Chapter 771: The Street Before the Gate

Mu Wujia was first taken aback, then his brows shot up. He slammed the table again and roared hoarsely, "I'm already sitting here, and you dare throw me out? Have you lost your mind?"

Hearing this, the manager of Taibai Tower frowned, and that frown only enraged Mu Wujia further. He was not short on silver, nor on men who could fight. Though he held no real authority here at the Jining branch, he could still muster forces to vent his anger. A mere tavern manager dared to give him attitude — the man must have a death wish. He was about to slam the table and rise again, but before Mu Wujia could make his move, the local Jining attendant stood up with a smile and said, "May I ask what honored guest has arrived today?"

The manager hesitated, then said, "It is Chief Clerk Si."

The moment he heard the name Chief Clerk Si, the smile on the Jining attendant's face froze. He immediately cupped his hands toward the manager and said, "Thank you for telling us. We'll leave at once!"

Mu Wujia shook his head, thinking he had misheard. The manager had already nodded and left the private room. Mu Wujia slammed the table, ready to explode, but before he could move, the Jining attendant had already turned around, fixed him with a vicious glare, and said, "If you want to court death, do it alone — don't bring disaster on the rest of us. Let's go, now!"

The sudden ferocity that erupted from the Jining attendant startled Mu Wujia. In that instant, Mu Wujia's anger vanished without a trace. The attendant's expression just now had looked truly ready to kill and devour someone. Mu Wujia shook his head, slammed the table heavily, and muttered sullenly, "Spoiled the mood, utterly spoiled the mood. Let's go — and bring that little girl along!"

The guards understood the gravity of the situation as well. They paid no more heed to the earlier commotion and all rose, escorting Mu Wujia out of the private room. When they reached the staircase, they saw people coming up from below. Over the past few years, Mu Wujia had grown accustomed to never yielding the way. He was about to walk straight down when the attendant behind him yanked him back hard, pulling him aside to let the people below come up.

"That is Si Wenxuan, Right Chief Clerk of the Prince of Lu's estate — the most powerful official in all of Yanzhou. Even the prefect must cup his hands and bow his head before him. We cannot afford to offend him!" The attendant whispered a few words of explanation, also justifying his own earlier vicious demeanor.

They saw several wealthy and influential figures, faces wreathed in fawning smiles, escorting a middle-aged man in his early forties up the stairs. The man wore a cotton robe of Huzhou silk with subtle patterns of assorted treasures, through which the fine Songjiang cotton lining was visible. A mutton-fat jade pendant at his waist reflected a warm, lustrous light. His eyes were long and narrow, his face square and slightly plump, his lips dark in color. His thick beard was immaculately groomed. The jade ornament on his square cap was also a piece of white jade, clearly of the highest quality. From head to toe, his attire and bearing were those of a man of the very first rank of wealth and status. His manner, needless to say, was restrained and indifferent.

Standing to the side, Mu Wujia had already discerned the situation. The men fawning around this middle-aged figure were all top-tier magnates of Jining. That one, it was said, was a grain merchant backed by the Left Assistant Administration Commissioner of Shandong. That one was supposedly a manager handling business for the Duke Yansheng. The others were all figures of similar stature. Such men were people even the Jining Subprefect could not afford to offend. When Mu Wujia had come here to serve as branch head, he had been led around to be introduced to them, precisely to avoid offending these powerful figures. If even men like these were fawning and flattering, no wonder his own party had to yield the room and couldn't even vent their anger.

In the province of Shandong, the two greatest noble houses were the Prince of Lu and the Duke Yansheng. Though there were also the Prince of Qing and the Prince of Heng, their fiefs had not been passed down for long. Only the Prince of Lu's line and the Kong family had been handed down generation after generation since the founding of the dynasty. These two families had, generation after generation, seized and encroached upon the fertile lands and properties of Shandong. By now, both families had extended their reach even into Henan.

Although the Duke Yansheng's Kong family was revered and could also seize lands and shelter outlaws, they were, after all, merely the heirs of a sage. They could not compare to the Zhu clan of the Prince of Lu's line — that was imperial blood, a direct line descended from the founding of the dynasty and the Jingnan Campaign. Of course, after the Jingnan Campaign, the Prince of Han's rebellion, the Prince of Ning's rebellion, and all the other incidents that followed, the Son of Heaven had become extremely wary of the feudal princes. A prince was now nothing more than a pig penned within his fief's city, forbidden to leave, to say nothing of meddling in politics. Yet while political affairs were tightly restricted, other matters were indulged with great leniency. The business of amassing wealth and expanding estates was left completely unchecked. Not only were the Zhu clansmen of the princely lines exempt from punishment and the death penalty, but even the officials and servants of the princely estates were not held to account for their crimes. Even when capital offenses occurred, they were often suppressed by the local authorities. Even if a case reached the capital and the imperial court, the punishment was at most a fine of salary or a reprimand.

In legal principle, a prince's status was second only to the Son of Heaven, and local officials were to bow their heads and obey. But by now, this rule had long existed in name only. Still, whatever demands a prince made, local officials had to do their utmost to satisfy them. Otherwise, if the matter reached the capital and came before the Son of Heaven, the Zhu family would, in the end, still look after their own. The ones who would suffer would still be the local officials. And since the princes never left their cities, they had long been penned into utter fatuousness, not even knowing what to demand or do. The one who truly represented the will of the prince's estate was the Chief Clerk.

The Chief Clerk was an official of the fourth rank, managing both the internal and external affairs of the prince's estate. The selection for this position had nothing to do with the prince himself — it was decided by the Son of Heaven — and the role also carried the duty of keeping watch over the prince. Yet at the same time, he was the prince's chief steward, and his interests were aligned with the prince's. Moreover, the position of Chief Clerk was very rarely rotated. Once a man took this post, if he did not wish to leave, he could remain until old age and death. Over such a long period, the Chief Clerk and the prince had long become one in interest.

A fourth-rank senior official, acting on the will of a prince — such a man could rampage at will across all of Shandong. Circuit intendants and prefects held ranks similar to his, but once the prince's banner was raised, even the Grand Coordinator had to bow his head. Who could possibly control him? For these reasons and more, a princely Chief Clerk could run roughshod over an entire prefecture, even an entire province. And in Shandong, where the Prince of Lu's line reigned supreme, this Chief Clerk Si was naturally supreme as well.

The position of Left Chief Clerk of the Prince of Lu's estate had been vacant for fifteen years. This Right Chief Clerk had been managing affairs the entire time, which only elevated his status further. The landholdings of the Prince of Lu's estate had expanded nearly threefold in the last decade, all thanks to this Si Wenxuan's efforts. There had been obstacles along the way — owners of fertile land refusing to sell, local powerful clans encroaching and clashing — but all were swiftly resolved. For instance, that powerful clan would suddenly come into conflict with a Hundred-Household Commander of the estate guard, or be set upon by some Bulwark General or Commandant of State Support and beaten to death on the spot. Afterward, the authorities could do nothing to pursue the matter, merely issuing a reprimand and a fine of salary to close the case. And just like that, the obstacle to annexing the land was gone.

With such methods, such ruthless cunning, and such blazing power, how many in the vast Yanzhou Prefecture, in the vast province of Shandong, dared provoke him? It was said that the Prince of Lu's estate's land seizures had only halted because they ran up against the Duke Yansheng's Kong estate's own expansion and annexation. If those two houses collided, it would truly be a case of mutual destruction. And so they had settled the matter amicably.

"... Nowadays, the best farmland in Yanzhou Prefecture is often where the Kong family's manors and the Prince of Lu's estate's manors border each other. They say it's the Prince of Lu's estate's manors, but who knows how much profit this Si Wenxuan has skimmed for himself..." The local attendant had become voluble.

Taibai Tower had prepared carriages to take the guests from here to the nearby Star-Plucking Tower. Taibai Tower had many patrons but few carriages, so the trips had to be made one by one. Mu Wujia, his attendants, and guards waited in the scattered seating on the ground floor, listening to the attendant's account. The reason for all this talk was, in truth, to smooth things over. After all, as an attendant, his earlier shouting had been far too insolent. Though this Branch Head Mu was a figurehead, from the Sect Master down to the Incense Masters, everyone said he was to be treated with deference.

Mu Wujia listened to the attendant's rambling with a dark expression, feeling only vexed and restless. A few more patrons were led out by the staff. He stood up directly and said, "The mood is gone for today. We're going back!"

Since he had spoken, the others raised no objections. Amid the apologies and placations of the guest-greeting staff, the group exited Taibai Tower. Their horses were tethered on the other side. As he walked out of Taibai Tower, Mu Wujia felt that several beggars huddled nearby were all looking up. He couldn't tell if they were the ones he had kicked aside earlier. Mu Wujia could not be bothered to pay them any mind and, surrounded by his entourage, headed over to mount his horse.

Mu Wujia had only taken a few steps when he heard someone behind him shouting, "Don't grab, don't grab!"

The words had barely faded when Mu Wujia heard something being tossed over. Instinctively, he tensed in alarm, but then immediately realized the object thrown was not moving fast. The guards behind him were already cursing. Something rolled past Mu Wujia's feet. He looked down — it was a bran-and-vegetable cake, the kind of thing the poor ate to fill their bellies. But to these beggars in the freezing wind, this was a rare delicacy. There were quite a few of the cakes, and they had all landed, by chance, right at the feet of Mu Wujia's group. With a sudden rush, the beggars all around, some fast, some slow, came charging over.

Cold and hunger were the cruelest afflictions. Several of the refugees and beggars huddled in the corners had already stiffened, unable to move. The others' eyes were red with starvation. These were good cakes — if they grabbed some, they could even bring them home to their families. Who cared what those standing men were? Each of them crawled over, scrabbling wildly. Soon, some were fighting each other. Mu Wujia and his men kicked and cursed, but it was utterly useless. They, too, found themselves unable to move.

Mu Wujia turned his head. A waiter from Taibai Tower stood there holding a shallow basket, his mouth agape. Perhaps he had never imagined things would turn out this way. Mu Wujia felt fury surge to his head. Everything had gone wrong today — every big and little thing had clashed against him. It was absolutely infuriating. Suddenly, Mu Wujia felt someone grab his calf. This was the last straw. Without even looking down, he lifted his leg and kicked out. Mu Wujia had martial training. A kick delivered with full force, aimed at a starving and weakened refugee, could very easily kill with one blow. But Mu Wujia no longer cared about any of that. He only wanted to lash out.

But when he kicked out, he did not shake off the other's grip. That hand had suddenly become powerful. His other calf was seized as well. Mu Wujia looked down and saw two large hands firmly gripping his calves, the sinews and muscles bulging on top. Such strength and musculature — how could they possibly belong to a refugee who was nothing but skin and bones? Something was wrong!

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