This small gift wasn’t worth much, but it carried genuine feeling. It was exactly the kind of gesture that seals good relations, and Hong Laowu accepted it with a beaming smile.
The trip had ended perfectly. Li Feng told the brothers to pack up, then took another basket of mooncakes and went to bid farewell to Xie Yan.
They had set out on the fifteenth day of the seventh month and arrived on the twenty-first.
They captured the bandits on the second day of the eighth month. Today was the fourth.
Xie Yan couldn’t return to the county with them. He hadn’t been studying for many days, spending most of his time on the road, which wasn’t good for his schooling. Pity the bookish fellow—alone in a strange place, buried in his studies. Li Feng didn’t boast today; he only said they were heading home.
He deliberately came at dusk. By then, classes at the prefectural academy had ended. After dinner, the scholars could rest, as long as they returned before curfew.
Xie Yan told his page to take the mooncakes back to the dormitory, then invited Li Feng to dinner at a small restaurant near the academy.
After two straight days of heavy drinking, Li Feng’s stomach felt scorched. He ordered two vegetable dishes.
Xie Yan frowned. “Order some meat. I’ve got money on me. My husband arranged meals for me, and the page even went to Wupingzhi’s family cloth shop to pick up seasonal clothes. I didn’t pay a thing.”
Li Feng waved it off. “I’m sick of meat.”
Then he shot back, “What’s wrong with you? You can’t get through two sentences without mentioning your husband. Trying to one-up me?”
Xie Yan laughed. “Fine, let’s compare. My husband’s presentable anywhere—good in every way!”
Li Feng won effortlessly. “I’m heading home right away to spend Mid-Autumn with my husband.”
Xie Yan: “…”
Sigh.
Come to think of it, there was nothing to compare. Once Li Feng got home, he’d be busy harvesting mountain fungi again, business picking up and work only increasing. Lu Liu was pregnant; intimacy wasn’t convenient anyway. Like someone starving, staring at a bowl of good food—able to look, but not to eat. All hunger, no relief.
Xie Yan asked how things had been lately. “No trouble?”
Li Feng gave a brief rundown. Everything had gone smoothly, nothing dramatic.
Denggaolou ordered five hundred jin of goods. He’d also checked with the Ding family distillery—connections through Lu Yang. Last time there’d been no response, but this time a friend took three hundred jin of mushrooms. The remaining three hundred jin they sold at the docks.
After selling the goods, they didn’t rest. They stashed their weapons at Wupingzhi’s shop, then turned toward the docks, offering to haul cargo and asking the dock manager for work.
For the first couple of days, nothing happened. They heard plenty of gossip—messy, chaotic, just as expected—and gained a solid understanding of the various forces at the docks.
Until the day before yesterday, when that bandit rushed ashore.
Li Feng said flatly, “Water bandits belong on the water. Coming ashore like that is asking to die.”
Xie Yan had read many real cases recently and had a different angle on it. He glanced around, then lowered his voice.
“Along this canal, there are many docks. Docks compete with each other for business. Business on land, business on water—no capital, huge profits. Some water bandits are supported by people.”
Li Feng was stunned. More than that, he was surprised by Xie Yan himself.
“They teach that at the academy?”
Xie Yan shook his head, then nodded. “Not much. Mostly essays. Every region has its own governance issues. Since I’m studying at the prefectural academy, the exam questions are based on local policy. It’s all very… superficial. I’ve read a lot on my own.”
Books alone didn’t teach everything. Much was never spelled out clearly, so Xie Yan had done his own digging.
He’d long realized the world wasn’t black and white. There were many unwritten rules.
Take the Luo brothers, for example—official constables, yet they could round up a group of thugs to help reclaim land deeds for his family. He couldn’t say officials colluded with bandits, only that anyone who could unite a group of merchants at the docks must have ties to water bandits.
If they had ties, other dock managers could too. Mutual benefit in ordinary times—why wouldn’t that count as keeping bandits on retainer? Those people had to come ashore eventually.
Li Feng’s brow furrowed, then smoothed out.
“What kind of books say that? Get me a couple to read.”
Xie Yan had made extensive notes. He needed them for repeated study and to teach Wupingzhi, and hadn’t made copies yet. “Next time. I didn’t prepare any this trip. When you come to the prefectural city again, I’ll be going back to the county with you. The essays are long and slow to learn—I’ll explain them on the road. You’re gathering intel on power structures; it’s better to understand how those structures are built.”
Li Feng poured tea and raised his cup sincerely. “You’ve grown a lot.”
Xie Yan drank comfortably, smiling. “Living apart, suffering from longing—if I didn’t work hard, I’d be letting such a long journey go to waste.”
Xie Yan wrote letters home and asked Li Feng to deliver them.
One to his mother. One to Lu Yang.
The exam was drawing closer; not a moment could be wasted. He also wrote to Wupingzhi, enclosing carefully selected essays, urging him to read more and write more compositions. When Xie Yan returned to the county, he would review them one by one.
Li Feng asked if there was anything else. Xie Yan said, “When you see my husband, ask if he’s gone to the clinic to have his pulse checked. If not, make sure he goes. Autumn’s coming—he can change his prescription. Don’t wait for me. Let my mother go with him.”
There was nothing more.
Li Feng thought for a moment, then asked, “How are things at the academy? Are your classmates friendly? Your reputation for selling books is pretty well-known—anyone targeting you?”
He couldn’t enter the academy himself, but scholars had to go out. If needed, he could always catch someone and beat them up.
Xie Yan shook his head. “Some are friendly. Some mock me. I ignore them. After the provincial exam, how many of them will still be my classmates? Arguing with them would only hurt my future.”
He spoke calmly, saying something utterly domineering.
Only then did Li Feng notice the sharp edge about him. It wasn’t like the hunters in the mountains. This sharpness came from pride and confidence, not blood-soaked ferocity.
Li Feng raised his tea again. “As long as you know what you’re doing. We’re heading back tomorrow. After Mid-Autumn, I’ll come to the prefectural city again. Mountain fungi sell fast—around late August, you’ll be able to return to the county.”
Next time, they wouldn’t stay long—sell the goods and leave.
They finished dinner and parted ways outside the restaurant. Xie Yan returned to the academy; Li Feng went back to the inn.
At the dormitory, Xie Yan shared mooncakes with his page, packed two away, slung his book bag over his shoulder, and headed for the Quiet Room.
The academy’s study hall was called the Quiet Room. Most people borrowed books back to their dorms.
Xie Yan didn’t borrow books. He went straight to the Quiet Room, grabbed five or six volumes at once, squeezed onto a table with the gatekeeper, laid out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. He skimmed all the tables of contents first, then flipped quickly through the texts. Once he started writing, he bounced between books.
More than once he got so absorbed that he nearly tore pages out, earning dozens of smacks to the hand from the gatekeeper. Always the left hand. It was still swollen.
He shared a piece of mooncake with the old man.
The gatekeeper was elderly, fond of chess manuals and eager to play with Xie Yan. His chess etiquette was atrocious—either regretting moves or deliberately wrecking the board to force a restart.
Xie Yan didn’t like playing with him, but the deal was this: only if he played chess would he be allowed to sit there and read. Only if he tolerated the man’s take-backs would the old man save good books for him.
The good books were always borrowed out. Xie Yan’s popularity at the academy was mediocre. Those who disliked him could keep books checked out indefinitely, making them impossible for him to see. He’d come to the academy for good books, so he endured many long games with this terrible chess player.
Seeing Li Feng today, he realized that this “long time” had actually been less than half a month.
He still didn’t know the old man’s surname. Whenever asked how to address him, the man just said, “Call me Old Man.”
That felt disrespectful. Xie Yan usually called him “Sir.” Whenever classmates overheard, they were shocked, thinking Xie Yan wasn’t quite normal.
From this, Xie Yan deduced that the old man’s terrible chess skills were infamous.
The old man said, “In a few days I’ll be going home for the festival. My son’s back. This table will be yours alone.”
Xie Yan nodded.
The old man asked, “You’re not going home for Mid-Autumn? There’s a holiday.”
Xie Yan shook his head. His brush hovered for a long time without touching the paper. He sighed, set the brush down, and picked up a mooncake to look at.
