Li Siye was trembling, clutching a sheet of greasy waste paper at the East Market intersection when the sun had already shifted westward.
The afterglow of the setting sun crossed over the tiered rooftops of the capital, scattering light on the long street outside the Tongjin Gate of the West Market.
Xu Wuyou walked along the road. On both sides of the long street, everything belonged to Tongji Canal Guild.
On the left was a rice shop, where laborers were moving sacks of grit-mixed coarse rice onto a handcart.
On the cart’s shaft was planted a black-and-white flag bearing the character “Ji.”
On the right was a pawnshop, where a few gamblers who had lost all their money knelt on the ground, pressing their red fingerprints onto their land deeds and handing them over to an accountant in a long gown.
On the wooden plank path by the river, a dozen bare-chested porters were queuing, tossing strings of copper coins into a wooden crate.
Beside them stood two men in dark blue short jackets, holding water-and-fire clubs, expressionlessly marking circles in a ledger.
Further off, at a boat repair shop, several carpenters were replacing the bottom planks of a large grain ship. On the backs of the carpenters, a large red-painted character “Ji” was printed.
This was the Tongji Canal Guild.
Xu Wuyou did the math in his mind.
The waterways of the Great Qian had never had a so-called “ruling guild of the realm.”
For Tongji Canal Guild to dominate the capital region, it did not rely on mere broken blades and brotherhood loyalty.
Beneath it, six tightly interlocking departments were set up:
The Council Chamber set the rules; the Incense Hall won over hearts.
The Silver Ledger issued boat loans and washed black money; the Waterway Hall controlled all grain ships’ customs paperwork.
The Water Punishment Hall drowned men and disposed of bodies; the Official Liaison Office delivered “summer cooling fees” and “winter coal bribes” to every yamen.
These muddy-legged dockhands, had long inserted their hands into docks, granaries, boat masters, brokers, salt-tea-liquor taxes, and the corruption chains of the government.
They turned themselves into a flesh-devouring, bone-spitting quasi-official machine.
Xu Wuyou adjusted the narrow cuffs of his black martial jacket and stepped onto the wooden stairs before Night River Teahouse.
Fatty Fish followed half a step behind.
“Hall Master, this place feels off,” Fatty Fish said, tilting his chin left and right.
Xu Wuyou made no reply, stepping through the teahouse’s first-floor hall.
In the hall, there was neither a storytelling bard nor a singing performer.
More than a dozen octagonal tables were fully seated, yet the silence was eerie.
Only the swallowing sounds of tea-drinking and the clatter of chopsticks on bowls broke the quiet.
Xu Wuyou walked down the middle aisle.
He observed clearly.
At the left corner table, three men had sharpened bamboo poles leaning against their feet, their thick black fingers with knobby joints and hands covered in knife scars.
At the right window-side table, four men lowered their heads, drinking tea; their lapels hung slightly open, revealing leather armor hugging their bodies.
The shopkeeper behind the counter was not toying with an abacus at all; his right hand stayed hidden inside a wide sleeve, the sleeve bulging, clearly gripping a short crossbow.
Fatty Fish’s breathing grew heavier.
Without turning his head, Xu Wuyou raised a hand and patted Fatty Fish on the breastplate.
“Put away your blade. We came for tea.”
A waiter in a gray cloth gown approached, bending at the waist but saying nothing.
He merely made a gesture of invitation, leading the two toward the second floor.
In the innermost private room on the second floor.
The waiter pushed open the carved wooden door, retreated backward, and closed the door behind him.
The room faced the river. River breeze blew in carrying a stench of decay.
Lu Wenzhao, wearing a faded blue gown, sat before a small stove, poking at the red coals with a silver stick.
From time to time, sparks leapt out at his fiddling.
Xu Wuyou strode across the threshold and halted before the rosewood tea table.
Slap!
A golden-embossed visiting card was slammed heavily onto the table’s surface.
Lu Wenzhao paused, inserted the silver stick into the ash.
He lifted the adjoining purple copper kettle and poured boiling water into a white porcelain teacup.
The sleeve of his blue gown slipped down, exposing his forearm to the air.
Xu Wuyou saw it clearly.
On that withered arm was curled a three-inch-long old knife scar, the rolled-up traces of skin and flesh still visible.
This was no scholar solely holding a brush.
“Hall Master Xu, your temper runs hot,” Lu Wenzhao said, sliding the filled teacup before Xu Wuyou, slowly beginning to speak.
“Our Tongji Canal Guild stands firm on these capital waters thanks to six pillars.”
Lu Wenzhao raised his calloused fingers, bending them down one by one.
“Boat owners, porters, granary keepers, brokers, ship repair yards, and canal escorts.”
He lowered his hand and placed them flat on his knees.
“These past half-month, Waterway Hall has first cut off berths for thirty-seven grain ships, then raided the ledgers of Huitong Silver House.”
Lu Wenzhao raised his own teacup, gently blowing away the floating scum.
“The brothers below—their hearts are uneasy.”
“If Hall Master Xu pushes one more step, by dawn tomorrow, the porters of thirty-six docks in the capital region might all catch a cold,” he said.
“The oars of the boat owners would break en masse; the granary keepers’ keys would—every one of them—be lost.”
Lu Wenzhao took a sip of tea, then set the cup down heavily. The porcelain made a crisp sound.
“By then, the military grain might have ships, but no one could load or unload them. The Northern Garrison Army awaiting food, the court asks who is guilty——”
Lu Wenzhao leaned back against the chair backrest.
“Can the Earl of Sincerity’s household bear this crime?”
Xu Wuyou stood before the table, overlooking Lu Wenzhao from above.
“You threaten me with military grain?” Xu Wuyou let out a chilly laugh, its echo lingering in the room.
“Master Lu, you’ve read books—how can you be as foolish as those muddy-legged dockhands?” Xu Wuyou tapped his finger twice on the table.
“If military grain really rots on shore, the border army will be starved.”
“Guess for me: will the court first punish our Xu household, or first send the Capital Army to hack all you muddy-legged louts into minced meat?”
Xu Wuyou straightened up, dusted off his hands.
“The court tolerates your Tongji Canal Guild’s existence because you get the job done. You settle the shambles on the docks for the authorities.”
“If you can’t get the job done, and even dare use military grain as a bargaining chip——”
“What use has the court for you?”
“The army will directly take over the docks and rip out all you parasites, roots and all.”
Lu Wenzhao’s hand holding the teacup stopped mid-air.
Xu Wuyou gave him no time to catch his breath.
“The old ledger from the 30th year of the Yimao cycle, when official grain shipping was turned over to private transport,” Xu Wuyou uttered these words directly.
A bad premonition arose in Lu Wenzhao’s heart. His right hand paused.
Clink.
Lu Wenzhao set the teacup back on the tea tray.
“What Hall Master Xu speaks of—I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Lu Wenzhao said, walking toward the window, turning his back on Xu Wuyou as he faced the river outside.
“Guangyi Trading Company, Huitong Silver House—these are just the business of outside merchants. The Tongji Canal Guild only collects protective transit fees; we do not meddle in court affairs.”
Lu Wenzhao clasped his hands behind his back.
“The Great Qian Code states clearly: matters of merchants and those of trade belong to the Ministry of Revenue. For Hall Master Xu to take a half-burned, useless scrap of a ledger and try to pin dung on the Guild’s head—that undermines yourself.”
“The Guild’s general president, Lei Zhen, has been unwell lately and does not see outside visitors.”
“If Hall Master Xu bears any grievances, wait until Chief Lei recovers and instruct yourself at the Council Chamber in person. As for today’s tea—consider it finished here.”
With these words, Lu Wenzhao gave the dismissal order.
Xu Wuyou stared at Lu Wenzhao’s back, his mind racing rapidly.
Lei Zhen was the head of Tongji Canal Guild. Just a few days ago, he had personally stood at the Tongjin Lock and bellowed orders to clear the waterways, his voice full of authority as he tore into the foremen below, leaving them thoroughly humiliated.
Now all of a sudden, he’s stopped seeing visitors.
Is there turmoil inside Tongji Canal Guild?
That old fox Lei Zhen wants to save his own skin, but he also wants to sever ties with the Minister’s Estate.
And this Lu Wenzhao here is still clinging to the Minister’s Estate’s account books.
“Lu Wenzhao.”
Xu Wuyou spoke through the rising steam.
“Lei Zhen isn’t sick. You’ve sidelined him, haven’t you?”
Lu Wenzhao let out a bitter laugh.
“Xu Wuyou, Xu Wuyou. Do you actually think something like that is real?”
Xu Wuyou tossed his empty teacup onto the table, and the porcelain shattered with a crack.
“Who do you think you are, daring to swallow eighty thousand taels of Shang Qitai’s annual tribute? Do you honestly believe a few dockworkers going on strike can save the Minister’s Estate’s neck?”
Just then.
From the riverside street outside the window, a harsh, piercing gong sound rang out.
Clang—clang—clang—
The gong’s rhythm was frantic, rapidly shifting in pitch.
Then a few bloodcurdling screams tore through the night.
“Fire!”
“Murder!”
Cries from outside melded into a chaotic roar.
Bam!
The wooden door of the private room was kicked open by Fatty Yu.
Fatty Yu, drenched in sweat and holding a steel blade, rushed in with long strides.
“Chief!”
His voice boomed with poorly concealed excitement and urgency.
“The Armor-Tier storage of the silver treasury is on fire! The flames are spreading like wildfire!”
“Three accountants are dead inside—throats cut! Blood splattered everywhere!”
Lu Wenzhao spun around sharply, the hem of his blue robe knocking over a wooden chair beside him.
He lunged to the windowsill, leaned halfway out, and saw the sky outside blazed crimson in the raging glow of the fire.
