By mid-sixth month, the celadon shop suddenly grew bustling. The expenses on the ledger mounted day by day—ten guan, twenty guan, or even an entire ding of fifty guan. Places requiring money were as numerous as hairs on an ox; from procurement to hiring labor, every single matter cost cash.
Shao Shuyi paid out disbursements without hesitation. After all, the decisions were not his to make; he only needed to ensure that all procedures were complete and in order, and nothing else mattered. What was more, he also shared in the benefits of buying fish and meat—the one polishing off three bowls of rice and a large basin of dishes at every meal was none other than himself.
Between keeping the books, he trained his body to build his strength. The body itself was a foundation of power. Even without knowing martial arts, if two men got into a brawl, being strong and fit still offered an advantage, didn't it?
Zhang Neng, on the other hand, grew increasingly sullen. After dinner on the sixteenth, he pulled Wu Youcai aside and said, "I saw the Gao family's widow come looking for you today. How is it she didn't stay for a meal before leaving?"
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Startled, Wu Youcai glanced left and right before hissing under his breath.
"That messy business of yours has been going on for years—who doesn't know?" Zhang Neng gave a cold laugh. "Not that it's surprising. With a shrew like the Lion of Hedong at home, anyone would want a taste of something outside as time went by."
Wu Youcai's face instantly soured, and even his beard trembled slightly.
"Did you come to me just for this?" he said through gritted teeth.
"I'm looking out for you," Zhang Neng said, taking a step closer.
Wu Youcai froze.
"Running short on cash, aren't you?" Zhang Neng leaned close to Wu Youcai's ear and asked in a low voice.
Wu Youcai's expression stiffened, and he remained silent.
"Do you think I don't know how much money and grain you earn each month?" Zhang Neng continued. "Supporting a household and keeping a mistress on the side—is that enough to get by?"
Wu Youcai turned pale and instinctively took two steps back, as though unwilling to hear another word.
"You can fool others, but you can't fool your own heart," Zhang Neng pressed closer. "In the past, you still had ways to make some money on the side. In early fourth month, you sold a pair of celadon pieces—tsk, tsk, Dingzhou red porcelain no less, supposedly treasures presented to Noble Consort Zhang by Wang Hongchen back in the Old Song! Even if they were copies from a kiln in eastern Zhejiang, they still fetched a tidy sum. But then again, it's been nearly two months since then, so that money must be just about gone, eh? Over these past two months, getting any celadon out of the shop hasn't been easy, has it? That little cur Shao Shuyi counts everything with ridiculous precision. Even when a piece breaks naturally, he takes away the shards to inspect them—not giving an inch of leeway. Tell me, if this keeps up, how are you going to get your hands on money? Without money, how will you support your households? That widow in Spice Lane bore you a son, didn't she? Do you really have the heart to abandon them?"
Wu Youcai fell into a long silence.
A smug look appeared on Zhang Neng's face. Everyone had a weak spot, and where there was a weak spot, there was leverage. Wu Youcai was indeed timid, but his expenses were heavy; under the squeeze of practical reality, he was bound to make a choice sooner or later.
"What do you want to do?" Wu Youcai asked in a raspy voice after a long pause.
"Take that fellow Shao Shuyi and—" Zhang Neng raised an eyebrow.
"No!" Wu Youcai's aged face went ashen, and he hastily intervened. "Both of us have families and livelihoods; we mustn't act rashly! The Old Master doesn't meddle in affairs much anymore, and the Third Master is full of ambition, eager to make his mark. If something happens to Shao Shuyi less than two months after his arrival, wouldn't that hand him an excuse on a silver platter? Once an inquiry is launched, neither of us will come out well, and even the shopkeeper won't be able to extricate himself. No, absolutely not!"
Zhang Neng looked at him with disdain. "Is that all the courage you have?"
Unwilling to back down, Wu Youcai glanced at Zhang Neng's increasingly protruding potbelly and retorted, "Don't just talk about me. Look at the state of you—I doubt you're any better off."
Zhang Neng felt a twinge of embarrassment. After a pause, he finally laid his cards on the table. "Some things don't have to be done by our own hands, nor do they need to happen in the shop. I've come up with an idea. Turn it over in your mind, and if it works, we do it. How about that?"
Wu Youcai hesitated for a long time before giving a slight nod. "Let's hear it."
Zhang Neng breathed a sigh of relief.
Truth be told, he was really the same kind of person as Wu Youcai. Perhaps he had once been full of vigor in his younger days, but at his current age, with his sharp edges ground smooth by the world, he had long lost that spirit.
With Wu Youcai willing to stand alongside him, the psychological pressure weighed far less heavily on him.
Clearing his throat, he leaned close to Wu Youcai's ear and whispered, "Do you know where Shao Shuyi lives, or what his household is like? I've heard that there are water bandits on Lake Tai..."
***
On the evening of the twentieth, Shao Shuyi returned to the celadon shop from his family home.
That day, he had spent the entire day practicing archery on the open ground by the river behind his home.
Wang Huadu had finished his stint of hired labor at the docks and come along with Yu Yuan, listening in the whole day as well. But Cheng Ji was a man of strict principles; he declared that since the two of them hadn't paid, they were welcome to listen, but they couldn't lay a hand on the bow and arrows—which had sent Wang Huadu into fits of cursing.
Over the course of the day, Shao Shuyi had shot at least thirty arrows. He felt he had gained a great deal, though he was also thoroughly exhausted.
A qualified foot archer had very demanding physical requirements. To draw a great bow or a war bow, a man had to be tall and broad-shouldered with a powerful torso; such a man would naturally make a fine hand at close combat as well—provided he spent the money and time to learn.
Cheng Ji knew close combat, even though in battle formations he served as a foot archer. He mentioned that crossbowmen in the Tang dynasty often carried modao greatswords for melee combat; it was hard to say whether the crossbow or the modao was the primary or secondary weapon, and they even had horses for rapid battlefield mobility—an extravagant standard indeed.
Archers likewise carried hengdao sidearms, spears, long-handled axes, and wooden cudgels, mastering both melee and ranged combat. Those were real soldiers—perhaps even taken a bit to excess, turning into proud and ferocious battle-hardened troops.
Yet Cheng Ji envied them deeply, feeling that soldiers nowadays lived worse than those in ancient times and lacked their all-around skills; one might as well go dash one's head against a wall and die.
Shao Shuyi also yearned for such prowess. But he understood that forging an elite warrior required an accumulation of time and resources; he was still far from it and needed more time to grow. Furthermore, he didn't necessarily need to become a fierce general who broke through enemy vanguards—times were different from antiquity now, and there was no need for that.
After returning to the celadon shop, he resumed his day-to-day routine behind the desk until the twenty-sixth, when Wang Huadu unexpectedly came looking for him.
"Xiaohu, you eat awfully well here—no wonder you work so hard." Having wolfed down two meat flatbreads, Wang Huadu sighed in contentment and began sipping vegetable congee, muttering around mouthfuls.
Shao Shuyi tapped him on the head, walked over to sit by the bed, and began thumbing through the ledgers.
Wang Huadu paused slightly, then lowered his head to continue drinking his congee.
He didn't know when it had started, but he had grown accustomed to Shao Shuyi clapping him on the shoulder or tapping him on the head, taking it as a matter of course and viewing himself as Shao's attendant and subordinate—even though barely two months ago, they had hardly known each other.
Yet he couldn't be bothered to ponder such complicated matters. Finishing his congee in a few quick gulps, he pushed the bowl and chopsticks aside, got up to check outside the door, and then slipped back in, speaking in hushed secrecy: "Xiaohu, someone over in Zhangjing East Second Du has been asking around about you."
"Oh? Truly?" Shao Shuyi was taken aback.
"Truly," Wang Huadu nodded vigorously. "They seem to have come from Liujiagang, with foreign accents. They're lodging right next door to your house, claiming they want to do business along Thirty-Li Embankment and are scoping out locations."
Shao Shuyi stood up, thinking carefully.
"That sounds ordinary enough. Why do you say they're asking about me?" After a moment, he came over to Wang Huadu and asked.
"Three or four out of every ten words they speak lead back to your family—asking how many people live under your roof, what your circumstances are, what living you make, that sort of thing. It sounds suspicious the moment you hear it," Wang Huadu said.
"What kind of people are asking about me?"
"An old man and a youth—two people. The older one looks like a farmer, and the lad looks like a student. Either way, they don't look like merchants."
"How do you know they were asking about me?"
"I was strolling east of your house, and they asked me straight out."
Though this was a matter of life and death, Shao Shuyi couldn't help letting out a laugh.
Indeed, asking around about someone in ancient times was bound to leak like a sieve. Two conspicuous outsiders, strangers in an unfamiliar place, blindly snooping around—it was only natural that someone would tip off the target.
The question now was—who was asking around about him?
Analyzing it from the perspective of interests, the answer wasn't hard to deduce: it could only be the faction of Wang Sheng, Wu Youcai, and Zhang Neng, as they were the only ones whose interests conflicted with his.
What a rotten bunch! Shao Shuyi wiped away his smile and fell into serious thought.
Actually, had he really touched Wang Sheng's core interests? Was there any need to go so far as to fight to the death?
Wang Sheng was old, had made his fortune, and had a large household—the monk might run, but the temple remained. If things really broke down with the Zheng family, dealing with him wouldn't be difficult; it all depended on whether the Zheng clan was willing to set aside courtesy and bring down an iron fist on an old retainer who had served them for decades.
Or had he underestimated Wang Sheng? Had he failed to grasp the man's true character?
After pondering for a long while, Shao Shuyi stopped pacing, looked at Wang Huadu, and said, "Go back and investigate the identities of those two."
"How should I investigate?" Wang Huadu asked.
"Just probe around indirectly."
"Should we—" Wang Huadu licked his lips and whispered, "tie them up under cover of night and interrogate them?"
"No need for that," Shao Shuyi waved a hand. "Quietly look into them first."
Wang Huadu wasn't entirely satisfied, but he still nodded in agreement.
Chapter 25