Is Mr. Hong Home?

The tall man hurried next to the apothecary and had a medicinal dose filled. The resident physician told him that since the old prescription had shown no effect, they should switch to a new formula and try it for ten consecutive days. The new formula was more expensive, and he did not have enough money, but he could only nod and agree. Ahead lay the butcher shop; wanting to stay far from it, he went well out of his way to circle home. The moment he entered the alley, cursing reached his ears. Mr. Hong glanced to the side. A neighbor at the alley mouth held a child, weeping bitterly. What little furniture stood in the courtyard lay strewn in disorder, as though the place had just been ransacked. Could it be...? His heart clenched, and he broke into a rapid stride toward home. All along the way, the wails and curses of neighbors rose without pause. Mr. Hong took the distance in great leaps. Pushing open the gate, he saw overturned benches in the courtyard, the bundle of firewood once stacked in the corner gone, and the house door flung wide. He rushed inside, only to find his wife and her padded quilt tumbled on the floor. Everything in the room had been turned completely upside down, and even the brick in the corner of the wall had been pried loose— He had hidden a bit of emergency loose change beneath it, but now that too was gone. "Are you all right?" He lifted his half-paralyzed wife onto the wooden bed. "Who dared barge in and steal our things?" Even as he asked, he already understood seventy percent of the truth. His wife's lips were stark white, her grip on his arm deathly tight, yet her words came out clear: "The government soldiers barged in to seize grain! They claimed we had to return grain to them. I said we never took any, but they took everything anyway!" She was a frail woman unable to move on her own, and when several hulking men suddenly barged in, tearing the place apart and shoving her to the floor, she had neither fainted from terror nor dissolved into hysterical weeping. She had already shown immense fortitude. Mr. Hong pressed his lips into a tight line. Of course. Those three beheaded youths had stolen military provisions and distributed them to the townsfolk under cover of darkness, fancying themselves chivalrous bandits aiding the distressed and impoverished. Naive fools! Now that they had been captured and executed, the military grain supposedly handed out across the town had become the perfect pretext for soldiers to ransack houses door-to-door! *You dare touch military provisions? Hand it over!* Mr. Hong's grain had been split into two stashes, half in the kitchen and half beneath the bed. Now both were gone. Furthermore, anything in the house that could fetch even a scrap of value had been swept away along the way—like the bundle of firewood in the courtyard. There was nowhere to voice their grievances. Though a knot lodged in his chest, he spoke softly to comfort his wife. "It's all right. We never had anything valuable to begin with, so there wasn't much for them to take. Oh, right—I received my wages today. I'll go cook you some porridge right now." His wife let out a bitter, wry chuckle. "Where would the porridge come from?" The moment the words left his mouth, Mr. Hong's own face fell. With all the rice looted, where would porridge come from? They might as well drink the northwest wind. A surge of venomous fury rose from the depths of his heart. In the past... back in the days when he was proud and high-spirited, when had he ever suffered such humiliation? The corners of his wife's eyes were slightly red, but she held back her tears, comforting him instead: "I'm not hungry. Rest for a bit and catch your breath. Even if the soldiers hadn't come to plunder, the old woman next door would have sneaked over to steal things anyway." Seeing her sallow, gaunt face and forced smile, Mr. Hong felt an ache in his heart. Once upon a time, he had been resolved to give her a life of comfort. Yet from start to finish, she had never enjoyed even a few days of peace and leisure. Mr. Hong fed her some water first. Just as he was contemplating heading outside to scrounge up some food, a loud bang echoed—the half-closed courtyard gate was violently thrown open, followed by the clatter of noisy footsteps. He had just wrapped his wife securely in the quilt when three bailiffs strode in from outside, looking him up and down. "Are you Hong Chenglüe?" Hong Chenglüe slowly stood. "What business brings you three officers here?" The bailiff in front jerked his head toward his two colleagues. "Take him!" The two rattled the chains in their hands and stepped forward to bind him. Hong's wife paled in shock. Hong Chenglüe raised a hand. "Hold on. First tell me what law I've broken!" "The higher-ups just discovered that your relocation permit for residency was forged!" the bailiff sneered. "I don't need to explain what times we're living in, do I? Be smart and come along quietly if you want to suffer less!" Great Yuan strictly forbade the free movement of commoners. Anyone wishing to register and reside in another area needed a document issued by their place of origin certifying approval, known as a "relocation permit." With major warfare having already broken out in the north, Xiazhou had become a war zone. The prefectural government had ordered a stringent crackdown on spies and scouts, starting first with the household registers. At this precise juncture, Hong Chenglüe's permit had been found fraudulent. How could his fate be anything but grim? Knowing the foul nature of the local authorities, if he were truly dragged off in chains, being thrown in the cells or sentenced to penal labor would be considered light punishments. Most likely, he would be conscripted into the army. Just a few days ago, the prefectural recruitment order had been posted in Bailu Town, demanding five hundred recruits from every township to head to Dunyu and undergo unified drilling as prefectural troops. The wages listed on the notice were quite generous, and Hong Chenglüe had been momentarily tempted. But considering his bedridden wife who needed care, he had dismissed the thought. Besides, were examples of Haotian Township officials breaking their word ever rare? When wages were disbursed, how much of it ever reached the hands of soldier families? Yet if the bailiffs hauled him away now, he would likely be banished straight to the ranks without seeing a single copper. Hong Chenglüe maintained an expressionless face. "My wife has been bedridden for years and cannot manage without someone by her side. Please show some mercy, officers, and pretend you never found me." Heh, heheh. A tiger brought low on flat ground. He flexed his right hand, knuckles popping with crisp cracks. Among the three bailiffs, one looked at the bare walls and revealed a trace of pity, but the other two remained completely unmoved. "In these times, who doesn't have hardships? Move it, stop dragging your feet!" With a metallic clatter, the chain came looping toward Hong Chenglüe's neck. The bailiffs had spent years capturing criminals this way, handling the chains as deftly as herdsmen lassoing horses. With a single loop and lock, suspects found it almost impossible to break free. Yet Hong Chenglüe reached out, and somehow caught the chain, yanking it back toward himself. The bailiff lost his footing, dragged forward chain and all; to the other man, it was as effortless as snatching a chicken. Before he could react, Hong Chenglüe's fingers locked around his neck like an eagle's talons and pressed down gently. *Crack.* His Adam's apple shattered. The second bailiff drew his blade by instinct. Just as he opened his mouth to shout, Hong Chenglüe whipped the chain out, lassoing him in close. Calling for help now was far too late. The chain wound tighter and tighter around his throat, his cervical vertebrae groaning in agony... With a faint snap, his neck broke. The last bailiff stood rooted in place, dumbfounded. One had to know that with official tallies hanging from their waists, they were augmented by origin power; ordinary burly men were no match for them at all. Yet this tall, emaciated man before him... Only when Hong Chenglüe's gaze swept over him did he snap out of it, whirling around to flee outside. Hong Chenglüe hesitated slightly, reluctant to finish him off. Yet the bailiff had barely fled into the courtyard when he suddenly flew backward through the air, flailing wildly before crashing with a heavy thud right beside the foot of the bed, his skull split open. From start to finish, he had not even managed a scream. Watching the red and white matter spill across the floor, Hong Chenglüe frowned and took two steps back to block the doorway. Outside, someone suddenly gave the courtyard gate a light knock. "Is Mr. Hong home?" The courtyard gate was standing open. For someone to knock at a time like this was as polite as it was eerie. "Who is it?" Mr. Hong walked out to look. The newcomer was in his forties, with a round face and round nose, bearing the friendly countenance of someone destined to make peace and fortune. He carried a pack on his back, looking like a traveling merchant. Yet this very man had flung an officer back inside and smashed him dead on the spot. He shut the gate behind him, bowed to Hong Chenglüe, and said solemnly, "This humble one is named Wu Qing. Entrusted by the other Lord Hong before his passing, I have come to deliver his effects to you!" Hong Chenglüe narrowed his eyes. "The other... Lord Hong?" "He was your brother by blood, but his name is taboo, so I will not speak it. These are the items he wished handed over to you." Wu Qing took down the bundle from his back and offered it with both hands. Hong Chenglüe opened the bundle. There was not much inside—only a thin leather box, a stack of talismans, a folding fan, and a letter sealed with red wax. The drawn scripts on the talismans looked exceedingly familiar; they were indeed from his elder brother's hand. He first opened the box. Inside lay ten folded silver banknotes of various denominations, yet any single one of them would suffice to lift him from destitution and elevate him to comfortable living with land and a home of his own. Inside the box were also several profound crystals, ranging in color from deep green to faint crimson. These were condensations of heaven-and-earth spiritual energy, treasures money could not buy. Even the newly appointed Governor-General of Xiazhou would not possess a family fortune comparable to these few profound crystals. Yet Hong Chenglüe tipped them aside without a second glance, for resting atop the banknotes was a small wooden toad carving. Barely larger than a fingertip, it was crafted with exquisite knife work, capturing even the tiny bumps along the toad's back. He hooked the wooden carving with an index finger and gazed at it for a long while, seemingly lost in thought. Wu Qing did not make a sound to disturb him. Only after gazing his fill did Hong Chenglüe close the box. His wife in the inner room, having heard no sounds for a long time, called out with worry: "Husband?" "I'm here," he answered. "My brother sent someone with a few things. Wait just a moment." Silence returned to the inner room. Only then did Hong Chenglüe pick up the letter, break the wax seal, and unfold it in the courtyard. The handwriting was deeply familiar, truly from that long-parted elder brother of his. Moreover, the letter was written in cipher—a code that only the two brothers could decipher. Upon first opening the letter, mixed emotions surged in his chest. After all, their last meeting had been ten years ago, and now all that remained was "words in place of face," separated forever by life and death. Yet the further down he read, the more violently the tides of his heart churned. The signature on the final page of the letter, when decoded from the cipher, was two words: Xiangqian! And beside the name, a toad was drawn in cinnabar, vivid and lifelike. Hong Chenglüe still remembered his childhood, when his brother would take him to play by the river. He loved catching dragonflies and little shrimp most, but was clumsy with his hands and often ended up only catching toads... "And you claimed to yield to the mandate of heaven? Heh!" He scoffed with a self-deprecating chuckle, then let out a deep sigh. "Do you know what is written in this letter?" Wu Qing shook his head. "In this world, only you know." "My brother is dead. Who is your master now?" Wu Qing bowed deeply to the waist, not daring to straighten up. Hong Chenglüe's gaze turned sharp. "What is the meaning of this?" "Before I reveal the truth, I beg Mr. Hong to spare my life." Hong Chenglüe laughed instead of growing angry. "Fine, fine. Speak, and let me hear it." "I come from the north. I was once ordered to serve at Lord Hong's side for three years." From the north? Hong Chenglüe studied him more intently. "You are one of Nian Zanli's subordinates?" Wu Qing shook his head, a hint of arrogance surfacing in his demeanor. "What does Nian Zanli amount to? He is nothing more than a second-rate nobody!"