Chapter 155: Xigaotang

Pingfeng Stronghold, that legendary place, the starting point of all the stories, has now, in a sense, already ceased to exist.

After Zhou Tong first decided to descend the mountain and rise in revolt, he began to liquidate all assets. Including the villagers of Hengtang Village at the foot of the mountain, all the old and weak were gradually sent off. These people were first diverted to Tangzhuang and Moyun Temple, and in the end, the majority were sent to Dayuan for settlement.

After the old and weak were sent off, the last group of able-bodied men left to garrison followed instructions and transferred Pingfeng Stronghold and Hengtang Village to Squire Hu of Lian Di — and by this time, Zhou Tong had already taken his seat as the Dragon Head of the Hangzhou Beggar Sect.

After Squire Hu learned of the news, he didn't try to renege on the deal — he knew his family's mountain goods would still need to be sold on Zhou Tong's territory in the future.

This method of liquidation — killing the hen to get the eggs — powerfully changed the predicament of the Crossing Faction's manpower shortage in the early stage. The personnel from Pingfeng Mountain were either holding the field for the Beggar Sect, holding the field at Moyun Temple, or holding the field in Dayuan — in short, the brothers all delivered.

After Huang Zhicheng passed the imperial examinations, he urgently needed one of his own men. It was under these circumstances that Zhao Wutian was selected to serve as Master Huang's Liaison Officer.

Zhao Wutian, steady in character and reliable in conduct, after a few days of emergency training at Tangzhuang, changed his name to the grander-sounding Zhao Liu and went to Huang Residence to take up a sinecure as a Steward, with the sole responsibility of connecting internal and external affairs.

So when Master Huang demanded that those people who came seeking handouts be handed over to Steward Zhao, Chief Steward Wu agreed without batting an eye. He knew that this Steward Zhao, who seemed a bit dull, was in truth the master's trusted confidant. Those previous waves of Taizhou bumpkins who came begging for shelter — after being handed over to this Steward Zhao, no news was ever heard of them again. From this, one could see what kind of work this fellow usually did outside.

After giving instructions about the matter of the fortune-seekers, Master Huang asked again, "How is the renovation of that shop coming along?"

"Oh, it's already eighty percent complete. In a few more days it should be ready."

"Mm. Then send someone tomorrow to deliver a visiting card to Director Du's residence and arrange a time."

"Understood, Laoye."

"Is there anything else today?"

"Ahem... that... Ma Pozi and Yan Pozi came running again, making a racket and refusing to leave without seeing Laoye. It took two handfuls of cash to send them off."

"Oh." Hearing this, Master Huang rolled his eyes fiercely.

The old women had come to propose matches.

Master Huang's first wife had passed away early. Now that he had become a juren and his family fortune had inflated like a pig's bladder, overnight, Master Huang had become a hot commodity.

A promotion, a fortune, and a dead wife — the highest realm of beautiful dreams. This transcends dynasties; even in later generations it's the same. Master Huang was now, fittingly, a living version of the "Ming Dynasty Dream," a role model for the men of Great Ming.

So ever since Laoye passed the exams, matchmakers had been swarming in droves.

However, Master Huang had no desire to remarry. For no other reason than: too many girls.

Any Transmigrator would probably not want to remarry. Just think — every night you have tender sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girls sleeping with you, and you can switch between them, and they won't fight over jealousy, won't refuse any position, and it's fine if there are a few more — and they all want to bear your children...

Master Huang, having come from later generations, genuinely felt his current life was ten thousand times better than before he crossed over. He didn't want to find some "first wife" to come and take charge of the back residence. Wasn't this current state of unbridled debauchery just fine?

Yet reality did not permit it.

A newly minted juren not remarrying — it might be acceptable at first, but after a while, he would be classified as an "oddity" by the Scholar-Official class. This didn't fit Huang Zhicheng's persona. He needed to integrate into the Jiangnan gentry circle with the appearance of an elite Scholar-Official. A man without even a legal wife at home would invite unnecessary gossip and negative judgment.

The Dayuan side wouldn't agree either.

In the previous discussions about remarriage, a secret letter from the Great Office had already provided several opinions.

First: a wife must be taken.

Second: it is not advisable to deal with high officials and prominent nobles; they might not necessarily look favorably upon a mere juren. Even if he managed to marry in, it would most likely be a daughter of a concubine, with few benefits. When the King's Army lands in the future, if these reactionary elements stubbornly resist, it would instead put him in a difficult position.

Third: it's best not to marry one with bound feet. The current political wind direction in Dayuan is that all factions are unanimously determined to resolutely ban foot-binding. A friendly reminder: you are already the target of much envy — don't go looking for trouble.

Alright, with these few parameters drawn, the pool of candidates for Master Huang's future legal wife had become very narrow. She would certainly be the daughter of some mid-ranking official's family, and she must not have bound feet. This was a bit difficult, but the forest is big and holds all kinds of birds — one would eventually be found.

"It seems a decision must be made." Master Huang, who had been subconsciously rather passive about this matter, finally realized today that he could no longer delay. Creatures like matchmakers would not rest until their goal was achieved. They had been making a fuss for half a year already; if the clamor continued, the impact would be bad.

"Have them prepare for tomorrow. After I return from tasting tea, I will see them." Once Huang Zhicheng had thought it through, he was no longer indecisive.

"Yes." Chief Steward Wu lowered his head in acknowledgment. In that moment, the fat on his face couldn't help but twitch slightly — he knew that from this moment on, the countdown for a mistress entering the residence had begun.

After sending the steward away, Master Huang sat in his chair and pondered quietly for a while, then began to eat dinner under the service of the maids. After the meal, Master Huang persisted in reading for a while — the Four Books and Five Classics were essential coursework he had to make up. The foundation in classical Chinese he had before crossing over was certainly insufficient, so he had been cramming for the past half year. Otherwise, if some ancient person tossed out a reference and he couldn't catch it, that would be humiliating.

Swaying his head, muttering archaic phrases — Master Huang's spirit of "live and learn" immediately moved the girl who had come over. She bluntly stated that bitter study harmed the body and that he should pay attention to balancing work and rest.

Master Huang followed good advice readily and promptly selected the two maids Lengxiang and Nuanxiang to accompany him. The lamps were blown out to go nurture the primal essence...

A night passed, and a new day for a Ming Dynasty Scholar-Official began.

After rising early and eating breakfast, Master Huang assiduously studied the classics and histories for a while. Seeing that the time had reached the end of the Chen hour, he rose and changed clothes, bringing his stalwart servants, Chang Sui, and attendants, and went out the door. Laoye did not take a sedan chair today but strolled casually on foot. After leaving the residence gate, he ambled leisurely, heading east all the way.

Exiting Guliu Alley, one reached Stone Slab Street. After leaving the street entrance and walking further ahead, there was a bustling Caishikou. This market was not large in scale; its main function was to supply high-end vegetables to the nearby great households, so it usually did not stage those crowd-pleasing beheading programs.

The group walked ahead not far, reaching the entrance of an alley not far from Caishikou, and turned in. Inside the alley was a teahouse named "Xigaotang." This place was where Master Huang habitually went to taste tea.

The teahouse "Xigaotang" had opened almost simultaneously with Huang Fu, one after the other. Originally, this place was a raw medicine shop called Hetai Hall. Because the shop front did not face the main street, although it was not far from the market, business was always mediocre. Later, when the teahouse Shopkeeper came with silver to buy it, the shop owner readily took the opportunity to transfer the shop.

After Master Huang entered, the teahouse Shopkeeper greeted him with a beaming smile. This Shopkeeper was actually an old acquaintance of Chairman Cao. This man's surname was Lü, named Lü Wenda. Originally a wandering Daoist priest, he later joined Pingfeng Stronghold, and everyone called him Lü Accountant.

Lü Accountant, now a Daoist priest who had descended the mountain to become a teahouse Shopkeeper, played the part convincingly. Seeing Master Huang enter, he diligently ushered Laoye toward the second floor, while also instructing the waitstaff to serve tea and pastries to the attendants sitting downstairs.

Master Huang and Shopkeeper Lü were now old acquaintances. The two went up to the second floor and arrived at the private tea room where Master Huang habitually tasted tea. This private room had been specially renovated, with partition walls pasted with different materials to ensure that no ears could hear through the walls.

When Master Huang pushed open the door of the private room, there was already a monk and a man in a blue robe sitting inside.

The monk had a broad face and large ears, short and plump, very much resembling a head cook from a monastery kitchen.

After Master Huang entered the private room, as if he hadn't seen the monk, he sat straight down in a chair. Lü Wenda then gently closed the door.

The monk, while pouring tea for Master Huang, pulled a phone from his inner pocket and handed it over.

"The latest instructions. You read first; the two of us have already seen them."

Huang Zhicheng casually took the phone, entered a string of public passwords, and then retrieved several files from his personal folder.

When he saw that the recipient of the files was the codename "Confucianism, Buddhism, Taoism," he couldn't help but feel a slight excitement. "Confucianism, Buddhism, Taoism" was the codename for the three-man team of Hangzhou Station. Usually, the appearance of such files signified that there was a major task requiring their joint cooperation to complete.

Just at that moment, after a few rhythmic knocks on the private room door, the Village Head of Tangzhuang, the Sea Merchant Xiong Dao, also slowly walked in.

"Confucianism" was Huang Zhicheng himself. "Buddhism" was this monk before him, the Station Chief of Hangzhou. "Taoism" was the Village Head of Tangzhuang, Brother Xiong Dao. The "Confucianism, Buddhism, Taoism" trio were the only three Transmigrators a certain power base had in Hangzhou, and they bore the weighty mission of maintaining the operation of Hangzhou Station.

The monk's surname was Lu, called Lu Cheng. Before crossing over, this man had been engaged in underground work — selling pirated discs, homemade Zhonghua cigarettes, home-brewed Moutai, Master Kang, Rejoice... in short, he sold whatever was popular, counterfeited whoever had the biggest brand.

In those passionately burning years, Comrade Lu Cheng, in the process of struggling against various departments — industry and commerce, tax, quality inspection, health, fire, culture, tobacco monopoly, anti-counterfeiting offices, and so on — accumulated rich experience in underground work and built a staunch fighting collective. In a market environment where the situation between ourselves and the enemy was extremely complex, Comrade Lu Cheng, relying on a tough underground network, could be struck but not killed, dead but not stiff, becoming a much-told tale in the industry.

Of course, all past glories are behind him. Now, Comrade Lu Cheng has arrived at a new battle station.

Not counting Huang Zhicheng, who was a custom-special edition, both Lu Cheng and Xiong Dao were espionage masters who had stayed behind at Hangzhou Station by their own skill when the main force of Transmigrators set sail for Dayuan.

When personnel were being selected back then, aside from his yearning for espionage work, Lu Cheng's rich experience in organizing underground networks, and his short stature, were also key factors in him becoming the Station Chief of Hangzhou — a short, plump man who could operate an underground counterfeit sales network in later generations absolutely had the ability to serve as a Station Chief of Hangzhou in the exceedingly slow-paced rhythm of the 17th century.

The three of them gathering together at Xigaotang to taste tea was a rare occurrence. Today, it was because there was an important matter to discuss, something unclear over a phone call, hence this meeting.

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