Chapter 746: Thank You! Again, I Thank You! 36k Words Owed

“A person?”

Hearing her daughter’s urgent words, the woman in the carriage quickly looked outside.

With just one glance, she hurriedly said: “Old man! By the roadside!”

The woman didn’t finish speaking.

“Snap!”

The driver cracked his whip again.

“Ha!”

Under the driver’s urging, the draft horses up front ran even faster.

The faster they went, the more violently the cart jolted over the bumpy dirt road.

Inside the cart, Kang Zhao’er and the woman gripped the carriage walls tightly to steady themselves.

The woman glanced at Kang Zhao’er and called out: “Old man, what are you—”

The driver’s voice came from ahead: “Miss, don’t go around being so charitable. That figure lying by the road might be alone—but the weeds around could hide his accomplices!”

“I’ve worked for carriage firms for decades—I’ve heard too many stories of such traps! Giddy-up!”

Hearing this, the mother and daughter exchanged a glance inside the jolting cart and fell silent.

After five or six breaths passed.

“Tap-tap-tap!” The woman pounded the carriage wall and shouted: “Old man, what if it’s a real person in trouble?”

“Huh?”

The driver froze.

“Whoa!”

The cart slowed and stopped by the roadside; the mother and daughter, relieved from the jolting, let out sighs of relief.

As the woman lifted the curtain to look out, she saw the driver had already jumped down from the cart.

“Huff!”

The old driver turned toward the back, took a tense, deep breath.

The woman in the cart studied the surrounding terrain and said: “Old man, this area’s open—no signs of bandits or thugs.”

The old driver shook his head: “Miss, even if there are no bandits, we don’t know what’s wrong with that man lying there. What if he’s carrying plague? We could catch it.”

After he finished speaking, the two inside the cart fell silent again.

Lifting the curtain once more to glance back, the woman pondered a moment, then said: “Old man, we don’t even know if he’s alive or dead. Even if he’s dead, we can report it to the yamen—they’ll bury the bones. That’s merit, isn’t it?”

The old driver fell silent, his eyes uncertain.

“I’ll go take a look,” the woman said. “I still have two strings of copper coins—consider them your fee.”

“Alright then. I’ll go check.”

Soon after,

The old driver covered his face with a thick cloth, glanced around warily, and walked toward the fallen figure, stepping slowly and turning back every few paces.

When he reached the man, he poked the prone body with his whip: “Hey! Hey!”

The man on the ground gave no response.

The old driver poked him again, harder.

Seeing the man lift his head slightly, exhale a puff of white breath, then slump back down, the old driver quickly stepped back and shouted toward the cart: “Alive! He’s not dead!”

Outside the outer city of Bianjing,

in the northern section of the western side,

stood the city gate Jin Yaomen,

outside the gate,

two squads of imperial guards were changing shifts.

After the shift ended, the off-duty squad rubbed their hands and stamped their feet to warm up, exhaled white breath, and passed through the gate tunnel into the city.

Once inside, instead of heading to the barracks, the squad walked toward a food stall near the city wall.

The boy at the stall, wearing ear flaps, smiled as they approached: “Officers, welcome in!”

The squad leader nodded and led his men inside.

“Gurgle-gurgle!”

From the large iron pot on the stove, steam rose vigorously, carrying the scent of meat broth and cooked vegetables—making the off-duty guards swallow hard.

“Gentlemen, sit awhile—the broth’s coming right up.”

“Good!”

The squad sat at the table, rubbing their faces and hands to warm their chilled limbs.

Soon,

the boy returned several times with trays, placing large bowls of broth filled with vegetables, meat chunks, suofen, and tofu on the table.

The suofen in the broth was what we now call vermicelli, but made mostly from mung beans or peas.

After the broth arrived, a basket of steaming large buns was set down.

Finally, the boy placed a jar of wine on the table—the jar was covered in water droplets, clearly warmed—and smiled: “Gentlemen, enjoy! Call if you need anything.”

“Good!” the squad leader nodded.

Soon, the table filled with slurping sounds as they drank the broth.

At that moment,

someone lifted the curtain and entered the room,

and upon seeing the full room of imperial guards, the guest looked surprised.

The boy smiled and stepped forward: “Sir, what would you like?”

The guest licked his lips, eyeing the guards eating: “I smelled your broth outside—it looked good. I’ll have the same as theirs.”

After the guest spoke, the boy bowed and smiled: “Sir, our broth’s price is listed here. The broth these officers are eating? It’s not cheap.”

“They can afford it—do you think I’m short on cash?” the guest frowned.

The boy chuckled apologetically: “Sir, the broth these officers eat contains meat, vegetables, and tofu—all delivered by Yongchang Hou’s household to our stall!”

“These officers pay one copper coin. For you? It’ll cost many.”

The guest hesitated: “Just tell me how many copper coins.”

Hearing the exchange, the guards eating nearby exchanged smug glances.

Two quarters later,

the curtain at the stall’s entrance was lifted from inside.

“Burp.”

The guards emerged, faces flushed, belching warm breaths—clearly satisfied with their meal.

One guard said as he walked out: “Boss, eating a meal like this after shift? Better than silver!”

Another comrade nodded: “Exactly! After eating this, even doing our duties feels like a burden!”

The squad leader stood at the door, slightly troubled: “But once they find the person, this good broth’ll vanish. I hear the men in the east and south have it easy—maybe finding the Hou’s missing person will earn us a reward!”

“You’re right, Boss—I’m jealous of those bastards!” one guard muttered at the door.

As they spoke, they prepared to head toward the barracks.

At that moment,

a cart passed by beside them,

the driver leading the draft horses ahead kept glancing back and muttering to himself:

“Fine, don’t let me in then!”

“Just a gate guard—what’s so impressive?”

“Yelling at me? When I was driving carts, you were still in diapers!”

Hearing the driver’s grumbling, the guards at the stall exchanged glances; the squad leader called out: “Hey! Old driver! What are you saying?”

As he spoke,

the squad surrounded him.

The old driver, startled, turned his head: “I was saying—”

Seeing the group of guards, his angry expression froze; he forced a smile: “I didn’t say anything, officers.”

“Don’t call us officers—we’re just gate guards,” said one guard, slightly drunk, stepping forward with a hostile look.

The gesture made the old driver swallow hard.

The squad leader scanned the cart, his gaze stopping on the wooden plaque hanging on it bearing the character “Kang.”

“Is there a noble inside?” the squad leader raised a hand to stop his men and asked.

“Uh, yes, there is—the noble is from the Kang family of the clans.” The old driver hurriedly replied.

“Hah,” one guard chuckled: “That Kang family—the one whose servants steal from them?”

Hearing the conversation outside, Kang Zhao’er inside the cart and her lady remained silent, afraid to speak.

Just as everyone was about to laugh, the squad leader turned and glared: “Watch your tongue!”

Looking at the old driver, he continued: “Which carriage firm do you work for?”

“Uh, I work for Tian Xinglao—I’m even related to him!” the old driver smiled nervously.

“Tian Xinglao? He has some connection to Yongchang Hou’s household, right?” the squad leader asked uncertainly.

“Yes, yes! Officer, you’re sharp—there is a connection!” the old driver grinned.

The imperial guard squad leader took a deep breath and nodded: “Alright! Elders should be more careful when speaking!”

“Ah! Ah!” The coachman nodded repeatedly.

After a moment’s thought, the squad leader asked: “Judging by your appearance, what happened to you outside the city just now?”

The old coachman hesitated, then said: “Sir, today on the road, I found a young boy collapsed from exhaustion. I thought to bring him into the city to save him, but the guards outside wouldn’t let him in.”

“I know the guards outside fear plague, but the boy only looked like he’d fainted from hunger.”

The imperial guard squad leader shook his head and waved his hand: “Enough! If something happens, it’ll be too late! Get into the city quickly!”

The old coachman opened his mouth to speak but held back, finally sighing and leading his horse away.

A squad of imperial guards left the eatery, preparing to return to camp.

Moments later,

“Sir, wait!” The old coachman ran up from behind.

“What now?” one of the guards frowned.

The old coachman smiled apologetically: “The noble person in the carriage said, if you have time, please buy a steamed bun for the boy.”

“Huh? Why not buy it yourself? Why make us do it?”

“All the ladies are inside—it’s improper,” the coachman said, troubled.

The imperial guard squad leader looked at the old coachman, then glanced toward the city gate, paused, then shook his head: “I’ve gone mad. Give me the money.”

“Yes! Thank you, sir!”

The old coachman bowed with a smile and turned toward the waiting carriage.

“Chief, what are you doing?” a subordinate asked.

“Go get a bowl of meat soup from the shop. We’re going outside the city.”

The subordinate’s eyes flickered: “Chief, the person the Hou Fu is searching for came from the southeast! This one probably isn’t him, right?”

The squad leader smiled, tossing the copper coins in his hand: “Whether he is or not, spending a few coins on food might save a life. For us, it’s no trouble at all.”

He ordered someone to bring out a bowl of hot soup.

Then he led his men through the city gate toward the outskirts.

That morning,

the sky was overcast,

near Xingguo Fang,

Yongchang Hou Fu,

Liang Han’s courtyard,

the main bedroom was warm.

“Huh”

A soft snore came from beneath the bed curtains.

“Click.”

The sound of the door opening and closing reached him.

Under the curtains, Liang Han in his nightclothes stirred, turning over and hugging the quilt.

“Ge’er, don’t move your waist—I just want to rub against you.”

Liang Han mumbled half-formed dream words, saliva dripping from his mouth, then rolled onto his side, pressing the quilt tighter.

“Diaochē, you call him—I’m afraid if I call the Young Master, he’ll get angry,” a young maid whispered outside the curtains.

“Do you think I won’t anger him if I call?” Diaochē’s voice came back.

“Then whether you call or not, Diaochē, you decide. I’ll go brew tea for the Young Master.”

“You…”

Moments later,

“Young Master?”

Diaochē called softly outside the curtains.

“Young Master?”

Diaochē’s voice grew slightly louder.

“Mmm?”

“Huh!”

The first sound was Liang Han waking; the long exhale that followed carried faint irritation and boundless regret.

“Diaochē, you bastard, I was right at the crucial part of my dream!”

Liang Han’s irritated voice rang out as he swept the curtains aside in annoyance.

Before Liang Han could speak further, Diaochē hurriedly said: “Young Master, the matter Jingge’er entrusted you with has a lead!”

“Huh?”

Liang Han’s angry face instantly changed, his voice sharp with surprise: “East gate or south gate?”

“Returning, Young Master—it was soldiers from the west gate, Jin Yaomen, who brought him,” Diaochē replied.

“Quick, get dressed—we’re going to see him!” Liang Han said urgently.

Diaochē called out: “Someone! Help the Young Master dress!”

“Coming!”

The young maid who had spoken earlier stepped around the screen and approached Liang Han.

In a flash, he dressed, threw on a thick cloak, and strode toward the front courtyard.

Walking beneath the corridor, Liang Han said: “Where are Father and Mother?”

“Young Master, the Marquis and Lady have gone out.”

“Hmm.”

Diaochē glanced at Liang Han: “Young Master, should we send word to Jingge’er?”

“I’ll confirm first—don’t want us to get excited for nothing.” As he spoke, Liang Han quickened his pace.

Arriving at the main hall of the front courtyard,

Liang Han passed through the cotton curtain at the back door, circled the screen, and saw the men in the hall.

Seeing Liang Han,

the man in front, dressed as a squad commander, set down his teacup and rose quickly to bow: “Greetings, Sixth Young Master.”

The imperial guard squad leader from yesterday afternoon also bowed deeply behind his superior.

As both men rose, a thin, pale-faced boy in cotton clothing, supported by a Hou Fu maid, also stood up.

“Ah, no need for such formality—please sit!” Liang Han waved and smiled.

When everyone was seated, Liang Han looked at the pale boy: “Is this him?”

The squad commander gestured for his subordinate to speak.

The imperial guard squad leader was about to rise when Liang Han waved him down: “No need to stand—just speak sitting.”

“Yes, Sixth Young Master! This boy came to at the roadside station outside the city this morning. When we asked, he said he came to Bianjing seeking family.” The squad leader bowed slightly.

Liang Han nodded: “Did you ask his ancestral home?”

The squad leader bowed again: “Yes—he said he’s from Xiao Liangshan, Wushang County.”

Hearing this, Liang Han stood up with a bright smile:

“Excellent! Thank you both! Diaochē, take them to Pan Lou Gao Le, then send for the two top performers from Qiyun Lou next door to keep them company. Charge all expenses to my account—and give them a reward afterward.”

“Thank you, Sixth Young Master! There’s no need for Pan Lou and all that—”

Liang Han waved him off: “Do as I say.”

“Yes! Then we’ll take our leave.” The squad commander rose and bowed.

“Go well!”

After Diaochē saw them out of the hall, Liang Han smiled at the boy seated on the chair: “What’s your name, boy?”

“I—I’m Yuan Feixing,” the boy said weakly.

“And what’s your sister’s name?”

“My sister’s name is Yuan He.”

Liang Han was startled: “Yuan He? This…”

It didn’t match the information he had.

At that moment,

Diaochē returned from seeing the guests off.

“Diaochē, his sister’s name is Yuan He—not Qingcao!” Liang Han frowned.

Diaochē looked confused: “Young Master, that *is* Qingcao’s name.”

At noon,

Quyuanjie,

Yongyi Hou Fu,

Xu Zaijing’s courtyard,

Liang Han told Xu Zaijing, who had returned for lunch, about the morning’s events.

“Sixth Young Master, you only just now learned that maids and servants must change their names upon entering the household?” Xu Zaijing asked, astonished.

“Ahem, yes! Before I renamed Diaochē, I thought his old name was his real one,” Liang Han said.

Xu Zaijing smiled helplessly; back then, he had known about this and felt a quiet sigh within him.

The reason was simple: in his past life, when he joined a company, he heard they required you to pick a fancy English name — and here in this ancient world, there was something similarly odd.

“Yuanhe is a much nicer name than the one you came up with, Jingge,” Liang Han added.

Xu Zaijing shook his head and smiled.

(End of Chapter)