Martial Arts Crossover: My master tricked Huang Rong into becoming my wife!

Juxianlou is located at the most bustling crossroads in Xiangyang City. It has three stories with flying eaves and brackets, and its golden signboard dazzles people under the sun.

Before even entering the door, the rich aroma of soy sauce mixed with the smell of alcohol made Hong Qigong's Adam's apple bob.

"Oh my, isn't this young master Chen!"

The shopkeeper spotted Chen Yanzhou at a glance, and his chubby face instantly blossomed into a wide smile. He quickly came out from behind the counter.

As for the ragged, greasy old beggar next to him, the shopkeeper pretended not to see him—just kidding, anyone who could put their arm around this "little god of wealth" of the Beggars' Sect was a big shot even if they were wearing a burlap sack.

"Manager Liu, the usual." Chen Yanzhou casually tossed over a silver ingot, his movements as practiced as a spoiled young master. "The second-floor window seat, I heard there's a chef who can make Eight Treasure Duck? Bring one up, and two jars of twenty-year-old Shaoxing wine, made sure it's perfectly warm."

"Alright! Please come upstairs!" Manager Liu took the silver, bowing even lower, and turned to the kitchen, shouting loudly, "Two distinguished guests, a private seat on the second floor, a whole eight-treasure duck, served with the finest Shaoxing wine!"

The second-floor seating area offers a wide view.

Leaning on the railing, one can take in the view of half of Xiangyang City.

Before long, the food and wine were served.

The Eight Treasure Duck was reddish-brown in color and plump in the belly. When it was cut open, the glutinous rice, ham, dried scallops and lotus seeds inside rolled out with the steam, and the aroma wafted into the nostrils.

"nice one!"

Hong Qigong didn't use chopsticks; he simply reached out and tore off a duck leg, taking a big bite despite the heat. Oil dripped from the corner of his mouth, and the old beggar squinted his eyes in satisfaction, his wrinkled face smoothing out.

"This skill is only slightly inferior to that of the imperial kitchen," Hong Qigong commented vaguely, then picked up his wine bowl and took a big gulp. "So satisfying! After eating hard bread for half a month in the north, my mouth was practically parched."

Chen Yanzhou slowly picked up a piece of glutinous rice with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth, laughing, "Master, are you going to scout out the enemy's situation or to suffer? With your skills, getting a good meal shouldn't be difficult at all!"

Hong Qigong paused, and the duck meat in his mouth no longer seemed so delicious.

He put down the duck leg and looked out the window.

The street downstairs was bustling and seemingly prosperous, but in the shadows of that street corner, there were many ragged figures huddled together.

Some were with their families, some were all alone; they were all emaciated, their eyes blankly staring at passersby, holding broken bowls in their hands, but they didn't even have the strength to reach out.

"Simple?" Hong Qigong sneered, pointing down with his greasy finger. "That's because you haven't gone north to take a look. The Jin dogs and the Mongol Tartars are fighting fiercely, and it's the common people who are suffering. Along the way, nine out of ten houses are empty, and there are corpses everywhere. Even if this old beggar had extraordinary abilities, he couldn't swallow this meat when faced with so many dead bodies."

Chen Yanzhou followed his gaze.

Just then, the waiter downstairs was chasing away several homeless people who were trying to approach the door to beg for food.

The refugees didn't resist; they simply protected the child in their arms, staggering back to the corner of the wall, their eyes filled with despair.

"The north is in chaos, and the south isn't peaceful either." Chen Yanzhou put down his chopsticks, his voice turning cold. "Those officials in the court aren't thinking about preparing for war and recovering lost territories right now; instead, they're busy sending tribute to the Jurchens to beg for peace. Our emperor is probably still dreaming of making Hangzhou his Bianzhou."

"If that tribute could bring peace, that would be one thing," Hong Qigong slammed his hand on the table, making the wine jars vibrate. "But it's using the marrow of the people to fill the bottomless pit of the Jin dynasty! Corrupt officials exploit at every level, while the front lines are struggling, the rear is feasting. This once-prosperous Song dynasty will sooner or later fall into the hands of these vermin!"

He became increasingly angry as he spoke, grabbed the wine jar and gulped down several mouthfuls, but it tasted like a mouthful of bitter herbs, unbearably bitter.

Hong Qigong tossed the remaining half of the duck leg into the plate, his craving long gone.

He watched the children downstairs drooling over the restaurant entrance, and felt a sharp pang in his heart.

"Shopkeeper!"

Hong Qigong's shout used his internal strength, which silenced the entire second floor.

Manager Liu was carrying a plate of stir-fried vegetables when he was startled by the shout, nearly dropping the plate. He quickly jogged over, wiping the cold sweat from his brow: "Oh dear, sir, is the food not to your liking?"

"The food is fine, the people are the problem."

Hong Qigong pointed downstairs: "Do you see those people?"

Manager Liu peeked in and glanced over, then said with a wry smile, "Sir, you don't understand. These past few months, the number of refugees fleeing from the north has been increasing, and the government isn't doing anything about it. It's tough for us business people. If they block our door, how can we do business?"

"Enough nonsense." Hong Qigong pulled out two pieces of silver from his pocket and slammed them on the table. "Go, tell the kitchen to bring out all the remaining steamed buns and dumplings. Also, set up a big pot and cook a few pots of thick porridge, then distribute them at the door."

Manager Liu looked at the small amount of silver and his face showed reluctance.

"Sir, this is a great act of kindness and good deeds. But... but there are at least a hundred or so homeless people downstairs. These two taels of silver probably won't even be enough to buy rice. Besides, once the porridge is distributed, the surrounding homeless people will flock here, and it will be a bottomless pit..."

He's a businessman, not a philanthropist. With rice prices skyrocketing these days, who would dare to do something like that?

Hong Qigong frowned, about to lash out, when a fair little hand pressed down on the two pieces of silver.

"Manager Liu," Chen Yanzhou said with a smile, "if this amount of silver isn't enough, how about adding the face of the Beggars' Sect's 'Righteousness Transport Division'? Would that be enough?"

Manager Liu was taken aback for a moment, then realized what was happening.

In Xiangyang today, who doesn't know the name "Yiyunsi"? It's an organization that even the prefect has to give some face to, and it controls most of Xiangyang's water and land transportation. Its wealth is terrifying.

"What Young Master Chen means is..."

"Do as my master says," Chen Yanzhou said calmly. "All expenses for today should be recorded in the Yiyun Division's account. A disciple will bring the money over first thing tomorrow morning."

Manager Liu's eyes lit up.

This is a sure-fire way to make money! Not only can you make money, but you can also gain a reputation for being "charitable." Why not?

"Alright! Since Young Master Chen has said so, I'll get on it right away!" Manager Liu beamed, turning to shout downstairs, "Erxi! Quick! Go to the kitchen and tell the head chef to take all the steamed buns out of the steamer! Set up the pot! Cook the porridge! Make it thick!"

Before long, the area downstairs became lively.

Steaming hot buns were brought to the doorway, and rice porridge in a large pot was bubbling away.

The previously lifeless refugees surged forward like fish that had smelled fish.

"Don't rush! There's enough for everyone! Line up!"

The workers shouted orders to maintain order.

Watching the refugees wolf down the hot porridge, some even scalding themselves with tears streaming down their faces but unwilling to spit it out, Hong Qigong's expression softened slightly, but the gloom in his eyes did not dissipate.

He sat back down in his chair, looking at the table full of delicious food, but didn't touch a single bite.

"You can save someone for a while, but not forever," Hong Qigong sighed, his voice tinged with desolation. "This world is so vast, and there are so many refugees. Even if this old beggar sold all his flesh, how many pounds of rice could he get?"