Chapter 419

Wang Da Guanren had a son, and the entire estate erupted in celebration, rejoicing at the arrival of the next generation.

The news spread, and the first to send gifts was Zhang Lihe, the magistrate of Yanggu—he was truly clinging to Da Guanren. Over the past year, this old rascal had followed advice and initiated minor reforms. Now, Yanggu County's commerce had surged a full level, with all revenues skyrocketing.

Moreover, goods from Wang Da Guanren's various factories—most importantly, soap and scented soap—flowed out from here. Inbound and outbound shipments boosted Yanggu into a regional commercial hub. Correspondingly, more jobs were created, drawing population migration from neighboring counties; all metrics looked excellent. Such a leap was among the top in Jingdong Xilu.

With a small domain, such changes were glaringly obvious. In official evaluations, he received nothing but top ratings, and with Zhang Lihe's ample bribes to superiors and subordinates, he was either reassigned to a prestigious county or promoted to the prefectural office. The old rascal grinned like a blooming chrysanthemum every day—he wouldn't hesitate to call Da Guanren "Father," and would obey any command without question.

Those who sent gifts for the newborn were merely local Yanggu elites who learned the news instantly, eager to curry favor. The major gifts would come at the full-moon celebration, when everyone who needed to know already did. The main reason: medical and hygiene conditions were backward in this era, and infant mortality was high. Only at the full moon was a child considered to have a real chance at survival.

Pan Jinlian, having given birth, had grown even more radiant. Leaning on her couch, she gazed at her son lying beside her—his eyes fluttering open and shut, his tiny lips murmuring and bubbling—and her face brimmed with joy: "Da Guanren, look at his eyes—they're just like yours, so spirited."

Wang Yan chuckled: "Hmm, everywhere else he takes after his mother. This little thing, when he grows up, will surely be handsome."

"Don't you dare call him 'little thing.'" Pan Jinlian narrowed her eyes, her smile fading slightly as she glared at Da Guanren. "Dahe is your son."

"Dahe" was the nickname Jinlian had given her son—a humble name to ensure easy upbringing. After Wang Yan told her the child's fate lacked water, she unhesitatingly named him after an entire river—"Big River"—and didn't care if it was too much water.

"Yes, yes, yes, my wife is right." Wang Yan laughed and agreed without argument.

"Master? Master?"

Hearing the old steward's call from outside, Wang Yan tapped the toddler's nose, told Jinlian he'd be back, and rose to step out: "Fu Shu."

Wang Fusheng stepped forward two paces and said: "Master, two men have come to see you. One is a monk, as tall as Wu Er, but even bulkier than him. The other has a large dark birthmark across his face—he's silent and still, yet clearly possesses martial skill. The monk is hard to place, but the one with the birthmark… I suspect he's Yang Zhi, the Green-Faced Beast, wanted for conspiring with bandits to seize the birthday tribute."

"Oh? Is that so? Then I must meet them." As he spoke, Wang Yan moved, leading the old steward to the front hall.

Upon entering, they saw a burly monk seated on a chair, reluctantly sipping tea—too bland to enjoy, too dull to refuse, utterly tedious. Behind him, leaning against the wall, stood a monk's staff—clearly his weapon.

The other man was exactly as the steward described: a large dark birthmark covered his face. He seemed ashamed of this flaw, and since his appearance made concealment impossible, he let his hair hang loose to obscure much of the black-and-blue mark. His frame was smaller. A sheathed broadsword rested beside him on a table, and he too sipped tea with a gloomy expression. But his sorrow differed from the monk's—he wasn't focused on the tea; he was worried about his uncertain future.

Hearing the commotion, both men turned to the door and saw Da Guanren standing there, arms behind his back, smiling at them. They immediately rose and bowed: "Lu Zhishen, Yang Zhi, pay their respects to Da Guanren."

Wang Yan returned the bow with a smile, gestured for them to sit, and took his seat at the head. He accepted tea from a maid, sipped it, and took a moment to settle his posture before speaking: "I know who you are. One is Lu Zhi, the inspector who punched Zhen Guanxi to death, and angered Gao Qiu by defending Lin Chong. The other is Yang Zhi, descendant of the Five Marquises Yang Gong, who killed the ruffian Niu Er in Bianjing, and recently was rumored to have conspired with bandits over the birthday tribute—you're currently wanted. Instead of hiding, you come to me. Why?"

"We've long heard Da Guanren performs great deeds and is renowned for wisdom. When we entered Yanggu territory, we discovered…"

Lu Zhishen impatiently cut off Yang Zhi's flattery, shouting loudly: "Da Guanren, I'm a monk—I don't lie. We came here to seek refuge under your protection, to find work and live in peace."

Wang Yan said, "Oh? I know my reputation in the Jianghu. Heroes like you two are said to want to kill me and wipe out my family. Why come to me? Afraid I'll send you to repair bridges and roads?"

"Heroes? They don't deserve the name. Just a bunch of filthy ruffians." Lu Zhishen shook his head. "I know Da Guanren can tell good from evil. Those sent to repair bridges and roads aren't heroes—they're cowards who bully the weak, lazy, greedy, and deceitful. They don't deserve to be mentioned alongside us. I swear I've never killed an innocent. Brother Yang hasn't harmed anyone either. We're both victims of villains and cruel times. Da Guanren won't blindly send us to forced labor."

Lu Zhishen was coarse but shrewd. Wang Yan remembered learning in childhood that the passage describing Lu Zhishen's three punches killing Zhen Guanxi—red, white, and yellow fluids spilling everywhere—showed his cunning: he feigned death and fled. This subtly revealed his character: coarse on the surface, sharp beneath.

Yet Wang Da Guanren hadn't expected Lu Zhishen and Yang Zhi to come to him voluntarily. Of course, his reputation was real—people often came seeking work, including capable ones—but Lu Zhishen and Yang Zhi were special.

Da Guanren smiled, acknowledging Lu Zhishen's words, then mused: "I have no problem sheltering you two. But one of you has angered Gao Qiu, the other has offended Cai Jing—the old bastard. Both of you have warrants out, and both are easily recognizable. I'm not afraid of Cai Jing or Gao Qiu, but I only have their silence because I send them hundreds of thousands of taels yearly for the Great Song Emperor to squander. Sheltering fugitives gives them grounds to strike at me—it's a serious trouble. But I do have a good place for you. Do you two wish to leave Great Song and live freely elsewhere?"

He had no reason to refuse—both men were formidable. Lu Zhishen needed no introduction; Yang Zhi, as a descendant of the Yang family generals, ranked seventeenth on Liang Shan, one of the Eight Gallant Horsemen—his combat strength was more than adequate. Among the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits, only Song Jiang, Wu Yong, Chai Jin, and a few others held rank by influence; the rest earned their place by strength. Otherwise, the One Hundred Eight would lack credibility, and the other leaders wouldn't submit. Two such warriors, leading troops, would be reliable.

The two exchanged glances. Yang Zhi said: "No problem. I'm incapable of restoring my ancestors' glory. Now I'm reduced to this. With a warrant on me, there's no place for me in Great Song except to become a bandit. Leaving is better—much better. Yang Zhi thanks Da Guanren."

Watching him bow solemnly, Wang Yan waved him to sit, then turned to Lu Zhishen on the other side.

Seeing Da Guanren look his way, Lu Zhishen rumbled: "What kind of free place?"

"I won't hide it from you two. In Liao's Suzhou—across from Dengzhou—I have trade with the Jurchens. For convenience, I built a port there, with a small village. You'd go to train and protect my guards—simple, peaceful work."

"Is there wine and meat?"

Wang Yan nodded with a smile: "Plenty."

"Then I'm going."

"Good!" Wang Yan said. "You two have suffered much on your journey. Let's feast first, then rest. Fu Shu, prepare a banquet. Bring up our special liquor—one jar. I'll drink a few cups with you two and talk."

Wang Fusheng moved quickly—or rather, the cooks did. Soon, eight dishes were on the table, along with a jar of opened baijiu.

Lu Zhishen was a drunkard. Sitting at the table, he sniffed twice, then his eyes lit up: "Ah! Fine wine! Excellent wine! Hurry, fill my cup!" He reached for the jar himself.

Soon, a full bowl was poured. Lu Zhishen licked his lips, smacked twice, and grinned: "Such fine wine—I can't wait. Let me taste it first, first! Da Guanren, Brother Yang, don't mind me."

Wang Yan raised an eyebrow, signaling him to proceed. Yang Zhi ignored him, picking up a dish of stir-fried food available only in a few places in the Eastern Capital, silently marveling at Da Guanren's luxury. Satisfied with the food, he took the wine jar and filled Da Guanren's small cup first, then his own. Neither used bowls—only Lu Zhishen insisted that drinking from a cup was an insult to the wine. In truth, Wang Yan and Yang Zhi knew he meant: drinking from a cup wasn't the way of a hero.

Seeing neither spoke, Lu Zhishen lifted the bowl, licked the wine first, felt the spice on his tongue, the heat down his throat—his already large eyes widened further, gleaming like a rat spotting oil. He downed the entire bowl in one gulp—ton ton ton—empty.

In Wang Yan's amused gaze, Lu Zhishen opened his mouth to speak—but the alcohol exploded in his gut, surging up his esophagus. Caught off guard, he clamped his lips shut, letting the gas escape slowly through his nose, enduring the fire inside, his face turning crimson.

Just like Wu Song—both cared about face. First time tasting high-proof baijiu, downing half a pound—no hero could handle it. But Wu Song drank pure alcohol and collapsed; Lu Zhishen drank diluted liquor, and his body held up fine.

After a long while, his face still flushed, Lu Zhishen recovered, patted his chest, and roared: "Good wine!" Then quickly ate two bites of food to settle his churning stomach: "Uh… Da Guanren, give me a wine pot and a cup too."

The request made him deeply embarrassed—but his face was already red, so no one could see.

"Now does that honor the wine?"

Wang Yan shook his head with a smile, signaling a maid to bring another set.

"Da Guanren, if I go to Liao, will I still get such strong wine?"

"As much as you want."

"Good, good." Lu Zhishen nodded in satisfaction.

After light chatter and a few cups, the conversation flowed freely. Wang Yan asked his question: "How did you two meet? And how did you think to come to me?"

"Heh, it's a coincidence," Lu Zhishen said, recounting his departure from Daxiangguo Temple and meeting Zhang Qing and Sun Erniang: "Deng Long on the mountain refused me. I couldn't take it alone. I was wondering what to do when Brother Yang showed up."

"Yes, I was heading to Liang Shan when I stopped at Cao Zheng's tavern. He said joining the Mount Erlong was better. So I detoured there, and met Brother Lu just outside the mountain."

Lu Zhishen continued: "We returned to Cao Zheng's tavern to plan. We meant to kill that bastard Deng Long and take over Mount Erlong. But a merchant caravan passed by and mentioned Da Guanren. That's when we remembered your deeds in the Jianghu. We discussed it and decided to come to you. We're both capable, and Da Guanren isn't blind to right and wrong—you wouldn't turn us away. Working for you is better than becoming bandits."

Yang Zhi nodded vigorously: "Yes, we're both victims of villains and circumstances. If we had any other path, who'd choose the mountains?"

That was true—those with options didn't climb the mountains; those who could survive didn't climb them.

Only two kinds went up: one, those with nowhere else to go—like Yang Zhi, forced by circumstance, and many ordinary people who couldn't bear the crushing taxes and had no choice but to change their lives. Wang Qing, Tian Hu, Fang La, and the countless low-ranking soldiers of Liang Shan—all were like this. But after climbing, robbing a few caravans, taking a few women, enjoying a taste of power, their goals changed.

The other kind were true murderers and thieves—those who refused to produce or were too lazy to work, seeking shortcuts. They had no place to go, so they climbed the mountains and gathered gangs to commit crimes.

Wang Yan nodded in understanding, raised his cup to toast them, and turned to Lu Zhishen: "I heard you knew Lin Chong, the Eighty-Thousand Imperial Guards' spear instructor. You angered Gao Qiu defending him. You must know Lin Chong's fate on Liang Shan—why didn't you go there instead of Mount Erlong?"

Lu Zhishen sighed: "I never speak ill behind backs—but today, I owe my troubles to Brother Lin."

"Oh? How so?"

"Back then, in the Wild Boar Forest, the two yamen runners were about to kill Lin Chong. I saved him and wanted to kill them—but Lin Chong stopped me. I tried to get him to flee, but he refused, insisting on going to Cangzhou prison. I had no choice but to escort him. When we neared the prison, I left. But days after returning to Daxiangguo Temple, men came to arrest me—Gao Qiu's men. Only then did I learn Lin Chong had told those two runners about me. That's why I was hunted. If I'd killed them that day, none of this would've happened."

Yang Zhi looked at Lu Zhishen's appearance and recalled how, back when the Flower and Stone Fleet had sunk at sea, he had sold his family's property to bribe officials, and how, passing through Liang Shan, he had interacted with Lin Chong; his eyes flickered.

Wang Yan chuckled. Why mention Lin Chong at all? You could call him a coward, or say he was just unlucky, or claim he had no choice—none of it mattered. Fear of power, unwillingness to rise in righteous fury, and dread of the consequences afterward? All perfectly understandable. But no matter what he thought, the result was the same: he lost his wife, lost himself, dared not do this, dared not do that.

He shook his head with a smile and raised his cup: "Enough of that. Come, drink, drink."

…

Lu Zhishen and Yang Zhi stayed another three days at the Wang family estate. Yang Zhi, clueless, dragged his face all day, but these were unquestionably three joyful days for Master Lu. On the first day, he was beaten by Da Guanren, then drank, ate meat, and slept soundly. On the second day, he fought Wu Song to a draw after Wu Song returned from a blind date, then drank and ate meat with him, and both slept soundly. On the third day, he beat up every remaining guard in the household, then drank, ate meat, and slept soundly.

This was not the happy life of the old Lu Da, the Patrol Captain—but it was Lu Zhishen's joyful life now. Fight to move the body, drink wine, eat meat, sleep deeply, wake up, and repeat. No more fleeing in exile, no more messy, filthy affairs. Eat when you want, drink when you want, fight when you want—free.

On the fourth day, after three days of rest and restored physical condition, the two disguised themselves and joined the Wang family's caravan, setting out for Dengzhou to board a ship, then cross the sea to the other shore, beginning a new life they knew not how to shape.

During this time, others' fates unfolded as before. Song Jiang killed Yan Poxi, but was betrayed by Zhang Wenyuan, who exposed his secret ties to the Liang Shan outlaws. After much turmoil, Zhu Tong secretly let him go; he fled to Cangzhou in Hebei to seek refuge with Chai Jin.

But this time, he never kicked Wu Song's brazier, and they would never meet again. Of course, nothing is absolute—if they ever did meet, it would be on a battlefield. This time, they were on opposite sides—not brothers…

——————Extra Notes——————

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