Xie Ming

Amidst a confluence of events, urgent tensions from the north loom over Yangzhou.

On the eve of the bloody storm, the story of the Yangzhou military leader reselling land deeds was leaked to Yunxiang Tower, where it was overheard by the vigilant Ma Weimin.

After thinking it over, Old Ma realized that this matter was likely to cause a huge uproar.

He then abandoned the banquet, half-drunk and half-awake, and staggered out.

The madam was too busy with social engagements to bother with anything else.

However, once you've gotten rid of the stubbornness, you're stuck with worldly wisdom again.

Unexpectedly, at the Anhui Merchants Association, the third young master of the Huang family once again stepped forward to ask for favors, making a lot of irrelevant and nonsensical remarks.

Hearing that it was all just idle gossip, Ma Weimin was filled with worry.

But then he thought that he still had the support of these wealthy merchants, so he didn't want to lose face.

"Hehe, Uncle, today is definitely my good fortune."

"It's fortunate that I ran into you here, Father, and that you still remembered me."

"Having met tonight gives me something to talk about when I get back."

"Even if you keep me locked up, you still know how to care for me," Huang San'er complained incessantly.

The brothel was in a chaotic rush as people hurried out of the hall. Amidst the noise, Ma Weimin frowned and glanced at Huang San'er, who was supporting him, and gave him a wicked smile.

"Heh, you little rascal, you've got a real silver tongue."

"Very clever."

Amidst laughter and banter, the two of them stepped out of the building and onto the street.

At this opportune moment, the head sedan chair bearers who had been guarding the gate came over and helped Ma Weimin through.

After a few more pointless questions, the old man brushed them off with a flick of his sleeve, signaling for them to quickly get into their sedan chair and leave.

Just as he was about to sit down in the sedan chair, Huang San'er, through the curtain, started chatting away.

"Hey, Daddy, don't catch a cold on the way."

"Well, little nephew, I've finally managed to meet you, and I really have something to say."

"Seeing how anxious Father is, I dared not speak again."

While Ma Weimin was getting into the sedan chair, Huang San'er busied himself with other tasks, lifting the curtain and pressing down on the chair, being very attentive. Finally, he muttered something to himself as he approached the chair, sounding aggrieved.

Having understood the meaning, Lao Ma was eager to rush to Yan Yingyuan's house to discuss the next steps.

But unable to refuse out of consideration, he finally sighed and allowed Huang San'er to finish speaking.

"Speak!" Ma Weimin uttered a single word, whispering it into Huang San'er's ear as if granting him a pardon.

"Oh, oh, good, good, Father, you love me." He had been fawning over her earlier but now he was pouting, overjoyed.

"Actually, it's not a big problem."

"It's just a matter of a word from you, Father."

"It's those grain inspection boats, uh..."

"Hey, it just means they seized a few warehouses of salt that had been left unattended."

"It's been several days, and it's still being held captive at Erdaogou."

“As you know, the salt and grain transported by waterways in Yangzhou are all under your control, Uncle.”

"Those boats aren't just for other people to use."

"You don't know? It was originally intended for disaster relief."

"Now that they've been detained, we're in a difficult position."

"A few dilapidated boats and a few waterways for transporting goods are all part of the business, and it's not a big deal."

"But, I feel that I should at least tell Uncle Ma beforehand."

"Don't let there actually be any crease in the middle, or the people below might mistakenly cover it up."

"It would make us look like we're breaking the rules."

Huang San'er, with his cunning eyes, kept peeking into the sedan curtain while delivering the message, trying to observe Ma Weimin's expression and mood.

He was extremely careful with his words.

But how could that rich kid's cunning and scheming fool Old Ma?
Upon hearing this, suddenly, Ma Weimin turned his head and shouted something to the outside.

"Humph!"

"You little brat, don't try to fool me." "Those few boatloads of salt, the association doesn't know, and neither does your father."

"What do old sayings say? Raising children is for old age security."

"That damn stinky bullshit of Chun Chun."

"I seized your boat to give you a heads-up."

"You're messing with me by illegally smuggling salt?"

“Go back and ask your father if he has the guts!” Ma Weimin shouted.

Upon hearing this, Huang San'er was terrified. Knowing he could no longer argue, his legs went weak, and he quickly knelt down beside the sedan chair, begging for mercy and admitting his mistake.

Having seen and heard all this, the old man in the sedan chair, no longer wanting to bother with such trivial matters, let out a long sigh.

"Ugh"

"roll roll roll."

"Damn it, don't mention this again."

"I'll let you off this time, now go home."

"As for those few boatloads of salt, you can forget about them."

"I'm not happy that I can't shut people up."

"Consider it a lesson you learned."

"If you ever fall into my hands again, I'll skin you alive!" Old Ma said sternly, shooing the man away.

Now, Huang San'er, kneeling before the sedan chair, was terrified and had no confidence to bargain.

He was almost terrified, but he was completely unfazed by the worldly flattery and sycophancy that had just been revealed to him.

He squeezed his legs tightly together and ran away in a flash.

With this matter concluded, Ma Weimin, his heart still heavy with worry, had no time to dwell on such things anymore.

Unable to contain his anxiety, he hurriedly followed the sedan chair bearers and others to the residence of Prefect Yan Yingyuan, who was in Yangzhou to handle the official business.

That night, a bright moon hung in the sky, and in Yangzhou, songs and dances filled the air, a scene of vibrant elegance.

People say that of the three parts of the moonlit night, two parts are spent in Yangzhou, ruled by scoundrels.

The Twenty-Four Bridges have been crossed, but the singing halls continue without end.

The mournful sound of the pipa echoes, but the sounds of wind and rain breaking through the enemy lines are nowhere to be heard.
Hurry up, about another half hour passed.

Ma Weimin and his entourage, along with a few others, carried the sedan chair through alleys and streets, working themselves to the bone. Finally, they escaped the bustling city and entered the eastern part of the city, approaching the Yan residence in Minxiang.

"Master, oh my, I'm so tired, so tired."

"We've arrived, we've finally arrived at Prefect Yan's house."

The attendant who came with him to the mansion was panting heavily, and the black headscarf he wore had come undone. Only then did he finally see the gate of the Yan family mansion, and then he nervously went to the sedan chair in Rome to find out.

"Quickly, quickly, get out of the sedan chair, get out of the sedan chair!"

Ma Weimin was also flustered and didn't wait for the sedan chair to come to a complete stop. He hurriedly stuck out his round belly and staggered out of the sedan chair.

He tripped and fell to the ground with a thud, completely unaware of what was happening.

The Yan residence in front of us, though called a mansion, is actually just a private house in an alley.

Originally, Yan Yingyuan, as the prefect of a province, should not have had too bad a life even if he was confined to the prefectural office. The regulations and procedures of the imperial court were there, and a fourth-rank official should have the same treatment as everyone else.

However, since his family had come north to seek refuge with this old man Yan, who was on the banks of the Yellow River, he had met Xiao Jingchuan once. This old man Yan was a stubborn and inflexible person.

He had his reasons, and he didn't want to live in the government office with his son; he felt he shouldn't take advantage of the situation.

Every penny is the hard-earned money of the people.

So he refused to listen to any advice and insisted on finding a house in the city to live in.

Yan Yingyuan was helpless; it could be said that like father, like son.

So on weekday evenings, Prefect Yan of Yangzhou would stay with his father in a private house in a lane.

The imperial court's salary was limited, and Yan Yingyuan was an honest and upright official.

Well, this house is much more shabby than a typical alleyway.

Despite their past friendship as colleagues, and despite their good intentions to help Ma Weimin find a suitable place to buy property, the Yan family had repeatedly and sternly refused.

After a few back and forth, I had no choice but to let him have his way. (End of Chapter)