Chapter 159: Xiong Da Has Arrived

As the days passed, the Zhong and Huang families, each harboring their own unspoken difficulties, found themselves in unspoken agreement and cooperated fully on the marriage arrangements. For a time, the whole process proceeded very smoothly: the four preliminary stages of Nacai, Wenming, Naji, and Nazheng were completed with great speed. However, at the fifth stage, "Hydrogen"—the point of divining an auspicious date—the Huang family suddenly put the process on hold. The reason was simple: the great Xiong Da, Lord Xiong, had arrived.

Xiong Wencan had his imperial audience and departed the capital from the Golden Throne Hall in early March, but at that time, the Bei Yunhe had not yet thawed—during the frozen river period, canals thaw more slowly. As a result, Xiong Da's large entourage had no choice but to travel by land first, dawdling along the canal all the way to the Shandong border. Only then did Lao Xiong board an official boat and begin drifting downstream.

By the time the men Huang Zhicheng had planted at the official courier station ran back to report, it was already early April. Upon receiving the news, Huang Zhicheng decisively suspended the wedding process: he would decide his next move based on the outcome of his contact with Xiong Wencan.

Two days later, at the Desheng Bridge official courier station.

Wearing a black, wide-bordered straight-hemmed robe—tacitly accepted by scholarly circles as the formal attire for a Provincial Graduate—and fully and neatly dressed, Huang Ping Laoye was currently sitting in the main hall of the courier station, drinking tea, eating snacks, and chatting idly with a group of low-ranking officials.

The official boat Xiong Wencan was on had arrived at Desheng Bridge before noon. Huang Zhicheng's purpose in coming today was to deliver his name card and letter of recommendation, to report his presence. Lao Xiong certainly would not see him today, but he had to adopt the correct posture and wait at the courier station.

As a Grand Coordinator of a province, even one just passing through, the moment he disembarked, figures of equivalent rank from the Zhejiang official circles were bound to come out to receive him. After that, they would queue by rank. By the time Lao Xiong had the free time to receive someone of the Provincial Graduate stratum, it would take at least two or three days. Therefore, during these few days of waiting to be summoned, Huang the Provincial Graduate had to come here to clock in and report his presence.

Upon entering the main gate of the courier station, the traditional Flower Halls were on the left and right, serving as sitting areas for the various people awaiting an audience. In the waiting hall of the Desheng Bridge courier station, officials, Provincial Graduates, merchants, and Licentiates who, like Huang Zhicheng, came to seek connections were more numerous than dogs. The place was bustling with noise all year round, absolutely no less than a departure lounge of later generations.

The circumstances of these people who spent all day at the courier station angling for advancement were never very good; they were usually a bunch of miscellaneous officials with no backing and Provincial Graduates Awaiting Appointment. Those with real influence would have long since smoothed things over with the Ministry of Revenue and taken up their posts. Who would sit around a courier station like a dog every day, waiting for a big shot to summon them?

Starting from the second day, Master Huang brought fine tea and snacks—this was precisely when the first batch of pre-Qingming Longjing tea was hitting the market. This is the 17th century; Longjing is not sold by the truckload, and ordinary families simply cannot afford such expensive tea leaves.

Therefore, Huang Ping, an anomaly, was very popular these past two days. He was generous, his conversation was elegant, and everyone drank tea while intimately exchanging all kinds of experience in seeking official posts and the likes and dislikes of various big shots, getting along famously.

The camp Huang the Provincial Graduate belonged to consisted of Provincial Graduates and low-ranked officials; this was the loudest Husky team. This group spent their days yelling at the courier station runners, shouting orders left and right, and they were the only ones making a ruckus in the entire Flower Hall.

Only when a gatekeeper shouted, "Lord So-and-so has arrived!" would the scene quiet down slightly for a moment. After a big shot in full Official Robe walked past without a sideways glance, the clamor would resume as before.

Off to one side was the quieter Licentiate camp, which belonged to the Toy Poodle team. Every face was brimming with passion, wanting to flirt with anyone they saw, yet no one paid them any attention.

The ones with the least presence were the Merchant camp in the corner. This group belonged to the Chihuahua team, each one covered in silks and satins, their plump, round faces piled high with harmless, amiable smiles.

However, in a place where officials came and went like this, merchants were the most powerless class. The harsh hierarchical oppression of feudal society was displayed here vividly and thoroughly—no impoverished official dared to cozy up to a merchant on such an occasion.

In fact, even if these people's homes were filled with silver, here, they could only buy a bowl of the lowest-grade tea from a courier runner to quench their thirst. A Commoner drinking good tea and eating snacks? Where would that leave the face of all the Laoyes in the hall? It's already generous that you aren't made to kneel!

It was under these circumstances that Huang Ping stubbornly steeped himself in the courier station for three days, stuffing himself with tea and snacks every day before going home. Fortunately, there was a waiting merchant named Xiong Dao who had it even worse—he didn't even get snacks and drank inferior tea. This filled Master Huang's heart with a sense of superiority and blessing.

On the first day after Xiong Da arrived at the courier station, the current Grand Coordinator of Zhejiang, Lord Zhang Yandeng, came to pay a visit.

On the second day, the Zhejiang Left and Right Provincial Administration Commissioners, Lords Dong Chengshao and Sun Zhifang, came to pay a visit.

On the third day, the Zhejiang Provincial Surveillance Commissioner, Lord Lin Zhi, came to pay a visit.

By the afternoon of the third day, after the Prefect of Hangzhou, Liu Mengqian, came to the courier station to mill about for a while, Huang Zhicheng knew that tomorrow it would probably be his turn. The Prefect was the lowest official rank Xiong Wencan would receive in an official capacity; anything beyond that would be a private relationship.

Sure enough, on the afternoon of the fourth day, just as Master Huang was happily shooting the breeze with a group of silkpants Awaiting Appointment, a Household Staff member wearing a soft cap—the style Zhou Xingchi wore in Flirting Scholar—ran into the Flower Hall and loudly asked, "Is Hangzhou's Huang Ping, Huang the Filially Upright, present? My master, Lord Xiong, requests your presence."

Upon hearing this, Huang Ping tossed aside the half-eaten piece of osmanthus peach pastry in his hand, picked up his tea bowl, and began rinsing his mouth. Several close friends he'd been chatting with quickly handed over a hand towel for Master Huang to wipe his face. After straightening his headscarf and making himself presentable, he adopted the Ming-dynasty walking style—chest in, head lowered—the only one among the Transmigrators to have received special training in it, and followed that soft-capped household servant toward the inner courtyard.

After walking a few steps inside, Huang Ping began to inquire, "May I ask how I should address you?"

"I don't dare be so honored, I'm Xiong Qi."

"Mm, after such a long and tiring journey, is Lord Xiong's esteemed health still sound?"

As he asked the question, Master Huang's large sleeve flicked, and in an instant, an ingot of fine, watered-silk silver appeared in Xiong Qi's hand.

Xiong Qi was so delighted his eyes narrowed, the pom-pom on his soft cap bobbing up and down. "In reply to Master Huang, my master's complexion is quite good, and he even ate an extra bowl of rice just now."

"Oh, his complexion is quite good." Huang Zhicheng thought as he walked, "Just don't give me that 'restless day and night, no appetite for food or tea' nonsense."

As a Grand Coordinator of a province, Xiong Wencan, when assuming his post, had an entourage of personal attendants, Advisers, secretaries, Household Retainers, sedan chair bearers, and guards numbering no less than a hundred. Thus, he had reserved three courtyards at the courier station. Master Huang was now led to a side hall to sit, and shortly after, a cup of fine tea was brought to him by Xiong Qi.

Only when the tea had cooled from scalding to lukewarm did Xiong Wencan, Xiong Da the Grand Pacification Commissioner, dressed in a Pine Pattern Robe, emerge from the rear hall.

Xiong Wencan was a native of Sichuan, with a lean figure and a clear, dignified countenance. He was fifty-three years old, the prime of life for an official.

Seeing the big boss appear, Huang Ping hurriedly rose and stepped forward to pay his respects.

Here, Huang Ping did not need to kneel: setting aside the Public Hall, in a private setting, the rank of Provincial Graduate was equivalent to a deputy division-level position. No matter how high Xiong Wencan's official post, his rank was no more than a principal division-level Metropolitan Graduate. Except for the three deputy department-level graduates of the Grade A, everyone else within the system was only half a rank apart; there was no principle requiring kneeling.

This was because a Provincial Graduate who came through the proper path of the Provincial Examination was already a member of the ruling class. In all sorts of ancient tales of the strange, one always sees Licentiates being swindled, being slaughtered, being slept with by fox spirits—but has anyone ever seen a Provincial Graduate Laoye being trifled with by petty scoundrels in any way?

Though Xiong Wencan was lean, his lung capacity was not small. The moment he opened his mouth, his voice boomed like thunder: "Zhicheng, there is no need for excessive ceremony. I have been close friends with your teacher for many years. Sit, and let us talk."

At this moment, the dividends of the "Li Kui Operation," on which the Transmigrators had previously expended so much elaborate effort, began to manifest.

From Xiong Wencan's form of address—