She didn't dare lift the carriage curtain too much, leaving only a finger-width gap.
Xu Qinghuan huddled in the farthest corner of the soft seat, her eyes fixed through that slit, staring intently at the street corner.
Pockmarked Liu and his men had stopped in front of a tofu pudding stall.
The stall owner was an old man with a slightly hunched back. The stall was set up in a truly outrageous manner, with more than half of the coal stove protruding into the middle of the road. Two filthy slop buckets sat beside it, blocking the already narrow path so that people could only pass sideways.
A perfect opportunity.
Xu Qinghuan clenched the handkerchief in her hand, her knuckles turning white from the force.
This was exactly the kind of example she was looking for.
All it would take was for that stove to be kicked over, scalding tofu pudding splattering everywhere, and for those two stinking buckets to be toppled. This street would immediately descend into chaos.
The common folk would scream, the old man would wail, and anger would spread like a plague.
Do it now.
Pockmarked Liu did not disappoint her. The black-lacquered stick in his hand swung high, cutting through the air with a whoosh.
The end of the stick came down heavily on the chopping board where the old man was cutting scallions.
Thump.
The bowls and plates on the board jumped and clattered back down with a teeth-grating, crisp sound.
The old man shuddered in fright, the large ladle in his hand clanging into the pot, splashing a few drops of hot soup.
His legs gave way, and he began to sink to his knees.
"O-off... officer, I'll move right away, I'm going now."
Xu Qinghuan pressed her face against the carriage window, holding her breath.
Now, now. Overturn the table, beat the man, and the mission progress bar would leap forward.
Pockmarked Liu frowned, looking at the old man trembling on the verge of kowtowing, then looked down at his own stiff, black satin uniform.
The material was expensive, the tailoring fine. The two characters embroidered in silver thread on his chest glinted in the sunlight.
He suddenly felt the foot he had been ready to kick out was a little hard to lift.
Too undignified.
Before, he was a ruffian rolling in the mud, willing to get filthy for two copper coins. Overturning a stall was a common occurrence.
But now it was different.
He was part of the Xu household, drawing a high salary of five taels of silver, wearing this respectable outfit.
If he continued to behave like a ruffian and rogue, causing a scene, it wouldn't just be embarrassing for the young mistress; it would be a stain on the uniform he wore.
That newly sprouted sense of "professional pride" in Pockmarked Liu's heart made him look at the messy stall before him with utter distaste.
Filthy.
Disorderly.
No rules.
His face dark, ignoring the old man's pleas, he reached out and grabbed the greasy corner of the square table.
The old man closed his eyes, waiting for the crash.
Xu Qinghuan tightened her fist inside the carriage.
Pockmarked Liu took a deep breath, the muscles in his arm tensing. Without even using his other hand for help, he lifted the stall single-handedly—hundreds of pounds heavy, laden with pots, pans, bowls, and dishes—and held it steadily.
He didn't overturn it.
Nor did he smash it.
He took a step back, planted his boots firmly, and with a surge of strength from his arm, heaved the stall backward with a heavy thud.
Thud.
The four table legs landed precisely inside the curbstone, not an inch off, without spilling a single drop of soup from the pot.
The half of the stove that had been blocking the road was now obediently pulled back onto the step.
Xu Qinghuan was stunned.
The old man opened his eyes, also stunned.
Pockmarked Liu wiped his hands disdainfully on his trouser leg, then pulled a piece of white limestone he'd picked up out of his pocket.
He squatted down and, following the curbstone, drew a harsh white line in front of the stall.
The line was as straight as if drawn with a ruler.
"Are you blind?"
Pockmarked Liu stood up, tossing the stone in his hand up and catching it, his tone menacing.
"Can't you see this road is for people to walk on? Nothing is allowed past this line! If you dare stick that stove out one more inch, I'll confiscate your pot!"
The old man stood with his mouth agape, unable to process what had just happened.
Pockmarked Liu wasn't finished.
Looking at the chopstick holder lying crookedly on the table, his obsessive-compulsive tendencies flared up.
That urge to establish order, to make things neat and uniform, was impossible to suppress.
He extended a finger and disdainfully adjusted the chopstick holder, even gathering the scattered garlic cloves into a neat pile.
Arrange it neatly! What kind of chaotic mess is this? Don't hurt my eyes!
The old man finally understood—this wasn't someone here to wreck his stall, but someone who had moved it for him.
His knees went weak, and he thudded to the ground, this time kowtowing with genuine sincerity.
"Thank you, officer! Thank you for sparing me!"
The handkerchief fell from Xu Qinghuan's hand.
What was this?
Had violent forced demolitions turned into violent "tidying up"?
Before she could fully digest this reversal, a chain reaction started on the street.
The dozens of black-clad hoodlums behind him had caught on.
Since the boss had done it this way, then this was the rule, this was the style.
This was what respectable people ought to do.
Anyone who still only knew how to flip tables and curse would be utterly lacking in class.
Those hoodlums who usually couldn't even tie their own belts properly have now become the most short-tempered foremen.
"You! That basket of vegetable leaves fell on the ground, pick it up!"
A thug who looked like "Skinny Monkey" pointed at a rotting vegetable leaf on the ground, his eyes wide.
"If it's not picked clean, a ten-cash fine! Don't let me see a speck of dirt on this ground!"
The vegetable-selling auntie was so scared that she immediately threw herself to the ground, using her sleeve to scrub that patch of paving stone until it shone.
"You, the cloth seller! Hang your sign higher!"
Another thug gestured with his stick to indicate the height, his face full of impatience.
"It's blocking the view for people behind, ugly as sin! Hang it up, to this line here, same height as the shop next door!"
A crowd had squeezed together in front of the bun shop.
Three thugs charged in, pulling people out without a word.
"Form a line! Don't you know you have to queue to buy buns?"
"Stand in a straight line for me! Anyone who dares stand crooked gets their legs broken!"
Scolding voices rose one after another.
The whole street was in a noisy uproar, but no one was fighting, and no one was smashing things.
There were only constant reprimands and the sounds of panicked yet obedient vendors tidying up.
Sitting in the carriage, listening to the commotion outside, Xu Qinghuan felt a growing sense of foreboding.
The sounds were wrong.
There were no heartrending wails, no curses born of implacable hatred.
Instead, there was an eerie sense of... order?
Half an hour later.
The noise on the street subsided.
Xu Qinghuan took a deep breath and pushed open the carriage door.
No matter what, she had to go inspect the results. What if these men were sabotaging the results in some subtle way?
The moment her foot touched the ground, she wondered if she had walked onto the wrong set.
Was this really the notoriously filthy, chaotic, and run-down main street of Taoyuan County?
The road surface, once flowing with filthy water, was now so clean you couldn't find a single strand of hair. Every bluestone brick looked freshly washed.
The middle of the road was empty, wide enough for four carriages to run abreast.
All the vendors were huddled behind that white line. Tables, chairs, and benches were arranged in neat, uniform rows. Even the height of their signs was the same, creating a view so orderly it almost made my scalp tingle.
No street vending.
No piling up or leaving things scattered.
Even the beggars who usually loved to spit anywhere were now meekly huddled in a corner, holding a ragged cloth bag to catch their melon seed shells, terrified of dropping them on the ground and getting fined by those men in black.
Xu Qinghuan stood in the middle of the road. The wind was a bit strong, making her head ache.
Who am I?
Where am I?
I spent a fortune raising a pack of vicious hounds, so how did they turn into a bunch of neat freaks obsessed with cleaning?
"Officer, here's the fine."
A voice came from beside her.
Xu Qinghuan turned her head.
The vegetable-selling auntie, who had just been berated thoroughly, was now cheerfully stuffing copper coins into the hands of the thug called Skinny Monkey.
"Twenty wen. Please count it."
Skinny Monkey took them with a stern face, weighed them in his hand, and snorted with displeasure.
"Be more careful next time. If I see rotten vegetable leaves again, the fine will be fifty wen."
The auntie nodded repeatedly, her face showing not a trace of resentment, even carrying a hint of ingratiation.
"Sir, these lines are drawn so well! Before, everyone would crowd into the middle of the road, nobody could sell properly, and buyers couldn't get through.
Now that you're managing it, the road is wider. Those wealthy households' carriages can come in. Just a while ago, my business was thirty percent better than usual! These twenty wen are a fine worth paying! From now on, consider this a management fee, I'll pay it every month!"
Hearing this, several nearby merchants chimed in agreement.
"Yes, yes! We always used to have things stolen before. Now with you gentlemen standing here, what thief would dare reach out?"
"You're like guardian deities! Paying a little money is only right!"
Xu Qinghuan watched as Skinny Monkey tucked the coins into his robe, his expression sweeter than if he'd eaten honey.
She wanted to rush over, snatch those coins back, and throw them into the filthy gutter.
What was this?
Extortion had turned into a fee-for-service?
Intimidation had become security?
But never mind, as long as the money was collected.
Before she could catch her breath from this, a series of orderly footsteps approached.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Pockmarked Liu led a team of men, swaggering over with a stride that disowned all relatives.
His black clothes were spotless. He wasn't carrying a club, but had his hands clasped behind his back, his chin held high.
The team stopped about five paces away from Xu Qinghuan.
Pockmarked Liu snapped into a sloppy, unorthodox salute, his whole face screaming "Praise me now."
"Reporting, Young Miss!"
His voice was loud, making Xu Qinghuan's ears ring.
"All the troublemakers on this entire street have been dealt with by us! Every stall is arranged according to your requirements. Whether you look at it horizontally or vertically, it's all in a straight line! Right now, on this street, not even a fly would dare buzz around out of turn!"
Looking at Xu Qinghuan's expressionless face, Pockmarked Liu thought the Young Miss was stunned by their efficiency, making him even more pleased with himself.
"These troublesome commoners just need some discipline. Set a few rules and they behave. We collected a full two taels of silver in fines just now, and that's not even counting the management fees they're volunteering to pay for next month."
