These three words pierced the hearts of the three scholars present.
Song Yubai took a deep breath; he felt he needed a moment of silence.
It felt as if he had marched out with a drawn sword to slay a dragon, only to find the dragon hosting a charity gala, while he was reduced to an underdressed security guard trying to crash the party.
Just then, a booming voice rang in the ears of the country bumpkin Young Master Song.
Make way! Don't block me from getting my free eggs!
An auntie carrying a basket nudged Song Yubai aside with a look of utter disgust. Song Yubai stumbled two steps back, his brocade boots, now covered in woven straw overshoes, nearly stepping into the drainage ditch by the road.
How utterly undignified... Song Yubai rubbed his forehead, feeling his temples throb.
Wait a minute!
The two eggs in the auntie's hands were large, plump, and had shiny brown shells. In a year of famine, these were hard currency that could be exchanged for half a sack of brown rice. And here, they were giving them away for free?
Young Master, our carriages...
His attendant, sweating profusely, squeezed his way to Song Yubai's side and pointed toward the city gates. Headmaster Su and Lord Li's convoy has been stopped.
Song Yubai turned to look at the city gate tunnel. He desperately needed to witness some of the Xu family's atrocities to support his crumbling worldview.
As long as the Xu family dared to get rough with Su Bingzhang and the others, he could immediately seize the moral high ground and ruthlessly impeach that wicked woman!
At the city gate, a confrontation between civilization and barbarism was unfolding.
Li Wencheng stood on the carriage shafts, his borrowed official uniform flapping wildly in the wind. The bruises on his face gleamed purple in the sunlight as he pointed at Pockmarked Liu, who was blocking the way, and roared:
Are you blind?! This is a convoy meant for the nobles of the capital! These carriages are filled with books and outfits for Young Master Song! If you delay the Young Master's important affairs, even ten heads wouldn't be enough to chop off!
Pockmarked Liu dug a pinky into his ear and casually flicked away the grime from under his fingernail.
Behind him, a wooden signboard reading City Entry Sanitation Management Regulations was polished to a mirror shine.
I don't care if it's for Young Master Song or the Jade Emperor himself.
Pockmarked Liu lazily raised the patrol baton in his hand and pointed at a clump of half-dried yellow mud on the carriage wheel. According to Article Seven of the Regulations, vehicles entering the city must be kept clean and tidy. Any vehicle with muddy wheels will be turned away or subjected to mandatory cleaning.
Is this mud? This is the soil of Qinghe County! Li Wencheng stomped his feet in fury. This is our nostalgic attachment to our homeland!
That's your attachment, but it's trash here in Taoyuan County. Pockmarked Liu waved his hand impatiently. You just don't know what's good for you, do you?
An old farmer nearby, picking his teeth, looked at the city gate with a face full of disdain.
Tsk, tsk, must be from Qinghe County again, right? So dirty. It's a good thing our Miss Xu is kind-hearted. Anywhere else, a muddy carriage like that would have been smashed to pieces long ago.
Exactly. They don't even look at where they are. Absolutely no civic-mindedness, the egg-selling auntie chimed in.
He strode toward the desk where money was being collected.
This time he had learned his lesson. He didn't dare cross the line, nor did he dare cut the queue; he honestly stood behind the fat man in front of him.
The line ahead moved at a snail's pace.
This was because everyone entering the city had to go through an extremely tedious security check.
Name?
Zhao Dezhu.
Place of origin?
Zhao Family Village, Qinghe County.
Are you carrying any contraband? Like mud, stinky salted fish, or unwashed lice?
No, no, no! I specifically bathed three times last night! I even scrubbed the soles of my shoes until they peeled!
The man in black in charge of registration took out a bamboo tube and sprayed a mist of water over Zhao Dezhu.
A faint scent of mint dispersed in the air.
Disinfection fee is five copper coins. Next.
Watching this scene, Song Yubai furrowed his brows deeply.
Was this the Xu family's tactic? Humiliating people just to enter the city?
Finally, it was his turn.
Song Yubai stepped forward, holding his head high and puffing out his chest.
Name.
Song Yubai.
Place of origin.
The Capital.
The tip of the registering pen paused. The man in black looked up and sized Song Yubai up and down. His eyes held none of the awe one would expect when meeting a nobleman; instead, there was a trace of... disgust.
From the capital? The man in black pointed at Song Yubai's feet. Do you know the rules?
Song Yubai looked down.
His brocade boots were still stained with the black mud he had stepped in back at Qinghe County, and a few specks had even splashed onto the hem of his pristine white robe.
Against the clean, pale gray cement road, those mud spots were like glaring flaws on a piece of flawless jade, extremely eye-catching.
What rules? Song Yubai suppressed his rising temper.
Foreign vehicles and personnel must ensure cleanliness before entering the city. The man in black tapped the wooden sign on the table. Especially those coming from Qinghe County. The roads over there are terrible, full of what Miss Xu calls... what was it again?
Someone nearby chimed in, It's bacteria!
Ah, right, right, bacteria. These shoes of yours won't do.
The merchants queuing behind him immediately covered their noses and mouths, taking a collective step back.
Oh my, how can someone from the capital be so unhygienic?
Exactly, trying to barge in covered in mud? Doesn't he know that Miss Xu loves cleanliness the most?
Stay away, stay away, don't rub your bad luck onto us.
Song Yubai was speechless.
As the dignified young master of the Prime Minister's estate, wherever he went, he was greeted with fragrant breezes and people vying for his favor.
And now, he was actually being despised as dirty?
I have money. Song Yubai pulled out a hundred-tael silver banknote from his sleeve and slammed it heavily onto the table. A fine, right? I have plenty of money! Let me in!
He wanted to pave a path of dignity with his wealth.
However, the man in black didn't even glance at the silver banknote.
He pulled out a pair of woven straw overshoes from under the table and tossed them in front of Song Yubai.
So what if you have money? You still have to practice good hygiene. The man in black maintained a strictly business expression. The fine is ten taels, plus these overshoes are twenty copper coins a pair. Put them on, or you're not allowed in.
You... Song Yubai trembled with anger.
Are you going to wear them or not? If not, there are people waiting behind you!
The crowd behind began to jeer. Hurry up! Stop dawdling!
Song Yubai looked back at Su Bingzhang and Li Wencheng.
Those two were in an even more miserable state.
Because of an oil stain on his official uniform, Li Wencheng had been ordered into the nearby changing room to swap into a rented civilized shirt, a coarse cloth vest printed with the words Taoyuan is My Home.
Su Bingzhang, on the other hand, had tea dregs stuck in his beard and was currently being forced to trim it with scissors.
A total wipeout.
Song Yubai closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Humiliation.
This was an unprecedented humiliation.
But he couldn't retreat. He wanted to see for himself just what kind of dragon's den or tiger's lair this Xu family was to torment people like this!
I'll wear them.
Song Yubai bent down. With the very hands that had penned brilliant literary masterpieces, he picked up the rough woven straw overshoes and slipped them over his priceless brocade boots.
At that moment, he felt as if his dignity as a nobleman had been sealed away right along with those overshoes.
Pay up.
The man in black took the silver banknote, handed back ninety taels in broken silver as change, and passed over a wooden tablet.
Five large characters were written on the wooden tablet: Temporary Entry Permit.
Along with it was a beautifully patterned receipt, at the very bottom of which was a flamboyant, cursive signature, Xu Qinghuan.
The signature was written in some sort of special ink that shimmered with iridescent colors in the sunlight, making it nearly impossible to forge.
"Take it." The man in black did not even look up. "Once you enter the city, no spitting, no littering, and no loud noises. Also, if you see anyone wearing a red vest, address them as Officer. Got it?"
Song Yubai gripped the wooden token, his knuckles turning white.
"Got it."
He squeezed the words out through gritted teeth.
The city gates finally opened to him.
Song Yubai stumbled his way into the legendary archway.
The light shifted from dim to bright.
A strange fragrance washed over him.
It was not the scent of rouge, nor was it the fragrance of flowers. Instead, it was a mixture of caramel, roasted meat, and... the smell of money.
Song Yubai looked up.
The reprimands he had prepared, the chest full of grief and indignation he had been brewing, all caught in his throat at this very moment.
What did he see?
Streets wide enough to race horses on, paved with spotless bluestone slabs.
Flanking the streets were not dilapidated thatched cottages, but uniform two-story buildings hung with colorful glazed lanterns.
Even though it was daytime, the light refracting off those lanterns in the sun was still dazzling enough to make one dizzy.
The streets were bustling with crowds.
But they were not congested.
Because there were people directing the traffic.
A few burly men wearing strange yellow vests had whistles in their mouths and were waving little flags.
"Carriages in the middle! Pedestrians on the sides! You there, pushing the wheelbarrow, don't you know how to use hand signals when changing lanes?!"
Yet, what made Song Yubai break down the most was not this prosperity.
It was a beggar he saw by the roadside.
In front of the beggar sat a broken bowl.
There were no copper coins in the bowl.
Only a notice:
[I am resting today and not accepting alms. If you wish to make a donation, please turn left ahead and line up at the donation box.]
The beggar was sitting with his legs crossed, holding half a roast chicken and gnawing on it until his mouth was slick with grease.
Seeing Song Yubai standing there in straw overshoes with a dumbfounded expression, the beggar kindly offered the roast chicken to him.
"A newly arrived refugee? You must be starving."
The beggar looked sympathetic. "You poor thing. Here, you can have this half of a chicken rump. Don't be polite. Here in Taoyuan County, even the dogs won't eat it."
Song Yubai stared at the greasy chicken rump, his stomach churning violently.
This was the "living hell" Su Bingzhang had spoken of?
This was the "destitute and starving populace" Li Wencheng had cried about?
