On the third day of the market, the riverside taverns opened their halls for celebratory feasts.
Hong Chu watched from a second-floor side room as his assistants took down the sunshades.
The street scene became clear in patches: beneath the colors were yellow-brown dirt and gray, weathered buildings.
All the merchants were packing up; the stalls were small, just for display, so cleanup was quick. In moments, the streets shifted from bustling to quiet and deserted.
Inside the hall below, however, the noise remained lively, as if the wooden floor above didn’t dampen the sound.
Amidst the commotion, Li Feng caught a hint of danger.
He reached to pull Hong Chu aside, but Lai Zhen, standing beside him, blocked him, hissing, “What are you trying to do?”
How fast does an arrow fly?
Li Feng didn’t wait to grab anyone; he shoved Lai Zhen forward, leaning against him to knock Hong Chu aside. An arrow whizzed past Lai Zhen’s arm, embedding itself into the wall.
Hong Chu pushed Lai Zhen out of the way and sent him off to capture the attacker.
Lai Zhen glanced at Li Feng and, when Hong Laowu urged him again, saluted and obeyed.
A tense hush fell over the room as everyone crowded around Hong Chu, shouting, “Protect the young master!”
Hong Chu leaned behind Hong Laowu, ordering the others to keep back.
“Step back two paces. Don’t get so close.”
Six attendants followed him; four obeyed, while two tried to move forward, insisting on protecting him.
Without Li Feng’s intervention, the four obedient attendants restrained the disobedient two, dragging them outside to an unknown fate.
Once they were removed, Hong Chu circled out from behind Hong Laowu and asked Li Feng, “Boss Li, do you think more will come?”
Li Feng scanned the remaining attendants and Hong Laowu’s expression. “Yes. Once you capture them, everyone relaxes too much.”
The earlier days had only been minor scuffles—arrows fired, attendants attacked—but this felt like the real event. The planted attackers around him could only be used once; there was no backup.
Hong Chu smirked. “What a shame—a talent like you, yet tied to family business. Otherwise, I would hire you handsomely.”
Li Feng was straightforward: “How much? I could take on a short-term guard job like this.”
Hong Chu fell silent.
Li Feng’s eyes were sincere, brimming with desire for money.
Hong Chu asked, “Then you should have gone to the market. You saw it—all big business. Do you regret it? Blame Lu Yang for not coming?”
Li Feng shook his head. Nothing to regret.
He accepted the arrow Hong Laowu handed him. It was unmarked, a plain iron arrow from a blacksmith’s shop, like the hunting arrows he used. Dark-colored, rough, with barbs crudely added later. When the tip struck the wooden wall, it carved several shallow scratches.
He set the arrow down. “Lu Yang started business in the county long ago, collecting mushrooms early to control the high-priced mountain mushroom market. That’s a whole mountain, a thousand or so households—no payment, no harvest. If the money ran short, some mushrooms went to other merchants. At that time he hadn’t met outside buyers. He said it would take years to manage. Now our company has been in the city a year.”
Li Feng didn’t get along with Lu Yang, but he respected him.
“My mother also did business,” Li Feng said. “She led us brothers to try everything when we were young. Even before I married, she still dried mushrooms for sale. She couldn’t get prices in the county, nor collect properly in the mountain villages. To be a successful buyer, you must negotiate well. Many tried, but only Lu Yang succeeded.”
Besides money, it required guts.
Hong Chu heard about Li Feng’s mother, glanced at him, and after a pause said, “Boss Li, we have good fortune together. Last year, when I took over the family business, many resisted, even river bandits caused trouble at my docks. Luckily, you brothers were brave and captured them, or I would have been dismissed for some silly reason like ‘the young master is unlucky.’
“My Fifth Uncle said you encountered more waves of bandits later. I couldn’t properly repay you then, so I kept my distance to avoid dragging you in. This time, I invited you as a bodyguard—first, I trust your skill; second, it’s a chance to repay. You didn’t want the stall, so I used Lu Yang’s red-list suggestion. The market ends today, but business isn’t over.”
Hong Chu stood and told him, “I’ll order a batch of mountain mushrooms for your company as prizes, so major merchants recognize your name. If a few stay, you get some orders… as always, it all depends on your skill.”
Li Feng was amazed at such composure.
The celebratory feast began. Hong Chu headed downstairs to entertain, saying little to him.
Hong Laowu made way, escorting him down; Li Feng followed, Hong Laowu silently saluting in congratulations.
Li Feng focused, not letting joy dull his alertness.
The market had ended, but Hong Chu hadn’t safely returned home—his protective duty wasn’t done.
At the banquet, Hong Chu wore a silver ring; when clinking cups, some wine spilled, the ring didn’t tarnish, and he drank calmly. All so natural.
In the evening, the feast began with dinner, announcing prizes, and congratulating major merchants.
The prizes came from guild members: the Hong family provided fabrics, the Ling and Bai families cotton, the Huang family herbs, the Ji family spices, the Sheng family tea, the Wang family pine ink, and the rest—mountain mushrooms from local sources.
Hong Chu went around toasting, letting merchants admire the mushroom dishes.
“These are the latest mushroom dishes from Yunping Prefecture. Everyone may have tasted them; if not, please try. My uncle enjoys them so much he keeps praising every meal. You’ve traveled far; I hope you enjoy them and remember the flavor. Consider it a host’s courtesy.”
Local-mountain-sourced mushrooms had a modest reputation among merchants; for those only visiting the market, they were mostly unfamiliar.
Hong Chu mentioned it briefly, then shifted topics, noting that the seven merchants who won the prizes had all returned their pawned fans.
The fans weren’t valuable—gold-boned with silk faces—pawned for seventy taels. Others were worth twenty or thirty taels.
It was hot; a fan was useful to cool down.
This minor prize immediately lifted the atmosphere. Merchants toasted him a second time, calling “Boss Hong,” praising his generosity.
Once Hong Chu took his seat at the guild’s table and raised his cup—spilling a bit, darkening the silver ring—his smile finally softened.
He set down the cup, collected the ring, had fine wine brought, and cleared the jars. The celebratory feast concluded perfectly.
Evening fell; any later, there would be curfew.
The tables dispersed. Hong Chu told Li Feng to return home first.
“I have Mr. Lai escorting you; that’s enough for now.”
Li Feng didn’t leave. He followed to the Hong family gates; the last test of this protective mission came.
From the trees along the riverbank, hidden arrows flew. Hong Chu dodged; the surrounding servants shouted to catch the assailant. The thief leaped down, running three steps away. Li Feng nocked an arrow; Lai Zhen bumped his back.
Lai Zhen’s dagger handle struck Li Feng’s breastplate with a metallic clang.
Li Feng ignored it, nocked another arrow. Hong Chu said, “Boss Li, let him go. I’ve carefully arranged this as a ruse.”
Li Feng: “…Right, I remember now. Hong Chu must have had another plan.”
Lai Zhen found a chance to speak: “Useless at completing, only good at messing things up.”
Li Feng: “…Forget it. Time to go home.”
Hong Laowu lived nearby in a civilian house. He couldn’t host Li Feng today, being off to “capture thieves,” but promised next time.
Li Feng suddenly recalled the second attempt to catch thieves at the docks.
When the thieves cried “catch the thief,” the Hong family was remarkably practiced.
