Chapter 37: A Trivial Matter

One person spoke up, and the others all nodded. Shi Manqiang and Ji Xiang didn't say anything, but their expressions were just as grim.

Just as expected — this was within Zhao Jin's predictions. He raised a hand and shouted, "I know you're all worried about those scoundrels causing trouble. I promise you, tomorrow those scoundrels won't come looking for you. If there's no trouble, are you still willing to come?"

"If there's no trouble, of course we'll come!" The reply from below was loud and clear. Zhao Jin stood on that mound of earth, smiled and nodded, then walked down.

After he came down, the sparring was officially over. But Zhao Jin didn't rush back to practice martial arts. Instead, he called Chen Sheng and Wang Zhaojing over and asked in a low voice, "Did neither of your families send anyone with you today?"

"I didn't want anyone following me here. After they dropped off my things, I sent Uncle Cai home," Chen Sheng said, puzzled.

"Having servants around always feels awkward, so no one came today," Wang Zhaojing said in a deep voice. After he finished, he seemed to realize something and added, "Brother Zhao, my father never really approved of sparring and fighting in the first place. If it gets tangled up with some street thugs, I'm afraid my father will be even more displeased. I'm afraid I can't be of much help in this."

Zhao Jin shot Wang Zhaojing a glance, thinking to himself that this kid really was clever — he'd figured out Zhao Jin wanted to ask the adults of each family for help, and had preemptively bowed out.

"I was just asking. I'll figure this out myself," Zhao Jin said with a smile. Wang Zhaojing smiled and nodded. Chen Sheng looked a bit confused, glancing left and right.

The fight had been exhilarating, but the scoundrels' shouted threats of revenge had soured everyone's mood. The boys and youths dispersed in twos and threes. Zhao Jin also led Mu Shulan back home.

What one hopes for often leads to disappointment. The man and woman who usually came to pick up Mu Shulan didn't show up today either. The little girl was very excited, but Zhao Jin was smiling bitterly inside.

"Xiaolan, were you scared this afternoon during the fight?"

"Not really. With you here, Brother Xiaojin, I was even less scared."

Zhao Jin really wasn't asking casually. Dozens of boys had fought viciously that afternoon, and Mu Shulan had remained fairly composed from start to finish — that in itself was not normal.

Sparring, after all, was bound by rules and emphasized stopping at the point of contact. A real fight didn't require such restraint. Zhao Jin felt the noon brawl had been immensely satisfying, and afterward he felt he had gained new insight into the spear art. That was why his afternoon martial practice was especially focused and dedicated.

Zhao Zhentang didn't come home for dinner that evening. According to He Cuihua, now that things had finally quieted down, the yamen crowd was bound to gather for drinking and merrymaking. She told Zhao Jin to eat and go to sleep on his own, no need to wait up.

Back in his own room, Zhao Jin began his usual routine of sit-ups and push-ups, then got up and kept stretching his tendons, working his body as much as possible.

Around the time he usually went to bed, Zhao Zhentang came home. He sat down in the main room and bellowed, "Woman of the house, pour me some tea!"

Zhao Jin had been waiting. Hearing this, he hurried out, grinning as he poured a bowl of tea and brought it over. Zhao Zhentang's face was flushed red, there was a bit of grease on his beard, and he reeked of alcohol. Taking the tea, he laughed and scolded, "Tea should be hot. Drinking it cold upsets the stomach."

Despite saying that, he drained it clean. Zhao Zhentang let out a long breath, untied the sash of his black official robe, and ruffled Zhao Jin's hair, asking, "So late, why aren't you asleep yet? How did the fighting go today?"

"Dad, I ran into a bit of trouble," Zhao Jin said quietly.

"What trouble? Child, why didn't you tell your mother? What happened?" Before Zhao Zhentang could speak, He Cuihua, holding a hot towel, grew anxious first and hurried over.

Zhao Zhentang let out an alcoholic burp, waved a hand at He Cuihua, and said carelessly, "What kind of trouble could a kid have? Don't make such a fuss. Xiaojin, tell me in detail."

"Okay, today I..." Zhao Jin began to explain in detail. Children this age are very reluctant to seek their family's help for problems, especially this kind, because they fear being scolded or reprimanded. Some even feel it's shameful to go to their parents. But Zhao Jin saw things very clearly: a child's backing is their parents. When you run into something you can't solve yourself, asking your parents for help is only right and proper.

Zhao Zhentang listened while drinking hot tea, though his energy was low and he kept yawning. When he heard that the son of that Wang Youshan had also gone to spar, Zhao Zhentang couldn't help but pause — he probably never imagined such a scholarly family would let their child fight and learn martial arts. When he heard Zhao Jin had won every bout and made it to the final match, a smile appeared on Zhao Zhentang's face. When he heard Zhao Jin had been the first to charge out and knock down a thug, Zhao Zhentang's face lit up with delight. He clapped Zhao Jin heavily on the shoulder and laughed heartily, "Good boy! Better than your father and your uncle were back in the day. You've got promise, real promise!"

"Have you had too much to drink? What promise is there in this? Before Xiaojin got sick, he was such an obedient child. But ever since he got better, he's been like this. He'll grow up to be nothing but a troublemaker. It's all because you took the child to watch that execution — baleful, murderous energy entered his body..." He Cuihua rambled on.

Zhao Zhentang set down his tea bowl and said impatiently, "What does a woman know? Being able to fight isn't a bad thing. At the very least, no one will bully him."

After saying that, he smiled and asked Zhao Jin, "Xiaojin, those scoundrels wouldn't dare cause trouble for you anyway. Why are you bothering with all this?"

Now that was the key question. Street thugs and scoundrels knew who they could offend and who they couldn't. Judging by their clothes and bearing, Zhao Jin, Chen Sheng, and Wang Zhaojing were clearly children of wealthy, respectable families. Those scoundrels naturally wouldn't dare provoke them. In truth, this had nothing to do with Zhao Jin, and Zhao Jin wasn't in any trouble.

That was why Zhao Zhentang asked. It was also the drink talking — with the alcohol rising, he'd curiously probed a question he usually kept buried.

Zhao Jin didn't try to be clever. He simply said honestly, "Dad, I worked so hard to gather this many friends. If they scatter because of this, all my previous effort will have been wasted. Getting them together again would be really hard."

Zhao Zhentang grinned, showing his teeth. "You're a real honest one, kid. Alright, tomorrow morning I'll take care of this trouble for you."

His father's answer was so crisp and decisive that Zhao Jin couldn't help but freeze. Was it really that simple? Before he could react, he saw Zhao Zhentang stretch and already head toward the inner room, laughing as he walked. "Nothing wrong with learning martial arts. This temperament of yours pleases me."

As he crawled under the covers, Zhao Jin was still in a daze, thinking: those scoundrels under that so-called "Black Tiger Temple Bronze Head" who came to pick on kids — they probably weren't any big shots. But his father was just an ordinary runner at the yamen. How could he resolve this so easily?

Just before sleep, Zhao Jin suddenly smiled. After today's group brawl, he had truly secured the loyalty of the goods-yard boys.

The next day, Zhao Jin was somewhat distracted even during breakfast. He felt nervous. Zhao Zhentang was gulping down mixed-grain porridge. Seeing his child's expression, he couldn't help but mock him, "Look at you. I thought you had some grand ambition. Scared already today?"

In that other life, Zhao Jin had been aggressive and loved to fight, but he'd never dealt with figures from the underworld. Going to meet these thugs and scoundrels today, he truly felt uncertain.

After father and son finished breakfast and He Cuihua cleared the dishes, she nagged, "Xiaojin, you must be careful. Whatever you do, don't get hurt or stir up trouble."

"Enough with all that talk!" Zhao Zhentang wiped his mouth nonchalantly and led Zhao Jin out the door.

It was only after leaving the courtyard that Zhao Jin realized: his mother hadn't even mentioned the matter of the thugs and scoundrels. She wasn't worried at all.

Zhao Zhentang wore a short black robe with red trim and the square hat of a yamen runner, swaggering down the street. After leaving the streets of the North Gate district, Zhao Jin noticed the market was very desolate. The sun was already up, but many shops still had their doors and window shutters closed. He could see that the storefronts hadn't been swept — they must have been closed for business.

The market wasn't just desolate; it was somewhat dilapidated. The decay and decline of Xuzhou City was all too apparent. Yet father and son walked slower and slower along the road, for a very simple reason: too many people were greeting Zhao Zhentang.

"Master Zhao, got some free time today?"

"Brother Zhao, let's have a few drinks together tonight at the Ascending High Pavilion. My treat?"