing that the moment was right, Zhang Qian smiled and shook his head. “Enough, Wang Maozhong. For your brother’s sake, let’s write off tonight’s events. Whether you mend your ways or keep making trouble for me, I’ll meet you as you come—but don’t harm the innocent!”

Ren Quan was right: Wang Maozhong was a servant of a powerful family—killing him would bring endless trouble. Even handing him to the authorities would mean endless entanglements. Making a friend out of an enemy was the only choice.

Of course, if Zhang Qian had Ren Qiong’s strength, he could kill without consequence. But he didn’t, and it wasn’t worth risking his future over a servant.

“Thank you, Master, thank you!” Wang Maobo, unaware of all the calculations, was overjoyed and led his wife and children to kneel and kowtow. “Yizhi, Erya, Mother, quick, thank the master!”

“You—you’re really letting me go?!” Wang Maozhong could hardly believe it, peering at Zhang Qian through his swollen eyes.

“If I didn’t, I’d fear your ghost haunting me!” Zhang Qian, having decided to win hearts, went all the way. He grabbed a short knife from a servant and strode to the tree, slicing through the ropes. “There, you’re free! Take your brother, your possessions, and go. And next time, bring your wallet to pay for my doors and furniture!”

“You’re not afraid I’ll come for revenge? Settle this beating tonight?” Wang Maozhong, stubborn as ever, squinted suspiciously.

“Can you even beat me?” Zhang Qian retorted coldly, full of disdain.

“You—” Wang Maozhong, shamed and angry, argued, “Tonight you played tricks and took advantage of the cramped room. Out in the open, I…”

“Come then!” Zhang Qian cut him off, smirking. “First, you’d have to outrun me!”

“You—” Wang Maozhong wanted to protest, but knew he couldn’t catch Zhang Qian, and ground his teeth in frustration.

“If you can’t beat me and can’t outrun me, seeking trouble is just asking for a beating,” Zhang Qian mocked mercilessly, ignoring Wang Maozhong’s posturing. He turned to Wang Maobo, pulled him up from the ground, and smiled, “No need to kneel, nor sell yourself. I enjoy martial arts and would like to learn some riding and mounted skills—once you’re well, would you be willing to instruct me?”

—End of Chapter Fifty-Four—