Taichang Ming Dynasty

Chapter 798 Baodi Patrol Office

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A customer who had had a little morning wine slammed his hand on the table, drawing everyone's attention: "Hey! Do you think that monk from earlier might have been an escaped convict?"

"You know what, it's actually quite possible!" No sooner had the first guest finished speaking than another guest, always eager for drama, chimed in, "I went to Beitang the other day and heard that quite a few foreign ships came to the port. I think that foreign monk is probably a remnant of that old scoundrel monk you mentioned!" The boastful guest looked around, his face beaming, spitting almost onto the merchant in the silk robe. "He managed to escape from the capital, and now he's running to the seaside, most likely to find foreign merchants to help him escape!"

"No, no!" Feng Xiaoliu hurriedly interrupted, waving his hands repeatedly, "I saw that travel permit yesterday, it was really real. Not only were there pictures of immortals on it, but it also had an official seal and the signature of Xu Guangqi, the Minister of Rites! He's a very powerful official, it can't be fake!"

"Who told you that a high-ranking official's signature can't be forged?" The long-robed merchant who had previously questioned the existence of the Yelu Division sneered, slamming down his bowl of porridge as if it were a bowl of strong liquor. "Do you know how many people who impersonate officials to swindle and cheat are arrested in the capital every year? At least eight hundred, if not a thousand! In the past, when it was rampant, some people even dared to forge ivory tokens to impersonate the Embroidered Uniform Guard and cheat officials! It's only because you're from the countryside and haven't seen the world that you think travel permits are so precious."

These words left Feng Xiaoliu feeling utterly deflated. He stood there, rubbing his hands together, sweat beading on his forehead. Just then, a "snap" sound came from behind the counter.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw that Manager Feng had put down his pen, closed the ledger, and walked out from inside.

"Alright, alright, stop speculating!" Manager Feng stepped in front of the crowd, clapping his hands to silence the murmurs in the main room. "There are bad foreign monks, but there are also good ones. That monk not only had a travel permit, but he also had a master from the Yuanwei Escort Agency accompanying him. Everyone saw it. The Yuanwei Escort Agency is a long-established name in the capital. Would they not check identities before accepting a shipment? The fact that they can escort someone so openly along the official road proves that the monk is perfectly legitimate." He glanced at the assembled guests and pointed out the window. "Ladies and gentlemen, the market is about to open. Let's eat quickly. It wouldn't be worth wasting time arguing and letting others take over the business."

After saying that, he turned and glared at Feng Xiaoliu, his voice becoming deeper: "What are you standing there for, you brat? What business is it of yours what the guests are saying? Hurry up and collect the bowls and take them to the backyard for your sister-in-law to wash?"

"Oh, okay! I'll go right away." Feng Xiaoliu finally came to her senses, hurriedly picked up the bowls and chopsticks on the table, and staggered towards the backyard.

After Feng Xiaoliu left, the chatter in the main room gradually subsided. The guests looked at each other, some continuing to slurp their porridge, while others continued to mutter quietly. It wasn't until they finished breakfast, paid their bills, and left that the whispering gradually dissipated.

Around the time when the sun was already quite strong, the last guest in the main room had left. Feng Xiaoliu returned carrying a stack of empty bowls meant for holding beans, his sleeves rolled up high.

He walked to the counter, put down the empty bowl, and then untied the cloth bag from his waist, jingling as he pulled out handfuls of loose copper coins and placed them on the wooden tray on the counter. At a glance, Feng Xiaoliu had collected about three or four hundred copper coins this morning, most of which were old Wanli Tongbao or Jiajing Tongbao coins, with a pitifully small number of the newest Taichang Tongbao coins.

"Father," Feng Xiaoliu said in a low voice to Manager Feng as he gathered the copper coins, "Do you think... we really did entertain a bunch of fugitives?"

Manager Feng, who was checking the accounts, paused upon hearing this, then slammed the ledger down on the table, feigning composure: "What nonsense are you thinking? Have you eaten too much? We're running a legitimate business, and they have their permits. It's perfectly normal, what's there to be afraid of?"

"But spreading rumors and disrupting morale is a capital offense! That merchant just said that the old wicked monk who committed the crime has already been executed!" Feng Xiaoliu stamped his foot anxiously. "What if that Master Luo, that Master Luo, really is a fugitive? We'd be accused of harboring him!"

"Bullshit!" Manager Feng raised his hand and smacked him on the head, quite hard. "Didn't you see the flag of Yuanwei Escort Agency? I see that flag five or six times a year. Do you think I can't tell the real one from the fake?"

"What if that flag is fake or stolen?" Feng Xiaoliu covered his head and shrank his neck, but still insisted, "It used to be Master Wu who came, but this time it's some Master Jiang. Who knows if this Master Jiang is real?"

"No way..." These words made Manager Feng's brows furrow deeply: "He doesn't seem like a fake bodyguard to me..."

"When a liar is lying, isn't he always absolutely certain of his words?" Feng Xiaoliu retorted.

“But he didn’t lie to us about anything,” Manager Feng said, opening a drawer and taking out a few loose silver coins, which he waved in his palm. “He paid for our meals and lodging.”

"Tsk, Father!" Feng Xiaoliu glared at the silver and said, "It's really scary that you paid for it. If the court really investigates, this silver will be evidence."

"This..." Manager Feng's hand trembled violently, and the silver ingot almost fell onto the table: "No way?"

"Why not!" Feng Xiaoliu's voice tightened. "Father, the more I think about it, the more scared I get. If they really are fugitives, they're probably going to the seaside to use a merchant ship to escape. If the court can't catch them, they'll probably have to blame us!"

Manager Feng panicked a bit, raised his hand and slapped Feng Xiaoliu on the head again, complaining, "You brat, it's all your fault! If you hadn't invited them in, we wouldn't have all this trouble now."

"Hey! Can't you be reasonable for once?" Feng Xiaoliu retorted, his neck stiff with anger. "When guests come to the door, how can I not greet them? If I didn't, you'd probably come with a thorny branch. Besides, wasn't it you who invited them in in the end? And then you kept offering them drinks. You did all of that, so how can you blame me!"

"Hey. You brat, try talking back to me again!" Manager Feng's face turned red, and he raised his hand to hit him, but Feng Xiaoliu dodged it.

"Oh dear, Dad!" Feng Xiaoliu exclaimed anxiously, "What's the use of saying all this now! Let's think of something to do quickly."

"What else can we do? They're all gone," Manager Feng gasped for breath, slumping into a chair behind the counter, staring blankly at the silver ingot. After a long while, he finally looked up: "Let's just pretend we don't know anything. At worst, we'll just melt this silver down today."

"What's the use of this!" Feng Xiaoliu exclaimed, grabbing his hair in frustration. "Isn't this just burying your head in the sand? Even if you destroy the physical evidence, there are still witnesses. So many customers saw it. When the court investigates, and you say you didn't see it or take the money, who will believe you?"

"Then what do you suggest we do!" Manager Feng suddenly stood up and slammed his hand on the table. "Report to the authorities!" Feng Xiaoliu said through gritted teeth, "Go to the inspector and explain everything!"

Manager Feng was stunned, his eyes widening: "Report to the authorities? Isn't that just asking for trouble?"

"It's better than trouble coming knocking on our door!" Feng Xiaoliu leaned closer, his voice extremely low. "From here to Beitang, it takes at least two days, and sometimes just one. In other words, if they hurry, they could board those foreign merchants' ships as early as tonight. If we report to the authorities now, we might be able to intercept them and clear ourselves of any guilt for harboring them! If they really are fugitives and we can't catch them, then we'll regret it."

"Then," Manager Feng still hesitated, "what if they aren't fugitives?"

"That just means the inspector will stop them and ask questions; there won't be any loss," Feng Xiaoliu said. "As long as we can catch them, we can clear ourselves of the crime of harboring a fugitive, right?"

Manager Feng stared at him for a long time, then suddenly slapped his thigh and said, "Alright! Go now! Ride that donkey in the backyard! And bring a few jugs of wine for the inspector."

"Hey!" Feng Xiaoliu immediately turned around and ran towards the backyard.

"Wait," Manager Feng called out from behind him, his voice tinged with panic, "You'd better speak properly, or the officials will misunderstand!"

"Understood!" The curtain fell, and Feng Xiaoliu's reply came from the backyard: "Don't worry!"

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The sun climbed high in the sky, its scorching rays making the official road scorching hot. A thin layer of heat rose from the ground, and even the roadside weeds drooped listlessly. Luo Yagu and his party found a spot under an old locust tree to rest for the afternoon; the shade was so dense that it could cover the entire group.

The mule cart was parked at the edge of the shade, the donkey tied to the tree trunk, its head bowed as it nibbled on the grass. Three young men sat on the cart shaft, holding baked flatbread given to them by Manager Feng and some salted dried meat they had bought a few days ago, eating heartily with cool water from their water bags. Master Jiang leaned against the cart, also holding a flatbread, but his gaze kept sweeping towards both ends of the official road.

Luo Yagu sat deep in the shade of a tree, a coarse cloth resting on his lap, a flat wooden board in front of him. On the board lay a stack of thread-bound Xuan paper albums, next to which was a small porcelain inkwell with a fine brush resting on its rim, the bristles still stained with ink. He chewed on a baked flatbread, occasionally taking a sip of water. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he put down the flatbread, gently picked up the brush, and lightly dipped it twice into the inkwell. The ink spread along the bristles. He opened the album, revealing pages already written on with two paragraphs.

During this time, Luo Yagu has been consistently writing a diary in Chinese. Through long-term practice, his handwriting has begun to resemble small regular script, but upon closer inspection, the strokes still retain a touch of the curves characteristic of European calligraphy.
"In the first year of Taichang, on the 28th day of the sixth month, which is the 15th day of the eighth month of 1621 years after the birth of our Lord."

"Traveling south with the Yuanwei Escort Agency to Beitang, we passed through Qilihai. Qilihai is actually much more than seven li, and it's not even a sea. It's a vast lake spanning two hundred and fifty-two li. I asked the accompanying escort, Jiang Wei, why Qilihai got its name, but he didn't know. I originally intended to ask the villagers nearby, but I forgot after we settled down, so I still don't know. (I'll have to ask.)"

"The place we're staying at today is a village south of Qilihai, near Nanhuaidian, mainly inhabited by people with the surname Feng. When we arrived at the village, the setting sun was tinged with orange by the wind, and the houses along the way were deserted. Only a dart flag was swaying gently, like a lonely shadow in the mountains and rivers."

"I have brown hair and deep-set eyes, which often draws the attention of Chinese people when they first meet me, and today is no exception."

Luo Yagu stared at the handwriting for a moment, then dipped his brush in ink. The brush tip touched the paper, and he slowly wrote: "During our evening drink, Master Jiang Wei spoke for the first time about his old friend, Master Wu Yongping. He said that in April of this year, Master Wu, while escorting a caravan from Liaodong, encountered a raid by Tatars, or rather, Mongols. These barbarians attempted to rob the caravan but were eventually driven away by Chinese cavalry. However, Master Wu still died from an arrow wound. (It should be noted that Master Wu did not die on the spot, but later died from the worsening of his wound; such things are common in Europe.) Master Jiang Wei's voice choked with emotion as he spoke of this, and the innkeeper, Manager Feng, also sighed with regret. I, too, felt moved and prayed for him. During my prayer, I reflected: Life is like a journey. Chinese镖师 (bodyguards/escorts) risk their lives to protect their goods, and together with us, they travel far to the East to spread the Holy Religion; all are called by our Lord and follow their destiny."

As Luo Yagu was writing, the sound of rapid hoofbeats suddenly came from afar.

The sound grew closer and closer, carrying a menacing aura; it was clearly not that of an ordinary traveler on their journey.

Master Jiang was eating a pancake when he heard the sound and immediately became alert. He stood up and called out, "Stop eating, everyone! Someone's coming. Judging from the sound, it's three horses. Quickly grab your weapons and be on guard!"

"Yes!" The three young men didn't hesitate and immediately put down what they were holding. One grabbed the spear leaning against the side of the cart, another picked up his shield and sword, and the third drew a bow and arrow from the side of the mule cart, nocked an arrow but not fully drawn, and looked warily in the direction from which the sound of hooves came.

Luo Yagu also stopped writing and looked up at the end of the official road.

Dust billowed as three swift horses galloped up. The riders, dressed in blue constable uniforms with long swords at their waists and recurve bows at their sides, were clearly officials. The leader, a burly man with a short beard, rode to within ten paces of them before abruptly pulling on the reins. The horse neighed, its forelegs rearing up and then falling back down, kicking up more dust.

The other two officers also stopped, standing on either side of the leader. Their eyes swept over the mule cart and donkeys, finally landing on the "Yuanwei Escort Agency" flag.

The leading official, seated on his horse, raised his head and shouted, "I am Ren Gui'an, the deputy inspector of the Qilihai Patrol Office in Baodi County. Which of you is in charge? Come out and answer me immediately!"

Upon seeing that the newcomer was an official, Master Jiang immediately lowered his guard considerably. He handed his spear to the young man beside him, straightened his tight-fitting clothes, and strode to Ren Gui'an's horse. He bowed respectfully and said, "I am Jiang Wei, a镖师 (bodyguard/escort) from the Yuanwei镖局 (Escort Agency) in the capital, paying my respects to Inspector Ren. May I ask what your orders are, Inspector?"

(End of this chapter)