[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-even-a-gentleman-must-be-careful":3,"chapter-even-a-gentleman-must-be-careful-even-a-gentleman-must-be-careful-chapter-11":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Even a Gentleman Must Be Careful",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2268631,4429,"Chapter 11: Eleven: Sorrow and Joy Do Not Communicate","even-a-gentleman-must-be-careful-chapter-11",11,"\u003Cp>Eleven: Sorrow and Joy Do Not Communicate\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After leaving, Ouyang Rong turned back to glance once more at the plaque of Sanhui Courtyard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Having escaped the woman in silk robes, he walked away with his back to her—this bold, carefree departure let out a long-held sigh of pent-up breath, and in that instant, the world outside felt vast, filled with a sense of ease.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These past days, Ouyang Rong had been confined to his sickbed by Zhen Shi, locked indoors with nothing to do, his mind flooded with too much “hearing” and “thinking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He always felt something was missing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, this morning, Master Shandao had pointed it out with a single finger: better to act than to sit and debate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>True threefold wisdom requires not just “hearing” and “thinking,” but also “cultivation and practice!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ouyang Rong thought: if he could risk climbing out of that perilous wellmouth for the slimmest glimmer of hope that night in the underground chamber, then now, for the faint possibility that the “Return Home” blessing might lead him home, he could muster ten thousand merits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do not hesitate; dare to take risks. Beings often waver. A true man can accomplish anything because he knows and acts.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ouyang Rong recalled that fragment of poetry from that day, murmuring softly to himself: “The land is strewn with wailing geese, the city drenched in blood—is it all for the sake of one thought: to save all living beings?... Since this was your final lingering thought, and I need ten thousand merits, then I’ll take your share too—I’ll descend the mountain and properly serve as County Magistrate of Longcheng, managing the floods!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yan Wuxu hurried to Donglin Temple and saw Ouyang Rong waiting at the gate, hands behind his back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My Lord!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Walk and talk as we go.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, My Lord.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the muddy, leaf-strewn mountain path, the newly appointed, barely twenty-year-old County Magistrate walked ahead, while the young blue-clad constable followed one step behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My Lord, the floodwaters downstream have receded greatly—the water from Yunmeng Marsh has flowed north into the Dajiang. Many houses in the county seat collapsed, but the worst damage was in the townships and villages under Longcheng—over half their homes fell.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The farmland too—most of the people’s good fields were submerged, and in low-lying areas, the water still hasn’t drained, turning them into lakes. Not a single plot escaped, except the high-ground plots, which nearly all belong to the city’s few powerful clans.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Merchants and artisans fared better—Penglang Ferry was hastily repaired, and boats passing through from Yunmeng Marsh and the Dajiang resumed normal docking, with little disruption. The Gu Yue Sword Shop across Butterfly Creek, owned by the Liu family, never paused a single day—the forge never went out...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yan Wuxu sighed, pointing to the refugees on the mountain path, families dragging belongings toward the temple: “The greatest losses were among the farmers. Most of the displaced and refugees inside and outside Longcheng are them—no homes, no fields, swept clean by the flood. In some places, entire villages fled to the county seat; public order is already growing tense.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Assistant Magistrate Diao is currently opening the granaries to distribute grain, and has joined forces with several benevolent clans in the city to set up porridge stalls...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“‘Great Benefactors,’ huh?” Ouyang Rong, walking ahead with hands behind his back, suddenly interrupted and smiled. “So we have some in Longcheng too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yan Wuxu blinked, curious: “My Lord, what are you laughing at...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing. Just caught a whiff of something familiar. Six Lang, continue.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yan Wuxu was about to resume describing the flood damage, but the young magistrate suddenly turned around: “Hold off on the flood for now. Six Lang, tell me about our county office officials. I’ve been unconscious so long—I’ve forgotten some.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yan Wuxu frowned slightly. “My Lord is the official—the supreme parent-official of Longcheng. The Assistant Magistrate, the Registrar, and the County Constable are all your subordinates. How can they be called ‘officials’? My Lord is too modest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ouyang Rong smiled but said nothing. Power flows upward from below, yet often appears to descend from above.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yan Wuxu wasted no time—he detailed everything he knew about the Assistant Magistrate, the Registrar, and the County Constable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though these three posts were minor, together with the County Magistrate, they formed the highest decision-making body of a Zhou dynasty county-level unit—in the eyes of local commoners, they were towering figures...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After listening, Ouyang Rong fell into thought, preparing to descend the mountain—but Yan Wuxu suddenly remembered something and called out to stop him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My Lord, do you remember the brave man I mentioned the other day—the one who truly saved your life?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ouyang Rong turned back slightly. “I remember. What about him?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yan Wuxu bowed, ashamed:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“His name is Liu Ashan. He’s recovering at Donglin Temple too. After rescuing My Lord, his waist was cut by sharp debris in the current. His wound worsened, then the flood came—his home and possessions were all swept away. He had nowhere to go. Only when his little sister came knocking at midnight did I learn of it. I took the liberty of arranging lodging for his family at the temple. I beg My Lord’s pardon...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before Yan Wuxu finished speaking, he froze—the young magistrate was gone. Ouyang Rong’s voice came from behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then what are we waiting for? Take me to see the hero at once.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Zhou dynasty had slavery; it also divided the populace into “good” and “low” status, with low status including many categories such as artisans, musicians, and performers;\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Slaves were the lowest tier of low status—“slaves and servants are legally equivalent to livestock,” their lives and deaths entirely in the hands of their owners.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet slaves could be further divided into official slaves and private slaves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Silla slave girl Banxi beside Auntie was a private slave—her treatment depended entirely on her master’s whim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The family Ouyang Rong now saw were official slaves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>... The atmosphere inside the room was awkward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yan Wuxu stood guard at the door, not entering.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only Ouyang Rong, dressed in a clean, white lan robe tended by Zhen Shi and the others, stood before the sickbed, awkward and unsure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because he was the only one standing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Liu family of three—the elderly woman and the child—were crawling on the floor, kowtowing; the tattooed man on the bed, thin as a stick, barely alive, still struggled to lift himself up to pay respects.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You... you... don’t bother... don’t bother. Hero, you’re in this state—don’t bow. Rest and heal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ouyang Rong’s words came out haltingly; he didn’t know how to speak, flustered as he pressed down the sick man trying to rise, then hurried to help the elderly woman and child to their feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew this was normal in this age—but even if his conscience could accept it, he feared his mere hundred merits would not approve.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He exchanged a few warm greetings, learning the general situation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thin, tattooed man on the sickbed was Liu Ashan—the man who had saved him that day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the room was also a young girl, about fifteen, her forehead marked with ink—also tattooed. She was delicate, especially her large, bright eyes, reminiscent of anime heroines; Ouyang Rong couldn’t help but glance at her again. He truly hadn’t seen such spirited eyes in a long time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now, her eyes were red-rimmed, filled with sorrow, her head bowed deeply, avoiding his gaze. Ouyang Rong heard Ashan call her just now—something like Aqing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The third was a trembling old woman—this was their mother, Lady Liu.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ouyang Rong was tall and slender, with a clean, scholarly air; standing in the room, he was like placing a night pearl into dust—strikingly conspicuous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He himself didn’t know this was how Yan Wuxu, glancing repeatedly into the room, had described him inwardly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Son, rest well. I’ll have Constable Yan visit often. If you need anything—medicine, nourishment—say it freely...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mother, take care of your health, eat and drink well. I’ll have the abbot send temple servants to help with chores...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Daughter... daughter, study hard—whether embroidery or any other skill. Don’t burden your mother or brother. If you face difficulties, speak to Six Lang...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ouyang Rong racked his brain for words to comfort the Liu family—but he found it strange: their reactions were not warm, grateful, or awestruck. Instead, their expressions varied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lady Liu and Aqing seemed afraid of him, answering timidly;\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Liu Ashan, aside from his initial attempt to rise and bow—which Ouyang Rong had stopped—remained motionless, staring blankly at the gray canopy above his bed, showing no surprise or emotion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The exchange felt like puppets responding to strings—Ouyang Rong asked, they answered; if he didn’t ask, they stayed silent. Their smiles were stiff, muscles locked—making the silence awkward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Ouyang Rong wasn’t angry. He simply thought: I came too late. It’s my fault. I’ve treated my savior with such neglect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I must visit more often in the future... the twenty-year-old magistrate thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then I won’t disturb Ashan’s recovery. I’ll come again another day!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Your Excellency, take your leave slowly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ouyang Rong took his leave and finally exhaled. At that moment, Yan Wuxu leaned close to his ear and whispered:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My Lord, I just checked—Ashan’s wound symptoms resemble jinchuang zhenchi. It seems untreatable...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone froze.\u003C\u002Fp>",1546,"2026-06-19T21:28:25.445Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","59a4da40853b278db72ff542583e14a6b6b7329966a5e026f479c20ab626057d","even-a-gentleman-must-be-careful-chapter-12","even-a-gentleman-must-be-careful-chapter-10",864,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Feven-a-gentleman-must-be-careful-cover.jpg"]