Chapter 988

Pan Yun and Xue Shao were both good-looking, with the appearance and accent of outsiders, and since Lin Shaofuren had sent them wine and snacks, they drew particular attention.

Not long after, the person Xue Shao was waiting for came to him voluntarily.

A young man dressed as a scholar tugged his companion over, his gaze sliding past Pan Yun, and smiled at Xue Shao: “Brother, where are you from? I’m Huang Quan, a student at the county school.”

Xue Shao bowed in reply: “I am Xue Wen, from Hedong. This is my junior sister Pan San. We are traveling to study, and hearing of this poetry gathering, we came specifically—never expecting it to be so grand.”

Huang Quan burst into laughter, waving his hand: “Prefect Lin encourages learning, so the entire Chaozhou Prefecture values scholarship. This poetry gathering isn’t just held in the prefectural capital—rumor has it every county is holding one too. Soon, poetry gatherings will become Chaozhou’s finest tradition.”

Pan Yun had little interest in poetry gatherings—what was the point of a bunch of scholars gathering to recite verses? True works are rooted in the people and the heart; these so-called poetry gatherings were merely socializing under the guise of verse.

Just look at the crowd gathered in the pavilion—all dressed in fine attire, all scholars.

Xue Shao asked: “How often is this poetry gathering held? Only when interest arises?”

Huang Quan said: “It used to be once per season, now it’s monthly, so many scholars from outside come to join. This is my cousin Dai Fu, from Chaoyang County—he came specially for the gathering.”

Dai Fu was dark and thin; when silent, he looked older than Huang Quan, but once he reacted, his shyness lowered his apparent age, revealing he was indeed younger than Huang Quan.

He softly greeted Xue Shao and Pan Yun, and nodded to Xi Jin, who stood behind Xue Shao.

His accent was heavy; Pan Yun could barely understand him, yet both men treated him warmly—warmer even than they treated Huang Quan.

Xue Shao knew he had only recently arrived in Chaozhou City, and immediately said: “Perfect. Let’s explore Chaozhou’s cuisine together.”

Xue Shao called the waiter, ordered the restaurant’s specialties, and had two jugs of wine brought.

Huang Quan was thrilled, firmly pulling Dai Fu down to sit, declaring he knew Chaozhou inside out—if they wanted to see anything or eat anything, they should ask him, and he would answer without holding back.

Pan Yun immediately asked: “Then you know all the city’s news too?”

Huang Quan smiled: “Of course we don’t know secrets, but if it’s news, it must be circulating outside. Even if I haven’t heard it, I can find out.”

Pan Yun said at once: “We were wandering earlier and saw a notice for a martial arts contest to win a bride posted on the announcement wall outside the Prefect’s government office.”

Huang Quan’s eyes brightened slightly, his enthusiasm rising. He lowered his voice: “Are you interested in this, Brother Xue?”

Before Xue Shao could deny it, Pan Yun pressed his hand down: “I’m interested. I’m asking on behalf of him, and also on behalf of my master and my fellow disciples.”

Huang Quan chuckled: “Then Miss Pan has come to the right person—good eye. Feng Battalion Commander is over fifty, with only one daughter, naturally doted upon. Marrying into the Feng family means endless wealth and honor.”

Dai Fu tugged at Huang Quan’s sleeve.

Huang Quan brushed his hand away, shot him a silent glare, and smiled warmly at Xue Shao: “Brother Xue, though the Feng family requires martial prowess, they also demand literacy. Someone like you—good-looking and a scholar—might not even need martial skill to try.”

Pan Yun: “Feng Battalion Commander? He’s the Battalion Commander of Chaozhou Guard?”

“Of course. Who in Chaozhou doesn’t know him?”

Pan Yun frowned: “He’s just a Battalion Commander—how much wealth could he have?”

She pointed at Xue Shao: “Though my senior brother’s family isn’t wealthy, we’re a farming-and-learning household. Our ancestors once produced a third-rank official. Ordinary wealth doesn’t impress us.”

“You said ‘ancestors,’” Huang Quan whispered. “An official in office matters more than one long gone. Feng Battalion Commander commands the Chaozhou Guard—every garrison and military farm in Chaozhou falls under him. And word is the court plans to revive the navy and split off a maritime force. Chaozhou is near the sea—his future is limitless.”

“Who knows what the future holds? Besides, my senior brother isn’t military household—he’ll pursue the civil path. Civil and military are separate paths. Even if Feng Battalion Commander is powerful, he can’t help my senior brother’s career,” Pan Yun said. “Talking about wealth in terms of garrisons and military farms is pointless—those belong to the court, not him.”

Huang Quan looked at her as if she were a lost cause. “If you hold him in such low regard, why did you just say you’d ask on behalf of your senior brother and disciples?”

Pan Yun waved dismissively: “We’re outsiders. We didn’t know the Feng family was just a Battalion Commander. Seeing their notice posted on the Prefect’s front gate, we thought he was some mighty figure—perhaps even equal to Prefect Lin—so we asked.”

Huang Quan immediately perked up again, whispering: “Miss Pan, your perception is correct, but your insight is lacking. In Chaozhou, Feng Battalion Commander is far more useful than Prefect Lin.”

“Oh?” Both Pan Yun and Xue Shao sat up straight, staring intently at Huang Quan: “You mean Prefect Lin answers to Feng Battalion Commander?”

“Not exactly. Prefect Lin handles civil affairs; Feng Battalion Commander handles military. They’re separate. But Prefect Lin must give Feng Battalion Commander some face—otherwise, how could the Feng family post their martial arts contest notice on the Prefect’s front gate?”

Pan Yun muttered: “So Feng Battalion Commander has that much face?”

“Of course,” Huang Quan glanced upstairs, then behind him, saw no one paying attention, and whispered: “Feng Battalion Commander is like this in Chaozhou. Not just Prefect Lin—even the Guangdong Provincial Administration Commissioner gives him some respect.”

Pan Yun stared, dumbfounded, and turned to Xue Shao: “That powerful? Could he have some hidden background?”

“He’s the adopted son of Wang Zhen, the late emperor’s favorite!” Huang Quan declared proudly.

Pan Yun nearly spat out her tea, coughing violently.

Xue Shao’s expression was equally strange. He pulled a clean silk handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it to Pan Yun, murmuring: “Is this really what people say about Feng Battalion Commander?”

Huang Quan looked at them bewildered, nodding: “Yes. Everyone says it. Feng Battalion Commander has connections in court—no one dares offend him.”

Xue Shao lowered his eyes.

Wang Zhen had been dead for a year. Even after death, he was condemned by court. His body was not even spared; his home was seized.

Not just his home in the capital, but also his ancestral home, and all his nephews and uncles—every last one was purged.

Some are still imprisoned in the Imperial Prison, awaiting judgment.

When I returned to the capital last time, my uncle was already fighting a lawsuit with the Northern Town Command and the Censorate over this.

The Northern Town Command wanted to execute them all; the Censorate wanted to make an example. But Xue Xuan didn’t want to expand the case.

Among those arrested, many were indeed Wang Zhen’s clan members who had abused their power through him.

Like Wang Shan and others—either placed as Embroidered Uniform Guards in the Northern and Southern Town Commands, or appointed as minor officials in the Six Ministries.

They couldn’t become high officials, but as minor ones, they had little work and high pay, and used their positions to do all kinds of things outside.

That’s how Wang Zhen’s power was built.

Xue Xuan didn’t care if these people died, but many were innocent bystanders. Some households were relatives of Wang Zhen or his first wife’s clan—though they came to the capital to live, they rarely contacted Wang Zhen, merely running businesses or working as craftsmen.

One family even lived in a slum, never believing they were related to Wang Zhen, never using his name for profit.

When Wang Zhen died and the great purge came, they were arrested—simply because their grandfather came from the same village as Wang Zhen and shared the same clan register.

Who knows? He’d never returned to his ancestral home since birth. I can’t imagine how the Censorate even found them.

After Wang Zhen’s downfall, the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard was beaten to death by officials. Few Embroidered Uniform Guards remained in the capital, and even fewer survived from the battlefield.

To distance themselves from Wang Zhen, they were desperate to dig up his corpse and grind his bones to dust. The Censorate arrested anyone linked to Wang Zhen—and wanted to expand the net by double.

For example, the slum family’s son-in-law and neighbor were arrested too, because they were close, suspected of secret ties to Wang Zhen.

If Feng Battalion Commander were truly Wang Zhen’s adopted son, his grave would be over ten feet tall with grass by now.

Since the Embroidered Uniform Guard hasn’t come to arrest him, this rumor must be false.

And the fact that Prefect Lin and the Guangdong Provincial Administration Commissioner give him such face means there’s another reason.

The claim that he’s Wang Zhen’s adopted son is merely a smokescreen.

But does Feng Battalion Commander know people say this about him?

Doesn’t he fear censors reporting it, or the Embroidered Uniform Guard verifying it?

Xue Shao thought of this—so did Pan Yun. They became even more interested in Feng Battalion Commander.

Hmm, also interested in Prefect Lin and the Guangdong Provincial Administration Commissioner.

Both were civil officials—how did they get entangled with a Battalion Commander?

Xue Shao posed another question: “If this Feng Battalion Commander is so powerful, why are so few willing to become his son-in-law?”

Huang Quan looked slightly embarrassed: “How do you know so few are willing?”

Xue Shao smiled faintly: “I noticed you’ve been urging me to try. Is there a reward for recommending someone?”

“Bah, no reward—it’s called a matchmaker’s fee,” Huang Quan said. “If Brother Xue wins the beauty and secures this marriage, shouldn’t you thank me with a matchmaker’s fee?”

Xue Shao was momentarily stunned—he found the logic sound. “How do you know I’ll succeed?”

“Success is good; failure doesn’t matter. I’ve only wasted my breath,” Huang Quan winked. “Brother Xue, if you intend to try, be sure to bring me along. I’ll take you.”

Pan Yun couldn’t help suspecting: “Is there an introduction fee?”

“No, no,” Huang Quan waved his hands, but smiled: “But there’s food. You and your companions can stay in the Feng family’s villa until the contest ends. The person who recommends you can visit you anytime. I hear the Feng family’s daily meals are exquisite—breakfast alone has eighteen dishes.”

Pan Yun gasped: “That sounds exquisite—even the Emperor doesn’t eat like that.”

The Emperor and Empress promoted frugality: breakfast had only six dishes—porridge, buns, steamed bread, fried cakes, and small side dishes, rotated daily, plus one soup.

The Emperor and Empress ate this way; the imperial consorts had five, four, or even three dishes.

The lowest-ranking concubines had only one side dish each morning, paired with porridge or buns.

And yet a Guard Battalion Commander serves eighteen breakfast dishes to contestants in a martial arts contest.

Truly, the Emperor is far away.

As they chatted merrily, the waiter arrived with the dishes.

Xue Shao and Pan Yun now looked at Huang Quan as if he were treasure—each handed him a bowl, each handed him chopsticks, warmly urging him to eat.

Xue Shao poured him wine: “Brother Huang, my junior sister and I are newcomers here, ignorant of everything. Please guide us. By the way, if I enter the Feng family’s martial arts contest, who will I fight? With such generous terms, there must be many applicants.”

“Many.”

Xue Shao sighed: “I’m from Hedong—how can I compete with them? Though it’s a martial contest, since it’s marriage, they’ll surely check family background first.”

Huang Quan: “Brother Xue, don’t worry—I think you have great advantages.”

“Oh?”

Huang Quan ate some meat, drank some wine, then said: “The Feng family specifically wants outsiders.”

“Why?”

“Because of isolation!” Huang Quan whispered. “The Feng family is military household. Though the son-in-law won’t become military household himself, any child born will be. Military households can’t move freely—so unless the court issues an order, the third generation will be rooted in Chaozhou.”

“If the son-in-law’s family is far away, contact with his original home fades. Affection grows through daily interaction,” Huang Quan said meaningfully. “And distance prevents his family from interfering in Feng family affairs, sparing the son-in-law from constantly aiding his ‘birth family.’”

Xue Shao suddenly understood.

Pan Yun blinked: “But the son-in-law is weak. The Feng family has only one daughter. Don’t they fear that after the Feng Battalion Commander’s death, the young couple will be bullied?”

“That’s why the Feng family sets high standards,” Huang Quan said. “Not only martial skill, but literacy too. Don’t think literacy just means reading. I have inside information!” He lowered his voice: “Feng Battalion Commander invited the county school’s instructor to come daily and test the candidates. So Brother Xue, if you go, be extremely careful—don’t think the instructor talks to you just to chat. He’s using conversation as a test.”

Huang Quan said: “If the son-in-law is capable, Feng Miss isn’t a fool. Together, if they can hold onto Feng Battalion Commander’s assets and connections, even if the third generation hasn’t matured, they can ensure the Feng family’s prosperity for three generations.”

Pan Yun marveled: “Excellent. Very impressive.”

Xue Shao pondered: “A parent’s love for a child means planning far ahead. Feng Battalion Commander has spared no effort for his daughter and the Feng clan.”

“Exactly!”

Xue Shao: “But does the Feng family have much wealth?”

“That’s quite a lot,” Huang Quan said, after a few cups of wine and chatting merrily with the two, already feeling light-headed; he waved his hand and declared, “Half of Chaozhou City belongs to the Feng family, so they’re called Feng Half-City!”

Xue Shao and Pan Yun both looked at him with disdain—why didn’t you just say that earlier?

Pan Yun poured him another cup of wine and sighed, “Brother Huang, next time you try to persuade someone to enter a martial contest for a bride, lead with this line—say it first, and I guarantee you won’t need to say another word.”