Chapter 87: Ninety-Four: A Lion

Ninety-Four: A Lion’s Demands

The apology gifts were concluded.

The banquet continued.

Besides the dejected Liu Zilin, another figure now knelt beside the table—Hu Ji.

Both knelt toward the two guests who had come today.

The young county magistrate finally picked up his chopsticks and dipped them into the dishes.

After draining the apology wine, the young master of the Liu family let out a long sigh, his expression earnest:

“Magistrate, if we look back carefully, aside from the unpleasantness caused by my younger brother, the Liu family hasn’t truly offended you in any major way. There’s no need for us to be so estranged—we’re also subjects of Longcheng County.”

Ouyang Rong said nothing.

Though he’d appeared calm and composed since arriving, his right forearm still ached slightly—from his junior sister’s squeeze. But of course, he couldn’t show it now.

Xie Ling coldly said: “You haven’t offended Senior Brother? What about the fire that burned the eastern warehouse accounts?”

Liu Ziwen feigned confusion: “What fire? Wasn’t the eastern warehouse incident just an accidental blaze?”

Xie Ling nodded: “An accidental blaze—conveniently only burning your Liu family’s ledgers, right? What a selective fire.”

Liu Ziwen drank to distract himself and said nothing in reply.

Xie Ling seemed to notice her senior brother’s discomfort and silently placed a bite of food on his plate.

Ouyang Rong put down his chopsticks and spoke directly:

“Liu Master, stop beating around the bush. You invited me here today for dinner—not just to apologize, surely. Get to the point.”

Liu Ziwen swallowed his pleasantries and immediately said:

“Then I won’t hide it either… We the Liu family wish to invest in your Zhe Yiqu project.”

Ouyang Rong chuckled lightly:

“Your family is already so wealthy—the western bank of Butterfly Creek is lined with your sword forges, and a large stretch of the Peng Lang Ferry docks belongs to you. Still not enough?”

Liu Ziwen leaned forward, serious:

“No one ever has too much money, and the Liu family is no exception. Our rise to this point has always relied on our ancestral maxim: ‘Stay alert in peace, plan ahead.’ Once your Zhe Yiqu is complete, the most prime land in Longcheng County won’t be Peng Lang Ferry or the current banks of Butterfly Creek anymore.

“You, Magistrate, are the parent-official to all of Longcheng’s people. The Liu family is also a law-abiding citizen of this county. When you lead the people to prosperity through canal-building, it’s improper to leave anyone out.

“We the Liu family wish to join your Zhe Yiqu project. We humbly ask you to point us toward a suitable path.”

Ouyang Rong studied his earnest face for a moment, as if weighing something, then smiled:

“Since we’re all subjects of Longcheng County, a path isn’t absent. All roads lead to Chang’an. But what path the Liu family wants depends on how much money you’re willing to pay for it.”

Liu Ziwen nodded, leaned back in his chair, sipped wine, and pondered:

“The Liu family is willing to provide a group of our finest craftsmen to help the county office build the Di Gong Dam.”

A tense string deep within Ouyang Rong loosened slightly, though his face showed hesitation: “How exactly?”

Liu Ziwen spoke smoothly: “Naturally, the county office leads, collects ‘dam-building’ donations, and we the Liu family lead the fundraising. Then the collected funds…”

Ouyang Rong cut him off directly: “Still splitting it three-seven?”

Liu Ziwen glanced at his expression and shook his head:

“Seven parts can go to the county office. We the Liu family only need the remaining three percent as payment for our craftsmen. It won’t cost the county office or you a single copper coin. In fact, you’ll…”

Ouyang Rong interrupted again, rudely: “No. What nonsense fundraising—Longcheng County Office won’t squeeze another drop of blood or sweat from the people.”

Liu Ziwen frowned deeply: “Then where will the dam money come from?”

Ouyang Rong looked at him curiously: “Didn’t your younger brother tell you after he returned?”

Liu Ziwen froze: “Tell me what?”

You’re the ones who came here kneeling, begging for scraps.

Ouyang Rong thought for a moment and didn’t say it aloud to humiliate him.

He’d spoken those words through Liu Liu’s mouth to Liu Zian, who’d found them humiliating and wisely kept quiet.

Still, the considerate one offered a gentle reminder:

“For this Di Gong Dam repair, the county office won’t spend a single copper coin.”

Liu Ziwen sounded confused: “Then how will it be built? No fundraising, and the county office won’t pay…”

Under the kind, expectant gaze of his parent-official, the young master of the Liu family suddenly fell silent, his expression stiffening.

Ouyang Rong nodded: “Correct. You, Liu Master, will have to fund the construction yourself.”

Beside him, Xie Ling frowned:

“Senior Brother, the craftsmen and materials are all from the Liu family, but we should still contribute something. After all, officially, it’s the county office’s project—it’ll be your achievement, won’t it?”

“My junior sister speaks wisely.”

Ouyang Rong nodded, his expression slightly embarrassed as he suggested:

“Then the county office will provide a group of refugee youths to help build the dam. But Liu Master, remember to pay them on time.”

“...”

Liu Ziwen suddenly understood why his younger brother had returned home in such an agitated state that afternoon.

He licked his dry lips, then drained his cup in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and said:

“Magistrate, building the Di Gong Dam benefits the entire Longcheng County. To make us the Liu family shoulder the entire burden—isn’t that a bit… unjust? How could we possibly accept such a great favor?”

Ouyang Rong nodded in agreement:

“Indeed, you can’t shoulder such a favor. So officially, it’s the Longcheng County Office doing the construction—we’ll take the credit. I’ll also assign some clerks to accompany the refugee youths and oversee the work. Your people must cooperate.”

“?”

Liu Ziwen stared speechlessly at the shameless man across from him, flames of rage flaring inside him.

Bare-handed theft—and you’ve taken every last advantage, haven’t you?!

The Liu family has rebuilt the Di Gong Dam countless times. Though much of it stems from our need to control Butterfly Creek’s water level for our own purposes, every collaboration with the county office was always led by us. We’ve never been so humiliated—not even granted equal standing. Do you treat us like beggars on our knees?

Ouyang Rong studied Liu Ziwen’s dark expression, then asked lightly:

“So, does the Liu family still want me to point out the path?”

Liu Ziwen gritted his teeth:

“Fine. We’ll follow your orders, Magistrate.”

Ouyang Rong nodded, satisfied.

My younger brother was right—must endure, must think of the greater good… Liu Ziwen took a deep breath.

He gathered his thoughts, preparing to raise his most important matter—the Zhe Yiqu project—when Xie Ling suddenly spoke:

“Wait. My senior brother and I have one small condition.”

Ouyang Rong looked at her, not stopping her.

Liu Ziwen frowned, then relaxed: “What is it, Miss Xie? I hope… it’s truly a small condition.”

The young master of the Liu family clearly emphasized the word “small.”

Xie Ling waved her small hand: “Your family’s porridge stalls and orphanages must close immediately. Do not reopen them.”

Liu Ziwen turned his head slowly, staring at her for a long while—even longer than he’d hesitated when being robbed of the Di Gong Dam.

“Why?” he asked suddenly. “They don’t seem to be bothering the Magistrate or Miss Xie now, do they?”

Xie Ling lifted her chin: “They are. They’re an eyesore.”

Ouyang Rong noticed the visible twitch of a vein on Liu Ziwen’s forehead.

Xie Ling sat upright, eyes fixed on him.

Liu Ziwen narrowed his eyes and met her gaze.

The banquet fell silent.

Seeing the Liu family’s young master remain silent, the young magistrate was slightly surprised—he hadn’t expected negotiations to stall over such a minor issue.

After all, the porridge stall and orphanage still operating in the west city were already as good as shut down.

Still, he’d side with his junior sister.

The young magistrate rolled up his right sleeve, glanced at the red handprint on his forearm, and murmured:

“Close them, Liu Master. Don’t fool yourself. Everyone knows what those places really are. A thousand-year-old fox doesn’t need to recite Liaozhai.”

Liu Ziwen didn’t ask what Liaozhai was. He fell silent for a moment, then lifted his cup and drank deeply, exhaling a long breath of alcohol:

“The orphanage can close, but not the porridge stall—it was established by my father. It holds memorial value. Miss Xie, can’t we compromise?”

Xie Ling shook her head stubbornly.

Liu Ziwen puffed out his cheeks.

Ouyang Rong raised his head:

“I’ve heard of your father’s passing, Miss Xie. If I’ve heard correctly, I do sincerely regret the loss.”

Liu Ziwen shook his head, as if unwilling to revisit the past—or unable to hear it.

He simply said: “Magistrate, Miss Xie, while the wine flows, may I tell you a small story?”

“Oh?” the young magistrate asked curiously. “What story?”

Liu Ziwen narrowed his eyes: “I once read in a book… the story of ‘Morning Three, Evening Four.’”

Ouyang Rong raised an eyebrow.

(See the bonus chapter—did my best, guys. Really can’t do more than this qwq… Finally, a new March—please, a few votes? UwU… [hugs legs])

(End of Chapter)