Chapter Forty-Nine: People of the Jianghu

Xiao Ding had originally intended to send Xiao Ya to fetch Doctor Wu to prescribe some medicine for Zhao Laixi’s injuries. But then he reconsidered—Doctor Wu lived in Luoxia Village, about three or four li from Luoyun Village. Though the distance wasn’t great, the road was muddy after the rain, and he felt uneasy sending Xiao Ya alone.

Moreover, if he himself returned to Luoxia Village that night, leaving Xiao Ya to care for Zhao Laixi alone, how could her frail frame manage?

So Xiao Ding said, “Xiao Ya, pack up a few things. Let’s return to Luoxia Village together. Once we’re there, we can ask Doctor Wu to come and treat Laixi.”

Xiao Ya, much like Madam Li, was kind and capable, but easily flustered in times of trouble. Hearing Xiao Ding’s suggestion, she raised no objections. She found a set of dry clothes for Zhao Laixi, gathered a few everyday necessities and changes of clothes for herself and him, and bundled them into a small package.

Xiao Ding hoisted Zhao Laixi onto his back. Xiao Ya carried the bundle, locked the door, and together they set off for Luoxia Village.

On the way, they stopped at Doctor Wu’s house. Doctor Wu examined Zhao Laixi’s injuries, prescribed some internal medicine to replenish his blood and energy, and provided a few topical remedies. He assured them the injuries were not serious—with proper rest for a few days, Zhao would recover.

Relieved, Xiao Ya watched as Xiao Ding once again carried Zhao Laixi. The three finally reached home.

After settling Zhao Laixi in, Xiao Ding asked Xiao E to make some porridge, suspecting that Zhao Laixi had probably not eaten since the previous night.

Once Zhao Laixi had sipped some rice porridge, he regained a little strength and recounted what had happened.

It turned out that as soon as the rain began the previous night, Zhao Laixi insisted on returning home—he was worried about leaving Xiao Ya alone at night. The Li family, however, couldn’t care less about his well-being. In fact, they were glad to see him go—one less mouth to feed.

So, braving the rain, Zhao Laixi hurried back. In his rush, he failed to notice several men sheltering from the rain in a doorway at the roadside.

As he ran past, his foot splashed muddy water all over them.

Those men were Xue Qinshou and his gang of disreputable companions. They were known for idling about town, extorting people, and indulging in every vice. Caught by the sudden downpour, they had taken refuge under the doorway just as Zhao Laixi dashed by.

Furious at being splashed, they charged out and blocked Zhao Laixi’s path, hauling him into the doorway. Though Zhao Laixi repeatedly bowed and apologized, they were relentless, demanding ten taels of silver from him, each.

How could Zhao Laixi possibly have that kind of money? Even if he had, he would never hand it over—this was blatant extortion!

So Xue Qinshou and his cronies beat him savagely, then swaggered away when the rain let up.

There were, in fact, others sheltering from the rain on both sides of the street, not just Xue Qinshou’s group. Many, caught unprepared by the storm, huddled under shop eaves or in doorways. They witnessed the beating, but none dared intervene. Xue Qinshou was the local tyrant of Luoxia Town, and rumor had it he had a relative serving as a secretary in the county city. Even if someone reported the matter, they would never win in court.

In these times, the law was wielded by those with power. Even if ordinary folk were in the right, a single word from an official could turn their case upside down in the yamen.

When Xue Qinshou and his men finally left, some kind-hearted people approached the unconscious Zhao Laixi. Recognizing him as the nephew-in-law of Carpenter Li, they rallied a few others to carry him to the Li household.

But when Carpenter Li heard Zhao Laixi had been beaten—and by Xue Qinshou, no less—he assumed Zhao had caused trouble and feared being implicated himself. He refused to let them in, leaving everyone stranded at the door.

The bystanders exchanged incredulous glances—what sort of relative would abandon a man in such dire straits?

With no other recourse, they carried Zhao Laixi to Rui’an Hall, the local medical clinic.

The resident doctor and proprietor, Liu Ruian, revived Zhao Laixi and informed him that treatment, medicine, and dressings all required advance payment.

Zhao Laixi knew he had no money—all he had was twenty copper coins left from selling ironware a few days before, and that was at home.

Seeing this, the bystanders, all hardworking folk who knew Zhao from odd jobs he’d done in town, pitched in what they could—just a few dozen coins. Liu Ruian took their money, felt Zhao’s pulse, and tossed him a small packet of medicine.

When asked why the medicine was so little, Liu Ruian replied that after deducting a fifty-coin consultation fee, that was all he could provide.

The crowd was left speechless. They were poor themselves, helping Zhao only because of the camaraderie built while working together. But there was simply no more money to give.

Having been beaten and then exposed to the rain, and after the delays at Carpenter Li’s house, Zhao Laixi had lost a great deal of blood. His already frail body couldn’t withstand the ordeal; after applying the scant medicine to his wounds, he fainted again.

As night fell, the bystanders could do nothing but ask a clerk at Rui’an Hall to look after him, then quietly went home.

Zhao Laixi remained unconscious the whole night, only coming to around noon the next day, roused by the clerk.

When Zhao Laixi opened his eyes, the clerk grinned broadly. “You’re finally awake! We thought you’d never wake up. Now that you’re up, you’d best head home. Doctor Liu said, if you’re going to die, don’t do it here in our clinic.”

Zhao Laixi, feeling a bit stronger—perhaps from the little medicine—staggered up and left Rui’an Hall, heading toward Luoyun Village.

But he’d barely reached the end of the street when his head swam and he collapsed again.

Zhao Laixi had no memory of what happened while he was unconscious; everything he knew came from the clinic clerk and the passersby who had helped him.

The Tian family listened in silence. They too had heard of Xue Qinshou’s reputation as a local tyrant. Tian Dabao also knew that Xue Qinshou was the only son of the landlord Xue in the eastern part of the village.

In his lifetime, Landlord Xue had, besides his official wife, taken sixteen concubines who bore him eighteen daughters. Only the last concubine gave him a son—Xue Qinshou.

As a result, Xue Qinshou was spoiled from childhood, growing up into a thug and a scoundrel. Though his family was wealthy, he spent his days idling, indulging in every vice. Eventually, Landlord Xue tried to curb his spending, lest the family fortune be squandered.

He had hoped that marrying Xue Qinshou off would settle him down, but after the novelty of two days and a half, nothing changed. Now, Xue Qinshou’s son was already as old as Xiao Zhu’er, yet it was always his wife who looked after the child.

Hearing Zhao Laixi’s account, Xiao Ding quietly resolved that, should he ever cross paths with Xue Qinshou again, he would teach that bully a lesson to settle the score.

Everyone offered words of comfort to Zhao Laixi. Xiao Ya went to the back courtyard to prepare the decoction prescribed by Doctor Wu, while Madam Li used the yellow wine Zhao Laixi had bought earlier to mix the topical medicine.

Seeing that all was in order, Xiao Ding rose and stepped out of the thatched cottage. Suddenly, he noticed a man in black—dressed like a wandering swordsman, carrying a blade on his back and riding a tall horse—passing slowly by the courtyard gate, heading westward...

Who could that be?